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Tubbo sat on the floor and stared straight ahead at the wall, feeling too void of emotion and energy to move. His room was completely silent, save for the soft, quiet sound of the rain hitting the roof. The silence was deafening. Tubbo had once again lost someone that he had loved and trusted above all others.
He wasn’t hurt about the fact that Ranboo had left him. No, he was more hurt by the fact that he knew how fragile Tubbo was, and how he had promised to never leave him or hurt him but yet he went and did so anyway. It wasn’t his fault, of course. He didn’t choose to die. But the worst part about this entire situation was that everyone had just given up. It was a cold case. It had been a week since the love of his life was taken from him, and everyone had stopped searching. It felt as if Tubbo was constantly trying to stay afloat, desperately trying to reach out for help, to get someone to care. He hadn’t stopped looking. He knew that everyone else had bigger, more important things to work on; everyone knew that. But it was his Ranboo. It was the person that he loved and cared about. Everyone in the community knew about Tubbo and Ranboo’s relationship, and everyone admired them for the picture-perfect people they were. But everyone had stopped caring about Ranboo’s sudden disappearance, and it broke Tubbo’s heart.
This was the Ranboo that said hi to every single person he passed. This was the Ranboo that fed the stray animals and gave them comfort when they had nowhere else to go. This was the same Ranboo that had volunteered at the prison and gave flowers to everyone who didn’t have a valentine. That was his Ranboo.
But now Ranboo was gone, and there was a very good chance that Tubbo would never get him back. He was gone, and he had taken their son with him. Tubbo was all alone again. Tubbp knew that his demise was inevitable given the circumstances, but that didn’t stop his heart from being torn apart. When he was with his husband, shards of their love and connection hung in the air like glittering stars. But with him gone the stars fell from the sky and Tubbo’s world cracked, swallowing him and engulfing him into a pit of unhappiness and unforgettable sadness. His heart split open with all the love for the world to see, and the love seeped out and dissolved into the toxic air.
And so on nights like these, when the wind would blow the crystal snow onto the windowsill of their room, Tubbo would snuggle into Ranboo for protection. He would wrap his arms around him and laugh. They spent so much time together, laughing and talking. They never worried that anything bad could possibly happen to them. They didn’t worry because they had each other, and that was enough. But as it’s known, nothing can last forever. Not a fraying rope, not a human life, and not even the promise of eternal love. But somehow, life stops you from achieving the one thing that you’ve always wanted. In Tubbo’s case, he only wanted to be able to live forever with the love of his life. Everything else had been taken from him. Couldn’t he have just one thing? No, of course not.
Ranboo’s death was most likely quick -- at least, that’s what Sam had said. Tubbo should have felt lucky that Ranboo wasn’t in any pain when he passed, at least not a lot. He should have felt grateful that he got to go quickly and, hopefully, painlessly. At least, unlike him, Ranboo wouldn’t have to deal with the physical and emotional pain. But he certainly didn’t feel lucky. Tubbo felt like the best part of him had been ripped away, and he didn’t get any choice in the matter. In a way, he was right. And as the night stars twinkled in the black velvet sky, a tear escaped Tubbo’s eyes. A knock alerted him that someone was at the door, but he didn’t want to put up with anyone today, especially not now. The door slowly creaked open.
“Tubbo?” a voice called out. Tubbo shot up instantly. He immediately knew who it was. He ran and hid behind the stairs, peeking out through a small crack. Through the doorway entered a tall man, looking disheveled and tired from recent events. Tubbo attempted to slow his breathing. The man’s brown hair hung in curls on either side of his face, and a lock of gray was swept to the side, revealing a bright red eye. Tubbo caught his breath.
“Tubbo, I know you’re in here.” Wilbur chuckled, looking around. He paced, his shoes causing the old wooden floors to creak under his weight. He looked in Tubbo’s direction under the stairs, and for a split second, Tubbo made eye contact with him through the crack.
Wilbur disappeared from Tubbo’s line of sight, and for a second Tubbo thought he was safe. But a bloodshot eye appeared in front of him, and he knew that he wasn’t. Tubbo began to scream, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Wilbur quickly slapped a bandaged hand over Tubbo’s mouth: anything to get him to shut up.
“W-What do you want?” Tubbo asked hesitantly, his voice shaking. Wilbur let out a soft laugh.
“Listen, Tubbo.” he began, putting a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “I know what happened. I’m sorry for your loss. But, I know who killed Ranboo. I know where he is. I know how to get him back. Do you want my help?”
Now, there were two ways that Tubbo could have responded to the proposal. He could have immediately rejected Wilbur's offer which, in hindsight, may have been the best thing for him to. He could have shooed the awful man away from his house and out of his life, and he could mourn in peace. Or, he could have accepted the offer. He could once again be reunited with the love of his life, and they could be a happy family: Tubbo, Ranboo, and Michael.
Oh, Michael. Tubbo's pride and joy. Ranboo had always been such an amazing father to him. And now Michael was upstairs sleeping soundly, unaware that his other father -- his only other guardian -- was about to leave him. But Tubbo loved Michael as much as he did Ranboo, and he knew that it would make Michael happy. So he sucked up whatever courage he had, and grabbed his coat from the table that Ranboo had so lovingly crafted.
"Okay." Tubbo decided. "Let's go."
With a smirk of mock sincerity on his face, Wilbur ushered Tubbo out the door. If you were to look down on Snowchester from a bird's perspective, you would have seen the mansion all lit up with the golden glow of the lanterns. You would have seen the freshly fallen snow on the ground, each snowflake different from the rest. You would have seen two figures, one tall and one small, walking away from civilization and towards and unknown location.
And maybe, just maybe, you would have seen the window in the top floor of the house. The light from the candle would have long since been flickered out, and it would be dark. All was as it should have been in Michael's room.
All was as it should have been, had it not been for the fact that the blankets were a mess and Michael was not in fact in his bed and sleeping soundly like Tubbo thought he was.
Michael was missing.