Morning Routines

He wakes up startled, a whisper of a nightmare he no longer remembers clinging to his tongue and drying his throat.

He's-

He's in a bed with someone. Oh god. Who-

He- He doesn't remember.

He doesn't remember anything. Oh boy.

Somehow, this state of not remembering, is something he does ironically remember as a frequent thing. He also remembers that someone telling him the basics should improve most of his memory, reading the book would help too but he vaguely feels that his inventory is empty and he doesn't remember what book or where could he possibly find it-

He belatedly realizes he doesn't remember who he is. Holy cow this is bad.

He must have made a noise or moved, because suddenly the person besides him is waking up and he needs to get away get away get away-

"Hi Ranboo," the small boy with ram horns says with a warm smile that turns into a frown when he doesn't reply. "Aw man, we're doing it again it seems." He cringes as the boy stretches a little. Is there like... a protocol for when you wake up in a stranger's bed and aren't sure what to reply to them?

"Your name is Ranboo," the ram boy says, pointing at him. Ranboo... it does sound familiar, he- "My name is Tubbo." He-Ranboo-expects the ram to point at himself but instead he extends a hand and presses it into his clawed one. Tubbo's hands are really small in comparison to his own and they are calloused from working hard but still delicate and there's some speck of dirt under his nails that he wants to get rid off and it sparks vague memories that he tries to chase but Tubbo speaks again and he feels like he should focus on him instead. "We're married, we're husbands," He can't help but gasp hearing that, but the warmth in his chest tells him it's true. "We have a son, Michael, he's in his room but we can go to him once we're done with this." There are echoes of happy squeals buzzing in his brain, a slip of a memory, like a frame out of a movie, of Tubbo holding Michael as he babbles.

"You know how awesome you are? How sweet and kind you are to people?" Tubbo continues and he can't help another sharp inhale of air. Those words sound like lies, but they don't feel like them. Tubbo's not the one to lie, he vaguely remembers that about him now. "Everyone loves you." He entangles their fingers and Ranboo feels a smile crawl on his lips. Some faces come to his mind, others stay as muted gray silhouettes but it's still more than a few seconds ago.

"You love me," Tubbo says with a smile. Yeah, yeah, Ranboo does. More and more pieces fall into place. Shared days, shared nights, countless conversations. "You love Michael," That too is true, he's already itching to go to his room and check on him. "He loves you. I love you."

Ranboo closes his fingers over Tubbo's, finally returning the gesture. The ram smiles brightly, brighter than before.

"You're not alone. You're here, in Snowchester. We're in our mansion. You're crazy rich because of how hardworking you are and you paid it off to Foolish." More pieces fall into their places. He remembers where the book is now, but... he doesn't need it. Not right now.

"Good morning," Tubbo gives him a hopeful look, one that holds a bit of longing too. Ranboo knows exactly what to do with it.

"Good morning," he replies and pulls the smaller into a hug. Instantly the lithe but strong arms are wrapped around him.

"It's a nice morning, isn't it, Ranboo?" The question comes muffled into his chest and he laughs gently, like a thousand times before.

"Yeah," he agrees, holding his world close to his heart. "It really is."