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Anywhere can become home. They have a distinct feeling that it is not supposed to feel at home here. The white walls should be scary, but they’re just familiar now. The fluorescent lights should be annoying, but they’ve adjusted to them. The steady beep of a heart rate monitor and the soft mattress of the medical bed shouldn’t feel like safety.
It does regardless.
Today is an okay day. Not really great, but not really bad either. Their head hurts, and it’s bothering them. They’re also on so many medications that things feel a bit transparent and hard to grasp. It’s been slipping in and out of dreamland for a while now too.
Right now, Tubbo is here. The one that its older brother often brought around. He brought them toys, which they appreciate immensely, because it’s downright boring in a hospital with nothing but a clock to stare at for hours. They can’t really tell what he’s saying, but he’s holding their hand in his own, a thumb running over their knuckles in a calming way.
Between the medications, Tubbo’s warm voice, and the soothing motion, they find themselves struggling to stay awake again. That in itself is bad. Not because sleep is bad, but because it only got to see Tubbo or Ranboo once in a while. They couldn’t afford to sleep through this visit.
Tubbo laughs at them as their head dips, then shoots upright again. They go to smile, but it’s interrupted by a yawn. It rubs its eyes with its free hand.
Tubbo stands up, murmurs some words of goodbye, and presses a gentle kiss to their forehead. He hands it their stuffed chicken and then he’s gone.
He’s allowed to sleep peacefully for a little while, hugging the stuffy tightly. They’d had it for years now, but Tubbo or Ranboo giving it to him with gentle smiles and careful hands and loving kisses made the stuffy feel extra special all over again.
Then they wake them up for treatment, and it’s back to the worse side of the hospital. The side that hurts.
***
“Hey buddy,” Ranboo whispers. It can’t help but notice how tired it’s brother really looks.
They feel sick and terrible and all around awful, but they still lift their free hand to Ranboo’s face. Their brother smiles, but it looks terribly broken and wrong. It can’t help but wonder what’s wrong.
Ranboo’s hand rests on his, and he cradles the hand next to his face for a long while. Carefully, like it’s made of glass, he lets it lower its arm after the moment is over.
They give an exhausted sigh, shifting a teeny bit before settling down. Ranboo reaches down and grabs the stuffy. Perhaps Michael should find a name for it. They rest their head against its soft feathers.
“How are you feeling?” Ranboo murmurs, hand going to its forehead before anxiously retreating. He watches them fiddle with the pin on his jacket. It kinda looks halloweeny, with the purple and black. The yellow isn’t really halloween-like though it supposes.
They shrug. It feels easier.
“Use your words?” Ranboo practically pleads. They’ve always been weak in that regard. How could anyone say no to their older brother?
“Okay,” they whisper, voice creaky. It hurts its throat to talk, but that’s fine. It’s genuinely worth it to see the way Ranboo’s face floods with relief. Relief crumples to some sort of pained despair and tears and his face falls and he gently presses his free hand to his lips, his other going to hold theirs with a light, trembling grip.
“W’a’s wrong?” it mumbles, head lolling to the side. It’s heavy, too hard to hold up for long periods of time. The chicken is much more comfy to rest on anyways.
“Nothing,” Ranboo whispers, sniffling, wiping his eyes in a useless attempt to smear tears away because they’re just replaced again a few seconds later. “It will hopefully be nothing.”
It gives a noncommittal hum. That was purposefully vague and they kinda found it annoying but it’s whatever.
Ranboo sits by its side for a long time. It thinks it was longer than usual, but it’s not sure. He occasionally asks questions, or tells them a story, or shows them things and pictures.
“Anything exciting happen? No? Sorry… that was a dumb question I know it is.”
“This was when Tommy pushed Tubbo into the water fountain.”
“That’s a picture of the sky. I just kinda thought it was pretty, y’know?”
“What’s your favourite colour? Is it still pink? I was thinking of getting you something. No! Of course I’m not gonna tell you, that’ll ruin the surprise.”
“Phil’s really nice. I wish you could meet him. He’s like what dads are supposed to be like. He’s also cool and not boring like most adults.”
“That’s Tommy’s dog. He’s an adorable idiot, Walter is.”
“I’m not talking differently. What do you mean? Oh god, it’s the British accent isn’t it? I swear I’m still American Mika, Tommy and Tubbo are just rotten influences.”
“And so, as he was sneaking away, the sprinklers turned on. We knew about the sprinklers, had planned around the sprinklers, and made it our mission to avoid them, and we still got caught in them. Pretty stupid, right?”
“I… really don’t want to go but I think I have to. You make sure to stay safe, mister.”
“Oh, work’s alright. There’s some- some extra hours I’m working, but nothing crazy! Stop giving me the doubtful look, it's not gonna work.”
“I’ll be back tomorrow with Tubbo, I promise.”
“Yeah yeah, hush up. I love you too, gremlin child.”
Eventually, Ranboo departs. Michael finds itself aching in his absence. Ranboo and Tubbo brought real life into these walls. Once they left, everything seemed a tad bit duller than they were before, like they had stolen the weak and meager brightness installed in the room.
They idly toy with the fidget spinner as Nurse Barret enters the room. At least the new stuff their older brother brought was cool.
***
They don't know what pneumonia is, but it sucks. It gave Ranboo a frightful fit in which Tubbo had to take him from the room to calm him down. Maybe that was the scariest part. Not the fact that its body felt too heavy. Not the fact that they felt so sick. Not the increased checkups and machines and change of medications. The fact that Ranboo was scared, and Tubbo was scared too even though he was trying to hide it.
Ranboo comes back in for a little bit longer with Tubbo, and they talk about what it wants for its birthday, which is in two weeks. It doesn’t really know yet, but Tubbo promises to come back soon with a list of possible things and some ways to look up more. That sounds fun, and so they agree easily.
Ranboo is trembling still as they leave the room. As the door closes, they can see them pause so Tubbo can wrap an arm around the taller. They’re really glad Ranboo has Tubbo.
Their older brother brings in Tommy the next day. It’s heard a lot about Tommy, but it’s hardly conscious enough to remember the visit. Tommy has a smile like the sun and a hair colour somewhere between sandy and golden that makes Michael want to run its hands through it. There’s some little braids at the base of his neck that they keep getting a glimpse of with little dangly charms on them. Beads and feathers in the like. When Tommy leaves, it tells Ranboo it wants to braid its hair just like Tommy. Ranboo gave them a weak smile and said that once they were able to grow out their hair again, he’d help him braid it and put beads in it like Tommy’s hair. That’s a nice fuzzy feeling on the inside too. Tommy left pretty flowers in a pot next to their bedside and a knit blanket for them to use. Tommy too seems to brighten up the room, although his absence doesn’t make the room greyer, just quieter, and a bit sadder too.
The visits aren’t usually this close together, and it can’t help but wonder why.
They get their answer. It’s one a really nice day, where they can’t help but stare out the window and look at the blue sky and the leaves changing colours and wish they could go outside. It want’s to play in the leaves and wrap up in scarves and go on walks with Tommy’s dog Walter. They just want an excuse to meet Walter actually.
It’s another procedure. One that it's sure Ranboo can’t afford and one that it's sure will take a long time and make him feel all slow and icky and have to go through recovery again.
There are already cards and knick knacks and things lining up outside its hallway and on its dresser. They like going through the cards and looking at all the colours and the pictures and the handwriting and the gifts inside, even if they weren’t the best at reading and couldn’t always understand what was written.
There’s no fanfare, the day that they’re put under for the operation. It’s like it’s been every other time. All the people and the doctors enter the room and they give it some stuff. They don’t know if it's the silly stuff or the sleepy stuff until it takes effect, and they find themself blacking out within no time.
The black is nice, and they don’t fight it like they did the first time. The longer they spend in the black, the more they can put off waking up and coping with another surgery. It’s sad that it has to spend time away from its chicken and Ranboo and Tubbo, but it’s better than being awake.
It doesn’t want to know how bad it would hurt awake. It already hurts so much.