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"Hey, Boo?"
Ranboo turned to look at Tubbo. The boy was sitting across the table, holding a mug of something smoking. Ranboo would have made himself a drink, to have something warm in his hands, but it'd be a waste.
"What is it?"
"Can you... take a seat?" Ranboo obliged, although he flopped onto the chair in an odd manner. While their house was larger than most, all the furniture was Tubbo-sized, while Ranboo was certainly not. His left side was to the back of the chair, and he turned his head to face the boy.
Tubbo sat perfectly still, pausing in silent contemplation. At last he took a sip of his drink. After swallowing, he said "I was wondering if you wanted to make meal plans."
This caught the enderman off guard. "Um. Okay. Yeah, sure." After another moments pause, he asked "Why?"
"Something to do." He took another sip from his tea. "Keeps us busy."
"Oooh-Kay." He stressed out the word, trying to think of a follow-up question. Whatever he had expected from this conversation, this was not it. "Is this abou-"
"I was thinking something hearty, like those digestive biscuits. Or not, if you don't want. I'm flexible. What kind of foods do you eat? I'm sure you can't get stuff for endermen here. Maybe we could farm-"
"Why are you so interested in meal plans?"
"Ranboo. My Beloved. I don't like your burgers. I need variety in my diet." He flourished 'variety' with jazz hands. "If I eat another meat slab wrapped in bread I will puke, and that is not a figure of speech."
"Oh. Wow, okay." Ranboo tried to feigned ignorance at this obvious jab to his burger-making skills.
"No. NO! Wait, that was phrased wrong. I like your burgers, big man, I do. it's just..." His eyes darted around the room. "Ever since Wilbur came back-
"So you don't like Wilbur's burgers, either? You know he's the one who makes all of them, not me, I just buy the ingredients."
"I just don't want burgers right now, okay!? Stop talking about fucking burgers!!"
"Well, you brought it up!" He crossed his arms, still in the his awkward sideways position on the chair.
"It's not- I- God, Ranboo, you're..." He sighed, waving his hand. "I just need to deal with Wilbur being back. It's not about your burgers."
They sat in silence for a little while, both still annoyed. Ranboo thought the mansion was too empty to hold only two people, especially when said people wouldn't talk to each other. He decided to fix it.
"Alright, you just don't want burgers. Or Wilbur. But why meal plans?"
"Beats the alternative." Tubbo replied almost instantly.
"That being...?"
The next response took a bit longer. "...I eat your burgers and I puke. No figure of speech. Burgers will make me sick."
"Oh. Okay. But what does Wilbur have to do with this?"
"Listen, Wilbur's a huge fucking change from what I'm used to, and I don't handle change well. Shit gets bad, and I get sick. I need a plan." He took another long sip of his tea to avoid conversing.
"If you're sick, we can get some medicine."
"Not that kind of sick. Like puke-y sick. I'll blow chunks when I get too stressed."
"You should really get that checked out by a professional."
"I make myself puke, big man." Tubbo said, as if it were an obvious fact. His words caught up with him a second later, but it was too late. Realization set in his now-wide eyes.
Ranboo got up from his chair and walked over to Tubbo, who winced as he stepped closer. He stopped a meter away. "Are you okay?"
"What do you think?" Tubbo replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice and body balling up and leaning away from the other. "I puke and starve anytime something slightly shitty happens, I'm a paragon of health."
"Oh my... are you-" Ranboo tried to stop himself from being repetitive. "I- I'm sorry that you have to go through that."
"You don't have anything to do with it." He centered himself in the seat again. "It's a 'me' problem."
"Well, now it's an 'us' problem, too." Ranboo took a stride closer. "I want to help."
"I don't know, make sure I eat! Like I'm a baby who can't take care of himself!" He threw his arms in the air.
"I can eat with you. We haven't been spending much time around each other since... my job. It'll be nice."
"Yeah, okay," Tubbo was still curled up, but his sarcasm was melting away. "Make sure I don't fucking throw up my guts after meals."
"We can keep busy. There's a lot to do around this place, after all." The echo bouncing off the walls confirmed his point.
"You can just... help..."
"I'll try to."
"I wasn't finished!" Tubbo almost giggled, but he stopped himself. "Help with the fucking... thing that's going on. The Wilbur thing. Just keep him out of my hair, I don't want to think about it."
"I think I was doing that already."
He finally let out a breathy laugh, and put one leg down. He still hugged the other. "Yeah. Okay. Just keep at what you're doing. I can handle this. I've dealt with it fine for this long."
"I mean, yeah, I hadn't even noticed. When did-"
"Please don't ask."
He didn't.
"How about we-" Tubbo got up out of his seat. "-make those meal plans?"
"How about I make you a snack, and then we'll talk?" Ranboo couldn't say for sure (damn his short-term memory), but he suspected the tea was the only thing Tubbo had had that day. "I'll get my book so we can record it."
"Sounds like a plan." He smiled. Reaching for Ranboo's hand, he pulled him along. "Race you to wherever you keep your diary!"
"It's not my-" he yelped as he was jerked around a corner (in the wrong direction). The new information didn't change anything, Tubbo was still the same guy he always was. The only difference was he felt a smidge better.
Ranboo could tell that much.