Chapter Text
If you had told Ranboo two hours ago that he would be running from a top ten ranked hero with his roommate yelling insults at him like they weren’t about to be arrested, he probably wouldn’t be that shocked in all honesty. Such is the norm when living with Tommy Innit, he would’ve proclaimed.
However, his lack of surprise didn’t change how annoying this situation truly was.
“I’M GONNA KILL YOU WHEN WE GET HOME!” Ranboo proclaimed to the sky, his feet pounding against the pavement at an erratic rhythm. Pedestrians gawked and made way for their miniature parade of oddballs, shrieking or cursing them as they passed.
“IT’S NOT MY FAULT THAT SOMEONE WAS DISHONORING THE NAME OF THE PHILZA MIKECRAFT!” The brunette haired boy screeched back at him, before motioning to turn a sharp corner into another street.
Ranboo heaved a breath as he turned on the balls of his feet, before shooting a glare at his roommate. “THAT DOESN'T GIVE YOU THE RIGHT TO LIGHT HIS HAIR ON FIRE!”
The towering skyscrapers that surrounded them made them look like panicked ants in a garden. Sounds echoed and bounced through Ranboo’s skull, the normally calming rumble of city life being turned into a cacophony of noises. Car horns, footsteps, birds, talking, breathing, heart beating. Oh hey, his heart was still beating. That’s some good news.
Even over the wind rushing past his ears, the scoff from Tommy was clear. “YES IT DOES! IF A BIG MAN LIKE ME DOESN’T STAND UP FOR HIS HONOR THEN WHO WILL-“ Tommy seemed to have a lot more in mind for his monologue, but was cut off by a feather slicing through the air and whizzing past their heads. The projectile landed on the pole of a street lamp with a thump , leaving a deep indent in its side. That seemed to bring Tommy back to reality, with a yelp of fear being torn from his throat. Suddenly, the winged shadow above their heads seemed a little too close for comfort. That was a warning shot.
It might be better to backtrack for a moment, given how outrageous this situation looked without a little more context.
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It had become somewhat of a tradition to visit the music shop together when crime was low in the city. The shop owner tolerated them just enough it seemed, and allowed Tommy and Ranboo to hang around listening to records for hours on end. It felt like a second home, with candles and fairy lights illuminating the area. Shelves of CDs and records lined the walls, along with string instruments like guitars and bases. A dedicated lounge area was in the middle, consisting of several beanbags and a small coffee table with a record player sitting in the center. They became a staple of the store, welcoming in music enthusiasts young and old. If they were especially kind and courteous, they would be allowed to play an instrument as well. Tommy mostly took this offer up, trying to learn the acoustic guitar in his spare time.
It seemed they would not be allowed to play any instruments for a long time after today’s incident, however.
The grimy teenager had walked into the store like any other customer. The duo had paid no mind aside from a polite wave considering they, also, were grimy teenagers. The shopkeeper looked up from his phone, nodding at the new entrance before returning to his Candy Crunch game. Sadly, some people just love to hate, and a prickly voice began to speak just loud enough to drown out the khai dreams vinyl that was playing.
“Jeez, why is there always something that is Philza themed. I just came here for a new guitar case, I don’t want some vomit-green monstrosity.”
Tommy tilted his gaze upwards, and noticed that the unknown teenager held a green and white case with a small pixelated heart in his hands. That’s ok, this is fine. He can get his crusty hands all over the perfectly good Philza themed case he’d been eyeing for months, Tommy didn’t care. Even if he was going to save up and get an Alvarez guitar along with the case, traveling the world and wooing women with his songs. He didn’t care. Everyone is entitled to their opinions.
“Plus, the guy is a total failure. I don’t know how his merch is still selling after what he did to his wife. Yknow?”
Nevermind, Tommy now cared.
If the store owner had made some sort of reply, Tommy didn’t hear it. With an abrupt shove off his beanbag and a questioning glance from Ranboo, the brunette was storming towards his new mortal enemy.
“Oi, bitch. How about you get your fuckin’ facts straight? Philza didn’t do anything, what happened was an accident you prick.” And now Tommy was right in the guy’s face, a smoky smell starting to radiate from his body.
The other hadn’t seemed to notice yet, narrowing his eyes with a sneer. “What, are you some fanboy or something? I’m just saying, his golden years are over. He’s old, washed out, and isn’t even a real pro hero-“
“Say that again motherfucker. I dare you.” Ranboo’s hand landed on his shoulder in warning, but he could barely feel it. The owner looked at the altercation with raised brows, sliding down in his swivel chair to avoid any possibly hurled objects.
With a final smirk, the person in front of Tommy sealed his fate.
“Philza. Isn’t. A. Real. Hero.”
And suddenly, with a subtle flick of the wrist, his hair was on fire. Which, by all standards, isn’t exactly something that is healthy. He began screaming. “What the shit?! What the fuck is going on, somebody help me!” His voice cracked in his panic, and he began to pat at the edges of his hair in an attempt to cease the spread.
Faster than Tommy would’ve liked, Ranboo grabbed a water bottle off the counter and poured the entirety over his head. “I-I am so sorry, he has anger issues! Y'know how those crazy hero stans get, ahaha! Um, please don’t call the cops!” The boy's rambling only stopped when he yanked Tommy by his wrist out the door and into the bustling street.
They jogged away, and took a breath behind the side of a bookstore nearby.
“Yknow, that was surprisingly easy to get out of. Thought we were gonna get arrested or some shit.” The younger boy chirped.
Peeking their heads around the corner, they saw the sight of a boy with extremely singed hair ranting to a hero with exaggerated movements. A crowd was forming around them, enamored by the sudden attraction.
“You really had to jinx us like that?” Ranboo deadpanned when they both caught sight of the interaction. Tommy chuckled nervously.
“Well hey, at least it’s not Philza or something!”
And suddenly, the hero moved around the body of the medium-rare cooked civilian. A mass of black was tucked behind his back, and the signature green and white bucket hat wasn’t hard to miss either. He was calming down the boy who had just insulted his entire being mere minutes ago, trying to get any information he could. Neither of the two teenagers had seen any one person more confident and hero-like.
“Well… I think this could be a lot worse!”
“Tommy, please for the love of prime stop talking.”
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One thing led to another, AKA Philza easily spotting the teenagers when they booked it across the street screaming at each other, and now they’re running for their lives at the young age of seventeen. Awesome. Great.
Seemingly being the only one using their brain cells between the two, Ranboo grabbed Tommy’s forearm and yanked him down the nearest alleyway. The older boy ushered the younger behind an industrial sized trash can, and squeezed them both as close to the wall as they possibly could.
“What are you doing? Why don’t we just take the fire escape and get out of here?!” The whisper-yell from Tommy made Ranboo shift his gaze slightly from keeping watch of the alleyway entrance. “If we get on top of the roof, it’ll make it even easier for him to spot us. His domain is literally the sky. We need to get low so he has more trouble navigating. And shouldn’t you know this stuff? You’re like his number one fan.”
“I would never even think of Philza Minecraft’s weaknesses, how dare you!” The words came more as an exclamation than a question. “Honestly, I think getting arrested might be worth it at this point. I would get to meet my all time favorite hero, and I would get 3 meals every day for free in jail.”
“Tommy, if you went to jail I can confidently say that you would get a very ugly prison tat, and neither of us want that.” Came the flat reply.
Tommy seemed to bristle slightly in his spot, jutting his chin out and holding a hand to his chest in offense. “I’ll have you know my prison tattoos would look amazing! On this arm I'll get the heart logo Philza has, but instead of red it’ll be all black because I'm different and quirky like that.”
“Tommy, just because it’s a different color doesn’t make it quirky.“
“Of course it does! What is more quirky than changing the color of the Philza Brand™ Hardcore Heart? Nothing, that’s what-“
“Am I interrupting something?”
Both boys froze at the accented voice that had joined their conversation. A figure wearing a forest green robe fell from the roof above them, and instead of landing with a splat like any other human would, a set of charcoal wings unfurled from his back like shadows. His feet touched the ground gracefully, and if it weren’t for the situation they were in Ranboo might’ve made a joke about how he held himself like an elegant dancer.
His eyes scanned over them, and the name “Angel of Death” had never seemed more fitting. The stare was calculating, and Ranboo decided then and there that he did not like being calculated. “Ph- Philza Minecraft. Oh my god we’re gonna die.” The words seemed to spill out of his mouth without a filter, his hands gripping for support on the brick wall behind them. Tommy, however, didn’t seem nearly as phased by their impending doom. “Quick proposition, if you are gonna kill us could you sign my bicep before you do? You have no idea how many more wives I would gain with that. Think of it as a business investment. I gain wives, you gain advertisement space.”
The winged hero before them let out a sigh dripping with exhaustion, his figure melting into what looked a lot more like a tired dad. The bird-like wings remained puffed up in defense mode, however. This wasn’t exactly comforting, considering those same feathers were rumored to fly as fast as a bullet. “Listen mates, how about you just make this easy and don’t try to set me on fire while I call the police, okay? Whatever happened back there was probably just an accident, and all we need to do is ask you kids a couple of questions.” Nope, no way. There was no way that they weren’t getting arrested right here and now. Tommy was suddenly pulling himself to his feet, dusting off his beige cargo pants with an expression close to a pout.
“Kids?! Mr. Minecraft I’ll have you know that me and my associate are the biggest men you will ever meet. We are the exact fucking opposite of children, in fact. I have so much facial hair it’s unnatural, I just choose to shave it so the other men have a chance with the ladies. Come on, back me up. Tell the man.” Ranboo was taken aback by suddenly being pulled into the conversation. He could barely stutter out a confused mumble before Philza seemed to have enough. His hands ran down his face in exhaustion, before his gaze settled in a neutral expression. “Just come with me, mate.”
A clawed hand reached for the brunette boy’s arm, and Ranboo felt all the panic that had taken a back seat in his mind come rushing to the front again. There was no way he was letting him and Tommy finally get put behind bars because of Philza merch.
In a last ditch effort, he lurched forward and gripped Tommy’s ankle. Oh dear prime, he hoped this worked.
‘Home. Safety. Comfort. Warm. Familiar.’
A vague dizzy feeling washed over his body, and the world seemed to fold over itself like an origami crane. The light around him bended in impossible ways, as if reality was being shown through a kaleidoscope.
And suddenly, Ranboo’s body hit the hardwood of their apartment. From the string of angry curses at his side, he could only assume that Tommy had survived the trip as well.
With a sigh of relief, Ranboo let himself succumb to the exhaustion that always came with teleporting. The cool floor had never felt better against the throbbing headache that was sure to catch up to him in the morning.