Ranboo was only just starting to doze off when the door slamming open pulled him back into full awareness again.

The first ten minutes after being left alone had been spent by him pacing from one end of the room to the other – something that took only a handful of steps between his long legs and how cramped the cell was. The blond man's abuse had left him with a few bruises, the pain dull and faded. But it was nothing compared to the clenched, tight feeling in his gut. Ranboo could deal with being hurt, it was easy to control.

You could decide to not feel it, or ignore it to the same effect. Compared to anxiety which was a clawing, furious beast harder to suppress.

And for a selfish moment, he wished Tubbo was there with him, soft hands and eyes made of honey. Tubbo would tell him to breathe or show him how, in and out and in and out at a steady predictable rhythm. He would tell Ranboo to name things he could see around the room out loud since that would often work to calm him down.

"Bed," Ranboo muttered to himself. "Horrible, uncomfortable... kind of too-small-for-my-weird-enderman-height bed." Well, that didn't help at all.

So after those first ten minutes, he crawled onto the cot instead, pulled the blanket over himself while curling up and tried to take some refuge in the residual heat left behind by its earlier use. When it had been him and Techno and nothing else, no arena and no people who wanted to hurt them, only for a blissful hour or two.

Before he could fully drift off into sleep the door opened and it all came crashing down again. What else should he have expected?

(Ranboo was not one to believe in superstitions. In fact, he avoided them like the plague. Superstitions too were considered an enderman-thing. Every Haunting had its own beliefs for what could be the origins of all life's bad coincidences. Not remembering his own family meant Ranboo did not know what he was supposed to believe. So he believed none of them just to be safe.)

It was the same handler that had come too early in the morning and spoke of challengers who carried Technoblade back inside. He had one hand wrapped around the piglin's middle and Techno's own arm slung over his shoulder to be able to support him. Ranboo had never scrambled off the bed quicker, hitting the ground with both knees at the same time. The handler mumbled out a strained thanks while almost buckling under the weight of keeping Techno from slumping. He dropped him onto the bed.

Ranboo sat there, almost unable to grasp what he was seeing.

Because Technoblade looked bad, worse than he had when his lung was literally not doing its sole job of allowing him to breathe and how could that even be a thing? How could somebody look more fucked than they did when they were practically dying?

The handler had already turned away, banging the door shut again with the same force they had used when entering. Technoblade snorted and raised one arm to grant them a sarcastic salute. Ranboo returned to the bed's side, still on his knees.

"What happened?" he asked.

After a few lethargic blinks, Techno's eyes settled on the enderman kneeling beside him. "I'll tell you, but you have to promise not to snitch on me, Ranboo."

"I...I promise? I guess?"

Technoblade gestured for him to lean in closer so he did, careful to avoid touching him. The bandage around his chest was still there but peeking out from beneath it Ranboo could see several contusions he knew for a fact weren't there before. The skin was a mess of red and blue – some darker patches of past injuries that were only just fading already being covered by newer ones.

Once he was close enough Techno pitched his voice into a whisper. "Don't go telling anyone else this cause it's- it's kind of embarrassing Ranboo, but I did get my ass kicked by someone." And against all logic, Techno chuckled.

Ranboo had heard Techno laugh before. Plenty of times, really. He remembered how scared he used to be of the piglin when he'd only known him through others. Had only heard the stories of bloodshed and violence and destruction. Truth be told, nothing that Ranboo had seen after had ever proved to him those stories couldn't be true – some of what he had seen had certainly affirmed them in his mind. Technoblade was a person who could be incredibly scary.

But he wasn't a person to be scared of.

Because even more so than the blood and the withers, Ranboo had found a man who had offered him a place to stay when he was cast out by others. And who had shared his supplies and his warmth without asking. And who couldn't ever leave his house without saying goodbye to his emotional support polar bear.

And Technoblade laughed, like the rumbling of an ocean. Soft yet unrestrained. Unintrusive, never afraid to be what it is.

This was not like that. This was – Ranboo tilted his head and considered for a moment, while Techno rubbed a hand down his pale, bruised face and exhaled a shaky breath. This was exhaustion and blood loss.

Oh! Oh yes, this was blood loss and potion effects and Techno needed help and there Ranboo was getting distracted by frivolous thoughts about oceans and the nature of humor because it felt safer than confronting his growing worry that Technoblade was going to get himself killed very soon and it would be his fault.

He fell back with a gasp, one that made Techno startle his eyes open again, then hurriedly pulled out the chest from under his bed.

"We can give you what you didn't finish yesterday, then dilute the second potion so it'll fit in two bottles-" Ranboo started saying, already reaching for it.

"No potions," Techno said, pushing up on his elbows. It took him a lot of effort, brow dotted with sweat at the simple action of sitting upright.

"You said I could help!" Ranboo protested, almost sounding like a petulant teen being scolded.

"I did. And I don't mean you can't. But they already gave me one. Practically shoved it down my throat actually. They could learn a thing or two from your bedside manners."

Ranboo faltered, fingers still curled around the glass. "W-wouldn't more be better though?"

"Doesn't work like that. Potions only repair surface damage, they can't magic away anemia. Besides, I'd rather not risk an overdose."

And Ranboo knew that. How could he not know that? Maybe he forgot, maybe he was too eager to help to remember. Whatever had put Techno's life in danger had already been fixed, he needed to be able to rest, to get better. Plus the side-effects of excessive potion use could be a pain. Already Ranboo could tell the tremor in Techno's fingers and his sweat-clammy skin was more due to the number of potions he'd been using lately rather than anything else.

"Yeah... okay." He stood up, brushed some imaginary dirt off his pants. "So, we just wait then?"

Technoblade nodded, shifting his position. Ranboo only then realized he'd probably sat up because lying on his back hurt too much. He cringed at the thought.

"Now we just wait."

They didn't have to wait long.

The lights came on and breakfast was brought by – oatmeal again, big surprise there. Ranboo got out the apple and ate it. He went back to pacing, trying to distract himself by counting the cracks in the wall. When the door opened for the third time that day Mel walked in, looking anything but happy to be there.

He hooked one finger into his belt, pulled at it a bit. Ranboo followed his seafoam green eyes as they dart around the room, unable to look anywhere but the two of them. Until eventually, "You got another fight."

(What was that he'd thought about not believing in superstitions?)

Technoblade had to brace his arm against the wall to be able to stand up, only barely managing not to fall over. Mel's mouth was drawn into a thin line as if the sight left a bad taste in his mouth. Perhaps Ranboo had been too hasty in judging him. Perhaps he was going to help them after all.

Except Mel didn't say anything, only watched Techno start limping his way across the room.

"He can't fight like this," Ranboo pointed out. If he was the only sane person left in the world then so be it.

"I know," Mel answered uncomfortably. "I don't make the rules."

"Nah, you just enforce them." Techno pushed off from the wall, almost failing to keep his balance. After a few firm inhales he steadied himself.

"You can't be serious," Ranboo tried again, hating himself. Because there was nothing he could do with words. Words never meant anything. Even back in L'Manburg they hadn't. Actions were more important than words. People were more important than sides.

Techno attempted a kind of half-shrug that fell completely short. "S'not really like we got any other choice."

Ranboo needed to choose actions and people.

"We do!" He turned and Mel almost shrank back when Ranboo pulled himself to his full height. Sometimes, he overlooked how threatening that could be to people. "Let me fight. I will do it in his stead."

"Ranboo," Techno warned. Ranboo decided not to let him finish.

"You send him and you'll have... well, you'll have a dead fighter on your hands and that can't be good for you. Needing to dispose of the body won't be fun either. Or, or maybe you wouldn't need to worry about that but it's going to ruin somebody's day."

Mel did not look convinced. "Kid-"

"Please," Ranboo said then, making eye contact the best he could. He couldn't look away. He shouldn't. Not until this worked. "Please, I don't- I can't do anything else to help. Please just let me go? You have to send me instead. I can fight, I won't win but I promise I can fight."

He could tell the exact moment his pleading won the handler over.

"Fine," Mel groaned. "We'll just..." He threw his hands up. "We'll figure something out. Let's just go before we all get put through the wringer for being late."

Technoblade did not protest. And if it was because he knew it would be useless to or because he secretly was relieved he'd be spared the pitch – Ranboo didn't know if he'd ever find out.