His throat hurt from screaming.

Raw, aching. He hadn't started there. No, it was a gradual descent. A slippery slope stumbled towards in blind darkness until you tripped and fell headfirst and slid the rest of the way down down down-

Ranboo had begun by telling himself to stay calm (and knowing it would fail miserably).

Breathing, in tempo. Counting to know how long for each inhale, for each exhale. Tubbo would often count for him. When he was having an anxiety attack the numbers got all messed up in his head and the seconds were too hard to keep track of so Tubbo would take Ranboo's hands and count out loud, telling him all he had to do was follow along.

Tubbo wasn't with him though – nobody was, he was alone. Ranboo had to count all by himself. He couldn't, no matter how hard he tried. He ticked his claws against the stone and that worked, kinda? It was a good enough substitute. Breathe in time with the noise, easy.

Except then there was nothing else but the noise. The room was too quiet, too small. And there was no sound except his claws tapping against the floor, getting quicker. It turned into a continuous scratching and then he forced himself to stop and he could breathe a bit better but he still could barely see or hear. He got up – stupid. There was nowhere to go.

Walking circles around the cell and walking circles around his own thoughts. They still needed to get out. Everything had gone wrong and they needed to get out. The room was so small and Ranboo needed to get out. Everywhere his tails flicked it hit solid stone, his feet kept bumping into the walls. The room was so, so small.

Ranboo's head was starting to hurt but he couldn't give into it. He couldn't lose his hold on the present.

(Maybe it would allow him to get out, but Prime only knows where he'd end up instead)

He crept his hands along the bricks, looking for cracks. Any part of the surface he could work with. There were small dents and fractures, wide enough to force his claws into. Chip, chip, chip. Until it tore the skin and he bled and then Ranboo screamed.

He stumbled back, hit the wall and crumpled. Curled up, held his bleeding fingers. This wasn't going to work. Stupid, stupid. He needed to wait, wait for them to open the door and come get him. They wouldn't lock him up forever. No, this was punishment. He had been a bad person.

This was his deserved reward.

Except it wasn't? This was all wrong and he needed to get out. He got up and the cycle continued. They didn't bring him food or water. He didn't sleep. He lost track of time. And Ranboo screamed.

How long? Hours, perhaps. Days, months, years? Ranboo wouldn't be able to tell the difference anymore. He had been locked up forever. Had he ever not been locked up? He must have been, must have known the outside world. Must have known blue skies and fresh air and the feeling of grass beneath his feet.

Not that he could remember any of that now. Smudges filtered through, colors and motion. The shape of a face he would want to cradle or arms he would want to hold him. People who made him feel safe or places he would have called home. Ranboo had forgotten who would be waiting for him if he ever got out. Instinctively, he reached for something in his pocket but there was nothing there. It sent him into a panicked frenzy once more – more panic, more, more. Why wasn't it there? He needed it to remember. He needed it.

It hurt, ached, tore his heart to shreds. He rocked back and forth, slammed his hands against his forehead several times. "Think, think, think-" He could implore his uncooperative memory for all eternity but it wouldn't help.

Had there been anyone there in the first place? Maybe he had made them up.

Right, yes. That had to be it. The house in the snow and the people who had helped him build it. The room with the table and chairs that he went to and then they talked about things that concerned them and afterward, they went upstairs and there were snacks and laughter and one time Ranboo set off fireworks against the boreal lights. The mansion big enough to play hide-and-seek in where it was never cold, almost smelled of honey and flowers. Sitting on a bench and listening to music that they could sing along to.

None of it was real. He had made it all up.

Exhaustion was pulling at his remaining thoughts, lulling them to join the numbness that was there. Ranboo lied down, hunched in on himself to make it more likely for his body warmth to linger through the night, before falling into an uneasy sleep.

A man entered.

Ranboo did not remember them. He was sitting against the wall, tail curled around his legs. Arms braced on his knees. The light burnt his eyes, Ranboo almost flinched. It felt like he hadn't known that door to open in ages.

The man said something, slowly coming closer to him. Their hair was short, green. Ranboo wasn't scared of them for some reason. They knelt before him and helped him drink from a cup of water. Even though his throat was still raw from his breakdown, Ranboo was parched. He hadn't had anything to drink since... well, since getting locked up and he didn't know when that was. It felt forever but he knew how his mind could get.

Tricking him, deceiving him, abandoning him.

He drank the water and nodded gratefully. Words were too hard on him for now. Standing felt too hard as well but they still helped him up with hands on his elbows. Ranboo couldn't concentrate on where they were going but he didn't need to with them leading him. And there was light and space and he was out of the horrible room.

He could breathe again.

They approached another door. Another cell? He didn't have the energy left to panic, as much as the idea of being locked up again terrified him.

It wasn't the same kind of horrible tiny cramped space. Not quite the picture of luxury either, but there were proper beds at least and a small table that had some food on it. Ranboo hadn't been very aware of his hunger before, but smelling whatever it was that sat on the tray made his stomach growl. He was so distracted by it, he didn't even notice there was another person in the room.

Not until they practically jumped him. Their hands hovered over his face, his shoulders, his arms in turn systematically checking him for injuries. They were talking too but the words all flew by too quickly. Ranboo couldn't really keep up.

Then, finally a question he did understand. "Ranboo, are you alright? You're not hurt, are you?"

"No, I... I don't think so. I just- I-" his chest hitched, his breathing was getting all fucked again.

He wasn't in the small room anymore but still his mind wouldn't behave.

Except the person pulled him closer. Despite Ranboo being probably a head taller than them – Ranboo was usually several heads taller than everyone – they made it work by putting their hand on the back of his neck and forcing his chin down to fit against their collarbone. Their grip was firm, enclosing, warm. Ranboo expected it to make him panic more, remind him of the claustrophobia he had felt in the small room. Instead, he sunk into its comfort.

And he finally felt somewhat safe again.

"Techno," he mumbled – almost as if he needed the confirmation. Double-check if his memory wasn't still playing tricks on him. Technoblade nodded against him. "How long was I away?"

"Two days. It's uh, auction day or whatchamacallit."

"Oh..." Techno pulled away from him and Ranboo reluctantly let go. If he could have, he'd love to have remained like that. Just until he didn't feel as if his entire mind was fragmented anymore. There was no time for it, he had to pull himself together. "That's not good."

Techno's shirt was dirty, stained blood around the shoulder. There was a bandage, but it hadn't seemed to have done its work. Ranboo was too apprehensive to ask about it.

"We'll figure something out," Techno said. If nothing else, his nonchalance about a very dire situation was admirable.

They still had the communicator. They still had a few hours left. Ranboo had lost all certainty of their escape, yet he wasn't as scared anymore. Not now that they were together again.

"Yeah," he agreed. "We'll figure something out."