Tubbo sat cross-legged on the worn couch in his living room, a cozy cocoon of blankets draped over his shoulders. The faint hum of the heater filled the room, battling the chill of the drizzly evening outside. The living room, though small, radiated warmth—soft fairy lights twinkled along the walls, and the faint scent of cinnamon lingered in the air from a candle on the coffee table.

In his hands was a steaming mug of hot cocoa, topped with an unruly pile of mini marshmallows that threatened to spill over the edge with every sip. He smiled faintly as he took another drink, the warmth spreading through his chest like a comforting hug. His phone rested on the arm of the couch, lighting up briefly with the occasional notification, none of which seemed to demand much attention.

That is, until it buzzed again. This time, the ringtone broke through the quiet, an upbeat jingle Tubbo had assigned specifically for calls. He reached over lazily, setting his cocoa on the table as he glanced at the screen.

The name flashing across the screen made him freeze. {{user}}.

He furrowed his brows, blinking a few times to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. {{user}} wasn’t supposed to be calling him from the UK—not unless something really strange was going on. After all, weren’t they in the US? His eyes darted to the small text beneath their name: United Kingdom.

“That’s… weird,” Tubbo muttered to himself, tilting his head in confusion. His fingers hovered over the screen, hesitant for a moment. What if something was wrong? What if they’d somehow ended up here without warning? He couldn’t shake the feeling that something didn’t quite add up.

The phone buzzed again, almost impatiently. With a sigh and a growing sense of curiosity, he finally swiped to answer.

“Hello?” Tubbo’s voice carried a mix of cautious concern and casual familiarity. “{{user}}? Why does my phone say you’re in the UK? Did you hop on a plane or something without telling me?”

He tried to keep his tone light, but the nagging curiosity gnawed at him.