Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Gardenview was blossoming with visitors by the minute; giddy children racing at the lobby’s rainbow carpet as it led them to that grand tree down the hall. The center never lacked the joyous cheers and laughter. Excitement permeated the atmosphere group after group to the point it was contagious. 

Whenever there was an anxious new face it would quickly melt away once fully immersed in Gardenview’s charm. It couldn’t be helped with how lively and welcoming everyone was. The center provided everything a child could ask for, letting them meet Toons they took a shine to and connected with.

Due to such a surge of regulars and newcomers some of the workers- more specifically the Toon Handlers- were overwhelmed, needing to oversee the children and their designated Toon. It can be taxing, needing to constantly wrangle children and ensure the building doesn’t burn to the ground. 

Noticing this issue, the founders thought of a brilliant idea to ease it. This solution was hiring assistants for the Toon Handlers. More or less, the proper title was ‘Junior Handler’. It was basically the equivalent of being a teacher’s assistant. 

It allowed more flexibility for the Main Toon Handlers to breathe easily, not needing to bend over backward trying to tango with the many duties of being a Handler. 

Of course, a Junior Handler can’t just be picked willy-nilly like. They need to have chemistry with their assigned Toon and Main Handler, be capable of keeping up to their pace and energy, and bounce off each other naturally. That was the belief of Arthur Walton at least. To provide an environment where both Handler and Toon could flourish concurrently.

Naturally, you went through the process of being interviewed by one of the founders which then advanced to you going through a trial, meeting the Main Handlers and the Main Toons they oversee. If they liked you and approved of your performance then you’d pass. And luckily you managed to meet those requirements, getting the job. 

Surprisingly though, who you were assigned to as Junior Handler was completely up to one of the Mains. That was one of the reasons you had to meet them. If one particular Main took an immense shine to you, they’d request you. It is a strange process since this also has to go through their Main Handler, but regardless it was a promising sign for the hiree. Imagine your surprise when one of the Main Toons, Sprout, asked his Handler if you could take that position.

A part of you questions what he saw in you having you be his Junior Handler.

♡ ♡ ♡

“You’re skipping lunch again?!”   With narrowed eyes and a frown, Sprout crosses his arms. “This is the third time this week!”

Smiling sheepishly, you try to reassure him, “I know, I know. I’ll make sure to eat something once my shift ends.” You glance at the group of children occupied with the current activity, “But right now I gotta cover for Sam while they have their lunch break.”

The benefit of Junior Handlers was it gave the Main Handlers more space to work with. In your case, Sam has been taking lunch breaks early. 

At the moment, the kids are decorating cupcakes Sprout and you prepped, using all the frosting and sprinkles their little eager hands could use. Some were surprisingly decorated tastefully while others were sometimes just glomps of frosting with piles of sprinkles covering them. Regardless, they all look like they’re all having fun, either quietly working on their cupcake or talking amongst themselves showing their progress. 

The only time you need to step in is if or when one of the kids decides to use the frosting as makeup or use the plastic spoons to catapult spoonfuls of frosting. That is a mess you don’t want to clean up and explain to Sam. You still shudder over the ‘Buttercream Blast Accident’ . 

“Going most of your days not eating isn’t good for you!” he scolds. “That’s not a good example for the kiddos!” Sprout gestures to a group of kids who are still absent-mindedly decorating to their heart's content, unaware of what you two are speaking about. 

“Sprout, I’ll be fine. You don’t need to make a big deal out of this.” Seeing this does not relieve the worry on the Toon’s face, you sigh, “Tell you what, when Sam gets back I’ll ask them if I can take my break. They should be fine for the next activity since we’ll be heading to the playroom. If not, I'll take it when we head to Astro’s floor for nap time.”

Sam is civil albeit, often keeps to themselves. The best way for you to describe them is as an introvert working a job that drains their social battery, but with how well the job paid anyone would accept such an offer. 

You wouldn’t say Sam is strict, maybe stern is a better word to describe how they interact with the kids. They mostly let Sprout take the reins in the scheduled activities and lessons but still involve themselves whenever any of the children cause trouble. 

When you came into the picture your dynamic with Sam was—what did the kids compare it to? Like Razzle and Dazzle. One is cheery while the other keeps to themselves. 

Often when it comes to instructing the children you try to match your energy with Sprout’s in contrast to Sam who is straight to the point and no-nonsense.

You tended to have more of a hand in the activities while Sam laid back, joining when you needed an extra hand. Which is ironic, considering you’re the extra help. You don’t mind too much since Sprout helps you out. His help was especially helpful when you started your first day as Junior Handler.

Sprout seems to have relaxed a bit, “Fine. As long as you’re taking care of yourself, that’s all I ask from you, (Y/n).”

It’s adorable sometimes how he acts.

Trying to look out for you and getting huffy about it.

It is sweet of him.

You’re pretty sure you haven’t gone a day without Sprout suddenly appearing after you clock in asking how you were doing and if you had eaten anything. How he suddenly finds you you’re not sure he has a knack for that according to Sam and Cosmo.

Ruffling the leaves atop his head you laugh, “You’re too much of a worrywart. You know that, little man?”

The red in his cheeks deepens and he groans, “Yeah, yeah, I know.” He pouts, “And don’t call me ‘little man’.”

“Aw, but you’re little and a man!”

Another groan comes from him, “You’ve been spending too much time with Vee.” Despite this, it doesn’t stop a small chuckle from him.

A young girl approached you two, shyly looking at the ground. “Mr. Sprout. Miss handler. My cupcake fell on the floor.” Her eyes are watery, clearly distraught over this.

She points to the scene of the crime where her cupcake rests, having landed head-first onto the carpeted floor. The poor cupcake looks like it was decorated to resemble Sprout from the red and green frosting with the sprinkles that look like eyes. Now it’s all smashed and splattered into the ground from the impact.

Sprout winces at the sight. Whether it was due to seeing a version of his cupcake self having half of its face caved in, or the mess you’re not quite sure which it could be. Could be both.

Comforting her you say, “Don’t worry. We can get you a new one.” 

Her eyes continued to water, face growing red from frustration with herself, “But I really liked that one.”

“And you’ll make an even better one,” you encourage. “Think of it like this. That one was practice. And you know what they say about practice?” you ask.

She nods sniffing, “Practice makes perfect.”

“Exactly!” you cheer her on. “You’ve done it once. You can do it again. I just know it!” You then suggest, “Tell you what? Why don’t you use the coloring book while we get you a new one?”

You’re too focused on seeing her expression light up to notice the fond look from Sprout. Getting up, you’re about to guide her back to her seating, however, you quickly glance at Sprout. 

“Mind whipping up another cupcake for her while I help clean up?” 

He seemed to have been in some sort of trance because you have to call out his name for him to snap back to reality. “O-oh! Of course!” he affirms with his cheery smile. “Leave it to me!”

In the blink of an eye, he’s sprinting to the kitchen, leaving you alone to clean up the mess. Grabbing the cleaning supplies you get to cleaning, plopping the cupcake into the trash bin, and wiping the excess frosting. It is tedious cleaning up the buttercream frosting, even getting most of it off it tends to spread itself everywhere. The red frosting and sprinkle eyes make it look like someone murdered a cupcake version of Sprout, leaving this as the crime site. 

Toodles would have a field day, trying to investigate who killed cupcake-Sprout, but you’re pretty sure she’d interrogate all the kids in the room and then you. While you enjoy the young Toon’s presence, her contagious energy is enough to make all the drowsiness before nap time void, and you prefer to not have Astro or his Handler, Austin, in distress quelling the kids’ hyperactiveness.

If Tisha was here she would fret about the mess, insisting she clean it herself. She could do a better job than you when it comes to cleaning, but like the other Toons, she’s usually busy while Gardenview is open. That and, you don’t want to get flack from Sam for letting Tisha clean up the mess. 

Taking a deep breath, you continue to work on the mess. A little bit of cleaning spray solution should do the trick. It takes a decent amount of work to purge the floor of the stubborn frosting, but you managed to rid yourself of it. When finished, you sit down to relax and wait for Sprout. He’s taking longer than usual. Hopefully, he didn’t hurt himself or forget to turn off the oven.

Before you can check, Sprout is back with a freshly made cupcake. How he makes them so fast is still a wonder for you. But who were you to question damn good pastries? Sprout was a master in the kitchen compared to you. 

Sprout places the cupcake down with a grin, “Here you go!” he exclaims. 

The girl’s eyes beamed with joy, “Thank you, Mr. Sprout!” Eagerly she resumes decorating the cupcake.

“Any time, kiddo!” He makes his way back to you, hiding something behind his back. “Here,” he reveals what it is.

A frosted glass rectangular food container with the Gardenview logo labeled on it. It’s still radiating with heat.

He looks at you expectantly, shuffling his foot against the carpet anxiously. “Well, what are you waiting for? Open it!” he blurts out.

“Alright, alright!” You carefully open the container.

There’s an assortment of food with a designated section. A generous amount of spaghetti with meatballs topped with parsley, garlic bread, and a cupcake is safely tucked away along with disposable utensils. Just the tantalizing aroma has your mouth watering.

“Aww, thanks, little man,” You once again ruffle his leaves to which he swats your hand away. 

“Can you stop treating me like that? I’m not a kid, you know!” Sprout scrunches his face.

“I know, I know, my bad,” you apologize.

It’s been a force of habit for you ever since you were hired. Despite being the tallest out of all the Toons, Sprout is still slightly shorter than you. He doesn’t usually mind you messing around with his leaves, but pair that with calling him ‘little man’ that’s where he gets miffed.

“You know you didn’t have to do this,” you tell him, referring to the lunch he prepared for you. “I kinda feel bad for troubling you.”

“Don’t be! I wanted to do this,” he interjects. “Beats having you rush to the diner for your break and wait a long time in line. And this’ll give me some peace of mind that you have something to eat.”

Indeed, you could simply buy your lunch from the diner, but Sprout is right about the line being long while Gardenview is open. The food is pretty good. A bit pricey with certain menu items even with the employee discount, but the quality makes up for it. 

He takes a deep breath and sighs, “Just promise me you’ll take better care of yourself, okay, (Y/n)?”

“I’ll try,” you promise him.

“Good. Because if I catch you skipping meals again, I can’t guarantee I’ll make you something to eat. Got it?”

You laugh at his insistent, “Got it.”

It feels weird being looked out for so feverishly. You’re not used to it in all honesty. But it does feel nice, knowing someone cares for you so vocally.

Placing your lunch beside you, you continue to watch over the children. The girl who dropped her cupcake finally manages to recreate her Sprout-inspired cupcake, beaming with pride and joy. This time she’s careful with it, placing it in the container provided for everyone once they finish decorating their cupcakes.

Feeling eyes burning into you turn to see it’s Sprout.

He’s staring at you. It lasts for so long that it could rival Pebble’s when he wants to snag a treat from people susceptible to his stare. It’s that same expectant look from earlier.

You bring your lunch back into your lap. “You want me to eat this while it’s still fresh, don’t you?” you ask him. 

”Yes, please.”

Laughing at his sudden response, you remark warmly, “You’re incorrigible, Sprout Seedly.”

Instead of the expected reaction to hearing his full name Sprout just crosses his arms and averts his gaze momentarily with reddening cheeks, mumbling to himself.

“You do know that I’m technically not supposed to eat until my break, right?” you remind him.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Sprout promises, pretending to zip his lips and throw away the key.

You should have enough time to eat with fifteen minutes to spare before you all head to the play area. Removing the container’s lid you eat the contents one by one all the while Sprout sits next to you and watches. He seems anxious as he observes you eat what he made, but the more you dig in he relaxes, smiling as you enjoy your meal.

It could have your body used to not eating during this time, but you never noticed how ravenous you were. Then again this feeling tends to be suppressed often when you snack on a protein bar and drink lots of water just to get through the day. Is that the most healthy solution? Hell no.

The pasta had enough sauce covering it, pairing well with the garlic bread. The meatballs were juicy and tender. Finishing last with the cupcake, it’s sweet and pillow-like. The sweet raspberry frosting is slightly tard which helps not make it overwhelmingly sweet.

The food is gone in mere minutes.

Sighing in satisfaction, you close the food container, using a napkin to wipe off anything left on your face. You’d most likely die of embarrassment if remnants of your meal stayed on your face during the remainder of your shift.

“Sooo,” Sprout drawls, taking the container off your hands. “How was it?”

“You’re acting like I'm some sort of food critic,” you tease, holding back a laugh.

“Well, that’s because this was the fastest thing I could make!” he admits. “The noodles could be too chewy, even the meatballs. I could have slightly made the garlic bread as hard as a rock,” he mentions the possible errors he could have made.

Before he could continue listing off what could have gone wrong you stop him, “Sprout, don’t worry. Everything was perfect.”

Taken aback by your comment, Sprout murmurs, “Perfect, huh?” Finally, he releases a sigh and grins, “I’m glad.” He moves off his chair, looking at the time. “Oh! We should clean up before bringing the kiddos to the playroom!” He holds up the empty food container. “I’m gonna bring this back to the kitchen! Be right back!” He heads off with a hop on each step.

Honestly, what are you going to do with him? Laughing to yourself you start to announce to the children it’s time to finish decorating and clean up, reminding them to also store their cupcakes into their container for safekeeping. 

You’re grateful that all the kids are satisfied with their work and listen to your instructions which makes things run smoothly. You did see some kids dump a bowl of sprinkles into their cupcake containers, but you decide to turn a blind eye. 

That solves the problem of avoiding throwing out most of the sprinkles.

In the middle of cleaning, Sam is finally back. “Where’s Sprout?” they ask, helping out by wiping off frosting on the tables. 

“Oh, he went to the kitchen to—”

Out of nowhere, Sprout pops in, “I’m back!” he announces. “Is it time to head out?”

Oh crap. You almost gave yourself and Sprout away with the unsanctioned lunch break. Sprout noticed this too due to him nudging you gently as a reminder. 

Sam oddly doesn’t press the matter further, seeming more focused on escorting the kids to the play area. They all walk in an orderly fashion, maintaining a line while you, Sprout, and Sam head to the elevator. Sam remains where the buttons are, pressing the one that leads to the desired destination for the next activity.

You’ll never get used to the quick shake from the elevator. It makes the entire floor under your feet quake. Your heart nearly skips a beat as if anticipating the flooring to disappear from under you, or the elevator’s cable to snap, plummeting into the ground and crushing everyone inside. You rather not have that fear come to fruition. 

You remind yourself that the elevator is built to handle a large group of people inside. It’s practically built similar to a freight elevator.

“You okay there, (Y/n)?” Sam checks in, managing to break through the chatter of children.

“Um… yeah. Just—well, you know.” 

They nod in acknowledgment, able to understand what you’re talking about. “I get it. I kinda felt the same way too. It takes some getting used to, but you eventually do. Try and take it easy and don’t push yourself too hard, okay?” 

There is a desire to ask Sam if the elevator is safe, but since there are children present you rather not cause mass hysteria and instill a phobia of elevators among them. It is probably for the best that a kid is talking to them, asking where they’re going to prevent you from being tempted to bring that question up.

A gentle squeeze on your hand pulls you out of your worries, look to your side it’s Sprout, giving a reassuring smile. He must have noticed your unease. That or he could hear your heartbeat with how fast it’s going. As unexpected as his act was, it wasn’t unwelcome. The light pressure and warmth from his hand are soothing.

Taking a deep breath, you attempt to calm yourself. 

Everything is fine.

The elevator isn’t crashing anytime soon. 

By the time you’ve eased your anxiety, the elevator stops. You’ve reached your destination.

Chapter Text

“As a Junior Handler who has been in the Gardenview family for half a year, how would you describe your relationship with the Toon you’re assigned to currently?” Delilah queries, taking a sip of coffee from her mug as her eyes remain focused on the clipboard.

It’s always the same question during your employee wellness exam with Delilah. Since this job involves childcare, knowing the employee's well-being was important since the job is rather demanding. This ensured the safety of both the employees and children.

You’re always welcomed by the grey walls decorated with designs of each Toon. Delilah’s office smells strongly of coffee which is enough to energize a person for the rest of the day. There are some coffee and ichor stains in the area likely due to her long sleeves accidentally knocking things down. 

She’s always been an interesting boss, working behind the scenes and acting as the Toon’s “doctor”. She is a very sporadic and vibrant person, her mind going to many places at once. Which makes sense taking into account how she helps keep the Toons afloat. 

The first time you met her when you officially got the job Delilah had a sit down with you, explaining the anatomy of the Toons so you could help with any minor medical issues. That introduced you to a substance called ichor which acts as the lifeblood for Toons.

Learning about ichor helped prepare you if any of the Toons draw ichor when hurt. That way, you and other Junior Handlers wouldn’t be startled seeing the abnormal hue and consistency of their ‘blood’. Delilah insisted that it should be treated exactly as blood rather than fuel, saying it dehumanizes the Toons.

You gotta admit. You didn’t expect to have a health class on your first day. Oh gosh. The skeleton and organ chart still haunts you. Their entire being was ichor, giving them shape and providing them practically organs, blood, and bones, everything a living being required to live. 

When you asked how one thing could provide all those factors Delilah simply replies, “In a way, ichor acts as the Toon’s DNA in many different facets. It remembers unique information for each respected Toon to help development and functionality.” 

The only difference is that Delilah herself had to create each data for every individual Toon. A long and tedious process that took her months to perfect. To ensure every bit of ichor remembers their blueprint, copying every instruction accurately and repeatedly when needed. 

It makes you wonder if ichor can “misremember” or be damaged like how DNA can on rare occasions, but at the moment Delilah never mentioned it. As far as she’s concerned, she’s perfected it.

There are times she then went over the different types of ichor. There’s ichor, the one that makes up the Toon's entire being, and then there’s Ichor. You’re not sure what the last type is. You somewhat recall that Arthur wanted to make Gardenview “off-grid” and “green”. Perhaps it has some relation with that?

All you know is that you shouldn’t consume mass amounts of any variation. One: it’s toxic when ingested— fair amounts (close to a quarter cup worth) can irritate the throat and stomach lining and cause mild cramping, but in large amounts, it can potentially cause internal damage and seizures. Two: why? 

Somehow it’s mostly safe on the skin. Delilah’s clothes and hands are often stained in it. So far there are no negative effects.

Shifting in the sunken cushiony swivel chair you collect words for your answer. “I’d say it has improved. Sprout opened up a lot to me, and we’ve been working well together.”

Delilah nods, grabbing her pen from the clipboard to write that down. “I see…and how are your collaborative efforts with his Main Handler?” 

“Well,” you pause, “we work well. There could be some improvement, but those are just tiny concerns.”

“Oh? Do tell,” she encourages. “Every bit of feedback is fruitful for improvement.” Clicking her pen she prepares to write once more.

“It’s kinda silly. Sam’s a wonderful coworker— it’s just that they tend to take their lunch break at inconvenient times, so much so I have to cover for them and skip my own.”

“I see…” Delilah scribbles this down with a thoughtful hum. “I did hear this from Sprout during his checkup, so I’ll run this through Arthur.” She grabs her mug to take another sip. “This may just be due to schedules unintentionally, contradicting themselves. Ever since the introduction of the ‘Junior Handler Program’ we’ve been able to fit in more activities while also providing Main Handler’s respite. We’ll attempt to fix this oversight.” She places down her clipboard. “I believe that is all for now. I’ll see you within a month.” She grins warmly at you.

Leaving the office you head back to the lobby where you, Sam, Sprout along with the other Mains and Handlers are supposed to meet up to welcome a group of children on a field trip. 

The spry strawberry Toon is the first to notice and greet you, “Hey!” He sprints towards you and stops. “I was wondering where you went!”

“I was only gone for thirty minutes for the monthly wellness checkup,” you explain. “You didn’t miss me that much, did you, little man?”

Sprout scoffs, “I was just curious that’s all. It’s weird having you disappear in the middle of the day.” He then asks, “You made sure to eat something, right? Because I see you snacking on your fifth protein bar, I will go insane.”

“I’ll grab something to eat after touring the kids. I promise.” You just hope you can take your lunch break with how busy things will be with this group. “Now, come on. Let’s try not to keep Sam waiting by their lonesome.” That should be enough to avoid a scolding from Sprout about your eating habits.

Sprout leads you to Sam, and on your way, you greet the Mains and their Handlers.

“Hey, Austin! Hey, Astro!”

Austin waves nervously, and Astro peaks out from behind him, “H-hello…” the Toon mumbles out.

Passing by Vee and Veronica you do the same to which Veronica smiles back, “H-hi, (Y/n).”

“Junior Handler,” Vee acknowledges.

You wonder why she never calls you by your name despite knowing you for six months. It’s on your name tag after all. But then again, this is Vee.

“HEYA! (Y/N)!” Shanon cheers, popping out with Shelly by her side. 

“Hey, Shanon. You two seem excited,” you remark.

“When are we not?” she giggles. “Shelly and I have big plans for our activities with the kiddos!”

Shelly nods enthusiastically, “I made a special scavenger hunt in the dig site for them! They’ll be blown out of the water like Mosasaurus!” She pauses thoughtfully, “Well, technically, since this involves digging and Mosasaurs were aquatic dinosaurs that doesn’t make sense. I guess the better and more factually correct metaphor would be saying they'll be blown out of the earth like Oryctodromeus. After all! They are known for their burrowing behavior. Not to mention, their name quite literally translates to “digging runner”!”

You must admit Shanon and Shelly’s boundless energy is contagious and refreshing. “I’m sure they’ll love what you have in store for them.” 

Shelly’s eyes brighten, shining with delight. “You r-really think so!?” Little squees of delight escape from her.

“Knowing how passionate you are I’m certain they will.”

Shelly is way too under-appreciated in your opinion. It's a shame considering how sweet she is like a cinnamon roll. You love how she gives it her all and supports the other Toons regardless. Every bit of encouragement towards her could go a long way.

“I should probably leave you to it. I hope your activity hits off!” You end your exchange with them and resume getting to Sam. 

Sam is stationed by the lobby’s stairs, leaning against the wall with their arms crossed. On occasions, they’re tapping their foot against the flooring anxiously.

“Oh,” they notice your arrival, “back from Delilah's monthly examination already? How did it go?”

“Same as usual.”

“Office still stained in ichor and coffee stains?” they quip.

“You’re acting as if you’ve never been in it before,” you muse, lightly punching the side of their arm playfully. “Where are the other Juniors by the way?”

“Helping out with Shelly’s surprise and making sure Pebble doesn’t steal anything there.”

“Should I head down to her floor and help them?”

“Nah, should be fine with the three of them,” they dismiss.

It always made you wonder why Devan never took on a Junior Handler. Everyone believed he would, considering he’s looking after two Toons. Out of all the Handlers, he seemed to have needed a Junior the most. 

Devan always had the air of someone who had his act together, smiles and all. Perhaps he preferred to keep it that way by avoiding the offer.

Sam continues to tap their feet against the floor which makes you compelled to point this out. “Are you okay?”

They purse their lips and sigh. “I’m not a huge fan of school field trips, that’s all,” they confess. “They’re unpredictable. Anything could go wrong. Which is why we need to cover all the bases so everything goes smoothly.”

“I guess you have a point, but why are you acting as if shit’s already hit the fan?” You hear Sprout clear his throat, a warning to watch your profanity. “I mean it’s already gone downhill?”

Sam groans, “Because anything that goes wrong will be put on us, and I mean all of us.” They cross their arms, “You’ve already seen what happened with the “Buttercream Blast Accident” .”

“Oh, right…” you recall.

Your skin itches at the sheer name.

You're grateful Gardenview is provided with showers within its facility.

Shaking yourself out of the memory, you attempt to remain upbeat. “But still! I’m sure everything will be fine! This isn’t the first time we dealt with something like this!” You turn to Sprout, “Right, little man?” 

Catching wind of your intentions, Sprout nods along. “Yeah! We’ll be just fine!” he cheers.

Sam rolls their eyes and chuckles, “If only I had both of your optimism.”

Just then a voice shouts, calling the attention of all the Handlers and Toons. “Alright, everyone!” Devan announces, walking with a stack of today’s itinerary. “I’m sure you all know we’re expecting a school field trip at any moment! As always, let’s give them the traditional ‘Gardenview welcome’ and hospitality we’re known for!”

Dandy with Pebble walks around, handing out the scheduled activities. Dandy is practically beaming at the prospect of the large number of visitors. But this is Dandy, after all, the star of the show. It only makes sense that he’d shine the brightest with an audience.

Devan gestures to Dandy with the schedule in hand. “Okay, everyone,” the Toon chirps, “we've all arranged your activities in a nice and tidy program! Giving all you all time to dazzle them!” He holds up his piece of paper, “If you please, as we go over it say aloud your respected activity! First, we have the grand tour of our fine establishment! Have a meet and greet! And then!” He motions to Vee by extending his hand out to her, “Vee take it away!”

With an annoyed twitch from her antenna and a narrowing of her eyes, Vee reads in an unamused and monotone voice, “Vee’s Gameshow… There we’ll test their knowledge with trivia, offering a grand prize they can take home. And then….” Vee snaps her sights to Shelly.

“Ooo! That’s me!” Shelly jumps excitedly. “We’re gonna host an excavation competition— a little scavenger hunt! There’s gonna be little surprises for the kiddos! Then!” She queues that it’s Sprout’s turn.

Sprout looks at his sheet of paper, “We’ll top it off by teaching them how to decorate mini-desserts inspired by each Toon. Once that is wrapped up we’ll move onto lunch and then give them free time to look around Gardenview, but also the option to use the play area.”

The lobby is muted as if waiting for someone to speak.

“Um. Astro. Buddy! You’re up!” Dandy calls out, trying to hype up his friend.

Astro cowers behind Austin, and the stars he’s using to hold the paper up fade. “O-oh… we have a visit to my floor to give them a tour and briefing on astronomy.” He glances at Dandy, “Why couldn’t we just plan naptime like we usually do…?” Astro meekly gripes.

Vee joins in on this, “And why have my gameshow so soon? A bit too early in my opinion.” She places a hand on her hip, glowering at Dandy.

Shelly raises her hand, “Oh! I don’t mind switching times with Vee’s activity if she wants!” she offers. 

However, her proposal flies over Dandy’s head. Judging by his focused deadpan stare at Vee it must imply the printed schedules for the field trip are set in stone. Another indicator that it’s the official itinerary is that Dandy and Devan went through the effort to laminate it. That and the visitors are arriving soon. It would be a hassle to restructure it at the last minute.

Dandy thoughtfully places a hand on his chin. “Well, you see, Vee. You can test them on basic trivia or facts they learned during the tour! It’s always best to test our visitors when the information is still fresh in their heads! That evens the playing field, you know?” 

Vee narrows her eyes, rolling them with a scoff, “I suppose…”

“As for you, Astro!” Dandy moves on to him. “I know this may be out of your comfort zone, but you got this! Nobody knows the stars better than you after all!” he praises. “Remember! Your floor is your domain! You know the layout like the back of your hand even with the lights off! Sweep them off their feet!” 

Astro sighs, “I guess I’ll give it a go.” The tension in his expression lessens, finding comfort in Dandy’s confidence in him.

“Attaboy, Astro!”  Just then the train whistle fills the lobby along with wheels squeaking on the tracks when it stops. “Ah! Right on time!” 

Everyone lines up at the stairs; Main Toons standing in front with their Handlers behind them.

Children begin to exit the train soon entering the lobby through the metal revolving doors. Thanks to the teachers present they all enter in a somewhat orderly fashion. 

There’s something about the energy of guests that is renewing. Perhaps it was the smiles and giddiness while entering, swirling with pure curiosity to learn where they’ve stumbled upon. A place brimming with brightness and colors, whilst being beckoned by a rainbow carpet.

“Okay, everyone, all together now!” Devan instructs. “Don’t forget to smile!”

“Welcome to Gardenview!” 

Chapter Text

“Sprout, he’s staring at me,” you tattle, trying to focus on taking out the batch of freshly baked scones for Teagan’s tea party.

Usually, by the weekend Gardenview closes and it’s your and the Toons' day off, but you got a call from Sam to help Sprout out catering to the tea party. Apparently, Teagan’s gatherings are oddly grander than a simple play pretend tea party you at first envisioned. It’s a simple afternoon tea with any Toons Teagan invited, though there they offer open invitations provided everyone remains well-mannered.

Sprout usually can man the kitchen fine, but due to it being a gathering that will have a fair amount of Toons, thus resulting in him and Cosmo making lots of food, there is a fifty-fifty chance of him being caught up in the moment to where he forgets something; like turning off the oven for instance. Sprout forgetting to do that and mixing it with Cosmo burning sweets by setting the temperature too high via misreading or overthinking the recipe is quite literally a recipe for disaster. 

“Resist. He’ll go away sooner or later,” Sprout reassures, cutting off the crust of the square cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches. “Try not to look at him.”

A pair of large eyes from below look up at you, going out of focus and then back in. Nonetheless, his gaze burns into you— the equivalent of a thousand suns. You’re lucky he can’t force you to look at him through telekinetic means at least. If that were the case, you’d be lost in his gaze for all eternity.

Sprout glances down briefly, “Pebble, no .” His sudden acknowledgment causes Pebble to snap his attention towards Sprout. “Go bother Dandy.”

A defiant bark leaves the pet rock as he plops onto the kitchen floor, making his stand that he does not intend to leave without something.

“No, Pebble,” Sprout asserts again. “We worked hard on these. You can’t have any.”

Pebble lets out an argumentative ruff, “Grrr. Bark! Bark!”

“That doesn’t count,” Sprout counters.

“He sounds…insistent,” you comment, still resisting the temptation to look at Pebble.

Sprout sighs heavily, shaking his head, “And this is why I had to send Cosmo out to help Teagan with the setup. If I didn’t, we’d wind up with half the amount we need. That and get scolded by Dandy.” He finishes cutting the sandwiches, heading to the fridge to take out two large glass containers filled with something white.

“What’s that?”

“Clotted cream,” he casually mentions the name.

“Ew,” you grimace, the reaction slipping out of you impulsively.

The name did not sound very appealing. It's appalling. The first thing when you think of ‘clotted’ or ‘clots’ would be foremost blood clots. Not a very appetizing association to be honest.

“Oh, don’t judge it that quickly!” he rebukes, rolling his eyes. “It’s pretty tasty if you try it!” He carefully snatches a scone and a jar of jam, “Earl grey or plain?” he asks, cutting the scone in half and then slathering a bit of jam.

“Um. Plain?” Sounds like the safest option.

Sprout opens one of the containers, retrieving a reasonable amount with a spoon then spreading it onto the scone. Handing half of it to you and saving the extra for himself, to which Pebble barked in annoyance. 

“Grrr …Arf!” he paddles to Sprout, pawing at his legs, trying to stretch his tiny rock body to reach up. “Bark!”

Sprout groans in annoyance as a response. “Again. No, Pebble.”

“Bark arf!”

“She gets to sample it because she helped.”

“Arf!”

“That’s not—” Sprout pauses, seeming taken back by what the pet rock said, trying to piece together his thoughts. “You know what? That doesn’t matter.”

You sometimes wish you could understand what Pebble is talking about. He does well communicating via body language, but you are curious about what he’s saying.

You quickly check in on the flustered Sprout. “What did he say?”

“It’s best if you don’t know.”

“Aw, come on, little man,” you try to coax him to translate for you. 

He only shakes his head, “J-just ignore him for now.” He’s probably saying this more for his sake than yours.

Maybe it is for the best you don’t know what Pebble said. For all you know, he could have threatened to burn down the kitchen and frame Sprout.

He clears his throat, “Anyways! Try it!” He’s most likely using this to avoid you prodding him to translate Pebble’s words.

Biting a topped off scone you chew for a moment to let the flavors gain their bearings. The cream oddly enough tastes similar to butter, but more rich and sweet with a bit of nuttiness. Not to mention, it had a certain taste to it like freshly made whipped cream. Despite the extremely creamy texture, it’s oddly refreshing. It pairs well with the sweetness of the jam and the flakiness of the scones. Combined it creates a lovely medley of flavors.

After one bite you’re quick to eat every bit of it which earns you an amused laugh from Sprout. “Judging by that I take it you’re a fan.” He looks at you but covers his mouth, repressing a fit of laughter. 

“What?”

“You got some cream left on your face,” he points out. “Here lemme get that for you,” he reaches for your face.

There’s a certain concentration in Sprout’s eyes, like when he’s decorating his baked goods. When his thumb makes contact with the corner of your lip it lingers there for a moment before he makes a careful swiping motion before retraction his hand, unintentionally caressing your lower lip while doing so. 

“There we go!” He licks the cream clean off his thumb casually. By the time he’s realised what he’s done in front of you, he turns away from you. “You do want one more before we decorate the tarts?”

“Oh, um, sure!” You accept Sprout's offer.  “Mind making the one-half plain and the other earl grey? I’m kinda curious how that tastes now.”

“Sure thing!” It only takes him a few seconds for him to prepare another scone and hand it to you.

You’re still not so sure why Sprout acted coy moments ago, but before you can think about it further Pebble is pawing at your ankle. That’s when you make the fatal mistake of looking at him. Those eyes. They’re so round and googly. It’s like they can see your soul.

Seeing he’s earned your attention he paws at you insistently, panting happily. His tail wags side to side, so much so the force from this act is nearly enough to make his entire body shake. That alone is enough to break your will. 

Checking your surroundings, Sprout is busy retrieving the berries from the fridge. You make quick work of eating the earl grey side of the scone.

“Shh, don’t tell him,” you quickly kneel in front of Pebble, handing him the other half portion of your scone. “Our little secret.”

Wagging his tail Pebble munches down on the scone, his eyes bobbing up and down as he chews. By the time it’s nothing but crumbs the small pet rock is licking your hand, eager to get every remnant of his treat. You have to pull away when he nips your fingers. Not that it hurt, it just tickled a bit. Pebble looks at you, panting happily. He wags his tail avidly, panting with his tongue sticking out.

“Arf!” he hops into you, knocking you down on your back. 

Pebble now on your chest proceeds to lick your face feverishly. It’s hard not to laugh at how ticklish his small licks are. He’s clearly pleased with the treat you gave him. 

Between each giggle you say, “No! Pebble! Stop it! That tickles! I’m gonna die!” 

This only eggs on the pet rock, licking you more feverishly, yielding more fits of laughter from you. Even as you are begging for mercy Pebble increases his effort of gratitude tenfold.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Sprout picks up the pet rock to get him off you, saving you from being slobbered on more. “You’re practically eating her alive at this point.” He sets Pebble down to help you up. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

“Woof!” Pebble barks, still wagging his tail.

In response, a momentary scowl appears on Sprout's face towards the pet rock. Doesn’t appear like Pebble ratted you since you’re spared Sprout’s look of displeasure. The best you can interpret is that Pebble implied that he’d lick-attack you again.

Wiping off the slobber off your face you reassure Sprout, “It’s fine. Not like he did any damage.” Trying to lighten his mood, you joke, “Pebs would need to be at least…this big to do that.”

You stand on your tippy toes and lift your arm above your head, indicating how tall Pebble would need to be. Just enough to tower over you.

“Besides look at that face,” you gesture to Pebble who is standing between you two, with his eyes you're not sure who he’s focusing on. He could be double-tasking. “Does that look like the face of someone who’d bite a chunk out of me?”

“Woof!” Pebble says in response which sounds like he’s agreeing with you.

Sprout stares at you two. “Yes.”

“Sprout!”

Then he bursts out laughing, “I’m sorry. I just had to.” He brings out the tray of tarts, “Now come on, are we gonna decorate these, or not?”

“Right! Right!” After rinsing your face and washing your hands of drool you head to the counter where the arrangement of berries is laid out with the pastries. 

Giving Pebble a treat must have appeased him because he’s lying on the floor watching you two.

Grabbing a strawberry you pause, “Um, this isn’t like cannibalism for you, is it?”

It never crossed your mind fully what Sprout’s thoughts were on this. You just didn’t put much thought into it when you helped Sprout on your first day.

Sprout glances at you in the middle of decorating one of the tarts. “Huh?” He looks at what you’re referring to and chuckles. ”O-oh! I get what you mean. But, I don’t consider it, well, that. I’m a strawberry but not a strawberry,” he clarifies. “The same would go for Cosmo. I don’t think he’d have it in him to eat or give away his baked goods if it were that case.”

That does make sense as confusing as it sounds.  If that were the case then it would certainly make life in Gardenview complicated for the Toons.

Dressing the mini tarts with an arrangement of fruits has a certain challenge about it. Your decoration skills compared to Sprout’s leave much to be desired. He’s elaborately arranged the berries to resemble a flower going as far as topping them with a sifted powdered sugar. Yours is just random berries in the middle, leaning against each other. 

He peeks at your work, “Not bad!”

You laugh bashfully, “You’re only saying that to spare me. Mine look bland compared to yours.”

“Come on, don’t be too harsh with yourself!” He insists, “I think they look really cute! Art imitates the artist after all!”

“Now I know you’re just flattering me just to let me down easy, little man.” You ruffle his leaves affectionately. “Are you sure you don’t want me to fletch Cosmo? He has a better eye for detail compared to me, you know.” You’re about to head out of the kitchen, already assuming he’d agree to this, considering he and Cosmo are best friends.

“N-no!” He grabs your wrist.

This sudden action astonishes you. That and how he shouted it was so abrupt. The kitchen is dead silent as you look at him in bewilderment. Even he’s startled at how he acted, immediately releasing your wrist, his cheeks slowly boiling to a dark opaque crimson.

“S-sorry, I didn't mean to say it like that,” he sputters. “It’s just I-I prefer not to bother him while he’s helping Teagan out.” He averts his gaze from you, clearing his throat. “H-how about I teach you how I do it? Decorating the tarts I mean.”

“Oh, um,” is all you can muster from still being a bit startled from what happened. “Sure!”

Maybe it’s best not to dwell on that for Sprout’s sake. His body is shaking so much you’re afraid it’ll shake so rapidly that he’ll get transported to another dimension.

Taking a deep breath, Sprout relaxes. “Okay! Where do I start?” He brings an undecorated tart in front of him. “I begin at the center with something round like a blueberry, raspberry, or blackberry!” Selecting a blueberry he puts it in the middle. “Then we can surround it with one of the other berries, let's go with…” He thoughtfully ruminates. “Some raspberries!” Once those are set he moves on to the next step, “Finally we can make the “petals”.” Sprout gestures in air quotations. “I guess we can use the sliced strawberries for them.” 

There’s something oddly satisfying watching Sprout decorate his baked goods. With a steady hand, he tactfully places each strawberry slice around the raspberries. Thanks to how the strawberries were cut they imitated the appearance of petals perfectly.

“And voila!” Sprout finishes decorating his tart by topping it off with powdered sugar. “A perfect flower tart!” He turns to you, “Did you get everything? I hope you were taking notes.”

“I think so.”

“Good! Now give it a go!” He gives you a tart to work on.

Attempting to follow the instructions during the demonstration to a tee you take care to be mindful of the placement of the fruit. Sprout’s quick lesson did help your brain understand how he decorated the tarts. With Sprout watching you work you want to make sure you do a decent job following his instructions.

Adding the last “petal” to the tart you pull your hands away. “Done!”

“Well, color me impressed!” Sprout exclaims. “That looks really good!”

“So you finally admit that my previous work was bad then?” you tease.

“I-it’s not that!” he protests, cheeks threatening to darken. “I was just saying that you’re a fast learner!” he blurts out in clarification. “L-let’s just finish up decorating these before the tea party starts.”

You both continue to work on decorating but in silence. It looks like Sprout hasn’t fully recovered from what happened earlier with him grabbing your wrist. A bit of worry plagues your mind, trying to understand what could have invoked that response. It couldn’t be Sprout having a falling out with Cosmo since just hours ago you two worked on baking the pastries together, and they were both perfectly fine, joking around and all as per usual.

Breaking the ice you start with, “You know. I’m kinda surprised you asked for me to help. I thought you’d be tired of seeing my face,” as a lighthearted joke.

As self-deprecating as it was, it tended to be a passing thought in your head. It’s a terrible thought. You know very well that Sprout genuinely cares about you. After all, you were picked by him to be his Junior Handler. A sign of immense trust and interest. You feel so loathsome that you have remnants of doubt about your friendship with him. Yet a part of you fears when that day will come. When Sprout eventually hates you. 

His voice draws you out of your thoughts, “I could never.” He looks up from what he’s working on to focus on you. “I always look forward to seeing you,” he confesses.

You want to make a jab at his comment but refrain. You don’t have it in you to do that. Not with how sincere he said it. 

A simple, “Thanks, little man,” is all you can say.

“You’re welcome!” He smiles at you, but it falters for a moment. “Are you… okay?” He must have noticed something’s off with you. 

“Oh!” You look down, staring at what you’re working on. “It’s nothing!” 

Quick. Think of something.

“I was just thinking how long it’s gonna take for us to decorate these!” A mischievous glint appears in your eyes, “We could try and keep things interesting while making sure the food is done in time for the tea party by…” You pause thoughtfully to hook Sprout on your proposition. “Let’s say a decoration competition! Winner is the one who finishes the most tarts!” Time for the finishing touch to reel him in. “So what do you say, little man? Feeling confident?” you goad.

Already you can see that competitive spark ignite in Sprout’s eyes. “You do realise I can easily beat you, right?” he remarks, still showing interest in your little game. “You’re gonna need to be more convincing for me to bite.”

“Let’s say… the winner is owed a favor,” you propose, sweetening the deal.

Sounds simple. A one and done favor to fulfill.

“Sounds good?” You watch Sprout mull over your idea. 

“Hmm, sounds good!” he agrees. 

“Great!” Rolling your shoulders, you gear yourself mentally before starting. “On your mark!”

“Get set!”

“BARK!” Pebble joins in the countdown suddenly, acting as the final signal to start off the competition.

It’s nearly a battle with you and Sprout, racing to grab fruit after fruit for your tarts. You have to put in all the effort you can muster to ensure the quality of your decoration is presentable. Sure, it was a competition for who could finish the most tarts the fastest, but it didn’t excuse you to squander the presentation. But every time Sprout glances at your work you feel the need to speed up your work tenfold.

You’re pretty sure some of the berries you and Sprout hastily picked up winded on on the floor, but Pebble is overjoyed to snack off what rolled off the counter. You can hear him chewing on the berries between his teeth into a pulpy mass, making his muzzle fairly covered in berry juice. It almost looks like he viciously attacked someone, and his blank stare isn’t helping. You have a feeling you’ll be next.

One tart after the other, you and Sprout finally finished assembling all of them. Both of you step away with your hands up.

You sigh in relief, “And done!”

Swiping his hands together Sprout smiles in satisfaction, “Easy as pie!”

Counting how much each respected party decorated, it’s safe to say Sprout won by a landslide. There’s no use in debating. And judging by the prideful puff in his chest accompanied by the cocky smirk Sprout’s aware he’s the obvious winner. 

”Alright, alright,” you concede defeat. ”What’s your favor?”

“Hmmm,” he muses thoughtfully.

Knowing Sprout it can’t be that bad. Most likely his favor is going to be within reason. Beats owing something to Connie or Gigi. You’d have to either pull a prank for Connie or get a specific item to scratch Gigi’s kleptomania like cotton candy bubble gum for instance. However, you’re starting to have second thoughts since Sprout is taking a long time ruminating.

Finally, he speaks. “How about,” he drones, clasping hands together, “I save that for another time?” 

The suggestion may have sounded merciful, but you can tell under his smile something is brewing. You just have no idea what he could be saving it for. Now his rainchecked favor is going to loom over you for the rest of your life. 

“What! No fair!” you huff. 

“Sorry. My favor, my choice of how and when to use it,” he crosses his arms. 

“But I didn’t expect you to save it for later.”

“Then you should have thought it through before challenging me,” he admonishes you. “I did say I would beat you.”

“You… have a point.”

All you wanted was to avoid having Sprout seeing a speck of dismal on you, and now you’re paying the price. To be fair, you could have avoided them by dropping the little challenge you proposed, but instead, you decided to commit to the bit a bit too hard. Now you have to live with it.

“Besides!” Sprout exclaims. “We have more important things to do right now! Like?” He waits for you to answer.

“Teagan’s tea party!”

“Bingo!” Sprout says with a snap of fingers.

In all honesty, you were too occupied with the mini-competition you arranged, but thanks to it you both managed to have all the sweets prepared in record time. 

While trying not to trip on Pebble the both of you place the goods onto the serving carts, wheeling them into the elevator to head to where the tea party was being set up.

As you both wait for the next floor you look at Sprout, “You’re seriously not going to use that favor I owe you any time soon?”

Chuckling Sprout brings a finger to his lips, “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

“I swear. You are so stubborn, Sprout Seedly,” you exhale sharply, trying your best to suppress your smile to no avail. 

Sprout only gives you a playful smirk, “And don’t you forget it.” 

You roll your eyes at him with a sardonic and dramatic scoff. In the end, it only results in the two of you bursting out in laughter within the elevator.

No matter what. 

You just can’t be mad at him.

You decide to drop the topic of the favor you owe him for now.

The rest of the ride in the elevator is rather uneventful except for the occasional begging from Pebble which Sprout has to remind you to not look at the pet rock. When you arrive on the floor where Teagan’s tea party is being held, you’re both greeted by Cosmo who helps you cart the food out of the elevator. Time to set up the food for the tea party now.

Chapter Text

Teagan is ecstatic with the outcome of the menu her her tea party. 

“Simply marvelous!” She applauds. “I must say you all did such an excellent job!”

Together with Cosmo, Teagan, and Sprout you all plate the tea sandwiches and desserts on each serving stand per table. Teagan’s put so much work into arranging who would be sitting next to who based on what you’ve seen from the name cards at each seat.  She does have a keen eye for the most minuscule detail.

“I must thank you, (Y/n), for going out to help us,” Teagan acknowledges, helping you fine-tune one of the tables’ layout while Sprout and Cosmo help out with the others. “You and the other Junior Handlers always go above and beyond for us.”

“Well, we try,” you reply. “Though, personally, I still have a lot to learn.”

“Now, there’s no need to be modest,” Teagan laughs heartily. “You should take pride in your work!”

“I guess you do have a point.”

“Precisely! There is no need to diminish your worth when many clearly see its value!” she acclaims. “I know certain Toons cherish it,” she gestures subtly with a tilt of her head, skillfully able to avoid tea from splashing out of her crown.

You glance in the direction she hinted at and see Sprout and Cosmo talking amongst each other. You’re not sure what they’re talking about since they’re across the room. Eventually, you do see Cosmo laughing and clutching his stomach while Sprout’s face gets redder.

The only time they’re audible is when Sprout loudly shouts out, “L-look! I didn’t think of it that way when I did it! I just—” 

Sprout looks like he’s burning up when he covers his face with his hands. Eventually the strawberry Toon uncovers his face when Cosmo gently nudges him and points in your direction. As soon as you make eye contact with Sprout he’s back to shielding his red face. Cosmo has to console Sprout through giggles that what he said was most likely a joke.

 You’re a bit concerned for Sprout but Teagan laughs it off. “Oh, let’s leave them be.” 

Making the finishing touches most Toons begin to make their way, being greeted by Teagan at the entrance before looking for their assigned seat. With everything prepared, you should probably head out before you overstay your welcome.

Teagan frowns, “Leaving already? It would be a shame to simply depart while we all enjoy the fruits of your labor. Why not join us?”

“I don’t think it’s in my place,” you explained. “After all, this was just for the Toons. I don’t want to intrude.”

“Nonsense! The more the merrier! I’m sure everyone would be happy to have you!”

“I HATE THESE SANDWICHES!” Shrimpo screams out, pointing accusingly at them. He’s about to flip one of the porcelain serving stands off the table, but Goob winds up snatching him into a hug, restricting the shrimp Toon. “LET ME GO!! RAHHHH! I HATE THAT YOU’RE STOPPING ME AND YOUR HUGS!” he declares, elbowing Goob and thrashing in his hold like a feral animal. “I WILL NOT BE STOP!!!”

Goob and Scraps promptly tie Shrimpo up, using Glisten’s ribbon who begrudgingly gave it to them, but this is solved when he then pulls out a spare ribbon out of nowhere, tying it into a bow around his waist. 

Shrimpo has been stopped.

Why was Shrimpo invited? Maybe Teagan didn’t want to leave him out. This was a gathering to which all the Toons were invited after all.

Teagan turns away, opting to ignore what is occurring in the back, “Everyone would prefer your presence happily.”

“I’d love to, but with your seating arrangement. I really don’t want to mess that up,” you try to worm your way out of her invitation, but they aren’t having it.

“Well, with everyone accounted for I don’t see that as a problem,” she persists, scanning around. “Now, it’s just a matter of where I should seat you…” 

Cosmo raises a hand, waving it while seated next to Sprout. “Oh! (Y/n) can sit with us!” He volunteers the extra space next to him.

Teagan claps her hands together, “Splendid! I’ll fetch you a seat then!”

Despite your protests Teagan places a chair by Cosmo and Sprout, and she ushers to your new seating. “Are you sure you want me to stay?” you ask, trying to give yourself and them an out.

“Of course, there’s no better way I can think of thanking our benefactors than with this!” As if sensing your skittishness she rings her arm around yours, giving you no chance of escape. “I’ll have your drink ready in a few minutes as well!”

As kind of a gesture being invited by Teagan is, you still feel so out of place. You’re not saying that the Toons aren’t welcoming you as they usually do. It’s just these events during the weekends that tend to be for them solely, so for you to be here it feels sacrilegious.

Once close to your seating Cosmo is waving, pulling open your chair for you next to him. Taking a seat Teagan places their hands on your shoulders as if to make sure you remain in place. If Teagan wanted they’d probably use their boa to tie you against the chair like Shrimpo. It’s like they’re teaming together to ensure you stay. It feels like you let yourself get kidnapped by them if you view it in a humorous light.

However, the air around you does feel off. You can’t exactly pinpoint it since Shelly nearly scares the life out of you, sitting up from her chair and leaning against the table towards you. The table shakes, causing the tea cups and the contents within to shake.

“(Y/N)!” she trills. “I didn’t know you’d join us!” Shelly has to be coaxed back onto her seat by Tisha who is frantically cleaning up any spillage. “Oh! Sorry! Tisha!” Shelly promptly helps clean what she caused, but still talks to you, “I mean. I heard from Sprout you were coming to help, but I wasn’t sure if you’d stay after!”

You sheepishly reply, “I didn’t expect to stay too, but Teagan insisted I should.”

Shelly giggles, “That’s Teagan for you! Always making sure everyone is included! Even brews teas that she thinks suit us!” She points to her tea, “Like Teagan always makes me fig tea with honey!” Her eyes light up with excitement, “Ooh! Did you know that fig plants date back during the Cretaceous period? Some fig fossils even have wasps found in them! Which is so cool! Since this also helps indicate the symbiotic mutualism between them has been occurring for—”

Tisha clears her throat politely, “I know you really want to tell (Y/n) about this, but I think it’s best to talk about it later. Preferably when we’re not in the presence of food and other Toons eating.”

Sprout and Cosmo currently have what they’re eating put down on their plates. Shelly may have accidentally curbed their appetite.

Shelly’s face flushes, “O-oh! You’re right! My bad everyone!”

Tisha hums to herself, saying quietly, “Though…this does remind me to tell Scraps to move her pill bug collection to a proper enclosure…” Tisha then delves into depths with Shelly about places she needs to visit to tidy up.

Currently, the three of you are also seated with Shelly and Tisha who are casually yet enthusiastically conversing. It heavily contrasts the silence between you, Cosmo and Sprout. 

Sprout is quiet which is odd. You wonder what has made him act like this? It’s just like back in the kitchen. Then again, you could be misreading this situation for all you know. 

Teagan bringing you a freshly brewed cup of tea is able to take your mind off worrying. It smells delectable. Jasmine? You add a splash of milk and a couple of cubes of sugar to your taste and try to enjoy yourself.

It is an invigorating taste. Refreshing.

You wind up Toon-watching, observing the social flow of the tea party while enjoying your beverage. 

Goob and Scraps are joking amongst each other while tending to a currently tied-up Shrimpo, occasionally attempting to appease the crustaceans by feeding him. You’re not actually sure if they’re doing it to calm him, or using this as a method to gag him. The ladder may be Scraps intentions since every time Shrimpo is about to yell she shoves a scone into his mouth. Goob is just happy to include Shrimpo.

Teagan is accompanied by Rodger, Toddles, and Glisten. Rodger is busy conversing with Teagan, gesturing around most likely complimenting the arrangement of the tea party. Toodles is eagerly munching on all the sweets her little hands can grab all the while she’s placing desserts onto Glisten’s plate, probably insisting he tries them. Glisten does give into the young Toon’s demands, trying to consume what is given to him. Every time he drinks his tea, steam forms on his glass and he has to carefully wipe it away and avoid ruining his makeup. 

Razzle and Dazzle are sat between Looey, Finn, and Brightney. Looey and Finn are sitting on Razzle’s side, merrily exchanging puns with each other. Brightney is next to Dazzle, both appear engrossed in talking about the book Brightney brought.

You can hear Cosmo whisper to Sprout, nudging him gently. “Come on!” he softly encourages. “Say something!” He frowns, “Are you still hung up on that joke?”

“Hung up about what joke?” you curiously question. 

Cosmo and Sprout jump slightly at the revelation of you hearing this. “O-Oh! Uh…” Cosmo stammers, glancing at Sprout for assistance. “I-I was just joking with Sprout about…nothing!”

“Nothing?” You tilt your head to the side in confusion.

Cosmo briskly nods, “Y-yeah! It’s kinda confusing, so you might not get it fully…!”

The air around the three of you feels so dense you could cut it with a knife. Usually, it’s effortless to strike up an engaging conversation with these two, but the energy is so stagnant that it’s almost painfully awkward. Maybe you’re the one causing it to be like this?

You might as well ask, “Is everything okay? You two are acting a bit tense.” You are genuinely worried. It is your job, but you do truly care for all the Toons. “If it’s me being here I can leave.” You weakly laugh, “After all, I’m probably reminding you two of work on your day off.”

This does jolt Sprout to sit up in alert and he finally speaks, reaching out towards you, “N-no! It’s not you! It could never!” Sprout protests, his tone sounds almost hurt that you think that. “It’s just…” He pauses, “You know when I wiped that cream off your face?”

“Yeah?” You do vaguely remember him doing that and then popping it in his mouth to clean it off his finger.

Sprout takes a sharp breath, “That’s kinda what Cosmo was joking about.”

“Is that what made you feel so embarrassed?” 

Sprout nods, hanging his head like he’s ashamed of himself.

“Sprout, it’s fine,” you laugh, amused by this. “There’s no need to get worked up over something like that! You were just helping me out!” You have to admit it is adorable of Sprout to get flustered over something so trivial. “You’re too sweet for your own good sometimes, Sprout Seedly.”

Looking back at Sprout his expression is unreadable, like there are a plethora of emotions swirling around in his eyes while his cheeks are flushed.

“So, (Y/n)! I’ve been meaning to ask!” Cosmo chirps. “What do you usually do during your days off?"

“What do I usually do?” you repeat his question to process it. “Well, it’s nothing to write off about. I tend to stay home and relax.” Wow, that sounds so lame when you say it aloud. “Now what about you, Cosmo? You probably have much more interesting things to say compared to the likes of me!”

“W-well! Recently, I started giving Boxten some baking lessons!” he regales enthusiastically. “He kinda reminds me of myself when I started out, trying to memorize recipes and figuring out the oven,” he reminisces. “You should see him when he tries to focus; the key on the back of his head spins around a lot while he’s reading recipes or decorating! ” Cosmo then grabs a tart, “Which reminds me! Sprout told me you helped decorate these.” 

“Oh yeah! He helped me a lot during it. They look better than my first attempt.”

“I know, right?!  He’s a great teacher!“ Cosmo praises.

Sprout bashfully rubs the back of his head, “Ah, shucks. I shouldn’t be the one taking all the credit. Your cousin Ginger helped the most by teaching you. After all, she has an eye for decorating.” Cosmo and you stare at him, “Y-you know because….” Sprout drops what he’s about to say by opting to drink his cup of tea, preventing himself from explaining. “That joke was bad wasn’t it…?” he cringes.

Holding back a humored laugh Cosmo nods, smiling brightly, “Yep.”

“ Very bad, little man,” you admit with a laugh.

Sprout sinks back into his seat with red glowing on his cheeks, “Please, don’t call me that.”

“Oh come on!” Cosmo lets out, trying not to laugh. “Don’t be too harsh on yourself, Sprout! EYE understand what you were trying to do! Right, (Y/n)?”

Snickering, you follow Cosmo's antics, “Yeah. Took awhile but now we SEE what the joke was.”

Sprout reels back into his chair, “You two are going to be the death of me. I swear,” he groans. “I hate you both so much.”

Cosmo high-fives you in victory for tormenting Sprout, still laughing. As annoyed as Sprout sounds you can tell he is humored by this, the corner of his lips threatening to form a smile. Just to avoid giving you and Cosmo the satisfaction, Sprout covers his mouth with his hand, concealing an obvious smile.

Cosmo huffs at Sprout’s stubbornness but moves on, “I still stand by what I said that Sprout is an amazing teacher,” he affirms. “Maybe he can keep giving you lessons in decorating baked goods?”

Shifting in his seat Sprout looks down, “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea, Cosmo.”

“Well, if you don’t wanna tutor (Y/n). I’d be happy to let her join me and Boxten!” Cosmo suggests. “She can be my student!” As if to drive that point home, Cosmo wraps his arms around one of yours, hugging it.

“Now let’s not be too hasty!” Sprout blurts out, almost getting up from his seat which prompts Cosmo to release you. “I’m not saying I don’t like the idea!” he clarifies briskly. “I just don’t want to take up (Y/n)’s time.”

As amusing as these two are being, you actually aren’t opposed to Cosmo’s idea. “It does sound interesting, to be honest,” you contemplate.

Sprout looks at you, “Really?”

“Yeah!” You place a closed hand under your chin, “But, in the end, it is up to scheduling this. Plus, I’d probably need to ask Sam for permission if you’re serious about this.” 

“I can ask him for you!” he offers, nearly standing up on his chair much like how Shelly did earlier.

You watch him sit back down when he nearly shakes the table. “You sound excited about this idea.”

“Of course!” Sprout attests. “It means I get to see you more often!” he blurts out. 

Sprout purses his lips after saying those words in surprise. With his mannerisms, he’s acting as if he had said something he shouldn’t have. He glances at Cosmo who can only give him a sympathetic expression as consolation.

“Y-you know! So I can give you some tips on decorating, or have you try out some of Cosmo’s recipes!”

With a laugh you reply, “I look forward to these lessons if you manage to get permission from Sam then.”

“Me too!”

The conversation continues on, flowing into stories of mishaps that happened during Cosmo’s baking lessons for Boxten. Sprout winds up sharing his fair share of baking mishaps when one time he accidentally used a plastic tray instead of a metal one while baking a batch of cookies.

Cosmo covers his mouth, suppressing a loud snort, “I remember that! Staff had to replace that oven after that!”

“In my defense! That tray was on top of the metal ones! How was I supposed to know!?” Sprout retorts, chuckling.

Little by little, all of your cups were steadily getting empty and the food on the serving stands was nearly gone, leaving only remnants of crumbs. Even when there’s nothing left, the conversation between the three of you never dies down, only reaching its conclusion when the tea party ends.

♡ ♡ ♡

After helping clean up the room Cosmo urges Sprout to escort you to the lobby, practically pushing the strawberry Toon to do what he ordered.

Sprout rubs the back of his neck anxiously while standing in the elevator with you, “Sorry about Cosmo. I don’t think he’d stop unless I joined you.” 

“It’s fine, Sprout. I don’t mind. It’s sweet of both of you,” you reassure him.

The elevator stops abruptly and its bell rings with a melodic ding-dong~ before the door opens. With that, the two of you get off and are welcomed by the center tree.

“You know,” you glance at Sprout with a grin, ”today was really fun. Thanks for asking me to help.”

“I’m glad you did! It really means a lot!”

Life in Gardenview is certainly more eventful than at home that’s for sure. It makes working here not feel fully like a chore like you’re just swaying to the beat of Gardenview’s tune.

Approaching the ‘check in’ counter you’re both unexpectedly greeted by Dandy, who is sitting atop a tall stack of boxes, chippily kicking his feet while reading a red book with golden engravings decorating it. You would have almost completely walked past him if it wasn’t for the faint melody of Ode to Joy.

He happily waves to you when you’re in sight, putting down his book. “Well, well! Didn’t take you for a gentleman, Seedly! How kind of you to make sure a lady doesn’t walk by her lonesome! Now aren’t you a charmer, Romeo ?”

Sprout’s smile falls and his eyes narrow slightly, “Don’t call me that.”

Dandy innocently tilts his head, “What “Romeo” or “Seedly” ?”

“Both.”

Dandy shrugs and moves his attention to you, “Hope Romeo here hasn’t been giving you too much trouble, (Y/n)! Looked like you had your hands full during the tea party!"

“Not really!” you clarify with a shake of your head. “We were actually having a lot of fun!” You sheepishly laugh, “Though, I guess I got a little too engrossed in our conversation to say hello to you properly.”

You hope he isn’t annoyed that you ignored him.

Dandy flashes a smile and lets out his own laugh, “Aw, shucks now aren’t you a doll? No need to worry about me! I’m just glad you had fun at Teagan’s tea party! I probably would have said hello too if Romeo here wasn't hogging your attention!” he casually gestures towards Sprout.

Sprout clears his throat to get the floral Toon’s attention, “Why are you even stationed here, Dandy?”

Dandy points to himself playfully, “Oh, lil ol’ me? Just here to see our dear Junior Handler out! But looks like you already got that covered, Romeo!” He impishly giggles, “You better take good care of our dear Junior there! Or else Devan or Sam will give you an earful!”

Sprout sighs, crossing his arms, “Yeah, yeah. I know. Do you really have to rub that in, Dandy?” Even keeping his cool, Sprout's red cheeks darken a bit.

“Aww, can’t I have fun with my good pal from time to time?” Dandy asks, kicking his feet peppily. “There’s no need to play it cool, you know, Romeo!” This only results in Sprout maintaining his bothered expression, resulting in a defeated sigh from Dandy. “Too far? Fine, fine, I’ll drop it.” He smiles regardless, “I’ll leave you two be then! See you on Monday, (Y/n)!” He waves goodbye to you.

You wave back to him, continuing your way to the lobby’s exit, walking down the rainbow carpet. “You doing okay there, little man?” you check in on Sprout.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” he insists. “It's just—it’s nothing.”

“Are you sure? Doesn’t sound like nothing,” you ask. “You know you can always tell me.”

“I just want to say I’m sorry about Dandy there.” 

“Why are you apologizing about that? There’s no need to, you know.”

“Still, what if he said something that made you uncomfortable?” he retorts. “I know he means well, but there are times he takes the joke a bit too far.”

Your expression softens at him, and you bring your hand atop his head, ruffling his leaves. “You’re too thoughtful sometimes, you know that, Sprout Seedly?” You pull your hand back, “I’m fine. I know how much of a jokester Dandy can be. I can hold my own if he ever says anything out of line.”

You both reach the stairs that lead down to the exit and the other half of the rainbow carpet. Carefully, you walk down the stairs and cross the rainbow carpet.

“Well, this is it!” you exclaim, about to pass by the metal revolving doors. “It’s been fun! I’ll see you later, little man.” Pushing one of the metal bars the door spins, allowing you to exit Gardenview’s lobby.

“O-oh! And (Y/n)!” Sprout called out which stops you after passing the revolving door.

“Yeah?” 

You step forward to somewhat close the distance between the two of you, the only thing completely keeping you apart is the metal revolving door which is now locked in place.

“I… I just want to tell you—” Sprout hesitates, bringing himself closer to the door, gripping the bar tightly. “...I hope you get home safely!”

“Thanks, Sprout,” you return his regard with a giggle before heading down the pedestrian walkway. “I’ll see you on Monday!”

Sprout could only watch you leave and disappear out of sight. “Right…see you…” He mumbles to himself, clenching his fist tightly, his face flushed. “I’m such an idiot…”

Chapter Text

“Happy anniversary!” 

Sprout cheers, racing towards you and holding up a cupcake with a lit sparkler candle.

That’s the first thing you are met with after entering the lobby. The first objective before clocking in: make sure Sprout doesn’t set the center on fire. Which might be a difficult feat considering he’s almost getting close to you.

Frantically waving your hands, you shout, “Careful of the stairs! The stairs!” trying to get him to slow down. “Spr-Sprout!”

It’s too late for the strawberry Toon to slow down in time, winding up stumbling at the edge of the stairs. The plate in his hand flies off as he is about to stumble down the stairs.

Your body involuntarily acts on its own, dashing towards Sprout to break his fall. Out stretching your arms you manage to catch him but with the force of the fall, you end up stumbling backwards. You make sure to wrap your arms around Sprout to make sure he doesn’t fall off you as you cushion him in the impact. The air is knocked out of you once you hit the floor.

Despite gasping for air, you manage to choke out, “F-fuck..”

The fall didn’t hurt much, but the sensation of having your lungs emptied out of air like a popped balloon is not very ideal. 

You decide to stay down on the ground for a while, letting your body recover from the brief impact. But your moment of respite is forgotten when you remember one thing.

Crap. Sprout’s cupcake .

Looking around, you manage to spot it. Floating mid air along with the plate that was under it. Blue stars swirl around them with concentration, expanding and shrinking as the flame from the candle is then extinguished.

You hear Shelly shout, “Nice save, Astro! Way to go!” She cheerily claps her hands together in applause for the lunar Toon. 

“Thank you…” Astro murmurs, carefully maneuvering the cupcake back onto the plate and safely onto the yellow bench to his left.

Another pair of footsteps follows them, “Berry-boy, how long are you going to use your Junior Handler as a pillow?”

You had forgotten Sprout was on top of you, his head pressed against your chest. 

Sprout pushes himself up to look down at you, “Oh crap! Are you okay?!”

All you can muster is a thumbs up, “Never better, little man…”

His cheeks darken as he scrambles to get off you and help pull you up. “I am so sorry!”

Shrugging your shoulders, you smile, “No worries. Just be more careful next time, okay?” You cup his face with your hands, gently cradling it. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

He’s like putty in your hands while you carefully move his head side to side, checking for any bruises. His face is so warm that you’re nervous that your hands are too cold for him or that he’s coming down with a sickness. It’s not uncommon for some Toons to get sick. You’ve had your fair share of taking care of some of them. 

You retract one hand and place it over Sprout’s forehead. “Hmm, how are you feeling? Your face is warm.”

His eyes look around before he abruptly takes a step back from you. “I-I’m fine! I’m more worried about you! You did take the brunt of the fall after all!” He anxiously grabs onto his forearm, squeezing it tightly.

“It’s like I said earlier. I’m okay, Sprout.” To be honest, you’re most likely going to be sore later once the adrenaline wears off, but for Sprout’s sake, you decide to put up a strong front. “I’m just glad you didn’t get hurt during it.”

That and almost setting Gardenview on fire again. 

If Astro hadn’t caught the cupcake, you fret for the worse-case scenario. That and the mess of buttercream and shattered glass you’d have to clean up before opening.

Speaking of which.

You turn to the three other Main Toons. “By the way, what are you all doing here?”

Vee points to Sprout with her dominant hand, “Here to see what the fuss was when Berry-boy made a mad dash to the lobby while in the middle of breakfast.” She then places that hand onto her hip. “But it’s only you.” 

Shelly punches Vee playfully in the arm. “Aw, come on, Vee! You were probably hoping to run into your Junior Handler too!”

With one of her antennae twitching slightly, Vee crosses her arms. “ Please. I have their schedule and habituals perfected in my database. Though…” she drawls. “I suppose a momentous occasion such as the establishment of the Junior Handler program could potentially cause discrepancies to our normal scheduling.”

Shelly hops excitedly, “So you were hoping it was them!”

Vee scoffs at Shelly’s remark, “Only because I was hoping they could refine the algorithm processing in my system whenever I perform my scans.”

Astro peeps up, “...But you were talking earlier how you wanted to gift them something.”

An electric surge buzzes through Vee’s antennae, and she blinks, dazed. “That was supposed to be a secret.”

“Oh…sorry.”

Vee sighs, shaking her head, “It’s fine. I suppose there’s no point in calling it a secret if I myself failed to keep it as one. With that in mind.” She looks at you expectantly. 

As if on cue, you mimic zipping your lips in a reassuring manner. A simple gesture to indicate ‘Your secret’s safe with me’. Which loosens the tension in Vee’s shoulders. A diminutive nod from her is the closest you’ll get to a grand sign of gratitude. 

You don’t know how her Junior Handler does it, getting her to open up so effortlessly. Then again, that is the point of the Junior Handler program to find the perfect fit for each Main Toon and Handler. If it means reserved Mains like Vee and Astro are able to let down their guard and speak with ease with their Junior Handler, then it means that the program is working to the founder’s desire.

Suddenly, the sound of wet licks and jowls smacking together makes everyone turn to the source. 

There, standing on the bench is Pebble licking the icing off Sprout’s cupcake, smacking his chops in the process before going to town on the cake part. He must have climbed on top of the bench while all of you were talking, using this as a chance to eat the cupcake. He looks so happy. You almost feel bad that he’s been caught.

When Pebble takes notice that everyone is looking at him he slowly looks up at everyone. “Bwork?” He tilts his head, muzzle completely caked in frosting. 

He looks confused as to why everyone has stopped talking and is staring at him.

Everyone is astonished at the pet rock’s sudden appearance. It’s a staredown between Pebble and the rest of you guys. Each of the Mains exchange glances at each other and then to you, trying to figure out what to do. 

Sprout is the first to act: “Pebble, no! Bad dog!” 

Pebble trills and defiantly barks, ending up stepping on the cupcake as his body jolts with each bark. “Grr. Bwoof!”

You’re not sure what Pebble could have said, but considering Sprout’s face has reddened deeply and the other Toons are gobsmacked, it must have been something not nice.

As Sprout takes a step towards the pet rock, Pebble hops off the bench making a mad dash down the lobby, tracking red frosting smudges while on the way. Sprout groans and mutters something under his breath before chasing Pebble. 

You and the other join in the chase, though you wind up falling behind, unable to hold a candle to the Sprout and Pebble’s speed. Pebble circles around the center tree’s stone walls, leading you all on a wild goose chase. 

You all try everything to get Pebble to stop and to avoid him tracking more frosting onto the ground, but nothing seems to work. Commanding, bribing, and even begging does not waver Pebble’s iron will.

When you all run in the opposite direction to get in front of Pebble. He bounds towards Astro, slipping under him. Dumbfounded by this, Astro looks down, which resulted in Sprout vaulting over him, leaving the poor lunar Toon more confused.

Yelling out, Sprout says, “Get back here, Pebble!”

Sprout hops over the stone walls in hopes of using them as a shortcut to reach Pebble faster, but Pebble performs the same maneuver he did earlier, dashing under Sprout cleanly. 

“How are these two so fast?!” you question aloud.

Sprout you can understand, considering he has long legs but Pebble? He has little stubs for legs, yet he is outpacing Sprout.

This is the ninth lap around the tree’s border. Your heart is going to explode at this rate, judging by the faint taste of blood on the back of your tongue.

Astro catches up with you all, “...Sprout is the second fastest out of the five of us. As for Pebble…”

Shelly shouts out, “Pebble is Pebble!” She already sounds breathless, “Oh boy! You should see how fast he is when running off with one of my fossils!” 

Also yelling you question, “What the heck did Pebble even say to Sprout?!”

Vee purses her lips in contemplation, “Hmm. Good question.” 

You expected her to explain what was said with detail as per usual but she leaves it off at that. Trying to get some answers from the other Mains, they all remain silent as if in solidarity. Maybe it’s for the best you don’t know. For now.

 The endless circling feels like a test for your stamina, and you are certainly at the point of dying. You can hear Vee’s internal fan whirling around frantically, working overtime to ensure she doesn’t overheat. Shelly is smiling through the pain but she has slowed down to a significant degree. Astro is surprisingly doing well, slowing down for a bit before returning to normal speed. Sprout and Pebble are still going strong.

Vee groans. “How long are we going to keep this up? I’m close to blue screening at this rate.”

A loud whistle pierces the chaos, stopping everyone and Pebble in their tracks.

“Pebble, roll over!” a voice orders.

Immediately, the pet rock rolls onto his back but, unfortunately, is now stuck on the floor like a helpless flipped-over turtle. He’s not struggling, though or fighting to roll back onto his feet. Pebble actually looks quite content, wagging his tail.

As if scripted, Dandy walks into view, having just exited one of the lobby’s elevators. “Good boy!” He picks up his pet rock.

“Arf!” Pebble pants happily.

Catching his breath Sprout utters out, “Wh-what are you doing here?”

Dandy grins. “Came looking for Pebble, of course! And I’m glad I did! Looked like you all needed help!”

Vee scoffs, “We had everything under control, you know.”

Dandy maintains his smile at Vee but narrows his eyes. “Did you really, though?” 

Shelly sighs in relief, “I’d say Dandy came in just in the nick of time! Felt like my shell was going to erode at any moment!”

Dandy looks around, beholding the pawprints coated with icing that decorate the lobby. “Jeepers! Looks like you all had a finger painting session and didn’t invite me!”

“Bark!” Pebble shakes his head, splattering frosting onto Dandy who only laughs in amusement by this.

He pulls away Pebble slightly, lessening the amount of splatter on himself. “Oh golly! Looks like a bath is an order! How’d you even get frosting on your little paws, Pebs?” He turns to you, “Care to explain how that happened?”

You sheepishly laugh, “It’s a long story.”

Dandy flashes a smile, “Lucky for you! I happen to love listening to long stories!”

Sprout steps up. “That’s on me, Dandy. I wanted to give (Y/n) a cupcake for her anniversary, but I tripped and it slipped out of my grasp. Astro saved it, but Pebble got to it in the end.” He inhales slowly before exhaling, “Look. If you’re going to be mad at someone. Be mad at me.”

Dandy is silent, stepping up to Sprout. Slowly, he brings one hand up and slaps Sprout on the shoulder with a guffaw. “And who said anything about me getting mad? I just wanted to know why Pebble is all covered in frosting, that's all! Just be more careful next time!” He glances at you, then to Sprout, with a knowing expression. “Oohh! I see! Playing hero! Now aren’t you the sweetest, Romeo!”

Shelly, Astro, and Vee stare at Sprout, uncustomed to the new nickname Dandy bestowed upon him. They then look at you for answers, but all you can provide is a shrug of your shoulders, also being confused as well. 

You always wonder how he comes up with these kinds of names. Dandy does enjoy indulging in classical literature. Maybe you should ask him or Devan if he’s gotten into some of Shakespeare’s writings when you can.

The staredown between Dandy and Sprout lasts long until Dandy breaks his gaze from him. “Well, now! What a way to start the day before opening!” He gives a grand gesture towards the mess made before lifting up Pebble, “I better get this lil guy squeaky clean before guests arrive!” He waves goodbye, then heads to one of the elevators, descending to where the Main Toon rooms are.

You take in the pawprint mess and sigh, “I should get this cleaned up.” 

As you’re about to head to the cleaning closet near the stairs with the ‘Staff only’ sign, Vee stops you. “You’re not even in uniform,” she remarks. “Not to mention not clocked in. It’s hardly professional and appropriate under those conditions. I’ll get one of the custodians to clean it up.” 

She does have a point.

You also wouldn’t get paid.

The Handlers' uniforms are always safely tucked away in the employee locker room. According to Devan it’s to help the uniform maintain its pristine condition, and it is much easier to have on hand rather than struggling through your closet, desperately searching for each article of clothing for work.

Vee’s screen goes blank then boots up with a ‘Please wait. Notifying staff for assistance,' her antennae buzzing. “There we go.” She shoos you away, “Now, go get changed!”

Sprout interjects, “Just a sec!” He runs inside the blue room near the check in stall, returning with a white bag with the Gardenview logo and handing it to you.  “I was gonna give this to you after the cupcake, but you saw what happened. I’m sorry I messed that up. I just got so excited and—” He stops, trying to find the right word he wants to say.

“Sprout, it’s fine,” you comfort him. “It’s the thought that counts, you know. Cupcake or not, and I really appreciate everything you’ve done.” 

Opening the paper bag, you carefully pull out a Sprout plushie. You’re surprised he managed to snatch one of his plushies, considering they fly off the shelves the moment they’re placed on them. You have considered getting one, but you never got the chance.

You turn the plushie to face you. “It’s…”

Sprout rubs the back of his neck nervously. “I know it’s not much, but I thought you might like it since I noticed you eyeing one of them.”

Hugging the plushie close, you smile at him. “I love it!” With care you return the plushie into its bag and then pull Sprout into a tight hug. “Thank you so much!”

Taken aback by your action, it takes Sprout a bit to return the hug. “Y-you’re welcome! I’m glad you like it!”

Vee clears her throat, “ Ahem .” She taps her wrist as if she’s wearing a watch, notifying you two of the time.

“Okay! Okay! I’m going!” You race to the elevator, taking out a keycard from your pocket, bringing it close to a scanner for a little beep.

While the public can technically go to what floor they desire, certain floors like the Toons’ living quarters and Staff rooms are inaccessible, requiring keycards to unlock them. But for some reason, the Toons don’t need them, and it makes you wonder how that is possible. Then again, Gardenview was made for the Toons so it makes sense they’d have free reign of the place.

Finally, changed into your uniform, you walk out of the dressing room stall, unlocking the door and closing it behind you. Looking at the mirror, you readjust your white gloves and straighten out your red vest, then you clip on your name tag that has an icon of Sprout next to it with ‘Junior Handler’ under it.

Staring at the mirror you get closer to it, putting on a smile. You feel like Devan’s infected you with his motto: 

“Don’t forget to smile,” you tell yourself, bringing your pointer fingers to the corners of your lip to imitate a smile.

That’s what helps complete your uniform. A genuine Junior Handler of Gardenview.

You bring your casual clothes to your locker, inserting the locks combination to open it. Even if it’s an employee locker it didn’t stop you from decorating it. 

A Gardenview calendar with a set of Toons for each month hangs against the locker door. Written on certain dates are upcoming events, holidays, and birthdays. 

Below the calendar is a Polaroid photo of Sprout, Sam, and you. Written under the photo is “Welcome to the Gardenview family, (Y/n)!”. Next to the Polaroid is another one, but it’s just you and Sprout in the middle of decorating his cupcakes in an activity. Looks like the two of you decided to joke around, judging by the smeared frosting on your cheek and Sprouts and how you two are laughing. There’s also writing on the photo saying, “First day, and these two are already hitting it off! XD”. 

There’s one drawing gifted to you by Toodles. She’s wearing her junior detective hat while you’re in your uniform. Looks like she based your and her pose off that ‘Sailor Moon’ show Poppy introduced her to. She doodled the words “In the name of Gardenview, we will punish you!” with the title “Junior Detective and Junior Handler Duo!”.

Safely placed on your locker’s shelf is the Sprout plushie Sprout gave you. Boy, that sounds confusing out of context. Looking at it while putting your casual clothes away sparks a natural smile on your face. You briefly take out the plushie and give it another hug. He really went all his way to gift you something for today. From the cupcake and now this. 

You give one last squeeze to the plushie and then put it away in your locker. As you do, you take notice of a familiar glass container with the Gardenview logo. One top on it is a sticky note with Sprout’s writing and a doodle of himself saying “Enjoy!” and the directions for reheating it.

Amused yet moved by his action, you shake your head with a laugh, “I swear you’re going to be the death of me.”

Despite his warning of not continuing to make you meals when he first made you one, he still makes them for you without asking. You shut your locker close, reminding yourself to come back to retrieve it when it’s time for your lunch break.

It feels so nice yet foreign to have someone who cares so much. You’re not familiar with the sensation of warmth that flutters around your chest, feeling so regarded. It’s overwhelming, but you welcome it.

Exiting the locker room, you stroll towards the staff lounge room before clocking in. It may be the anniversary since you were hired, but it feels like your average day in Gardenview. 

It’s weird. You feel guilty that you’re not holding enough excitement for this day. Then again, it feels similar to reaching your birthday. Sure, it’s a momentous day of your birth, but what else? 

Reaching the lounge room, you’re met with the other Junior Handlers. “What’s going on?”

They all shrug, but one of them, Astro’s Junior Handler, speaks up. “The door is stuck. We looked for Austin and the others for help, but they’re all not here.”

Suddenly the door knob makes a little click accompanied by shushed whispers of many voices. Hesitantly you all open the door, being greeted by pitch black darkness. With the lack of light it gives off the idea that nobody is inside, yet hearing the voices and door unlocking helps indicate that the room is very much occupied by people.

Once all of you have entered the room, the lights are turned back on, blinding you and the others. A loud POP sound soon follows.

“HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!” Shanon cheers, popping a party popper, confetti covering the room.

All of the Main Handlers jump out, wearing party hats and blowing on party horns.

The lounge is decorated with balloons in an arrangement of colors; some tied to chairs and others held down by balloon weights. Rainbow streamers hang on each wall. A banner is hung on the wall with the words “Happy anniversary Junior Handlers!”. On the table are party hats and a couple of boxes of doughnuts with paper plates and napkins by them.

Devan steps up and grins, “I know it’s not much, and it’s the usual doughnut party we have every month, but we tried to make it more festive to show our appreciation for you guys.” He claps his hands together merrily. “So, let’s make the most of it before starting off the day!”

All of the Junior Handlers meet up with their respected Main Handler, exchanging a few words of gratitude and conversing before heading to the table to get first dibs on certain pieces of doughnuts. In the process, all of the Juniors also put on party hats.

There’s something about the small doughnut party that sparks a bit of joy in each Handler. You suppose it’s nice to have something sweet before starting the shift. Not to mention it does pair well with the coffee, providing you all a decent boost of energy.

Heading towards the table to grab your portion, you take a paper plate and mug for coffee. Just then, Sam is beside you.

“Saved you your favorite piece.” They plop it onto your plate.

You crack a smile. “You just grabbed too much on your plate, didn’t you?” Making your point, you gesture to their plate stacked with donuts.

You never took Sam for someone with a sweet tooth when you first met them, but the first doughnut party sure did prove you wrong. It was fascinating discovering that part of them, helping you understand them more as your coworker. 

Sam rolls their eyes, laughing, “Come cut me some slack. Just be glad I didn’t eat your favorite.” 

You grab the pot of coffee, pour yourself a cup, and then fill up Sam’s. “I wouldn’t say it’s my favorite .” The both of you sit yourselves down on an open couch, placing your mugs on the coffee table and plates in your laps.

“You grab it every time. Last time you haggled it from Devan, remember?”

Your face heats up, nearly causing your plate to slip off your lap. “Y-you were watching that?!”

Sam snickers, “It’s always fun watching someone try to sway Devan, of all people, for something. I’m actually impressed you convinced him, to be honest.” They take a bite of their pastry, then take a sip of coffee. “Guess I know my go-to person if I need to persuade him then.”

“Sam!” 

“Kidding. I’m kidding.” 

It’s always hard to tell when Sam’s joking sometimes, but it is pretty fun seeing them like this though. The Sam from your first day in Gardenview is way different from the Sam now. A year really does help open someone up. You guessed it also helps that you began to be more open with communicating with them with issues.

“You are making it so hard not to slap you,” you confess, trying your best to maintain a straight face.

“And what’s stopping you?”

“HR for start,” you quip. “That, and you’re way stronger than me.” Not to mention tall. You’d need to go on your tippy toes or hop slightly to land a proper blow on them.

Sam places a hand over their chest, “Wow, and here I thought what was stopping you was because we’re close.”

Rolling your eyes, you punch their side gently. “O-oh shut up!”

Laughing, Sam then sighs, “Fine, fine, I’ll stop.”

You pout at them with narrowed eyes before laughing. The two of you enjoy your well-earned doughnuts. The fluffy, buttery dough, powdered with sugar, is the best thing to have to start your day.

“Are you going to be okay? Staying the night shift, I mean?” Sam asks. “I can try and ask Devan to let me keep you company or take that shift.”

“I think I’ll be okay. Hardly an ideal way to spend my anniversary, but it is what it is. It’s just a sleepover.”

Frowning, Sam remarks, “It is, but are you going to be okay on your own?”

Sleepovers hosted by Gardenview often mandate to have one Handler oversee it if the tending amount is twenty. Any more than it would allow for a second. However, if it requires one Handler, then there can only be one Handler. 

Sam exhales sharply in annoyance, “I wish they weren’t so strict with this. It’s like they don’t trust us, treating us like teen camp counselors.”

You have to agree with Sam on this. It is somewhat of a flawed rule, but perhaps Arthur and Delilah feared the Handlers would use the provided staff dormitories for inappropriate means during these events. In the end, though, it’s for safety and to prevent any scandals about Gardenview. 

“I know, but it’s just protocol. There’s nothing we can do about it,” you remind them. “I’ll be fine. I’ll have Sprout and the others to help watch over, and if worse comes to worst, I’ll call you.” Smiling, you try to reassure them, “Sam, don’t worry about me. Let’s try and relax before the shift starts, okay?”

Sam eventually drops the topic, your reassurance easing them a bit. Looking around, Shanon is walking around with a camera, taking photos of every Handler and their Junior. Eventually, she reaches you and Sam.

Holding up the camera, she chirps out, “Say cheese, you two!”

Moving a bit closer to Sam for the picture, you turn to them, reminding them, “Make sure to smile this time.”

“You’re acting as if I hate taking photos with you,” they tease, scooching closer to you for the photo.

“Sam! You know what I mean!”

“Fine, only because it’s you.”

Shanon lines up the camera. “Okay! Ready! 1, 2,3! Say cheese!”

♡ ♡ ♡

Back in the diner, the Main Toons continue to eat their breakfast. However, after what transpired in the lobby, Vee has a lot to say, which, considering she cannot eat, gives her time for that. Her eyes are transfixed on Sprout who is doing his best to ignore her, coating his pancakes in maple syrup. 

He’s used to her staring at everyone while they ate. Despite not being able to eat, Vee can apparently smell the food, so she often opts to watch them eat and enjoys their company.

Just ignore her, and everything will be fine.

Nonetheless, Vee speaks. “Really? A plushie of yourself, Berry-boy? Narcissistic much?” she chimes. “As if she doesn’t see enough of you already during work.”

Pouting, Shelly defends Sprout, putting her utensil down, “Oh! Shush! I think it was sweet! It's not like we can leave the premises and go shop in other stores! Sprout’s working with what he’s got!” She hums to herself, “Now that I think about it! I wonder if I should do the same with my Junior Handler!”

“I’m sure they’d love it. There’s enough of your plushies to go around after all.” With how dry her tone is, it’s hard to discern if she’s being sincere. Vee then turns her attention back to Sprout, “You’re hopeless, Berry-boy.” 

Sprout furrows his brows, “And what is that supposed to mean?” 

“I think you’re well aware of what I’m implying,” Vee remarks. “Requesting to see her even on the weekend. Making meals for her whenever she skips lunch. Those baking lessons. Not to mention that little stunt a while ago. Need I mention the interview we had with her? Someone is certainly sweet on a certain Junior Handler,” she assesses. Vee then muses, “What did Dandy call you earlier? "Romeo"?” 

Seeing the discomfort on Sprout’s face, Astro speaks up, “I’m sure Sprout is just grateful for (Y/n)’s hard work… All the Junior Handlers have been a big help as of late.” This does little to de-escalate Vee’s pursuit. 

“You of all should be getting the hint, Astro,” Vee states. “Like, I dunno, in his dreams?”

The moon Toon’s eye widened, nearly choking on his drink, “W-why would I even do something like that..?!”

“You control and oversee most Toons’ dreams, don’t you?” she remarks. 

Astro goes quiet, frantically looking around. “...I-I…” He simply returns to eating his breakfast, staring downwards to avoid eye contact.

Vee raises an eyebrow. “So you have noticed that in his dreams.”

Shaking his head, Astro murmurs, “I’m not saying I have….”

Shelly frowns, “Come on, Vee, aren’t you going too far?”

Sprout could feel his face heat up. Annoyance is boiling in him from Vee prying for answers from Astro and him. What was the point of it for her? Is she going to use this information to berate him?

He stands up from where he’s sitting. “That’s enough, Vee.” Putting his foot down, he’s not afraid to show his peeved expression, glaring at her. “Can’t you see you’re making us uncomfortable?” He tries to calm himself while seating himself back, taking a deep breath.

This appears to have snapped some sense into Vee who sighs, slumping her shoulders. “I’m…I’m sorry,” she lets out. “I suppose I did push too much.” She turns to Astro, “I’m sorry, Astro and everyone.”

The tense look from Astro lessens, and he musters a smile, “...It’s fine.”

Sprout relents, “Just try to be more aware of everyone and what you say, please?”

“I’ll try.”

It’s understandable that Vee has a tendency to misread the room when it involves matters like emotion. Vee does flock to facts and solely focuses on that. Just because she’s mostly electronic doesn’t mean she’s heartless. She means well and very much cares for everyone, but everything gets lost in translations occasionally. 

Vee leans against the table with her elbows on it, resting her head on top. “It’s just weird seeing you like this,” she admits, her voice mellow. “Not to mention, it’s just plain obvious to a painful degree. The only reason we besides Pebble haven’t told her is because we’re waiting for you to step up.” 

Well, there’s the Vee they all know and love back. 

“Are you going to tell her, or are you going to beat around the metaphorical strawberry bush, Berry-boy?”

Sprout lets out another sigh, “L-let’s talk about this another time, please."

Vee thankfully doesn’t press on the matter, having learned her lesson. The matter would have worsened if Dandy had been present. 

Breakfast continues onward without issue. However, Sprout’s appetite is hindered from the previous exchange. His stomach is still fluttering with warmth and butterflies that it’s almost unbearable, making him need to just eat as much as he can to get enough energy for the morning. 

In hopes of lessening the discomfort, Sprout asks in a murmur, “Be honest, was the plushie that bad of an idea?”

Vee isn’t wrong. Sprout could have thought of something more thoughtful, maybe something personal, instead of a plushie. Maybe to you, being gifted plushie of himself was self-absorbed? There was the cupcake he wanted to give you, but that’s lost in Pebble’s stomach. Was the damn plushie and cupcake the best he could think of?

Shelly shakes her head, “Not at all. I personally think it was really sweet.”

“...From what I saw, it looked like (Y/n) really liked it,” Astro points out. 

Vee crosses her arms, squeezing her forearm with unease. “I was being a bit harsh on that. I’ll admit.” She sighs, “What Shelly said earlier is true; our sources are limited since it’s mandatory we remain in the facility unless said otherwise for safety.”

“I just feel like I could have done better,” he utters. “This is (Y/n) we’re talking about.”

Shelly places a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Sprout… don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s still a lovely gift.”

Sprout sighs, “Thanks, Shelly.” Taking a deep breath, he musters a smile, “I guess I was worrying a bit too much. Sorry about bringing down the mood, everyone.”

The best thing to do is just save face and let this go for everyone’s sake. Or at least make it appear that way. Once everyone is finished Sprout grabs all the dishes, heading to the kitchen to wash them. His mind is muddled at Vee’s question, but he tries to push it aside as least as he can. Hopefully, this little chore could at least help take his mind off it before meeting up with you.

Maybe Sprout should try and talk to Cosmo for advice or at least clear his mind while he’s at it. He does recall that today they plan on making cookies for the kiddos before Gardenviews opens together, and talking to Cosmo and baking does help him de-stress. 

Running the water in the sink Sprout grabs a sponge, using soap and scrubbing off any mess on the plates. The chore does somewhat lessen his worries about Vee’s question, but it manages to resurface.

‘“Are you going to tell her, or are you going to beat around the metaphorical strawberry bush, Berry-boy?”‘

He grips one of the plates tightly, staring at his reflection. His mind continues to wander, sinking him deeper and deeper. A menagerie of feelings conflict with one another, the prominent ones being doubt and hope. After breaking his gaze from his reflection he sighs, putting the plate on the drying rack to move onto the next.

Would there even be a point to it? 

Chapter Text

Monitoring the kids during recess is always a hit or miss in the afternoon. You need to watch over the kids and also the Toons joining them. A variety of events can occur because of it. For example, one time, you had to rescue a kid who climbed onto the roof of the tube slides and got stuck. The other time, you had to save Scraps, who ran up a tree because of Pebble.

The play area is decently sized for being indoors, allowing enough space for each kid to play what they want. The grassy layout that padded the floor and blue painted walls make it resemble the outdoors in the cartoon. Flowers of many varieties and bushes decorate the grassy plain.

The skylight above does aid in this effect, the natural lighting from the sun creating a more outdoor, meadow-like vibe.

There are colorful pathways that lead to different areas from a playground, swing sets, seesaws, a designated space for hopscotch, tag, and four squares, a mini-theater for kids to play pretend or let any Toon perform on, and then there's a grand tree in the center with benches encircling it. Slightly scattered around the path are round picnic tables.

You can see Toodles and Rodger playing with a group of kids, pretending to solve a “murder” case, judging by how Looey is lying on the ground with his tongue. He’s doing a pretty convincing job, and the ketchup Toodles poured on his chest is also selling it.

Poppy is playing jump rope with another group, singing with every jump. Ever so often, the children and Poppy chant “Go Poppy go!”

Stationed at the center tree and sitting on the curved benches, you watch Sprout entertaining the kids, bringing one of them onto his shoulders and running around. All of them are following Sprout, asking him to pick them next, jumping up and down. You can hear them all say, “Me! Me! Me! I wanna go next!”.

Sprout entertains them, returning his passenger back onto the ground in exchange for a new one. “Ready, kiddo?” 

With a nod of confirmation Sprout is dashing around, making rounds around the playground until it’s time to pick a new kid. It’s impressive that he can run around as they weigh nothing. This repeats about eleven times until Sprout begins showing signs of fatigue. 

Glancing at Sam, they groan, “Please, don’t make me.”

You gently push them, “Come on! You know damn well you’re stronger than me! If I do it I’m bound to face plant onto the ground! You’re practically a tree!”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?” they ask. 

“It’s a good thing! They’ll wanna climb all over you.”

Sam places a hand over your shoulder, “(Y/n), I don’t want them to climb on me.”

“Just distract them for a bit until Sprout’s recharged, please?”

Sam shakes their head, remaining firm, “No way. I’m not gonna do it. You saw what happened last time. That kid cried until her parents picked her up.”

That letter of complaint about Sam apparently not looking friendly enough to a parent’s child still bothers you. At least Arthur and Dehilah dismissed it. 

You sigh, “Come on! Please! Do it for my anniversary?”

“Are you seriously weaponizing your anniversary?”

“Yes.”

Sam stares at you in disbelief before shaking their head with a chuckle. “Fine. I’ll see what I can do.” They roll their shoulders a couple of times before making their way to Sprout and the group.

The moment Sam asks to take over, all the children are swarming them. They look at you with narrowed eyes, shaking their fist. If they could, you know they’d give you an offensive hand gesture. In return, you give them a thumbs-up of encouragement. There is still some remaining children who ask Sprout to carry them on his shoulders. 

Time to intervene. 

Getting from the bench, you clap your hands, “Alright! Alright! Let’s give Sprout some time to rest!” you encourage. “If we don’t let him, he won't have enough energy for the day, okay?” You glance where the other Toons are. “Why don’t you join either Poppy or Rodger? I heard Poppy’s holding a competition to see who can reach the highest number in jump rope, and that Rodger needs more junior detectives on hand!” Just to sweeten the deal, you add in, “Plus, if you solve Rodger’s case, you all might be able to convince Looey to perform a show with his troupe!”

Luckily, this does compel some of the kids to play with the other Toons, leaving you and Sprout alone. 

He breathes a sigh of relief, tugging on the front of his scarf to fan himself. “My savior.” 

“You alright there, little man?” 

“In a bit,” he weakly smiles, trying to catch his breath. 

“Let’s get you somewhere to rest, okay? I’ll get you some water.”

You decide to escort him to sit under the tree, letting him rest properly. You’re grateful that you brought extra bottles of water during lunch before recess. As you hand the water to Sprout he hastily opens it up, drinking it. Once satisfied he loosens his scarf and leans against you once he’s done, resting his head on your shoulder. 

He looks around, “Where’s Sam?”

“Being tortured by the kids.” You point to Sam, running laps with what looks like two children on their back. 

On the bright side, they look like they’re having fun, not having any of the kids cautious around them. You can’t tell if you’re proud of what you’ve done or terrible that you may have doomed Sam to be known as the ‘tree person. ’

“You convinced them, didn’t you?”

“Yep.”

“You’re terrible,” Sprout chuckles. 

“And yet you wanted me to be your Junior Handler,” you counter before laughing as well. “I’ll make it up to Sam. I promise!” 

Maybe you can take them out for lunch? Sam did treat you to lunch that one time when you told them about the lunch break issue following the monthly wellness check up you had with Delilah.

Sarcastically, Sprout says, “Sure you will.”

“Oh, come on! I’m a man of my word!” you retort. “I always want to make sure I fulfill what I owe. Which is why I’m still waiting for you to use that favor of yours, Mister Seedly .”

Sprout laughs at your words. “I’m surprised you still remember that,” he muses, clearly amused. “I’ll get to that eventually. I promise.” 

It’s been four months since you made that deal with him during that decorating competition, and that favor has been looming over you since then. You’re not worried or dreading what he may have in store for you, considering Sprout's previous requests are pretty tame. 

He sits up, adjusting his scarf that has slightly tightened around his neck while leaning against your shoulder. “Mind if I lie down?”

“Is that your favor?”

“Are you going to stop me?”

You sigh, shaking your head, “No.”

Even if you did deny him, you don’t think that could strong arm into using that favor. Plus, it’s best you don’t force him to use it. After all, it’s his favor, not yours. You shouldn’t be acting childish or petty over something so simple; complicating that would only lead you to be tangled up. Not to mention, it would be rather unbecoming of you since Sprout is clearly tired.

Shifting in your seat to get comfortable, you pat your lap, “Alright, come here.” 

Sprout lies himself horizontally on the bench, resting his head on your lap, which acts as a pillow for him. He exhales contently, closing his eyes. You run your hand through his leaves, occasionally gently rubbing them with the pads of your fingers. His leaves oddly feel fuzzy and somewhat soft.

Sprout doesn’t give you indications that he’s opposed to your action, instead relaxing into your touch like he’s melting. You continue playing with his leaves absentmindedly, watching the children running about and laughing. 

It’s peaceful.

Seeing everyone enjoying themselves without a care in the world. You almost envy that, recalling when you used to be like that as a child. You kinda miss that feeling. The world felt so limitless since, as a child, you knew so little, being limited to a little protected bubble created by your family which eventually popped as you grew and learned more about the world itself. With knowledge comes burden, as some say.

You stop playing with Sprout’s leaves when he moves a bit, and looking down, you see him gazing up at you. “What’s with that look?”

His expression is soft, almost serene, as he smiles, like he’s beholding you. “Just taking in the view.”

“I don’t think my face looks good from your angle, little man.”

He pouts, furrowing his brows.”Oh, just let me compliment you!”

“Okay! Okay! I’m sorry!” you apologise. “I’m kinda not used to that— being called good looking, I mean.”

“Well, you are,” he affirms. “You’re beautiful.”

Breaking his gaze, you wind up playing with his leaves to occupy yourself. “You think I’m beautiful?” 

You hate yourself for asking that. You must sound vain or like you’re trying to mooch for more compliments to feed your ego. 

Due to his head lying on your lap Sprout can’t nod much, but he does smile, that ardent glint in his eyes never leaving. “Absolutely.”

There is a desire to quip at that, but something about his words causes a warm sensation to resonate in your chest. Maybe it’s the sincerity and conviction he had when he said it that’s causing this.

“I…thanks,” is all you can muster.

There’s just something about receiving compliments about your appearance that takes you off guard on occasions. It could simply be due to you being familiar with your appearance, as confusing as it sounds. After all, it’s like staring at the same view on a regular basis. Sure, it’s interesting to look at, but eventually, it simply becomes a view, and you forget what made it so special in the first place.

You continue to watch what’s around you while silently fiddling with Sprout’s leaves in silence. When you check up on him, his eyes are closed. He looks so at peace, his breathing steady. 

That really tuckered him out. You wonder if he’ll be okay for the sleepover event tonight. He’ll be busy entertaining and preparing dinner for a lot of children, after all.

You two remain like this for a good while until Sprout finally opens his eyes upon hearing multiple footsteps approach. “Mr. Sprout!”

He sits up, shifting to be seated vertically, flashing a smile as he hears his name. “Yeah, kiddo?” He acknowledges the group of kids in front of him. “Need something?”

“We were wondering if you could play a game with us!” one of them proposed. “But only if you can! Miss Handler said you’re tired!”

Sprout got off his seat with a hop, “I’m never tired when it comes to games with you, kiddos!” He claps his hands together, “So! What game do you all want to play?”

As if they all planned it they all chant out, “Flower-go-seek!”

Huh. That’s a new game. 

At least to you.

You repeat the name, “Flower-go-seek?” 

All the children gasp, “You’ve never played it!?” They almost sound offended by this. 

Sprout calms them all, laughing in amusement at their reaction before explaining it to you, “It’s like hide and seek, but you’re flowers. When you hide or the seeker finishes counting you’re “rooted” to the ground. Then when the seeker finds you that’s when you’re then “uprooted”, meaning you can try to escape the seeker by fleeing to the safezone.” Sprout then adds in, “There is a harder version where the hiders wear 'petals' that the seeker needs to grab to win."

“You should play with us, Miss Handler!” One of the children grasps your hand, gently tugging it. “It’s really fun! Please?”

Sprout laughs, looking at you. “Well, you heard the kiddos.” 

Shaking your head in defeat, you sigh, “How can I say no to these faces?”

If you say no, you’re bound to hear the sounds of disappointment from them all. You don’t have it in you to reject them. It’s just a game. How bad could it be?

“I’ll seek. You hide. We can go easy on you without the petal mechanic,” he proposes. 

There it is. That competitive spark in his eyes. You almost regret saying, “Don’t go easy on me for my sake. That is about the kids, remember? I don’t mind that addition if they want it.”

To bury yourself deeper for what you said the kids eagerly agree to the harder version. Sprout heads towards the back of the theater where some of the equipment is safely stored. The thing that Sprout mentioned where the petals actually are just those flag belts for flag football but more colorful, resembling Dandy’s petals. There’s a plastic clip used to clip the belt around your waist, which could easily slip off without issue if only the flags were pulled.

So this game is like if flag football and hide-and-seek had a baby, I guess?

Putting on the flag belt, you look for Sam, who is lying on the ground. “Sam are you—”

“No,” they gasp out before you can finish your question.

Yikes. 

They look like they’ve been drained of their lifeforce. You haven't seen them this tired since Finn’s “Finn-tastic swimming lessons with Barnaby”. Now you really need to thank them by taking them out for lunch next week. Ideally, it would be best to treat them to dinner, but with your current shift, that would have to wait another time.

With everyone at the ready, Sprout shouts out the directions enthusiastically. “Alright, kiddos! Safe zone, as usual, is the theater stage! I’ll count to sixty here, so better start hiding when I do! Remember! If you fail to reach the safe zone or I snatch the petals from your belt, then you are out! Are you ready?”

As soon as they all cheer in affirmation, Sprout starts to count, causing all of them to scurry away to find the perfect hiding spot. 

Okay! Find a hiding spot! Should be easy!

If only it was. Having your uniform be red and being the tallest is easy to make you the swiftest target to get discovered by Sprout. For all you know, he could wind up targeting you, and the competitive nature in your blood would be damned to let him have that satisfaction.

Scanning the play area for a hiding spot, you debate your course of action. It’s a gamble to choose a place that’ll properly camouflage you and your uniform, considering Sprout may have taken that into account, which means there’s an increased chance of him checking areas with prominent red. 

Then again, the same could be said with picking a hiding spot that doesn’t hide your uniform properly, decreasing the chance of him searching for you but increases being spotted due to your uniform and those petals around your waist. Of course, your thought process could be completely off with Sprout's potential strategy for the game.

You tap your temples, shaking your head.

Ahhhh!! It’s just a kids' game, (Y/n)! Why the hell are you complicating it?!

Sam’s cautiousness rubbed off on you too much than you like to admit, making you try to over-evaluate the probabilities and preventative measures. 

You just need a place that’ll provide you full coverage but also an escape route when or if Sprout finds you. Simple as that!

The playground sounds like a good area since it is close to the theater, but there is a chance Sprout could first check the path of least resistance. Not to mention, other children who are not participating in the game have a chance of telling Sprout.

There is a potential place you have in mind. Right near the elevator is a wooden gazebo painted white, with fencing framing it followed by hedges. Tied against the poles are curtains that could be used for privacy or give a child or Toon a place to take a pause if they’re overstimulated by the sounds or surroundings. 

It’s on the opposite side of the safe zone, but Sprout is the least likely suspect. If you’re sitting down on the ground, you should be out of his line of sight, thanks to the fencing and mini hedges. Opening the curtains could give you more coverage but be a dead giveaway to where you’re located.

Hearing the counting, you steel yourself, opting for that hiding spot. Better than standing in place.

You tiptoe away from Sprout, and once out of earshot, you race toward your hiding place. Once you arrive, you step onto the gazebo, sitting yourself down against one of the pillars away from its entrance to make sure you’re not spotted if Sprout briefly glances at it. Now that you’re hidden, it could give you some time to regain your stamina since even running from the center tree it’s a pretty long journey. How on earth are you going to make it to the safe zone? 

It’s too late to have second thoughts when you hear Sprout shout out, “Ready or not! Here I come!”

Now you’re stuck here. Rooted, as Sprout calls it for this game. All you can do is anticipate his arrival. Of course, you could contemplate why you’re here and what led you down this path, sitting in a gazebo like your life depended on it as you pretend you’re a flower protecting its petals.

Sitting in place does take its toll on you, hearing the children scream as they are discovered and eliminated from the game by Sprout and not being able to tell how long you’ve been rooted in place. You’re so nervous that since your legs are tingling from sitting in place for too long, you won’t be able to run properly to escape him.

Can you even outrun him? If the morning told you enough he was faster than you and had better endurance than you. The best you can hope is that carrying the kids and running around with them earlier somewhat impaired him.

You wonder. How many got caught by him? How many managed to escape and reach the safe zone? Does the game end when Sprout gives up, or does it continue until he’s hunted down all of you? The play area may be vast, but it is limited. Sprout probably knows the layout better than you.

More time passes, and it’s quiet. Well, technically, it’s not since there are still children shouting and laughing, but quiet as in there are no more kids screaming that is related to the game. It makes you wonder if you’re—

“Heya~!” A voice from above you greets playfully from above you. Looking up, you see Sprout, leaning against the gazebo’s railing and wearing a roguish grin. “Neat hiding spot you got here~!” He whistles, almost impressed, as he momentarily glances around the gazebo.

He looms over your sitting form. Never have you felt so small in your life until now, with his shadow towering over your form. You’re not sure why, but you never imagined being hunted by Sprout would be terrifying.

“F-five second head start?” you attempt to bargain despite knowing well you’re not exactly in the position to barter with a literal target wrapped around your waist. 

“Nope~!” He cheekily chuckles with a shake of his head, eyeing his prize, “I’d start running if I were you~!”

And so you ran.

And he gave chase.

Every step that aids in propelling you forward to the safe zone has your heart racing wildly, blood and adrenaline rushing through your body. Even as the grass under your feet crinkled slightly as you ran, you could hear Sprout high on your tail. The closer that sound becomes, the faster you try to outrun it. 

He hasn’t caught up to you yet, but knowing how he’s naturally faster than you has you on guard. You’re either correct that he’s still tired, or you could be completely wrong, and he’s messing with you just to play with his food.

Why the hell did you agree to this game?! 

Your entire being is shaking at the prospect of being caught, involuntarily forgetting this is a game and treating this as if your life depended on it. One quick glance from behind doubles that sensation. The intense and unwavering expression on Sprout is almost predacious, yielding a shiver down your spine.

“Might as well hand those petals to me!” he suggests aloud, his voice steady and not breathy. “That would be a lot easier for both of us! Dontcha think?”

“O-over my dead body!”

Reach the safe area.

Reach the safe area.

You repeat that in your mind like a broken record as if to fuel you further towards your goal. Everything from the sounds of the children cheering and shouting, the taste of blood on the back of your tongue, to the roar of your heartbeat in your bashing your ear drums are tuned out. 

Just survive.

Speeding past Sam at the center tree somewhat results in a gust of wind blowing past them as they nurse on a bottle of water on the bench. Only for a split second, you can see them mouth “What the hell?” when you make eye contact before passing them completely.

As the theater is in sight you can taste a bit of relief. Home stretch. You can see a few of the children that escaped waving their hands, cheering and shouting some warnings of Sprout being behind you. 

Perhaps you should have heeded their warnings. If you did, you would have avoided being tackled and rolling on the grassy plain of the play area. You and Sprout roll against the grass about five times until the momentum is lost, leaving you lying on your back. 

Your chest rises and falls feverishly, trying to regain your breath from the labor-intensive chase. This is, oddly a blessing in disguise by letting you recover. The cold grass under you is oddly soothing against your skin.

All you can focus on is Sprout on top of you, finally out of breath. “G-got…got you…!” he pants out, his hands pinning each of your wrists against the ground.

An unfamiliar flash of heat washes over your face as you stare up at him. It feels odd to be in this position this time, your heart feels like it’s fluttering around your chest. Maybe the difference is that instead of simply lying on top of you Sprout is pressing you against the ground, applying weight while doing so to keep you in place. Strange. He’s stronger than you expected.

You two are a panting mess, solely focused on each other and recovering from the thrill of the chase. Both of you are radiating heat, but you can more prominently feel his blanketing you, much like his shadow. You can’t tell as his hands slightly tighten around your wrists if it’s his heart beating you're hearing or if it’s yours. There’s barely a sense of discomfort with his face so close at this point.

Once you regain a small portion of your energy, you gasp out, “W-why do I feel like you saved me for last…?” 

“And if I did?”

Even if he did— you’re too exhausted to care. Well, actually, the slight spite at this possibility does give you a bit of strength.

“That’s cr-cruel. Even for you…” You break his gaze by turning your head to the side, “What are you w-waiting for? Are… you going to make me do it myself?”

There's a bit of shame laced in your voice from being caught. You were so close to tasting victory and had that ripped away from you in seconds. The thrill of the chase and prospect being short lived.

Your question oddly has Sprout’s eyes widened, “P-pardon?“

Lucky for you, his grip loosens, letting you free one of your hands to grab his. Carefully, you lead it to what he’s been chasing after. 

That must have worked to remind him since he exclaims with an, “O-oh!”

Grabbing one of your petals, he gently pulls, the fabric of the belt wrapped around your waist slowly slipping off. You almost wish he’d be done with it instead of taking his sweet time. For all you know, he could just be savoring his victory.

Does he have to maintain eye contact with you while doing it, too? He’s acting like you’re going to try to escape. Which you suppose you could if your limbs did not feel like jelly. 

Crap. 

How are you even going to be able to walk properly for the rest of the shift? The fall from last morning wasn’t that bad, but being tackled and rolled onto the ground is bound to haunt you. Why do you get the feeling that when you wake up, you’re going to have a gnarly bruise?

Once the flag belt has fully left your form, there is a sense of defeat on your part. You almost curse yourself for not putting up more of a fight. Instead, you let yourself be robbed willingly of your petals by Sprout. Though, now that they’re gone it does bring you a sense of ease now, no longer having it burden you with its importance for the game. It’s oddly freeing for your competitive self.

Looking up at him, you ruefully laugh, murmuring, “I guess you win.”

“Y-yeah. I guess I did,” he bashfully admits. “Are you okay?” He gets off you, helping pull you up onto your feet.

“What do you think? You tackled me,” you remind him.

 Thank goodness you landed on the grass because had you not, you’d wind up with a cracked skull and heaps of blood leaking under you. Then again, knowing Sprout he probably only tackled you, taking into account you’d be padded by the grass. Doesn’t take away how reckless it was, but you commend him for being aware of his surroundings before acting.

Sprout’s cheeks darken. “R-right! Sorry about that! I kinda let my competitive side get the better of me, didn’t I?”

“I’ll say,” you concur, but laugh it off with a shrug. “It’s fine. I’m not peeved about that. I would be if you did that to the kids though.”

Lord knows you’d scold Sprout to no end if he did. You know he wouldn’t dare do that since he holds all the children in high regard. He’d never act with malice and purposefully harm someone, so that’s why you’re not bothered by this. Were that the case, you don’t think you’d be this close to Sprout, nor under the position as Junior Handler.

Sprout frowns, fiddling with his scarf. “I still mean what I asked. Are you okay?” 

“I’m probably bruised at best from that tackle,” you admit. “I think I’ll tap out from the next round and rest under the tree.”

“H-here. Lemme help.”

“But the kids,” you remind him.

Sprout turns to them, announcing, “I’ll be right back! I’m just gonna help Miss (Y/n) for a bit!”

Some of them look disappointed, while others look concerned for you. Just to put them at ease, you give them a reassuring smile before walking away with Sprout there to support you.

“You really don’t have to, Sprout,” you tell him, walking with you towards the tree’s benches. “Just focus on the kids.”

“I’m not going to let you walk there on your own after what I did,” he declared.

“I’m fine! You’re acting like a car hit me! You don’t need to worry about me!” you retort.

“I’ll never not worry about you, (Y/n),” his tone is serious as it is sullen. 

Finally you both make it to the center, and you slowly sit yourself down onto the bench. By this time, your body is beginning to ache from the impact. You’re going to need more pain meds for this. 

Sprout eyes light up, “Oh, I almost forgot!” He kneels and grabs something from under the bench, revealing a small container of mini cookies. “I made these with Cosmo during the morning for the kiddos, and we had some extras.”

The chocolate chip cookies are quite literally bite-sized. Cosmo and Sprout even went as far as to use mini chocolate chips. They almost look too cute to eat. But knowing Sprout, he’s wearing that look of anticipation and anxiousness to hear your opinions of the mini cookies.

You open the container and take one of the mini-cookies, funnily enough taking a small bite. You’re surprised that the outside is crispy and yet the middle remains soft and chewy. You’re not sure why you thought it wouldn’t taste like a normal cookie. Perhaps the size made you worry it would be dry or crunchy. The flavor is sweet and buttery with the company of the chocolate chips, which helps balance it out, making it rich and sweet. Hopefully, for your little baking lessons with Sprout he’ll teach you the recipe.

The sweet treat energizes you immediately, and the discomfort from the fall and long chase dissipates almost as if it was never there. Eating something sweet always feels far more satisfying, making the terrifying chase almost worth it.

“Is it good?” Sprout asks, fidgeting with his scarf.

“It’s amazing!” you exclaim, taking another cookie out and bringing it towards Sprout. “Try it!”

“I-I’m good! It’s for you after all, and to make up for what happened in the lobby with Pebble and the others.” 

“You can make it up to me by having a bite!” you insist. “It’s only fair! Think of it as a reward for catching me! Come on, please?”

Sprout purses his lips and sighs with a shake of his head, “You’re not gonna stop unless I try it, aren’t you?” As annoyed as he sounded, you can tell by that smile, tugging the corners of his lips that he wasn’t. “Fine…” he rolls his eyes before leaning forward towards your hand. 

He closes his eyes as he opens his mouth. Grabbing the mini-cookie, his lips brush against your fingertips. Your heart beats fast and fluttery at the sensation. You’re not sure why your body is reacting like this; perhaps it was involuntarily anxious and anticipating he’d bite your fingers. 

Sprout must have felt his lips touch your fingertips too, since his eyes widen a bit as they open before he jolts away in surprise.

He even exclaims with a brief “Mmph!” sound before hastily taking the treat into his mouth.

Despite the cookie being small, he chews a good couple of seconds before swallowing. 

Getting up Sprout gestures behind him anxiously, “I-I should get back to the kids.” 

“Do you want me to join you again?” You are feeling revitalised, and the pain isn’t prominent, so you aren’t opposed to going again.

“No. You should rest. After what I did and the long shift you’re gonna have, it’s best this way.” 

“That sounds like if I do join, you’ll wind up tackling me again,” you tease.

“It’s n-not!” he rebukes, which makes you giggle from his reaction.

“I know, I know you won’t,” you tell him, trying to stop yourself from laughing. ”Okay, I’ve kept you to myself long enough. Go! Have fun with them!” You watch him head back to the theater where all of them are waiting. “You better not tackle any of them, Sprout Seedly!” 

From a distance, you can hear him shout, “I won’t!”

Laughing, you shake your head. What are you going to do with him?

Chapter Text

“This doesn’t feel safe to have in the open. Especially around the kids,” you remark anxiously to Sam, eyeing the machine squeezed in the corner near the children’s cubbies. “I know it’s to power the backup generators in case of emergencies, but still.”

These could be hazardous to them if they tampered with the machines, and the red wheel close to the floor isn’t bringing you any ease since the bold color could tempt the children to mess around with it, pull, or turn it like it’s a toy. There are yellow labels in bold and black text at the bottom of these machines, but you only dread that they will disregard them. 

Judging by your memories as a kid yourself, there is one logic that you’re aware of. If it’s nearby, then it must mean you can play with it, and if you think you can do it then you can do it. Followed by that, you know there’s a guarantee the laws of physics would be broken through otherworldly means somehow. If there’s something that cannot be stopped, it’s a child’s boundless determination and imagination. 

Technically, they shouldn’t be able to activate them since their mechanisms to allow them to be used only trigger when a blackout occurs, cutting Gardenview off from the main electrical grid. You only know this due to the mass staff meeting to be trained on how to operate them. 

It’s not only the staff that were trained but also the Toons. It is a rather surprising thing to have occurred, but you suppose that it’s best that they were taught how to use them in case there is no staff on hand and Gardenview loses power on the weekend.

The best way you can describe it is that it was rather... interesting. Some were quick to digest the training while others struggled, but the important part was that they learned how to use the machines properly.

“A bit too late to say that now that they’ve been installed last month,” Sam remarks, but judging by their tone, they bear the same sentiment you have.

“Well, it’s not like we have a full say in where these machine-things are.” Looking at them, you can't help but lament, “They just feel so out of place.” 

Some of the machines are occasionally placed where staff can only see, tucked away safely from the public’s eye. However, there are a few machines that are inconveniently installed where all can see.  

They are a bit of an eyesore in your opinion. Not that you could openly express it. You’re certain the others have the same viewpoint on the machines, too, but opt not to speak of it just to avoid getting in trouble with the founders. There was good intention with the machines, but the installation is still taking some time to get used to for everyone.

The only reason you think the visitors tolerate it is due to Arthur’s grand speech about using clean energy to benefit future generations. It would be a bad look on the parents if they disparage a well-respected man’s dream. Arthur is always an avid advocate for the well-being of the Earth. It’s admirable. Kind as he is ambitious. 

Maybe that’s why he also vowed that if any natural disasters, be it hurricanes or blizzards, occurred affecting families, Gardenview would lend a helping hand and provide shelter and food to their benefactors until all was well. That does explain the emergency supplies stored away in the supply area.

Sighing, you look around the spacious room. Everything is prepared. Diligently cleaned from top to bottom with no speck of dust in sight. It shouldn’t cause any issues with any children with allergies or asthma.

There’s enough space for about twenty children to set their sleeping bags on the soft, green, cushioned carpeted flooring. The cubby in the entrance is ready to house their backpacks and shoes. In each cubby, there are complementary Toon plushies for each kid with their preferred Toon. Walls painted a light blue, accented with a rainbow strip in the middle. 

Posters of introductory cards of certain Toons are scattered here and there. There are even some posters featuring past aired episodes like ’Stage Fright’, ‘Lights Out Investigation’, and ‘Day Out’. The traditional rules poster is there, accompanied by the ‘Welcome to Gardenview’ poster.

There are little bookshelves tucked in the corner with bean bags, acting as a little reading nook. If it was desired, a Toon or Handler could use it as a “stage” to read aloud stories for the children, with the bookshelves perfectly framing the reader to be the sole focus.

Hanging on the ceiling are string lights of little stars cascading. Should the room be dark, and these lights were turned on, they’d imitate stars, beautifully looming over those who lie under them with their soft blue light. 

Sighing, you look at the clock, “Well, wish me luck for tonight.”

“Are you sure you don’t need me to help? My offer still stands,” Sam states.

“No, it’s fine,” you decline. “Besides, I don’t want you to get in trouble. Plus,” you point up and down at Sam, “it’s a bit late to play hero when you’re already out of uniform, don’t you think?” You say that in a teasing tone. 

It is strange seeing everyone out of uniform sometimes. You’re so used to seeing them in them that your mind associates it with all of them. You’d think you’d be used to it since you’ve seen them out of uniform when the shift ends and during staff outings for a year now.

“I’ll be fine, Sam. Just go enjoy your weekend for me,” you reassure. 

They frown but sigh, “Alright. Just call or text me if you need anything, okay?” They rummage through their pockets, retrieving a lolly and unwrapping it, popping it into their mouth. “I’ll head out then. Be safe.”

Sam always had this habit of having a lollipop, preferably the ‘Dum Dum’ brand, on hand in their pockets or stashed in their locker. They tend to have it since it helps them deal with stress and occupy them, but avoid eating one in the open since the kids would swarm them for one. Not to mention, a parent once accused Sam of ‘smoking’ on the job. 

So they often wait until they're out of view, it’s break time, or when their shift ends to have one. With how they approach going about it, it does kinda make it appear they’re doing something restricted like smoking.

With that, Sam takes their leave and heads towards the elevator to return to the lobby. You check the time: 5:00 pm. There should be enough time to relax for an hour and a half until the kids who signed up for the sleepover event come in. It does give you time to check out the Handers’ dormitory that you’ll be staying in for the night. 

It is commonly restricted, and the keys are only given when Gardenview is hosting a sleepover for the children, or in case one of the Handlers requires housing temporarily. Now that you have access to it until tomorrow, you can finally see what it looks like.

The Handlers’ room surprisingly looks similar to the Toon’s residence, except all the furniture is suitable for humans, but still with that Gardenview flair, with the bright colors. Further entering the floor’s room, you pass by the small kitchen and dining table. In the back of it are two black doors that lead to the pantry. As you walk down the hall, you take out your keys, looking at the number engraved on them. 

“Room number TH-three,” you murmur to remind yourself. 

Scanning the hall and passing by Toon Handlers’ portraits, you finally see it. You head to the door and unlock it with ease. 

You’re greeted with a simple bedroom. True to the Toon you’re assigned the walls are red with dark red stripes going vertically. A desk is tucked in the left corner of the room with a desk lamp and a computer. Your bed for the night is in the right of the room, its footboard facing you. 

On top of the blanket appear to be pajamas for the night for you in case you didn’t prepare for one. Which, you didn’t. To be honest, you were going to just wear your uniform shirt as your pajamas and forgo your pants, or snag an extra-large shirt from the gift shop. But at least, you don’t have to worry about being dressed unbecoming if you're called for an emergency in the middle of the night.

Sitting down on the mattress, it’s surprisingly firm yet plush enough to avoid the sensation of lying down on the floor. Maybe, this is for the best to avoid the sensation of sinking into the bed, or that terrifying feeling of struggling to escape the bed with the mattress clinging to your form. 

You pick up your pajamas and place them into the dresser provided for you. Opening the dresser, you notice a couple of lollipops stashed away. Huh. Good to know that not even staying the night could stop Sam’s fixation.

 ‘Cranberry hot chocolate’ and ‘gingerbread’ flavors? They’re even the Gardenview brand. Did they get these during Christmas?

Maybe they’ll come in handy, or maybe you’ll pick up their habit. It almost feels illegal to pocket them.

What do you do now? 

Most of the kids and Handlers went home since Gardenview is technically closed until it’s time for the sleepover event.

You could take a nap so you could get enough energy to last the night, and use the alarm clock on your nightstand next to your bed. That or you could chug lots of coffee like Delilah, which is fifteen cups per day—twenty if she’s in a time-crunch with paperwork. The kitchen should have a coffee maker and grounds on hand, or maybe some instant coffee. 

Then again, if you decide to go the coffee route, Sprout may be displeased with that, chastising you that it is unhealthy to consume a large amount in such a short span of time. 

That and, well, your heart might explode, or experience severe cardiac arrest and die, and you prefer not to traumatise the children if that occurs. You'd rather not be known as the Gardenview staff member who died in front of children due to your own idiocy. 

For all you know, your face could be on the news, and give prickly parents a reason to have caffeinated drinks banned because of what happened to you. You very much would prefer to avoid that outcome, so nap time it is then.

Anything that involves not working almost pinches you with regret. Almost as if you haven’t earned this extra time to relax. But you also don’t want Vee to scold you for working while technically off the clock. It may be her way of caring or keeping everything on schedule and in order.

Kicking off your shoes, you’re grateful for the soft carpet under the bed to protect you from the cold flooring. You set the alarm clock to the time you’d need to wake up. 

An hour nap shouldn’t hurt, right? 

You lie back onto the bed, but out of sheer paranoia, you sit up and double-check that the time is set to pm and not am. Finally, at ease that the time is correctly set, you close your eyes. 

“....Is she okay?” You can hear Astro's question faintly, slowly coming out of your sleepy haze.

“I dunno. Poke her if you’re so concerned.” Vee’s voice chimes in. “Maybe you can even do Berry-boy a favor and—” 

“Don’t,” Sprout interjects.

The sharp tone from how he spat that word out stirs you fully out of your slumber. “Huh?” Opening your eyes, you’re greeted by Sprout, Vee, and Astro.

“Evening, sleeping beauty,” Vee greets. “For a moment there, I thought Berry-boy would have to help wake you up.” She nudges Sprout, who narrows his eyes, unamused.

Sitting up, you yawn. “What are you three doing here?” 

Vee hands out a sheet of paper, revealing tonight's schedule. “We were looking for you to deliver this to you,” she states. “You’re lucky Berry-boy is good at figuring out where you are.”

Reading the lamented paper, you run every activity through your head; dropping stuff off on the floor they’re staying at, being entertained by the Toons, dinner time, getting ready for bed, and bedtime. In the morning, breakfast time before pick up.

After going through the schedule, you look around the room, noticing someone is missing. “And…where’s Shelly?” 

“O-oh! She’s back on the floor where the kids are staying to pick a book to read to them for tonight,” Astro clarifies. “Usually, Brightney and I do it, but Shelly asked to help me this time.”

Aw, how sweet of her. You’re kinda curious what book she’s going to pick. However, knowing her, she may pick a story related to dinosaurs, but is trying to be selective to discern which book is the best for the children. Shelly is always trying her best to please. Hopefully, it goes well for her.

Checking the time, it’s already 6:00 pm. Looks like it’s time to get up and get ready to do any refinement before the children show up. You should ideally by 6:20 pm have a quick meeting with everyone just to touch base with them about tonight's schedule.

Oh gosh. Can you even survive managing this shift alone?

You’re not Devan. 

You basically need to lead everything.

How the hell does he do everything effortlessly? You’ve never properly led this alone. Sure, the six months managing alone with the scheduling issue did give you some experience, but do you have what it fully takes? You’re just a Junior Handler after all.

Well, you know what they say: fake it till you make it, and you don’t have the room to fail everyone.

Remember. Don’t forget to smile.

Taking in a deep breath, you get off the bed, mustering a bright smile. “Vee,” you call out.

“Yes?”

“Are there enough printouts of the schedule?” 

“These were made ahead of time, so yes,” she confirms.

“Great! We’ll need those set at the lobby by 6:20 for everyone,” you clasp your hands together as you exclaim. “Sprout, since you’re on dinner and breakfast duty with Cosmo, make sure that you both touch base for things like food allergies. Everything on the menu should be good, but I’d like to make sure in case.” 

“Sure thing!”

“I’m going to check up on Shelly at the sleepover floor. Astro, mind joining me for a bit, so you can help Shelly out if she needs it?” you ask him, slipping your shoes back on to then heading towards the door.

Astro nods, “...Sure.” He follows you.

“Thanks!” you tell him. 

You more or less wanna check up on Shelly in case she’s overwhelmed. She does want to give it her all, but even you know that could be exhausting for oneself. The mental strain of trying to give as much as you can in hopes of receiving the same amount back. 

Heading out of the room, you remind the two Mains behind you, “Remember! In twenty minutes, we’re holding a quick meeting in the lobby!” 

Vee gives a little nod while Sprout gives a playful salute, which earns a little laugh from you. Leaving the room, you and Astro head to the elevator. Entering it there is an uncomfortable silence between you two.

Now that you think of it, you’ve never really talked to Astro that much. There are moments where you two greet each other or have short exchanges, but that’s all you can recall.  After all, you’re mostly with Sprout all the time since you are his Junior Handler.

You can count the number of times you’ve spoken to him alone with your fingers, much to your dismay. One, during your interview. Two, dropping your group of kids for nap time. Three, right now. Already been working in Gardenview for a year, and you’ve only interacted with him three times.

Breaking the silence, you start with, “You know, Austin and his Junior mentioned you like to sing the kiddos to sleep.” You press the button for the desired floor.

“O-Oh...! Did they?”

 “Of course! And that you have a lovely voice,” you tell him.

He bows his head to look at the ground, shuffling his feet, “...They’re overexaggerating. It pales when compared to Dandy’s voice.”

“You know, there’s something I remember Teagan telling me awhile back; it’s that you shouldn’t diminish your worth when others can see its value,” you remark. “Your singing may not be like Dandy’s, but it has its own merit and beauty, and that’s what everyone loves about it. It’s your voice, not his, after all. You should take pride in that.”

“I never thought it like that,” he admits. “...Thank you.”

“No problem!”

The elevator rumbles to a stop, and during this, you can barely hear Astro murmurs to himself, “I…see why…”

“Hhm?” you hum out, catching the poor lunar Toon off guard.

“O-oh…! I was just saying I can see why Sprout picked you— to be your Junior Handler, I mean.” As soon as the elevator door opens, he shuffles out swiftly and leaves you alone for you to follow.

Entering the floor, you both head to the reading nook where Shelly is. There are piles of books by her side, one to her right and the other on her left. If you lean forward a bit, you can see a third pile in front of her. Shelly is too focused on looking through book after book, organizing it into one of the piles. 

She only notices you two when she looks behind her. “Oh! (Y/n)! Astro! What are you doing here?”

“Here to check in on you…Are you alright?” Astro glances at the three piles. “...What are those for?”

“Oh! These!” Shelly takes out one book from each pile. “This has dinosaurs! This is about space! As for this one! This one involves both!” She sheepishly laughs and messes with the fabric of her skirt, bunching it together in wrinkles, “I may or may not have lost track of time, figuring out what book to pick… I was trying to find a happy medium that has both and be what Astro might like.”

Getting closer to Shelly, Astro sits by her side, “I don’t mind the books we read to be mostly about dinosaurs.” Lifting up one of the books, he smiles, “You are my guest reader and helper for tonight… I want to make sure you're comfy, so pick any book you like.”

“I know, but… it just doesn’t feel fair, you know?” Shelly admits. “I just want to make sure the kids have something to invest themselves in, in case the book I picked doesn’t work out.”

A frown forms on Astro’s face, but lessens when he proposes, “…How about this? We just read something we both like? No stars. No dinosaurs. Just what we both like.”

Shelly ponders this for a moment but nods with a smile, “Okay!”

As Shelly and Astro go through the books, you return the three piles to their respective places. You hear the two Toons discuss amongst themselves, showing what book they found, then putting it away. By the time you’ve reached the third pile, Shelly and Astro finally decide what to read for tonight.

“Oooo! I love this book!” Shelly chirps as Astro hands the book to her. 

“Me too. I think I read this during book club…”

Astro and Shelly appear pleased by the book, chatting about its contents.

‘Alice's Adventures in Wonderland’

The name rings familiar to you thanks to the animated version of the story. A story of a young girl who finds herself in a world that revolves around madness, where disorder is ironically Wonderland’s order. A world where one could swim in an ocean of tears, change their height via Wonderland’s food, or paint white roses red would be, for some reason, a matter of life or death. 

Nothing made sense, yet it does if one allows oneself to sway to Wonderland’s whims. Question it too much, you’d be entrapped in your mind, trying forever to find rhyme or reason in a world conceived through mania. You’d be just as lost as little Alice as she traverses Wonderland all by her lonesome.

Putting the last book onto the bookshelves, you hear Astro calling you, “Hmm?” 

“..It’s almost time for the meeting you wanted,” he reminds you.

Checking the clock, it reads 6:17 pm.

It took more time returning the books than you thought, but at least Shelly’s dilemma was solved thanks to Astro.

“Oh, sh-shoot!” With Shelly and Astro, you all race towards the elevator to get to the lobby.

You are well aware of having three minutes to spare, but it would be rather embarrassing of you if the person hosting the meeting arrived late. 

As soon as you reach the lobby, you’re met with the others. Vee has the schedules in her possession, pacing around. Sprout is sitting on the bench. Pebble is running around the central tree while Dandy watches. Astro goes to Dandy, and Shelly heads to Vee, who is catching the fossil Toon up on what she missed.

Seeing your arrival, Sprout gets up from the bench and approaches you. “There you are!” he exclaims, smiling. “Made sure to go over the menu and double check for allergies with Cosmo!” 

“I knew I could count on you, little man,” you praise, ruffling his leaves affectionately. “Okay! Now we just gotta wait for all the Toons to arrive for our meeting.” 

This is something you’re dreading. It’s strange. You’re so used to talking or announcing things to kids, but when it comes to other people, you freeze on the spot. It doesn’t help that you have to make sure things go smoothly since you’re the one in charge of leading this shift. It’s so easy to do with the others backing you up, but alone is such a different story. 

Feels like everyone is depending on you. You know that if anything goes wrong, it’ll be on you. It would be your fault. Anything you do could reflect badly on Gardenview. This has to go well for your sanity’s sake.

You’re drawn out of your thoughts by a hand grasping yours. “Are you okay?” Sprout asks, his expression concerned. 

Taking in a deep breath, you then exhale, “To be honest, I’m not sure. It’s my first time being actually alone, you know, without the other Handlers.” Weakly laughing, you massage the back of your neck, “I’m kinda afraid I’ll mess up.”

“You won’t,” Sprout assures you. “You’ll do great. I just know it. And if anything happens, I’ll be here for you. Always ." 

This almost reminds you of your first day in Gardenview as Junior Handler. Sprout has always been there for you, thick and thin. Whenever you fell down, he’d lift you back up.

Feeling your spirits uplifted, a smile forms on your face, “Thanks, Sprout.” 

“Of course! I just wanted to let you know that we all have your back!!” 

His words alone are enough to provide you with that boost of confidence you need when all the Toons enter through the elevators. They all greet and chat with each other. 

You pull yourself onto the center area where they can all see you. Once you’re in sight, they all quiet down. With another deep breath to steady yourself, you look around. All eyes are on you.

You got this. 

Breathe.

Putting on a smile, you clap your hands together, “Apologies for the last-minute meeting! I just wanted to make sure we’re all on the same page before our big sleepover event!” You place a hand on your chest to gesture to yourself, “Now, I know we may be understaffed for the night, but that shouldn’t stop us from providing the same ol’ Gardenview welcome and hospitality we pride ourselves on!”

Unexpectedly, you hear Dandy cheer, “See! That’s what I like about you, (Y/n)! Always trying to look on the bright side of things!” More Toons join in cheering you on.

Feeling your anxiety melt away, you continue speaking, “We got every activity requested by you and the kids arranged as best we can for tonight's schedule. Those who have a hand in an activity feel free to read their part aloud.”

Things go smoothly; all of the Toons eagerly read out the activity they’re participating in, asking questions to which you’re able to answer with ease, and showing excitement for the children’s arrival and activities planned. 

By the time the meeting is done, most of the Toons leave to prepare for the visitors. It just leaves you and the Mains. 

You fall onto your knees exhausted, “Phew! I thought I was going to die.” 

Sprout is the first to be by your side. “You did great!” 

Vee sighs, “Oh, please, she looked like she was going to faint at any moment.” Those words earned a cold glare from Sprout, “Fine, fine, I suppose it was up to standard, considering this is your first time.” 

Astro chimes in, “...I think she did well. I don’t think I’d survive with that many people…staring…” He shudders at the last word.

Shelly nods enthusiastically, “Yeah! You did amazing, (Y/n)!”

Weakly, you smile, “Thanks, you guys, but I just wanna melt into the ground at this point.”

You tried your best to imitate how Devan gives his signature speeches of encouragement, but even you know somewhere you fumbled while trying to maintain a smile. Then again, working the equivalent of a double shift would do that to a person.

Dandy pops into view with Pebble in his arms, “I wouldn’t be so harsh on yourself there, (Y/n)! You did swell despite doing this alone for the first time!” 

“Arf!” Pebble barks as if to agree with his owner.

Dandy then muses, “If I knew you could pull something like that off, I would’ve taken you on as my Junior Handler!” 

For a moment, there is dead silence from the Main Toons as if holding their breaths until Dandy laughs with a shake of his head. 

“Oh, but who am I to stand in the way of good ol’ Romeo here?” He nudges Sprout, who is not amused by this.

Before Sprout could get a word in, the train whistle blared through the lobby, signaling the arrival of the children. Getting up with Sprout’s help, you all head to the stairs to welcome them once they’ve entered.

Showtime.

Putting on a smile, together you all greet warmly.

“Welcome to Gardenview!”

All thankfully goes well, from them dropping off their stuff, playing with the Toons, and then dinner time. Everything is oddly peaceful—orderly. You’re almost put off by it. However, considering the event is taking place late in the night, it makes sense for most of the children to be mellowed by this. 

It also helps that the Toons are helping you out, seeming to be aware of the absurdity of you being left on your own for this shift. Tisha helps you with cleaning up, Looey and his troupe help distract the rowdy kids, and the Mains aid in directing everyone.

For bedtime, it does take some coaxing for some kids to get ready. Eventually, they do relent when you mention Astro and Shelly planning to read them a story before bed. 

Despite the room now being dark, only illuminated by the string lights, the two Toons are able to read with ease thanks to the gentle blue light Astro is emitting, acting as a reading light.

It goes off without a hitch, with Astro narrating the story and Shelly doing the voices of the characters. Her passionate energy is a perfect contrast to Astro’s calm one. 

On occasions, Shelly’s voice impressions make a fair chunk of the children laugh, even Astro, who has to fight to maintain a straight face as he narrates. As you watch, you can see her eyes shine with delight, and she puts more vigor into her performance. 

Once the book reaches its end, most of the kids are asleep. They’re all sleeping peacefully and hugging their Toon plushie.

Shelly also falls asleep shortly after, having depleted all of her energy reading aloud. Hopping off the bean bag, Astro finds an extra blanket on hand, carefully placing it over her. 

He then approaches you, “...I can handle this for tonight.”

“You sure? I don’t mind staying a bit longer if you need help.” You feel bad leaving him and Shelly alone with some of the kids awake.

He nods, “I’m sure…”

“Okay… good night?”

“Good night, (Y/n),” Astro says. 

You head to the elevator, waiting for it to arrive. Thanks to the partition wall it does help block out the light from the elevator, but it does block you from sight. 

While you wait, you hear someone humming. Out of curiosity, take a peek. Astro is sitting in the middle of the room where all the children are, humming a tune that then turns into him singing a lullaby.

It’s the first time you’ve heard his singing.

Austin and his Junior Handler weren’t kidding.

It’s beautiful.

You almost feel tempted to fall asleep on the spot, with how your body is slowly feeling lethargic.

You guess Astro must have wanted you to leave so he could sing in peace without an audience. When the elevator opens, you quickly retreat to stay out of sight.

Bedtime for the kids. Complete. 

You’re relieved it went well. Your face kinda hurts from smiling so much, and you may be mentally drained a bit from it. Trying to put on a strong front for everyone when on the job is tiresome. Felt like a mask you had to keep on to prevent slipping off every second.

But at least, you can relax now. All you need to do is wrap things up with the Toons for tonight. If it was that easy with the kids, then it should go the same with the Toons, right?

♡ ♡ ♡

Why is Shrimpo trying to leave thumbtacks in Looey’s room?

Looey’s ear twitches as he sheepishly laughs, “It happens most of the nights. I can mostly find them by myself, (Y/n)!”

Does this happen often?

You need to have a talk with Shrimpo eventually about this. Usually, you like to avoid him since his yelling can make your ears ring and your throat sore just by hearing him. There was one time you did try to reason with him, which was a cardinal mistake for your third month, so naturally, he yelled at you. 

You still remember what he said, clear as day:

‘ “I HATE THAT YOU’RE BOSSY AND THAT YOU’RE WORKING HERE!! YOU SHOULD QUIT! QUIT!!!” ‘

That may or may not have hurt your feelings. Though at that time, you did have a lot on your plate, taking over leading activities while Sam was away often. But for some reason, the day after, Shrimpo began to avoid you almost frantically. You still wonder what happened to cause this.

You ask Looey, “Do you have anything to help you find them?”

“Yeah, Blot and Yatta gave me a magnet! It looks like a horseshoe with polka dots. But that went missing a few weeks ago,” he laments. “But I’ll be fine without it!”

Shaking your head, you tell him, “That’s too dangerous. I can handle this.”

Now, where or how would a magnet go missing?

It’s too important for Looey to lose on a whim, considering it helps him, and it was given to him by a friend. You ruminate for a moment before it dawns on you how it could have disappeared. 

Time to give Gigi a little visit.

You head down to the next Toon room where Gigi resides. Lucky for you, she’s pushing a box of “goods” she stumbled upon that day into her room. It’s a mixed batch of opened snacks, marbles, and dust bunnies? 

“Gigi, you wouldn’t have happened to have come across a magnet, have you?”

“Magnet?” Gigi repeats what you said, crossing her arms. “Doesn’t ring a bell. Didn’t know Looey even had one,” Gigi muses. “I’d remember if I pocketed that polka dotted beauty.”

“I never told you it was Looey’s or what it looked like.”

“W-well! Doesn’t he usually have one?” she returns, fidgeting with her long sleeves. “Plus, there are a lot of magnets that look like that!”

Gigi is a bad liar. Well, normally a decent liar, but when she slips up, it’s pretty bad.

But you, being you, you decide to give her a chance to confess. “So you don’t have it stashed away?” you query. “Or seen it?”

“ Nope ~!”

Well, that’s on you for giving her an out. What now? 

Jamming your hands in your pocket, you remember you still have two of Sam’s lollipops with you. You could use that as leverage if you play your cards right, considering they are seasonal flavors and Gigi is a sucker for event items.

Taking out the two lollipops, you show them to her, “Hmm. That’s a shame. I was gonna give you these if you knew where it was since you mentioned having a collection of limited-time favored lollipops.” You hum in disappointment with a frown. “I guess I’ll just give these to Yatta. I’d feel bad wasting them.” 

You’re about to walk away, but Gigi races in front of you to stop you. “H-hold on! Now that I think about it! I’ve seen it somewhere in my room!”

“Really?”

“Yeah! Just head to my room, and you’ll find it!” You hand her one of the lollipops, but as she tries to grab the second one, you pull your hand away.

Gigi’s room is difficult to navigate. Her items sprawled around in a disorganized fashion, yet for her, it's perfectly organized, ironically. You weren’t going to spend the rest of the night searching for it. Not to mention, you’ll be damned if you let the gachapon swindle you.

“I’ll give you the second one if you fetch the magnet for me,” you proposition. “Get to me in two minutes, I’ll toss in some cotton candy bubble gum for you.” 

You still don’t understand her fixation with that candy. Then again, it is practically cotton candy that then turns into gum once you chew on it.

Gigi narrows her eyes at you but sighs, “You drive a hard bargain, but fine .”

You’ve never seen Gigi run so fast aside from that one time she was collecting all the wrapping paper and ornaments from Christmas.

There is a loud crash from her room, followed by more, but eventually Gigi does return with Looey’s magnet. “Here ya go!” She hands it to you. “And,” she coughs and eyes the second lolly.

“Of course,” you give her the candy. “I’ll have the cotton candy gum by Monday.”

“Mwehehe! Pleasure doing business with ya!” She walks away, pushing her box of goods into her room.

Now armed with a magnet, you return to Looey’s room, using it to attract all of the thumbtacks around the room. You wind up doing a double run through the room with the magnet, making sure there are no stragglers. 

Thank god you’re wearing shoes because in the process of clearing the room, a couple of thumbtacks are stuck under the sole of your shoe. How does Looey survive this?

Once done, you store the thumbtacks in a pill bottle. It should be safe considering it’s child-proof, so maybe it’ll be Shrimpo-proof?

“There we go! That should be most of the thumbtacks!” You return the magnet to Looey. “I’d store that away in a safe place if I were you, just in case Gigi snatches it again,” you suggest. 

“Thanks a bunch, (Y/n)!” Looey cheers. “Sorry for troubling you this late.”

Smiling, you reassure him, “It’s never trouble for me when it comes to you guys! I’m just glad I can help where I can!” Holding up the safely contained thumbtacks, you joke, “I’ll get these out of your sight. They’ve troubled you enough after all. Good night!”

“Good night!”

You wave goodbye to him, leaving the room and closing the door shut. Where should you store these? Probably in a place Shrimpo can’t access them. There are a couple of office desks in the Toon’s residence by the living room and entrance, and lucky for you, Looey’s room is near the living room. 

Mini office areas tend to be used as a public computer for the Toons or a place for Handlers to use for work. It has the typical items, such as writing stationery with floppy disks in case there are some digital files in need of transferring or being duplicated. Safely tucked away in one of the drawers are more hazardous items like scissors, staplers, box cutters, and thumbtacks that are locked away. 

How Shrimpo gets his little hands on them, you’ll never know. He probably steals them from the boards that hang stuff up. But thankfully, the key to unlock the drawer is high up where he can’t reach it. Grabbing said key to unlock the drawer, you place the pill container in it before closing the drawer and promptly locking it.

That should handle that problem. For now, at least.

Leaving the office’s cubicle, you’re startled by Sprout. “O-oh gosh!” you let out, backing up slightly since you almost ran right into him. 

“S-sorry!” he apologies. “I was just looking for you!”

“Why? Did something happen with the kids?” you ask.

You can already feel your heart anxiously pace at the endless possibilities of what could have happened.

“N-no, no! Nothing happened! They’re perfectly fine! I’m just trying to put Toodles to bed, but I’m not having any luck. Do you think you could…?” he drawls, waiting for your response.

“Sure. I can help you out.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” you tell him. “Plus, it’s Toodles. How much trouble can it be?”

Going to the next floor and reaching Toodles' room, Sprout knocks on the door before opening it slowly, “Guess who I brought, kiddo!”

Opening the door wider to reveal you, Toodles squeals with joy, “Miss (Y/n)!” She hops off her bed to race to you. “You’re here! I haven’t seen you all day!” 

By not seeing you all day, you assume she means that you haven’t spent time with her as much lately.

Affectionately petting her head, you explain with a laugh, “Sorry about that. It’s just been a busy day, kiddo.”

“That’s okay! I’m just glad you’re here!” she giggles.

Toodles grabs your hand, tugging you further into her room. You're practically planted on her bed once she’s satisfied with your placement.

The three walls of her room are black with white polka dots, and the fourth wall is pure white. Posters of episodes she’s in, along with drawings she drew, are hung on the walls. 

There’s a purple circular carpet in the middle of the room with crayons and paper scattered on it.

A kids' table is in the right corner of the room with a tea set. In the chairs are some Toon Plushies, those being Pebble, Astro, and Sprout.

Stuffed animals decorate the shelves, but her prized dog plush rests on her bed against a pillow. If the blanket weren’t white with black polka dots, the dog plush would be impossible to see. 

A nightstand is to the left of her bed with a lamp on top of it, with her junior detective cap near it. In front of the footboard of her bed, where she often stores her most treasured items. A mini-bookshelf is to the right of her bed, containing the usual kids' books. 

Once Toodles is seated back on her bed, you ask her, “Sprout mentioned you don’t want to sleep. Can you tell me why that is?” 

“I’ve been trying to ask him some questions, but he keeps telling me to sleep!” she tells you. “But I’m not tired! I just wanna play more!” 

“Is that so? How about this?” You make room for Sprout to sit next to you, patting the extra space for him. “We tuck you in bed, and you can ask us those questions. Sprout and I will then take turns to answer them the best we can. Maybe it’ll make you drowsy in the process, like counting sheep. Does that sound good?”

Toodles ponders this, placing a hand under her chin thoughtfully. “Okay!”

With Sprout's help, you tuck Toodles in bed, handing her beloved dog plush too before turning off the lights. The room thankfully isn’t pitch dark with the help of Toodles’ dog night light that’s plugged into the wall outlet closest to her. 

Making herself comfy, Toodles begins to ask questions to which you and Sprout take turns replying to them as you planned. They’re quite simple yet adorable. From “Does the train miss the people it ate when they leave it?” to “How do the bubbles get in the pop?”. 

With every question she asks, you can hear her slowly getting tired.

“And where do humans come from?” Toodles asks Sprout.

“From the outside world, kiddo. They have their own home like we do!”

“I know! But where do they come from?” she repeats her question. “Miss Delilah made us! How are humans made?”

Oh.

Oh.

It’s that question.

This throws Sprout off immensely, and even in the darkness, you can see his cheeks darken as he frantically tries to lace words together into a sentence on his tongue, “W-well, kiddo—ask (Y/n)!”

“Sprout, you do know—“

“I know perfectly well!” he blurts out, refusing to elaborate. 

You haven’t seen him this bothered since the tea party. That and, that time Toodles made you and Sprout play house with her, making him be your husband.

Toodles tilts her head curiously, “Was that a bad question to ask?” She sounds like she’s worried that she’s in trouble.

Sprout shakes his head, ”N-no, no, no! Of course not, kiddo! It’s just a really… delicate topic.” He messes with his scarf anxiously, “W-why are you asking this?”

“Rodger said it’s better to ask you or a human!”

Oh, dear lord.

You hope that Toodles hasn’t gone around Gardenview asking where humans came from. Best case scenario, they were under the impression of where they came from and not how they came to be.

An expression of displeasure forms on Sprout’s face as he mutters to himself, “I'm going to need to have a serious talk with him…” Despite how cross he is with Rodger Sprout is still wilting with embarrassment from the question.

“So…Where do they come from?” Toodles asks again.

You never thought you’d be the one telling her. Well, not telling her, but instead telling her what countless parents tell their children when confronted with this question. A lie that more or less dances around the truth. Because if you told this poor child the truth, you’d be fired and rightfully so.

Sighing, you brace yourself, “It’s complicated to explain it, Toodles.” 

Glancing at Sprout, all you can muster is a look that is screaming out: “A little help here?!”

“It’s kinda like…assembling a craft project! But you need a partner—someone you really love and trust to help with it! They help plan the materials and put the baby together, which can take months to complete. Kinda why siblings tend to look similar or different from time to time.”

“Oh. So like Scraps and Goob?” Toodles connects the dots on your explanation.

“Exactly! You’re a fast learner!” you praise.

“Have you thought of having kids, Miss (Y/n)?”

Now it’s time for you to be thrown off guard.

“I-I—well— that hasn’t really crossed my mind, Toodles!” Frantically, you  sputter out, “Having them isn’t really on my to-do list, you know!” 

“I can ask Brightney to make a list for you!”

You have never wanted to melt into the floor more than now. You thought all of those questions during past family gatherings would have prepared you, but alas, you have been proven wrong.

“It’s n-not that simple,” you interject. “It’s like I mentioned, you need a partner for that, and I don’t have one.”

What a depressing and pathetic way to say you’re single to a child. You don’t know why, but this way is more humiliating than that one time you told Shanon and Veronica on the girls' day out.

Personally, you’re not sure what you could offer to your partner if you had one. Sure, you could say yourself, but is that really enough nowadays? Is your everything enough? Maybe at the time it would appear that way, but eventually your partner would grow tired of how limited you are. 

Kids would complicate things, too.

“Mr. Sprout can help!” Toodles suggests. “You both like and trust each other, don’t you?”

Your plan has backfired terribly .

You have never understood the awkward pain of a child asking their parents for a sibling until now, more than ever.

She hugs her dog plush tightly as if she’s already visualized the prospect, “How long do I have to wait for them to be ready? I wanna play with them as soon as possible!”

You have never wished having kids was as simple as an arts and craft project or having a stork fly in and deliver them until now.

“A-alright there, kiddo!” Sprout intervenes. “I think that’s enough questions for tonight!”

“Awww,” Toodles whines. “But you didn’t tell me how long I have to wait for my new friends! And I still have more questions!”

“M-Maybe (Y/n) and I can answer them later? Right now, you really should be getting some sleep, kiddo.”

Toodles frowns but relents, “Okay…” She sinks into her blankets and off her pillow sullenly while holding her dog plush tightly.

Trying to cheer her up, you reassure her, “We’re just trying to look out for you, Toodles. Little Toons like you need their rest!” You adjust her pillow so it’s properly under her head. “You know..” you pause thoughtfully. “Sprout is going to make his specialty pancakes for breakfast tomorrow.”

Her eyes light up at this news, “Really?!” 

You nod, “Yep. If you sleep, then you’ll have all the pancakes you want.”

“Can Mr. Sprout add extra chocolate chips to them?” Toodles looks to Sprout with hope.

In response, he laughs in amusement. “Anything for you, kiddo. Just promise us you’ll go to sleep.”

“I promise!” Toodle says, tucking herself further into bed with dedication. “But…can you two stay for a bit? Just until I’m asleep..” she meekly requests, grabbing hold of your gloved hand.

You smile, using your free hand to pet her head lovingly, “Of course. We’ll be with you till then.” 

Staying by Toodles' side while sitting on the edge of her bed, you both watch her eyes close. You keep petting her head, and that seems to coax her into slumber as you quietly hum a song for her. 

Your voice can’t really hold a candle to Astro’s. You know you gave him a talk that each voice has its own unique tone, but when it comes to judging your own, you’re a far less forgiving judge.

Five minutes pass, and Toodles' hold on your hand loosens, but you’re too nervous to move it in case she’ll stir. 

Whispering to Sprout, you ask, “Is she asleep?”

He glances at Toodles, unsure, “I dunno. I’ll check.”

As Sprout is slowly getting off the bed, the mattress rises in response. Once the mattress is steady, he tiptoes to check on Toodles; her breathing is steady and slow, followed by her eyes being shut tight. 

He gives a nod that lets you know you can carefully retract your hand from Toodles’ hold. It feels like you’re both parents trying to sneak out of their kid’s room with how Sprout is pulling you up from Toodles’ bed and guiding you to the door. It’s a careful dance, avoiding the items and toys left on the ground by her. Sometimes Sprout pulls you close to him whenever you’re on the verge of tripping.

Step by step, you both successfully reach the door and crack it open slowly. Thankfully, the hallway lights are dimmed at this time, so at least it won’t bother Toodles if it hits her face. With a click of the door being closed, you two breathe with ease.

“Phew,” Sprout lets out, pretending to wipe a nervous sweat from his forehead. “Sorry about that.”

“For what?”

“Troubling you and…for Toodles’ last question,” he clarifies.

“The ‘where do babies come from’ question?” You laugh weakly, “I’ll admit. I didn’t expect her, of all people, to pop that question, but she is a kid— curious one at that. So there’s no need to apologize.”

“I know… I just feel bad since it’s late, you know.”

You place a hand on his shoulder, “You of all people shouldn’t apologize for asking me for help. We’re a team after all! Plus, I’m always happy to help!” Pulling your hand back, you look at the clock. “11:00 pm… I should probably head to bed by now.”

“Oh, right!” Sprout checks the clock as well and is taken aback by how late it is. “Good night, (Y/n)!” 

 “Good night, Sprout!” You head to the elevator to return to the Toon Handler dormitory.

Considering you’ll need to wake up at six in the morning, you’ll need the rest.

♡ ♡ ♡

Unfortunately for you, your sleeping schedule begs to differ. Despite getting ready for bed, sleep fails to find you as you stare at the ceiling. You were tired at first, but that feeling is long gone, when your mind decided to remain alert in case you were needed. Tossing and turning in your bed, you check the alarm clock. 

1:46 am.

“Shit,” you murmur to yourself.

How are you even going to get a decent wink of sleep? You’re going to be a walking zombie in the morning at this rate. A part of you has already come to terms with this possibility. At least, if that happens, you can go home and go into a coma to make up for the lack of sleep.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, making you pick it up to see what the fuss could be, and who would be messaging you at this time.

Sam?

[Sam] Are you awake?

 [You] Yeah.

[Sam] How did it go?

[You] Well, the place hasn’t burned down 

if that’s what you’re worried about

[Sam] Oh haha. ¬_¬

[You] Why are you awake at this time?

[Sam] Can’t sleep. 

You should get some sleep.

[You] I’ll sleep when I get home. Promise. ^^

[Sam] Don’t, please. That’s not safe. :/

Try and walk around or do anything that might help.

[You] I’ll try. Night! <3

Dear lord, what have you done? Did you seriously send a heart to your coworker?!  

An inferno engulfs your face, boiling the blood underneath. Your mouth feels dry as you try to process what you’ve done. Anxiety is practically squeezing down on your throat, trying to anticipate the possible outcome of Sam’s reaction. For all you know, they could think that’s inappropriate behavior. 

But maybe! Just maybe! They put down their phone! God, why can’t you delete texts so the receiver can’t see it….

[Sam] ????

Just to try and save face, you hastily text:

[You] Ignore that. 

That was a mistake.

[Sam] XD 

It’s fine.

Good night. See you on Monday <3

Someone, please kill me.

They’re going to mention it and not going to let you live this down.

You might as well rot in bed from embarrassment. Now sleep has certainly slipped out of your grasp after that fumble.

Kicking your feet off the bed, you settle for a quick walk around the lobby to attempt to tire you out and clear your head. Will it work? Probably not, but it’s worth a try. It certainly beats having a staring contest with the ceiling for hours on end, contemplating your life choices.

After putting on your slippers, you leave your room, walking down the long, dimly lit hallway. The steady rumble and hum from the elevator upon entering it at this time is oddly soothing, taking your mind off your sleepless situation. It’s weird that something that used to bring you dread is comforting you.

Reaching the lobby, you didn’t expect the first thing you spotted was Dandy under the tree, lying on the ground and staring up at the skylight.

“Dandy?” you call out, which makes the flora Toon sit up in alert.

“O-oh! (Y/n)! Fancy seeing you here!” He looks up and down your form, noticing you’re in your pajamas. “What brought you here at this time?” 

“I can ask you the same thing,” you remark jokingly, walking closer to him. “I’m surprised to see you up this late too.”

Dandy bashfully scratches the back of his head. “Me? I’m just having some trouble catching some sleep, that’s all!” 

“Trouble sleeping? Never knew that could happen to you,” you admit. “Kinda thought you, out of all Toons, would be able to sleep like a baby.”

Dandy chuckles at your remark, “I take it you’re under the same ailment too?” 

You put your hands in the air, sighing, “You caught me.” Putting your hands down, you add in, “I’m just here to walk around the lobby quickly to see if it’ll tire me out, so I hope I don’t trouble you too much being here.”

“Of course not! I like your company!” He grins happily. “Actually! If you want, you're welcome to join me! I’m just stargazing!” He pats the empty spot near him. “Staring at the stars always tuckers me out!”

“Um. Sure.” It would be rude to turn down his offer.

Climbing up the stairs, you reach where Dandy is, sitting down next to him. It’s strangely silent. At first, you expected him to wind up filling the quiet air via talking or playing music on the radio. This is, well, new to you. Almost unfamiliar. 

You’re just staring at the sky with him, taking in the stars and the full moon that are looking down on you two. It’s nice. Peaceful. 

To be honest, you’re not accustomed to the lobby being so quiet and tranquil. You’re so used to the empty space being filled with sound: children, Toons or staff laughing and talking, the pitter-patter of footsteps running amok, the train whistle signalling the arrival of visitors, and the constant tune of the elevators from people going up or down a floor. 

This is a nice change of pace.

Lying back down on the grassy ground, Dandy’s eyes never leave the sky. “Thanks for joining me. I’m sort of used to having company whenever I do this,” he divulges, his tone calm, a strong contrast to his usual energetic one. “Stargazing after a long day always helps me relax.”

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

He laughs, “I don’t blame you. You’re always with Sprout after all, since you’re his Junior Handler.” Although he’s laughing, his words almost sound melancholic.

“Can I ask you something?” With his nod of permission, you ask him, “Why did you or Devan not take on a Junior Handler? You two often handled the brunt of the work.”

Dandy doesn’t respond for a few seconds, and you begin to think that you insulted him in some way, but eventually he answers your question. “We thought the others needed them more. That and,” he flashes a proud smile, “we’re fine without one! I’d like to think the pressure helps refine our efforts!” His tone is back to the chipper and energetic one he usually uses now.

“With the workload and expectation placed on you and Devan, it must be tiresome.”

 “Well, you know what they say! Can’t turn charcoal into a diamond without some good ol’ pressure!”

“You know, it’s okay to ask for help if you need it.” Dandy stares at you blankly, and you can’t tell if you overstepped your boundaries and angered him. “I-I mean, I know it’s cheesy! But I just wanted to remind you that we're all here for you if you need anything!” you elaborate. “I know I’m Sprout’s Junior Handler, but I still want to help in any way I can!”

Instead of the silent rage you thought would come, Dandy heartily laughs, “Now aren’t you a doll! I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again! That’s what I like about you, (Y/n)!” He sighs, smiling at you, “Almost reminds me of myself!” 

You can’t tell if he’s being sincere or joking. 

Yawning, Dandy sits up, “Oh boy! I’m tuckered out! I'd better hit the hay before Pebble starts looking for me!” He gets back on his feet, “Thanks for keeping me company, (Y/n)! See you in the morning.” Before he heads to the elevator, he adds in, “Oh! Little advice for sleeping! Try drinking something warm! Saved my butt a lot!” He enters the elevator, waving, “Good night!”

You’re left alone now with the stars. Eventually, you get up, still hopelessly not sleepy. You might as well just stay up until your shift ends at 8 in the morning, but it is dangerous to drive while sleep-deprived. It’s practically akin to driving while drunk since your senses would be fizzled out from a lack of sleep.

Maybe the warm drink idea wouldn’t hurt. The diner’s kitchen wouldn’t mind if a bit of milk goes missing, would it? You’d use the produce provided in the staff dormitory, but it only has instant coffee, coffee beans, and tap water on hand.

The diner’s kitchen is it then!

Heading to the diner’s kitchen, you’re surprised that the lights are on. That and Sprout being in the middle of placing a small pot on the stove with a red mug on the counter.

Since you took the elevator that directly leads to the kitchen, Sprout immediately notices you. “Oh! Uh… Hey!” he greets. “Can’t sleep too?”

“That obvious?” you sarcastically ask with a laugh.

“I’ll fetch you a mug then.” He goes to a cabinet, taking out a mug that matches his own. “Are you okay with me using the stove to heat the milk and add a few ingredients?”

“I trust your process,” you tell him, leaning against the counter as he pours more liquid into the pot for you before starting the stove. “So what’s keeping you awake?”

“I just… got a lot on my mind, that’s all,” he explains, adding a couple pinches of cinnamon and nutmeg into the pot before mixing it in. “It’s hard to put it into words.”

“That bad, huh?”

“N-not really. It’s just been bothering me since the morning,” he admits. “What about you?”

“I’m just anticipating something bad to happen to the kids, I think,” you confess. “That and… I kinda sent Sam an awkward text.”

“Awkward text?”

“I may or may not have… accidentally sent them a heart when I told them good night.” 

God, that sounds so dumb to be frazzled over. It’s not like you sent anything inappropriate. You’re just making a big deal over a goddamn heart.

Sprout furrows his brows in confusion. “A heart…?”

“I know it’s dumb! I’m just kinda worried I’ll get in trouble workplace-wise, you know?”

You’re close with Sam now, but it doesn’t change the fact that they’re your coworker and somewhat ranked higher than you. You could get the boot if it’s seen as harassment. A heart shouldn’t instill that, but you still fear for the worst. You more or less don’t want yourself or Sam to get into trouble due to a misunderstanding. 

Gardenview doesn’t view workplace harassment kindly. Not to mention, they share the same animosity for romance or anything lascivious. You’re pretty sure some staff members don’t take this rule to heart, but you prefer having income that pays the bills.

There’s a bit of relief in Sprout’s eyes once you explain yourself. “Ooh. I get it.” He chuckles, “I’m sure they know you meant you well.” He stirs the liquid in the pot occasionally, as it begins to simmer. “By the way, do you hang out with them outside of work?”

“On occasions, but it’s mostly us going out for lunch, dinner, or going out for coffee. I’m pretty sure we mostly talk about work…” 

“So… it’s just you two together most of the time?”

“Sometimes Devan arranges staff gatherings for the Handlers, like bowling or game nights. Why?”

You’ve never talked much about your life outside of Gardenview to Sprout that much. Mostly because there’s not much to say about it, in your opinion, and Sprout never asked. Why is he so curious now? 

“N-no reason! I just realised we tend to talk about my life more than yours, that’s all!” He leaves it at that.

Once the milk is heated properly, Sprout carefully pours it into each of your mugs, then adds a spoonful of honey as the finishing touch. After mixing it in, he hands you your mug. 

He lifts up his mug towards yours. “Cheers,” he says with a wry tone. “To your anniversary.” 

“Here’s to more happy memories,” you toast your mug against his, creating a weak tink sound before taking a sip of the warm spiced beverage.

It’s delicious. The sweet, spiced beverage warms and soothes your entire being. 

Putting down his mug, Sprout asks, “Is it good?” 

“Of course! Anything you make is always amazing, little man!” You then thought of something, “Do you wanna go to my floor?”

“E-excuse me?”

“I brought the cookies you gave me there, and they might pair well with our drinks,” you remark. “Probably not a good idea to have a midnight snack, but maybe it’ll help us sleep?” you laugh at your proposal. 

Sprout smiles, “Actually. I’d like that.”

Returning to the Handlers’ dormitory, you and Sprout camp out in the living room, using the TV’s VHS player to play a movie as you enjoy your drinks and cookies sitting on the couch.

Taking a sip of your drink while watching the movie, you comment, “I love this movie, but the more I think about it, having twins feels stressful, especially if they switch places with each other.” 

It is a feel-good movie, but thinking about the implications stresses you out. You feel like you're overanalyzing, like you're an English teacher.

 “It kinda makes me worried if I wind up with twins.”

“Have you thought of it…? Having kids, I mean,” he casually asks, his head leaning against your shoulder.

“I mean…I’ve entertained it a while back, but I’m not sure. It feels like I need to have them rather than want them at the moment,” you confess. “It’s kinda confusing. It’s easier caring for other kids than your own, you know?” 

It's a strange phenomenon, being able to care for kids that aren’t yours. Then again, you only deal with them for eight hours and then have the weekend off away from them. 

Trying to lighten the existential air weighing you down, you jokingly add in, “Plus, I doubt you’d wanna deal with little versions of me running around Gardenview, little man.” You expected him to respond, but he’s quiet. “Sprout?”

Is he asleep?

He finally speaks up, “...Is this okay? Us ?” He sits up and looks at you. 

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just… we’ve known each other for a year now,” he mentions. “Do you think that things could change? Between us—I mean. What I’m trying to say is…I…” he trails off, staring into your eyes.

“Sprout, nothing will change, I promise. I don’t plan on leaving you anytime soon if that’s what you’re worried about. We’re team Sprout and (Y/n) after all!”

Sprout’s eyes are unreadable, his expression blank, “I guess you’re right...” Eventually, he musters a smile, “We’ll always be a team. Through thick and thin.”

You both continue to watch the movie, and your mugs are soon empty. The drinks paired with the cookie must have done their job since you and Sprout have to fight to stay awake to try and finish the movie. 

You’re now leaning against the side of the couch horizontally with Sprout, his head pressed against your chest. He’s relaxed into you completely, listening to your heartbeat. You probably should move and head to your room, but it feels nice. His weight on top of you is surprisingly comforting. You pull him closer, making sure he’s not at risk of falling off the couch.

 Your eyes feel heavy and close. The movie that is playing becomes a white noise to you, and the bright light produced by the screen becomes an afterthought as you drift into a deep sleep. 

“(Y/n)?” Sprout calls out, trying to see if you’re awake.

When you don’t respond, Sprout concludes that you must have fallen asleep. He’s about to get up to leave you to sleep in peace, but your arms are wrapped around him. He can only slightly move, letting him pull away a bit so he could behold you. 

With a sigh, he carefully moves your hair away from your face before lying back down against you. After shifting a bit to get himself comfortable, he fixes the blanket over you and himself, making sure you both are covered before he joins you into his own deep slumber.

At least, he can have this with you. That’s all he can ask for, and that’s enough for him in the end.

Isn’t it?

♡ ♡ ♡

Months eventually passed, and life went as usual, acting as Sprout’s Junior Handler. Gardenview flourished, bringing new and familiar faces. New memories came to be, and you were convinced it would stay that way. Until one day.

You’re not sure what happened. It’s all a blur, to be honest. You recall helping set things up in the theater for an event. The lights went out. Some of the stage lights fell and crashed onto the wooden stage. There were screams of terror from the children. The frantic pushing and running towards the elevator, desperately trying to escape the pitch-dark theater. Then you blacked out. 

When you regained consciousness, you were in Delilah’s office. You can tell it’s her office by the smell of coffee wafting strongly in the air, and the uncomfortable sensation of fresh Ichor that clung onto the chaise that Delihah uses for quick naps.

“Oh, thank god. You’re awake,” Delilah gasps, her ichor-stained hands shaking. “How are you feeling?” She brings a mini flashlight out from her pocket, bringing it to one of your eyes to inspect it. “No abnormalities like dilation in the pupils to indicate a concussion. How does it feel to breathe? Any discomfort near your rib cage?”

Her quick questions have your dazed brain spinning, trying to answer, but your body is in too much pain to process it. Feels like your entire being was thrown in a fish bowl and violently shaken.

All you can muster is, “A little..but doesn’t hurt to breathe,”  as you push the light away from you.

“Good. You seem perfectly fine.” She then adds in, “O-of course, aside from being trampled multiple times. You’re lucky bruised ribs are what you walked away with. Most people in these types of accidents lose their lives.”

“How long was I out?” You sit up to check the time, only for Delilah to coax you back down.

“Approximately, an hour and a half.”

“What happened?”

“There was an accident. Rest assured, it’s all been taken care of.” 

“Is everyone okay? Are the kids—”

Delilah grasps her sleeve tightly, “It’s just best not to linger on this for now after what happened….” She heads towards her desk, trying to organize the capsules splayed across it. “I’m giving you a leave of absence for the week. Go home and rest. Just try not to strain yourself. I’m not sure your body can handle it if you do.”

And so she sent you on your way, leaving you still confused about what happened. This sensation remains when you change out of your uniform. It doesn’t help that you could also potentially be concussed from being trampled on, apparently. Well, you feel fine. Mostly. Delilah is right that you are lucky to have only minor injuries. 

Using the locker room’s sink, you splash cold water on your face in hopes of washing the daze away. It does aid in easing your headache a bit, but your brain remains befuddled. Unless you could directly ice your brain, the only way for it to leave is through time. 

After drying your face, you stare at yourself in the mirror. Weird. It’s like looking at a distorted version of yourself. It almost reminds you of when the TV screen displays static because of a weak signal, and you can partially see yourself in the reflection. But overall all despite that, it’s still you.

Wanting to see the damage, you lift your shirt a bit but quickly pull it down. As soon as you get home, you’re going to have an ice bath and not look at the right side of your torso for a month.

 At least, everyone had the courtesy of not stomping on your face by gifting you a bump on the back of your head. They may not have cracked your skull open, but it sure feels like they did.

Right now, maybe you should find Sprout before you leave. The poor Toon is probably worried sick.

Looking around, Gardenview is dead silent. You can hear your footsteps as you search for Sprout. Every room and corridor is barren. Food has been abandoned in the diner. Any activity like arts and crafts appears as if it were abruptly concluded. 

Where are the others?

Entering the next floor to your relief, you’ve run into Sam, who is just as surprised to see you. Their eyes are wide when they meet yours.

They quickly rush to your side. Instead of getting scolded as you expected for not being careful, they pull you into their arms for a hug.

 “D-Don’t ever scare me like that again. Got it?” You’ve never heard their voice quiver like that before, or felt their entire form shake so violently. 

You don’t like seeing them like this. You don’t like that you brought this dread on them.

All you can do, for their sake, is try to mitigate it by feigning the condition of your well-being, “Sam, don’t worry! I’m fine !” 

“You shouldn’t even be here,” they tell you, pulling away from their hug. “Arthur told me to take you home.”

Before they can grab your wrist, you back away, “H-hold on! I need to see Sprout before I go!”

Sam frowns, their eyes morose. “We need to leave now. Please, don’t argue with me, (Y/n).” They take you by the hand, trying to make you follow them urgently.

You know they mean well. That they have only the best intentions for you after what happened, but you know that if you leave now with them without saying a word to Sprout you'll never forgive yourself.

“Please.”

Sam stares at you, conflict stirring within them before they sigh and release you, “Five minutes. That’s all.”

Exiting the elevator and entering the Main’s residence, you’re met with the sight of Sprout yelling at Dandy, shaking him violently, and demanding answers. The floral Toon’s eyes are wide as if he is frozen in place. 

The rest of the Mains have to pry Sprout off Dandy. Astro and Pebble are trying to pull Sprout, while Vee and Shelly try to pull Dandy back from Sprout. All of them are yelling incoherently; everything they say clashes and tangles together messily. Some are also questioning Dandy, while others are asking that Sprout calm down. 

“Sprout!” you call out, running towards him. “What are you doing?!”

This is enough to loosen Sprout’s grip, freeing Dandy, who hastily escapes into his room. Astro is the only one to follow him.

Sprout looks at you, awestruck. “You’re…You’re back!” He tackles you into a tight hug.

There was a bit of pain from his embrace, but it brought you ease. Something to help ground you after what happened. You’re still dazed and muddled with confusion, trying to piece together what happened. But with the lack of memories of what transpired, the best you could do is make conjectures.

It’s like running into an invisible wall. You have a feeling that you know what happened, but at the moment, that information is barred from you. Your head feels fuzzy just trying to think in depth about it. 

Pulling away, you can see fear in Sprout’s eyes, “When you didn’t show up with the other kids. I-I thought something bad happened to you…” 

Holding him close, you softly quiet him, “It’s okay. I’m fine now.” He stiffens for a moment, his ear pressed against your chest. Eventually, he does somewhat relax in your arms.

You’re trying your best to stay calm for his sake, but your heart rate is a telltale sign for Sprout that things aren’t okay—that you weren’t okay.

He’s staring into your eyes, desperately trying to understand what happened, but even you can’t give him the answer he wants. It breaks your heart seeing him like this.  All you can do is try to ease his fear.

“It’s okay. I’m here now. That’s all that matters. Just breathe,” you instruct, watching him attempt to inhale and exhale deeply to ease himself.

Sprout breaks your gaze, “H-here let’s find you somewhere to sit. I’ll see if I can find something for you to snack on or drink.” He’s probably doing this not because you may be hungry, but instead, needing to do something to keep himself busy.

You’re brought to the living room and sat on the couch. The quiet does help your mind slightly, steadily trying to go over what happened. Hopefully, the answers will eventually come to you, so you can make sense of it all, but no matter what, you can’t fill in the gaps. 

As you wait, you wonder what happened between Dandy and Sprout to cause that altercation.  

“Bworf?” Pebble stands in front of you, pawing your legs.

“Oh! I didn’t see you there, Pebs!” You look down at the pet rock. 

He’s probably only here since Sprout might bring you a snack. You thought he’d be with Dandy after he ran off. 

“Arf!”

“Sorry about that, little buddy.” You reach down and give him some affectionate scratches to compensate him, only to be nipped by him and be lectured by him. “Okay, okay! Sorry!” 

You didn’t realise he hated being called “little” or anything that mentions his tiny stature. Oh boy, you need to start reevaluating. 

Sprout is back with a cookie—must have been the quickest thing he could find. “H-here.” He sits next to you on the couch.

“Thanks,” you take it as he hands it to you.

You aren’t even hungry. 

But you feel guilty if you don’t at least try.

Sprout is already worried about you enough. You’ve made everyone worry.

You force yourself to take a bite. There’s a mixture of nausea and satisfaction as you do. Your body seems to have realised it needs to eat something, but you take your time eating the cookie to avoid spewing it out. Pebble constantly pawing you and asking for the sweet treat does aid in distracting you from the nausea. Even if you gave him a bit, could pet rocks eat chocolate? You then manage to finish eating the cookie. 

The pain partially subsides. It’s similar to the discomfort of that one time Sprout tackled you during a game of ‘flower go seek’. Your head is buzzing less, and your ribs don't hurt too much. The only way you could feel the pain is if you were squeezed tightly, but at least, it’s now manageable.

You turn back, looking down the hallway. “What happened when I arrived? Why were you yelling at Dandy?”

“We’re just… really stressed after what happened,” Sprout reveals, gripping front of his scarf. “...Do you remember? Delilah told us not to force you if you don’t.”

You shake your head, comfirming your lack of memory of the previous event. “How are all the other Toons doing? Are they okay?”

“Yeah. We all just got sent to our residence while the staff cleaned the mess."

Everyone must have been freaked out or confused, and you hope that they’re all okay. Before you could ask for more details, your phone buzzed. Checking it reveals it’s a text from Sam.

[Sam] Time’s up.

No. No. No, No. No.

You thought you'd have more time.

You still have so much to say to him.

You want to ask—beg Sam for more time, but you know very well they won't budge. It was generous of them to offer at most five minutes with Sprout.

Hesitantly, you utter out, “I-I..I need to go.”

“W-what?! But you just came back!” Sprout grabs your hand as if to attempt to keep you down with him. 

“I’ll be back,” you try to comfort him. “Promise,” you hold out your pinky.

Sprout releases you, fear  still lingering in his eyes, “Promise?”

“Of course. Pinky promise.” You wrap your pinky around his own reassuringly. “I’ll be back in a week.”

As childish as it was, it was the best way for you to truly indicate you wanted to stay true to your word.

How foolish of you.

Gardenview rapidly wilted away after that. What happened was called a “Malfunction incident”. With the recent drama, more followed.

While recovering, the only way you could hear about Gardenview’s status was through Sam and the others, them having to fight off news media at the doors, trying to calm and protect the Toons from the journalists, and working overtime to fill in positions left open by staff members who suddenly quit. 

All you could do was just helplessly watch everything burn down. Everyone is suffering, and you’re just safely tucked away at home. You really are useless, you know?

There has to be something that you could do. 

You can’t imagine the stress everyone is under. 

Requesting to return despite the leave of absence granted to you was impossible. Sam insisted it was best this way, saying that the reporters and loud, angry mob swarming Gardenview would only worsen your condition and that Sprout wouldn’t want that.

Guilt is gnawing at your entire being. 

You could simply drive there on your own, but you doubt you could even properly make it to Gardenview safely. 

All you can hope is that by next week, you can return.

♡ ♡ ♡

"To our esteemed staff members,

We are immensely disheartened to say that due to recent controversy and incident, Gardenview Education Center and Museum shall be shutting down. Effective immediately. After almost fourteen years of bringing memories, it is time that this chapter of our lives reaches its conclusion. Please know we do not hold our staff at fault for what transpired. 

While this is the end to the company that we have worked so hard to cultivate with the most caring and brilliant minds to bring the dreams of children to life; we hope that it does not prevent you all from bettering the world and our future generation, keeping the memories of Gardenview alive in that way.

Staff shall be given a week to retrieve their belongings and or assist moving assets inside Gardenview before we officially close our doors. However, the founder, Arthur Walton, requests that certain items not be moved. This is listed in an attached file to this email below it. Be known that should any of those assets are stolen, legal action shall be taken.

For the sake of the Toons, we have them remain in their quarters during this time to avoid any emotional strain or complication for you or them. This will make the transition easier for them and you. 

The Gardenview property remains in Arthur Walton’s name, who has decided to keep it for the Toons to have safe housing, so rest assured, they will continue to be in good hands and provided for.

With this final message to our beloved staff members, we wish you all the best. We are ever so grateful to have you as a member of the Gardenview family. A part of you shall remain here, and a part of it does in you. It is a shame things must end this way. However, this is simply the way things must be, but do not allow this to taint the fond memories we created. 

Goodbye and thank you, everyone, for joining our journey. Now, it is time for you to embark on your own.

Best wishes and regards,

Gardenview Education Center. "

Your eyes linger over the two words in the second sentence of the first paragraph. 

“‘Effective…?”

“Immediately…?” 

Staring at the board with the notification letter pinned on it in horror, Sprout could feel his heart sink to the pit of his stomach, and yet he could feel it beating violently against his chest to a nauseating degree. 

Waves of dread crash over him. It’s impossible for him to properly catch his breath with the crushing pressure pressed down on him. All he can manage are quick inhales and exhales. 

Feels like the world around him is crumbling away. His mind almost feels detached from his body, drifting around aimlessly. He can’t feel his hands. They are uncomfortably tingling as he messes with the fabric of his scarf to try and ground himself. 

Trying to reread the letter over and over again, a part of him hopes he must have misread something. Yet as he does it, it only solidifies his fear.

[END OF MEMORIES OF GARDENVIEW ARC]

Chapter Text

It still eats at your entire being after the incident and the closing of Gardenview.

You never got the chance to say goodbye to Sprout.

You promised him you’d be back and wouldn’t leave him. That things would never change.

You failed to uphold your promise.

You’re nothing but a liar.

The notice sent by Gardenview wasn’t lying in that they’d isolate the Toons from staff while you all retrieved your belongings or helped move items to the warehouse. Everyone in staff including the Handlers lost the ability to access the Toon’s residence. If the staff lost access then that means the Toons lost the ability to leave the floor at that time.

It outraged all of the Handlers that they were refusing them and the Toons a proper farewell. No matter everyone's demands or pleas, nobody was able to see the Toons for one last time. Out of everything the Founders could have thought of, why was isolation their sense of mercy for everyone? You can only imagine how all the Toons were feeling during that week. Confused. Scared? It makes you worry about them and their well-being. Were they eating enough while trapped in their residence for a week?  

It may just be the guilt or you trying to grasp at straws, but a part of you feels like Sprout could sense you were at Gardenview when you went to retrieve your items. Of course, this could be the guilt mentioned earlier, and knowing that Sprout always knew where you were even when out of sight.

In the back of your head, you can’t help but wonder if there could have been something you could’ve done to prevent this. Anything. It’s maddening trying to figure out what went wrong while you don’t know what exactly happened. Asking Sam and the other Handlers for details doesn't help, resulting in them showing immense discomfort on the topic, so for their sake, you drop it.

You thought of visiting the theater before Gardenview’s shutdown, in hopes of jogging your memory or finding some clue, but that floor became restricted. Even if you could access it the doors leading to the theater are boarded up according to Sam and the others.

You could have done better as a Junior Handler. Be better. You failed. Failed everyone.

Whenever those thoughts come into your mind, you have to keep reminding yourself it's not your fault what happened—that it was out of your control. Yet, you can’t help but feel like it is. You were there. Surely, you could have done something—anything. 

Maybe if you didn’t lose consciousness, you could have noticed something amiss. Move that single catalyst to divert the tragedy that befell Gardenview.

Ever since the closing of Gardenview, you’ve felt strange, like you lost a part of yourself there. That you don’t feel like yourself anymore. What happened to that bright-eyed Junior Handler who was all smiles and laughter? You can no longer see her in the mirror even as you force yourself to smile.

It’s hard to look at items from your past job without feeling like you're drowning in sorrow. The photos you used to hang up with pride are hidden in the drawer of your nightstand. It feels childish to cling to the plushie Sprout gave you at night, being the only physical remnant you have of him. It brings you as much comfort as it does grief.

Time blurs around you like you’re just being swirled around underwater while going about your days. Present but not fully there. Feeling the pull of the current yet unmoving.

You think you stayed in contact with all of the Handlers after the closing, right? You remember Sam being with you occasionally, checking in on you. Or did you all drift away? Moving on from what happened to Gardenview and going about their lives while you remained. 

♡ ♡ ♡

You don’t remember how you got here. What possessed you to come back? All you recall is simply appearing in front of Gardenview's lobby followed by the whistle of a train. Your body feels like jello, likely from you traversing to return to your old workplace on foot.

What happened here?

The once lively lobby is barren. Devoid of life. It would be dead quiet if it were not for the faint static tune of Clair de Lune on the radio. Here and there the lights flicker before returning to mostly darkness.

Everything remains mostly the same; from the drawings, the bulletin boards are still pinned, computers are still accounted for, and the color furniture hasn’t been moved.

You thought that everything would appear somewhat normal with the Toons now having full reign of their home. 

Then again, Gardenview is very vast with many floors. Trying to maintain it could take a long time, but even you know it’s not impossible. Tisha has proven that a tad too many times. So why is the air wafting with dust and the walls decorated with cobwebs?

Not to mention, the lack of electricity. Judging by the flickering of the lights the building is being provided with it, but only faintly. Perhaps it’s the backup generators needing fuel from those machines installed long ago.

Walking down the lobby you see the center tree. Still flourishing with foliage and health. How on earth is that tree even alive after all these years? Now that you think of it, most of the plants left remain in good health. Someone has been taking care of it. But who? Maybe one of the Toons?

You look up at the skylight, seeing the stars and full moon looming over you. The light from the moon waves past the glass and reaches out to you, and the starlight almost gleams watchfully at you. It would be a beautiful sight if Gardenview wasn’t abandoned.

What on earth made you want to visit Gardenview at night time? Before you could contemplate that a familiar tune rings in your ears.

Ding-dong~.

The elevator to your left opens forlornly. It nearly scares the life out of you as it reveals itself to be empty. The other two elevators remain closed, so why did this one open? The elevator stationed at the red wall shines out a bright light that is almost blinding with how dim the lighting is around the lobby. It’s almost as if to welcome you.

It’s like a string tugging you forward into the elevator, and your mind wanders on its own in a trance. A whisper in the back of your head urging you to enter it.

Down. 

You need to go down.

By the time the elevator comes to a close, it’s too late to have second thoughts as you begin to descend down. The elevator flooring rumbles under you, making you flinch from the sudden movement. Despite being accustomed to it in the past it appears currently you no longer are. However, your unease does have a reason, considering you entered an elevator that hasn’t been inspected for years.

Holy shit. You’ve trapped yourself inside a metal death box. What were you thinking?! If the ancient cable holding the elevator breaks you’ll plummet to your doom. Sure the impact may instantly kill you, but your corpse will rot away with the elevator as your tomb. 

You didn’t even tell people where you were going. You simply left your home on a whim. No one will find your body.

Trying to press the elevator’s buttons to return to the lobby is fruitless, not responding to the input. The elevator panel might as well just be a glorified batteryless remote with only one of the buttons glowing to signal your destination.

When the elevator comes to a stop the door opens, revealing the projector room. It used to be one of the most noteworthy places for tours, revealing the behind-the-scenes storyboarding and story drafting of the cartoon and then showing the end product. The children used to flock to the projector area as staff played some episodes, or short clips frame by frame. 

The vast room is surprisingly lit. It’s slightly dim compared to the bright lighting of the past, but at least everything is visible. You’re lucky the room isn’t pitch dark. 

Having seen enough, you once again attempt to press the button of the elevator panel back to the lobby now that it’s stopped, but the result remains the same. When the elevator floor rumbles and the lights in it flicker you jump out of it, fearing the elevator's cable is finally snapping, only for the door to be then shut tight. 

“No, no, no, no, no, no !” You frantically button-mash the elevator button to try and coax it open. “Come on! Please!” 

After a few minutes of button-mashing and hitting and kicking the elevator door like a madman as if that’ll work, you pace around the set of boxes in front of the elevator. 

Okay! Think! Think, (Y/n)!

You’ve trapped yourself in an abandoned facility! There’s gotta be a way out! Surely!

You doubt you could pry the elevator door open, considering it weighs at least a thousand pounds. Even if you could, there is a good chance of you snapping your spine in half trying to enter the elevator or trapping yourself inside it.

Maybe you should wait for the Toons to come and find you, but what if it takes too long? You’d have to be lucky that they picked this floor to visit.

You could try and remove the button panel and try to mess with the wiring in hopes of somehow hot-wiring the elevator to open and return you to the lobby. 

Ahhh! What are you thinking?! You’ll get electrocuted and cut off power!!

Why didn’t Gardenview have stairs built in case of these situations?!

Making your tenth round around the boxes, you pause seeing a bright crimson light. 

The machines.

Judging by the faint lighting and the elevator working the machines are acting as the sole provider for power. If you find them maybe—just maybe — it could reopen the elevator back to full functionality. By default, there should be four machines installed on each floor.

Now it’s just a matter of where the machines are. It’s best to figure out where all the machines are, saving you some time before you invest in working on them fully. Plus, you can use the closest one by the elevator to save you the long trip.

A good portion tends to be out of sight, but you do spot two machines. One is inside the small office directly next to the elevator and the other is against the wall by the stairs. All that’s left is the other ones hidden away.

Heading down to the office further down, you pass by the projector that is still showcasing a short clip of Razzle and Dazzle. The bright light of the projector nearly blinds you as your silhouette briefly shows, disappearing once you fully pass through.

Thankfully with the window nearby, it allows you to take a peek inside the office, saving you some time. Looks like it’s just one hidden behind a cubicle. 

Yikes. You feel bad for the poor staff member who had to work with that machine in the way. You’re pretty sure that said coworker made a complaint about it which led to them being relocated to that room near the elevator you emerged from. 

Generous to offer to accommodate them, but also oddly isolating. Not to mention there is still a machine there. However, on the bright side, it’s not directly against that staff member. 

Passing the office, you walk down the ramp to find the last machine. It shouldn’t take too long since you managed to find three of them. So far! So good!

Where the hell is it? 

Where is the last machine?!

You’ve double-checked the cubicles, walls, and the broken elevator. Did they only install three machines without letting you know? That hour-long staff meeting involving these machines was for nothing. 

What you would give to have that machine manual to know where they were all located, or that device Vee gave to her Junior Handler for the Junior Handler Progam Anniversary. 

Taking a deep breath you sit yourself on the yellow couch with the TV in front, playing a clip of Dandy talking to Astro. 

Okay. It’s fine. It’s probably here somewhere.

You should just get started on the machines, but your pride doesn’t allow it. If you finish most of them you’ll lose your mind again trying to find the last one.

Sitting down at least does provide you a bit of respite. It lets you fully catch up to your thoughts. Like where is everyone? You’re surprised there are no traces of any of the Toons. The quiet and knowledge alone is rather uneasy. 

Your stomach churns uncomfortably as chills prickle the back of your neck. Your mind is trying to fill in the empty space of the room with something—anything— to give you a sense that you’re not alone, but even that only adds fuel to the flame of unease eating at you. Shadows in the corner of your eye transform into figures of those you knew in the past.

There are random items scattered, leaving the floor you’re on a mess.

You haven’t felt this restless since the incident, witnessing the empty floors that showed signs of people and Toons leaving frantically. It doesn’t make sense to you why all the Toons are gone and Gardenview is in shambles currently. 

Rising from your seat to walk to the long hall to your right, you accidentally kick a pile of gumballs. The colorful orbs roll to the left, hitting the wall and resting there. Once they’ve settled, you notice a few are missing which is odd there were six, and now there are currently four.

Deciding to inspect this you approach the wall that they hit, and long and behold tucked away in the corner is the last machine you’ve been looking for with the missing two gumballs resting at its base. 

Above the machine in the darkness is Shrimpo’s name card, looking down on you as if to mock you for not checking this area sooner. 

It’s almost insulting. 

Scratch that. 

It is insulting.

Staring up at the Shrimpo name card you narrow your eyes, grumbling out, “I… hate you.”

Lifting your hand in a fist you then bring up your middle finger, flipping him off. It does make you feel better as petty as it is. The closest way you can say to Shrimpo a “fuck you” without consequences. That and that one time you spitefully ate the diner’s dish based on him right in front of him, getting food poisoning as a result of it.

You should give the machine a couple of kicks for good measure to let out your frustration, but it’s of no use to you if you break it. Actually, you most likely can’t break it, instead, you have a decent chance of breaking your foot. But now's not the time to vent your anger, you have to get off this floor.

Kneeling you grab the red wheel which begins turning without issue, and opening the valve that allows the Ichor flow. The ebony substances flood out, filling the fortified glass cylinder.

You don’t like how trapped you feel in the tiny space where the machine is. There’s barely any light here, making you depend on the machine’s red light as your sole light source. But it feels like anything can jump from behind and take you by surprise. 

You’re cornered like helpless prey if it turns out you’re not alone. You’re fine if it’s one of the Toons, but if it turns out to be another human that stumbled into Gardenview like you. That's when fear has its full grasp on you. You know what the Toons are like, but a complete stranger? It’s a guessing game of what could befall you.

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you focus on the machine. On occasions you need to adjust how fast you turn the wheel, not wanting the Ichor to clog the pipe as it flows down.

Turn the wheel too fast, the Ichor can build too quickly up and jam the pipe. Too slow, it’ll barely extract any Ichor. It has to be just right as confusing as the conditions are. It takes a couple of tries to readjust your pace to the desired one, and as a result, the machine’s pipe gurgles a bit until you fix it.

The machines are oddly in good condition. No sign of wear or deterioration. Unlike the top surfaces you’ve stumbled upon while looking around, there are no layers of dust. Like the plants, someone has been maintaining the machines.

It sparks a bit of hope in your chest. The other Toons should be around somewhere.

As the machine is filled to completion it rings out a satisfied DING~ sound, the red light now flashing green.

“Phew. One down. Lots to go…” you lament. 

Before you got up you thought you could hear brisk shuffling behind you. A chill surges down your spine, coaxing you to quickly stand up and turn around.

“H-hello?” You leave the accursed corner, scanning around the empty hall for the source.

They couldn’t have gone too far. Unless they're hiding nearby? 

If it’s a Toon, maybe they were startled seeing someone intrude on their home? It’s been a long time after all. That and they only saw your back and didn’t get a good look at your face. To them, you must have looked like a complete stranger. 

“It’s alright! It’s me! (Y/n)!” you call out, hoping that hearing your name would coax them.

All you’re met with is the faint echo of your voice before it falls dead silent. Well, now you feel like an idiot. Sure, there’s no one there to witness you talking to the emptiness, but it’s still embarrassing since you were certain someone was there. 

Were you just imagining things? 

Hastily leaving the hall you reach the machine in the large office, immediately getting to work on it. It’s best to focus on the task at hand rather than your paranoia, but you can’t help shake off the feeling that you’re being watched from afar. 

You wind up looking behind you while doing the machines ever so often either out of fear of someone being behind you or in hopes of catching them. But no matter what, it’s just you. 

Alone on this floor.

One by one the machines’ lights turn green after completing them. At least so far it only takes thirty seconds to fill the machines now that muscle memory is kicking in. With the last one near the elevator, you quietly hope that your plan works when you finish the last machine.

Once the final machine rings out DING~ and flashes green, the elevator rumbles to life once more, its door finally opening. A surge of urgency rushes into your mind as if screaming at you to get to the elevator. Getting up you make your way to the elevator, and as soon as you cross its entrance its door slams down violently, making the ground under you shake so much that you need to grab ahold of the railing to remain steady.

Sighing in relief once the shaking stops, you press the button to head to the lobby. The button lights up and the elevator begins to rise. At last, the heavy weight on your shoulder is lifted. You’re getting out of here.

With another rumble, the elevator comes to a stop, lights flickering until darkness engulfs you. As light returns to illuminate the room so does one of the buttons on the elevator panel.

Floor 2.

Your descent continues.

Chapter Text

No!

No, no, no, no, no, no!

You try to press the button to return to your original destination. “Change back!”

Nothing works like last time. Damned to start over again.

It shouldn’t be that much of a problem, right? 

This is just a minor setback—an unplanned detour. 

Who knows maybe you’ll run into the Toons, and they can help you.

You try to convince yourself.

How bad can it be? You’re just trapped in a potentially abandoned building.

Before your mind threatens to unravel like a spool of ribbon, the compartment back of the elevator clicks open. 

It used to be used as a makeshift stage for Toons to pop out of to reenact quick episode segments from Dandy’s World. Sometimes Vee would use it to host a quick pop quiz game. It was also meant to distract the children if the elevator got stuck, deploying some Toons to entertain and take their fear away as the staff tried to get the elevator functioning properly again.

The back compartment’s doors slowly open and the gears begin to crank as ‘Clair de Lune’ plays, lifting something up. A sign that has the word “SHOP” with a flower drawn on hangs in front of a table. Emerging from the darkness is a familiar floral Toon with vibrant petals, wearing a bright smile to compliment them.

“Dandy?” you say in disbelief.

“Well now! I know that face!” He leans against the table on his tippy toes. “Good to see you! You haven’t changed a bit! Still the same ol’ fresh-faced Junior Handler I remember!” Dandy chirps. “Never thought you would get sent down here!” 

“I didn’t—”

“Judging by the confusion on your face I take it they just brought you here without explaining this ol’ song and dance!” He clears his throat in a rather dramatic manner. “Welcome dear Junior Handler back to Gardenview! Apologies for not welcoming you to the lobby! Due to technical issues I could not at the time!” He gives an apologetic and showman-like bow. “Although we are not open to the public we are happy regardless to see a familiar face volunteer to help us out!” 

“Help “us” out?”

“Now I know what you’re thinking! ‘What part do I have to play in this?’. Well, worry not, old friend!” He cheers in delight. “As you know, Gardenview has seen better days! Which is why we need you!” He points at you with a show-like flair. “With your help! We can get Gardenview back to mostly functionality.”

You’re not quite sure what he means by that, but perhaps this operation he’s speaking about is what helps provide energy for Gardenview. How else would the elevator and certain facets of Gardenview be operable otherwise? 

He laughs bashfully, his smile threatening to wither away which leads to him reinforcing it with a wider grin, “We can’t reopen technically— b-but still! We immortalize Gardenview’s memory by maintaining it! Hence why you’ve been sent here!”

“Dandy, this might be some sort of misunderstanding.” You are somewhat comforted seeing a familiar face, but it feels like you’re talking to a wall.

“Oh-ho! On the contrary! You’re here, so clearly you must still have some love for Gardenview and all the Toons here!” His smile falters again, eye twitching, “R̴-̶r̶i̵g̴h̷t̷?̸” Even with his showmen-like voice, it falters from this single word.

It’s that same voice you recall him using when you were stargazing with him in the lobby the night of your anniversary as Junior Handler.

He looks like he’s on the verge of completely shattering, only barely holding himself together by a hair. There’s a dangerous red glint in his eyes, and you rather not test him. Who knows how long he’s been here?

“Of course, I still care about everyone,” you tell him. “You wouldn’t have happened to know where they are, would you?”

“O-oh, everyone? They’re busy doing their own thing. Albeit too busy to visit lil ol’ me,” he jokes. “I’m sure they’ll find you along the way!” Dandy beams jovially, “With you here to help I’m sure things will go back to normal!”

Back to normal.

Is that even possible? Even from the lobby and projection floor you were on, Gardenview has seen better days.

Shifting where you’re standing you hesitantly ask, “Are you sure you want my help?”

The elevator lights flicker around you momentarily and Dandy’s smile fully falls. The radio playing music changes to static before complete silence. He now stares at you blankly as if you’ve sapped away his hope in the blink of an eye. 

The way he’s leaning against the table is no longer relaxed. It’s now almost in a position where he could pounce on you, digging his nails into the wooden surface with ire.

Maintaining eye contact with you, he whispers but loud enough for you to hear “...You said it was okay to ask for help when I need it… and now I’m asking for it.” His voice is monotone, and despite that, there is a faint sense of betrayal as he speaks. “Don’t tell me that was another lie.” 

Your blood turns icy at those words, freezing and piercing your veins solid. His words ring burn brand itself in your eardrum, echoing like a cruel tune.

Another lie.

Did Sprout tell Dandy— everyone— what you said to him?

Staring at Dandy you can see your reflection in his eyes. From your reflection and how he looks at you, you both bear the same thoughts about how you see yourself.

Liar.

Remorse and guilt mix, biting and clawing at your chest to remind you of what you said to Sprout years ago. That empty promise of staying by his side and returning to him. 

Your lie.

You want to find him—see him. Apologies to him for it. For leaving him without a goodbye.

It was out of your control. Nothing could be done.

But you could have made an effort. For him.

Go against Delilah’s words and see him despite your condition.

Your leaving right now is just you wanting to avoid seeing all the pain you cause to him. Can you really say you cared for him when your first instinct was to leave? 

Why did you even come here? Did you just decide to visit out of the goodness of your heart? Or did you come to this tomb just to make yourself feel better? 

Can  you even call yourself a good person for abandoning the place you once called home so carelessly? You’re just a liar. A terrible person. Someone who calls themself a “good person” to justify your actions. 

Selfish. 

Your vision is blurring as your eyes water. Feels like there are hands around your throat, gripping tightly. It’s hard to breathe. You want to cry.

But you’re not entitled to that. 

You don’t get to cry.

You don’t get to act like you’ve suffered more than the others.

You don’t get to act weak in front of people.

It’s pathetic.

You're fucking pathetic.

Helping is the least you can do to make up for that—for everything.

Because let’s be honest. 

You don’t have anything left for you at home.

Feels like a switch inside your head is flipped, giving you a moment of respite from your emotions. You try to steady your thoughts. You don’t want to be seen like this. So unbecomingly.

Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you wipe your tears away and say, “Of course not. I’m glad you want my help.” You smile gently at Dandy, “Considering you remembered what I said long ago means a lot to me!”

He appears to be taken off guard by your words and actions, lessening his death grip on the table. His eyes go wide with skepticism for a moment before reverting to normal.

Dandy cheerfully hops on the box he’s standing on, “That’s what I like to hear! Knew that Junior Handler I knew back then was still in there!”

“So… all I gotta do is just work on the machines, right?”

“Naturally! Just for a couple of floors like… five! Heck! Since you breezed through the last floor! Why don’t you reach floor ten! Then I’ll send you on your merry way until then!”

Floor 10…

Is he serious?

Did you even breeze past the previous floor? All you remember is struggling to find the last machine. That and flipping the bird to Shrimpo’s name card. Well deserved.

How on earth would Dandy even know you went through the machines fast? You were alone on that floor. At least, to your knowledge you were.

Glancing at the table Dandy claps his hands together. “Ah, how careless of me! Got so caught up with our lil reunion I ignored my ol’ shop!” 

He clears his throat and gives a grand gesture towards the three items each resting atop a dark pillow. To the left is a rolled-up paper with a golden band used to keep it from unraveling. In the middle is a light blue box of bandaids or better called “Dand-AIDS”, and finally, to the right is an orange, thin candy with stripes.

“I offer the finest goods right here! For a price of course! One good thing deserves another as they say!” he exclaims. “Just toss me a couple of tapes and the object of your desire is all yours!” He looks at you expectantly. “You…did grab some tapes on the way, right?” Shaking your head, Dandy asks a follow-up question, “You found some capsules too, right…?”

With another shake of your head, Dandy inhales sharply, closing his eyes as if to compose himself. He sounds like a disappointed parent. 

To be fair, you weren’t aware that it was okay to take them. After all, you didn’t want to grab the items off the floor since your original intention was to leave. Not to mention, that just felt like stealing, and since the Toons still live here it is stealing. 

The tapes you saw in the opening, but the capsules? You weren’t aware they were out of Delilah’s office. Delilah always made sure they were safe and kept there. 

After a sharp exhale, Dandy gently knocks the side of his head, “Oh how silly of me! I’ve done this ol’ song and dance so much with everyone I forgot you’re new to this!”

Hopping off his box he brings out a tape and a capsule, placing it onto the table. 

The title episode on the tape is faded, but you think you can make out the word “Winning”. 

As for the capsule, the ichor-filled tube has film wrapped around it. If you lean in more you can faintly see Pebble, indicating this is his capsule. The red seal at least hasn’t been opened.

Dandy gestures to each item, “Feel free to pick these lil guys up; they’ll help you in the long run! Research capsules help with, well, research! Tapes are exchanged for items!”  He then rubs his chin thoughtfully, “Hmm. Considering you don’t have tapes on hand I can’t supply you anything sadly…” He shrugs his shoulders, letting out a laugh, “Oh! What the heck! I’ll toss you a freebie! A little gift to celebrate our reunion!” 

His hand hovers over the items thoughtfully. You’ve never seen him so focused before. Well, aside from that one time he arranged a dance performance for the kids. 

Finally, he makes his decision, grabbing the box of “Dand-AIDS” and tossing it to you. “Here ya go!” 

Catching it, you stare at the item of choice questioningly. “Thank you?”

It’s not that ungrateful for it. It’s just. Where are you going to put it? You don’t exactly have pockets that are deep enough to hold it without it bulging against you uncomfortably.

Dandy grins brightly, “Anytime!” The elevator stops. “Ah! That’s my queue to leave! Good luck, friend!” 

He waves farewell before pulling the red lever, lowering the platform he’s on down, and closing the duel doors once gone.

You’re alone again, waiting for the elevator to reach its destination and stop. 

Your body feels heavy as the weight of your words rushes through you. Gripping the elevator railings, you close your eyes to calm your mind. 

This is fine. You’ll be fine.

Despite the hole you’ve dug yourself in. You don’t have room to fail, or the option to back out of what you agreed to. You 

All you gotta do is help out with the machines and like Dandy said he’ll let you leave. 

It just doesn’t sit right with you. Feels like Dandy knows more than he lets on. You should try and pry for more information when you see him, but going off by his reaction to you not accepting to help him it’s best not to for the time being. 

Dandy, for all you know, may just be a trigger hair away from crumbling. That knowledge alone makes your heart weigh heavy, knowing this unbearable feeling of utter despair. You can’t imagine how the others are feeling.

If you help him and others, then maybe you can somehow make things right. Restore the place they call home. 

As the elevator stops and the door opens, you strengthen your resolve before stepping out of the elevator.

You won’t fail them. Not again.

Chapter Text

Tapes don’t forget the tapes.

You gather as many as you can find while searching for the machines. Due to your inability to store them with your limited inventory space, you opt to bring them to the elevator.

You really should have brought a bag with you. Then again, you didn’t exactly plan much when visiting Gardenview. But hey, maybe you’ll stumble upon something to help accommodate you. 

If the gift shop still has some of its stock you could snatch yourself a backpack. Luckily the gift shop provides those, but some of the backpacks are, however, plushies hollowed out with backpack straps sewn on. 

The idea is cute on paper, but when the first prototypes were shown most of the Mains agreed it was eerie seeing their bodies hang lifelessly on the backs of children. 

Pebble was fine with it apparently according to Dandy. So Gardenview solely produced Pebble and Dandy plushie backpacks which were dubbed as “Peb-packs” and “Dandy-packs” while the other Main’s backpack designs were overhauled into something more appealing. As compensation the for the rest not having/wanting a plush-pack Gardenview made each bag come with a plushie key-chain. 

Sprout’s was naturally based on a strawberry and its fabric for the seeds and leaves were soft and fuzzy. It came with a strawberry lunch box and a specialty coupon for the diner.

Shelly’s was an ammonite, but people often called it the cinnamon roll backpack. Her backpack can fit a lot of items which Shelly mentioned it makes it perfect for excavations tools and adventures. 

Vee’s design looked similar to her head with the antennae included, and when left in the dark the “screen” would reveal her face. Every time someone would purchase her bag Gardenview would give them a free ticket for her games.

Astro’s is also based on his head, but only includes his gleaming left eye, so it’s more akin to the moon in its waning crescent phase with Astro’s color palette. His backpack came with an incredibly soft blanket that apparently glows in the dark, revealing mini stars.

If you stumble upon any of those, it would help you a bunch instead of running around the floor and then back to the elevator. 

At least this floor is somewhat merciful to you, and you’ve been able to find the machines, unlike the last floor. But one of the machines' locations is somewhat off-putting. It was only one of the first machines you found since it was in a small room in front of the elevator you exited.

Maybe it’s just due to the fact that it’s dark and closed off. If you do that machine then you’re facing away from the entrance of the room. Feels like you’d be vulnerable.

It bothers that you know you’re alone, but the constant chills pricking your spine say otherwise. You’ve called out to anyone to see if there would be a reply, but the floor remains still.

Where is everyone? 

Dandy said there’s a chance you could run into everyone. Even if you do, what would you even do or say to them? After leaving them for years, would they even have any words to spare you? For all they care, you left them— abandoned them. 

Would he even want to see you—speak to you?

Why would he want to?

You clearly hurt him. 

Taking a deep breath, you snap yourself out of your thoughts. Composing yourself you decide to get to work on the machines. 

Like last time, you worked on the ones furthest from the working elevator. Most are located at the broken elevator, and as you get to extracting on the machines you can’t help but wonder. 

Why is it that only one of the elevators on each floor is functional? It does cause paranoia to stir in your gut if eventually, the elevator you’re on will break. The “DO NOT OPEN” sign every time you glance at the broken elevator does little to soothe you. 

A morbid part of you does want to somehow open the elevator. Realistically, you know it’s impossible to open it, but you can’t help but wonder if you do. Would you be met with a long drop into the abyss, or a nonfunctional elevator, hanging by a cable?

You make quick work of the three machines, swiping your hands together in satisfaction. “Okay! Onto the last one!” you attempt to hype yourself.

Oh gosh. 

Talking to yourself certainly is going to be a constant habit of yours.

A shiver runs through you. You really don’t want to do this machine. But if you don't, how else will you get off this floor? It’s not like you can take up residence on this floor, living off the candy and pop. You could try but fail miserably.

Stealing yourself you walk into the suffocating foreboding room, but as soon as you take a couple of steps in you kick something. 

“Sh-shit!” you jump back, startled making contact with something as it slides to the back of the wall with a heavy thud.

What the hell did you just kick?

Carefully you inspect what it could be. You poke it with your foot just to make sure it’s not a dead rat, before dragging it into the light.

A messenger bag.

A black messenger with dark straps to match. It would almost look out of place if it wasn’t for the enamel pins decorating it. 

Sighing in relief that it isn’t a corpse of a poor animal, you no longer are worried about having to bury the creature in one of the plant pots. You don’t think you’d have the mental stamina to host a mini-funeral were that the case.

Wait, this is perfect!

You pick up the dusty bag, wiping as much dust as possible. It’s a bit heavy, and opening it reveals blank sheets of paper. Was someone planning to just take a bunch of paper from Gardenview? Why the heck would they even want to do that? 

I guess it’s hard to say no to free stuff. 

But it looks like despite that former coworker’s intention to lug the paper home they left it, so it’s safe to say you can take it. Finders keepers as the saying goes.

Emptying the contents and putting on the messenger bag, you slightly adjust the straps to your preference. At least you can now store some items. That’s one worry out of the way! You eagerly place your box of bandaids inside the bag. Once tucked safely inside you close the bag.

Getting back on the task at hand, you return to the final machine and work on it. There’s something oddly soothing about having the bag by your side. Probably due to the slight weight from it pressing against you. That and, having something that could somewhat protect you should the need be.

Sure, swinging your bag and bashing people with your bag is probably not the most effective, but hey, at least it’s something. Better to have something that defends you than something that doesn’t.

Looking around the small room you’re enclosed in you’re met with another bulletin board hung to your right, pinned on it are drawings that children made for the Mains. 

Every time they received one they always ran to their closest Handler and insisted they’d help hang it up. For them, every drawing was like a medal of honor, a testament to being able to reach the heart of someone. 

However, Vee insisted she used those drawings to help collect data to refine her ability as an entertainer, highlighting words in the drawings with a green crayon.

It makes you wonder where and how those kids who made those drawings are doing. Have they forgotten Gardenview and moved on with their lives? Was Gardenview merely a dream they woke up from as they grew? Or do they remember it?

Filling the machine to the brim you hastily get up, pacing to the elevator and bringing all the items inside before fully entering. As the elevator closes you lean against it and slowly slide down. The button panel lights up and you turn your attention to it.

Floor 3  

“Okay! Just seven more floors to go!” you exclaim, gripping the strap of your messenger bag tightly. 

While on the floor with the tapes you might as well inspect them. Much like the tape Dandy showed you the titles are difficult to read. 

The only thing you wish you could find are the capsules he mentioned. At best, you found more gumballs and candies of various colors. Dandy wants them for research, but what exactly for? 

Once you’ve gone through all the tapes you decide to place them on the shelf under the TV. 

The TV then flickers violently, scaring the soul out of you as the screen statics to life before it stops to display the time.

12:05 am.

“Well, crap…”

It's the first time you’ve seen the time since you left home for Gardenview. You’re not exactly sure how long it’s going to take for you to complete ten floors. 

Will you even have enough energy for that now that you think of it? You should probably talk to Dandy about this next floor. For now, it’s best to get this floor over this as soon as possible.

♡ ♡ ♡

DING~!

DING~!

DING~!

DING~!

Finishing the machines, you go back to the elevator. Once it closes the button lights up to signal your next stop.

Floor 4

You open your bag, inspecting what you found. Just tapes so far. A good amount, so at least Dandy won’t be disappointed in you for neglecting them this time. But where in the world are the capsules? 

The back compartment of the elevator opens again. The metal doors open up as Dandy’s shop appears once again.  

He hops onto his box, “Hey! You made it! Good to see you’re still standing! Ooo, neat bag you got there!” He beams, “I take it you found some tapes for lil ol’ me? If so,” he gestures to the items on display, “you might wanna spend your tapes on these items!” 

“Oh! Actually, I did!” You retrieve the tapes from under the TV shelf and also show the ones you’ve collected on the previous floor. 

“Now aren’t you just a doll!” His eyes seem to shine at the sight of the tapes, his body buzzing with excitement. “What are you waitin’ for? Go ahead! You’ve got the pick of the litter!” he encourages.

Currently on the display are two candies one being blue and the other yellow and finally there’s a jumper cable. 

“Are the candies… you know, safe to eat?” you query.

“Of course they are! I only provide goods that can serve my dear customers well!” he assures you. He points to the yellow candy “Stuck in a sour situation? Well, fear not, dear customer! This could speed things up!” He then gives his attention to the blue candy, “Feel the need to avoid the spotlight? Viola! A burst of blue raspberry should do the trick!”

“And the jumper cables?”

“Oh, these?” He lifts it up. “These will give a little ‘pick me up’ for the machine and fill it up with a good chunk, saving you the hassle!” He opens and closes the claps to demonstrate that they still work, “However, these are one-time use only! Due to—”

SNAP

One of the clasps broke.

Dandy stares blankly at it, slowly lowering it under the table with a clenched fist. He promptly scavenges under it and retrieves a new one, placing it on top of the pillow. 

He laughs sheepishly before clearing his throat. “So! Pick your poison!” He claps his hands together.

The jumper cable sounds like the most helpful right now. It’ll help you get through the floor faster at least when you need it. The pricing is somewhat fair. You hand in the required amount of tapes as payment and take the cable.

Dandy smiles, “Oooh! Good choice!”

After storing the jumper cable inside your bag, you decide to mention the time, “It’s getting late.”

Dandy, who is currently storing the tapes in a box behind him, looks up at you, “Huh?” He finally processes your remark, “Oh! It is! Time sure flies!” 

Should you ask him if you could return to the lobby, so you can rest? Fatigue hasn’t gotten its hold on you, but you still worry. You’re not going to up and leave as soon as you return. 

However, a part of you feels like Dandy would see it that way, and you can hear his words ring in your ear.

 “Don’t tell me that was another lie.” 

He’s already keeping his cards to his chest after what happened to Gardenview. You don’t blame him, but you’re scared to see what happens if you press about leaving even if for a moment. 

It feels like you’re trudging in deep water, trying not to drown or have others drag you down with them as you try to help. You should want to focus on a goal, but you already have the expectations to help. You’ve agreed to it after all.

You can’t back out now.

You can’t fail everyone.

You can rest later. 

Dandy returns to his usual box, standing atop it. “Reminds me of that time we stargazed together!” he recalls.

“I’m surprised you remember that,” you remark, genuinely surprised by that.

“How could I not? It was during the night of your anniversary after all! Not to mention, during that big sleepover event!” He glances at the ceiling and awkwardly laughs, “Though, I suppose recalling it here of all places probably sounds odd.”

You can’t help but laugh along, “Don’t worry about it. That’s just how memories work sometimes.” You then add in, “Maybe if I finish up floor ten quick enough we can stargaze in the lobby again?”

“I’d like that!” The elevator stops for a moment, signally it’s reached its stop. “Oh! Looks like my time is up! See you later!” 

You wave farewell to the floral Toon as he disappears into the darkness as he descends. You wait for the elevator to open.

After taking a deep breath, you sigh, “Here we go again.”

Are the candies as good as Dandy presented? 

You hold up the yellow candy you’ve stumbled upon while doing machines towards the light.

You can’t help but wonder that as you roam the rainbow floors’ four corners after encountering a fair amount of them while you collect tapes. Maybe it’s pure boredom, or simply curiosity egging at you to try it. There’s not much for you to do besides the machines and look around.

You kinda feel like a ghost, being alone with only the ambiance to keep you company with the sounds of air vents at work and buzzing from the elevator.

Yet another empty floor. You shouldn’t keep your hopes up, running into someone at this point. Roaming the floor aimlessly, scavenging and completing machines. The bright side is that you found that messenger bag and some items to help your journey. 

This place used to be where most of the staff members would take their lunch breaks if the staff room was full. Giant banners of all of the Mains are on one of the four large walls. 

In all honesty, whenever you forgot to bring lunch or were too lazy to head to dinner during your lunch break, you used to hide out in the mini library on the floor and snack on what you could find. That used to be your work lifestyle for the first months you started until Sprout intervened when he took notice of that. 

He always looked out for you.

You hope that he’s doing the same for the others, but also taking care of himself. Knowing him, he’s probably double-tasking, trying to make sure to stay on top of everything. 

Rolling the yellow candy between your fingers, the protective wrapping crinkles with every movement. It’s kinda fun to fidget with.

“Just one won’t kill me,” you mutter to yourself.

Maybe the preservatives and dyes would probably, but you’d need to eat about a thousand to feel the negative effects.

Taking a quick respite from doing machines you unwrap the yellow candy. It’s a golden sphere with opaque orange swirls around it. There is a faint white powder coating it. You marvel at the sweet, bringing it to the light to see it somewhat glow.

Popping it into your mouth immediately results in your mouth puckering. It invades your taste buds, making your mouth salivate. Holy crap. That is so sour. It does shock your system and make you pace around in hopes of walking off the sudden sensation. 

The sour taste eventually leaves after five seconds, leaving you with a more sweet lemon-flavored candy. It’s actually not bad. The sour punch startled you, but overall, you don’t dislike it.

God. You never thought you would wind up eating candy off the floor. To be fair, at least it’s wrapped up, unlike the jawbreakers and gumballs.

Refreshed after a quick sweet treat, you get back to work.

♡ ♡ ♡

Floor 6

Intermission

“Still no luck with those capsules?” Dandy queries as you hand him some tapes in exchange for a valve.

“Sorry…” It’s getting frustrating that you can’t find them. 

“Hey now! No need to be harsh on yourself!” he interjects. “Progress is still progress!” He stores the tapes behind him quickly. “You’re doing pretty good on your own to boot!”

“I’m just trying my best,” you half-heartedly joke. “But I’m pretty sure there are other Toons that would fly through these floors faster than me.”

From what you remember, during the staff and Toon training for the machines Vee and Shelly made quick work with the machines. 

“Oh, that reminds me!” Dandy exclaims with a hop on his box. “You won’t believe what I found!” With another hop off his box, he searches under the table before pulling out something red, “A genuine Junior Handler uniform!”

Dandy carefully places the uniform on the table. Staring at it, you can’t believe your eyes. It shouldn’t be a surprise that your old uniform would still be in Gardenview, considering they carry multiple backups in case the original gets dirtied due to certain circumstances. Like the “Buttercream Blast Accident”, for instance. 

The thing that takes you off guard is that your old uniform is in perfect condition. There are no signs of the colors fading from time or a speck of dust on it. Even the gloves are perfectly white.

“Ooh! And to top it off!” Dandy places your old name tag on top of the uniform.

‘(Y/n) (L/n)’

Junior Handler

You don’t know why, but seeing it makes your eyes water. Maybe it’s because the original got destroyed during the incident years ago. 

A strange intermingling of nostalgia and grief overwhelms you. Feels as if something is clawing at your chest, its intensity increasing with every second to the point that the pain is unbearable. It’s beyond your control as your vision blurs and the tears spill out. 

You miss them.

Everyone.

“W-what’s wrong?” Dandy frantically asks. “I-I didn’t mean to make you cry! I’m sorry! Please don’t cry!” He finds you a tissue to catch your tears, handing it to you.

Wiping away your tears, you try to reassure him, “It’s f-fine! Just kinda got hit with nostalgia!” Once the tears have ceased you sniffle, trying to muster a smile, “It’s been a while since I saw my uniform, that’s all.”

The last time you saw it was when you and the others went to Gardenview to retrieve your belongings from the staff locker room. Taking everything but your uniform felt so mournful as if you all were leaving a part of yourself in the locker. The final nail in the coffin, signifying everyone’s life in Gardenview as concluded. 

The longer your eyes linger on your old uniform, memories soon resurface.

Chapter Text

“This is bullshit!” Sam yelled out, their voice echoing into the silent locker room as they slammed their fist into their locker door. “What the hell are they thinking?! Separating the Toons like that?!” 

All eyes were on Sam everyone, startled by their outburst, yet almost solemnly empathizing with it. It was rare for Sam to be so outspoken, opting for silence often in these situations before acting. 

Devan, who only watched, finally stepped in, grabbing Sam’s wrist before they could hit the metal door again. “Sam, I know how you feel. We’re all bothered by this arrangement.” He gestured to everyone in the room.

Shanon’s eyes were red and puffy as she tightly clutched onto her belongings, trying her best not to let out another sob. 

Veronica also appeared worse for wear, staring at the ground with a pursed lip on occasion shuffling her foot anxiously. The loud noise from Sam punching their locker door clearly startled her.

As for Austin, he was silent, and it looked like he wanted to say something, but didn't have the energy for it. He looks disheveled like he hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep for a long time. 

The air is so heavy with grief that it’s suffocating.

Devan frowned, “There’s nothing we can do about this arrangement. All we can do is respect the Founders’ wishes.”

Sam ripped their wrist away from Devan, “How can I—we respect something so cruel to us? To the Toons? We should at least be able to say goodbye to them!”

“It's no longer in our place,” Devan tried to reason, looking away from Sam’s furious gaze. “Believe me when I say we’re all affected by this and want to say our goodbyes.” He placed a reassuring hand on Sam’s shoulder. 

Sam looked like they were about to explode, their face contorting with fury as they grit their teeth and their frame shakes. Opening their mouth it appears they’re about to say something, but the words fail to form. 

As they closed it they went quiet, the expression on their face was akin to a tired wild animal after thrashing within a snare. After fighting it dawned on them that this was truly the end. 

Devan removed his hand from Sam, unsure how to next appreciate them. Sam’s frame continued to shake, eyes glassy, their fist balled so tightly their knuckles were turning white.

Under their shaky breath, they cursed out, “It’s just…dammit…”

Putting down your small box of items, you approach Sam slowly and hold their hand, coaxing their fist to unravel and somewhat relax. They looked up at you, tears threatening to spill over, and yet they refused to let that happen. You’re unsure of what Sam will do next until they suddenly pull you into a tight hug.

You never took them for a hugger. Sam always preferred to avoid close contact for long periods of time, and yet they held you close—desperately much like when they found you after the incident. 

As reserved and strict as they were, you knew very well they cared deeply for the Toons and were hurt by the outcome of the situation.

It hurt you to see such torment plaguing Sam—plaguing everyone. They all witnessed Gardenview’s ruin after the incident, and seemingly on edge rightfully so. 

You just remembered staying like this with Sam, being the shoulder for them to cry. Soon tears of your own poured out of your eyes eventually as you held onto them for comfort. 

The room is quiet except for the sounds of all the Handlers crying and trying to console each other.

After enough silence, Devan spoke, clearing his throat. “I-I know this is not the outcome we all wanted—how we wanted things would end,” his voice cracked as he tried to hold back from crying, wanting his strong front to remain. “I want to let everyone know how grateful I am to have worked with you all,” he mustered a smile, the same one that he wore for work and team meetings.

But there was something off about his smile; as brightly as it shined it threatened to burn out just as quickly, and it failed to match his eyes which looked nearly listless. If he tried to smile any brighter that mask he wore would surely shatter, revealing a man wreaked with grief.

“This is where I would probably say we should keep moving forward for the sake of the Toons, but I know it’s not that simple,” Devan admitted with a weak laugh. “Instead, I have an idea for us to say our farewell to our friends. It might not be much, but I hope it can help in some semblance.”

Quickly Devan left the locker room, leaving everyone confused about his potential idea. With that, Sam headed to the sink to splash some cold water on their face, and you followed them.

After splashing their face a couple of times they looked up at the mirror, sighing out, “God…fuck…” 

They slammed their fist into the counter in defeat. Just then they noticed you behind them through the reflection and turned around quickly, almost startled by you behind them. 

“Crap! I didn’t see you,” they exclaimed before quieting. “Are…you doing okay? How are you holding up?”

“I should be asking you that,” you told them, grabbing a sheet of paper towel from the dispenser for them to use and dry their face.

“Could be better,” they confessed, wiping off the water that dripped off their face. “I’m sorry you had to see me like…well, that.” 

“Don’t be. This is a lot to take in after all,” you tried to reassure Sam. “It’s a big change for all of us.”

“I’m glad you’re handling this better than everyone,” they remarked.

In retaliation, you playfully punched the side of their arm, “You’re acting like I wasn’t begging security in the lobby to let us see Sprout and crying with you just now.”

“R-right. Right. Sorry.” They probably meant for that to be a compliment, trying to find the bright side of things through this terrible situation.

You were actually glad they didn’t remember that encounter in the lobby. Begging for access to see the Toons felt so pathetic on your part. It didn’t feel right to have your final moment Sprout be that promise you made with him and leave it off that. 

The moment you returned, you felt compelled to immediately descend down Gardenview to find him like being guided by an invisible string, yet the path to your destination was blocked, leaving you uneasy. The urge was eating at you from the inside out, tearing you apart until only segments of your sanity were left.

Crossing your arms you anxiously squeezed your forearm, “Do you think everyone—the Toons, I mean—are doing okay?”

“I wish I could say they are, but I’m not sure…” Sam lamented. 

All you both could do was hope that they were okay and that some of the Toons were trying to lift everyone’s spirits.

Devan finally returned with pieces of paper and pencils in hand. One by one he hands each item to everyone in the room. 

“Okay, everyone!” He lifted up a sheet of paper, still trying to maintain an upbeat tone. “We’re going to write a goodbye note for them. Anything you have to say to them, it’s best you use this as your chance,” he instructed. “Once you’re done, place it where you know only the Toons would find it.”

Everyone with the instructions given used the time to write their final thoughts to the Toons, finishing at their own pace and waiting for the rest to finish.

As you attempted to work on your own all you could do was stare at the blank sheet of paper, pressing your thumb against the tip of your uncapped pen. What could you even write to Sprout? These would be your final words to him after all. Your mind is clamored with so many thoughts, overlaying on each other to the point you can barely create a cohesive one. 

All you could immediately flock to was apologies to him. For not being there for him when he needed it the most. For having to have your final words to him be done through a piece of paper. Every word mattered, and you wanted to do your damnedest to convey your serenity.

Looked like what you wrote was an incohesive mess in the end when you finished. Reading line after line, you only felt the desire to crumble the paper—rip it apart into many pieces. It didn’t feel good enough. It was a mess just how you were right now.

Stopping yourself from destroying your writing you head to your locker, opening it. Sprout always frequented your locker, so it made sense for you to place it where he could find it. 

Although the note may not be how you wanted to portray yourself, it was still the version of you that truly wanted to see Sprout and keep your promise. 

If you were to rewrite and refine the note, you’d only hide how you felt to him. He deserved to know everything as best as you could provide him.

“Are you…okay?” Sam asks, appearing to have just returned to the locker room after delivering their note. 

“Y-yeah! Just..taking some time to say goodbye.” You stared at the insides of your locker one last time, taking the sight of your uniform which pillowed the note you left.

You finally closed it before grabbing your stuff and leaving with Sam.

This was goodbye.

Whether Sprout found it or not. It was up to fate.

♡ ♡ ♡

Returning to reality, you shake your head as if to clear it. “Looking at it just brings back a lot of memories, that’s all,” you reminisce, placing a hand on your uniform. “I never thought I’d see it again…” 

Dandy suddenly speaks, breaking you out of your thoughts, “You know what? Why do we take a lil quick detour?” He hands you your uniform.

Snapping his fingers the elevator pauses until it begins once again with a momentary shake of the ground. The buttons on the elevator panel light up at random almost playfully for a couple of seconds until settling on one destination.

Staff Facility

He flashes a jovial smile, “Maybe you’ll feel more at home and invested in your role with a quick change of clothes!” He states this as if you were going to ask him his reason for the change of destination. “You know what they say! It's best to dress for the job!” Upon finishing the sentence the elevator opens.

The empty hall of the staff facility for the Handlers greets you with a rainbow carpet rolled out to guide you down it. Like the previous floors, the lighting remains somewhat dim. 

Hesitating to get off the elevator, you turn to Dandy, “I don’t have to do any machines for this floor, do I?”

Your question has him bursting out laughing, prompting him to wipe a tear from his eye. “Oh, you’re such a doll, (Y/n). A true Juliet,” he remarks, recovering from his fit. “No need to worry about machines! Consider this a well-earned break!” 

A well-earned break, huh? 

You’re grateful naturally for a bit of respite, but there is that nagging part of you that is saying you haven’t earned it. You should keep burning the midnight oil until you’ve reached the final floor. You’re only delaying yourself.

Dandy hops over his stand, “And! If there are some machines, leave it to the star of the show to handle it!” He proudly puffs his chest.“I’ve been meaning to stretch these ol’ legs of mine anyway!” Reaching your side he turns to you, gesturing to the empty hall as if it’s a stage with a waiting audience, “Shall we?”

It takes him stepping out of the elevator to coax you out. Together you walk down the hall. Everything is the same, except for some of the furniture being slightly out of place and a fair number of storage boxes scattered around. 

Everything is so familiar yet it is not for you. You know the way perfectly even if the room was pitch dark. The pathway is ingrained into your mind. There’s something comforting retracing your steps. 

Standing near the wall as you walk your finger traces it, feeling the texture whether it be smooth or bumpy. It all brings you back, to the first time you walked these halls, a witless Junior Handler out of her depth. 

You pull your index finger away after collecting a thin layer of dust on the pad of it. If Tisha was here she’d be groveling on the floor about the mess and then bring her entire collection of feather dusters to tackle this. 

Wiping the dust away against your fingers you can’t help but ask, “Do the machines take up everyone’s time?”

“I guess you can say that!” Dandy replies, walking with a hop in each step. “We used to make a game of it, you know! Helped ease us into doing them!” he mentions.

“ Used to’?” you repeat what he said.

Him speaking about it in the past tense has you a bit on alert. It felt off in a sense, like walking with a small pebble in your shoe or having your sleeve rolled up when putting on a jacket. It’s almost uncomfortable how casually Dandy said it. 

He tilts his head at your words, but then shakes his head, “We’re just kinda used to it now, I mean!” He lets out a laugh that sounds forced, “Wowza! You sure do like keeping me on my toes, dontcha? You’d give Vee a run for her money!” 

“I’m sorry…?” You’re unsure if you should feel bad or offended by his words.

“Don’t be! Been a while since someone actually nitpicked what I said! I kinda missed it!” His words sound genuine. “Oh!” He stops in his tracks. “Looks like we’re here!” You’re both in front of the staff locker room. “Why don’t you get changed! I’ll wait!”

You do feel a bit bad leaving Dandy alone, but you don’t think it’s a good idea to invite him inside. You are going to change your clothes after all. It would feel more awkward having him wait inside than outside. If you did invite him you’d feel his eyes burning through the changing stall as he waits.

You’re surprised that your old uniform still fits you like a glove. Not hugging or pinching your form. It’s just…perfect. It feels silly to wear your old uniform more so when you put on your nametag.

Stepping out of the changing staff you’re met with your reflection in the mirror. You’ve never fully stopped to look at yourself. 

It’s you. 

You haven’t really changed that much. Like the hands of time have lost their hold on you, leaving you frozen in time to when you left Gardenview.

God. You feel old.

Staring at reflection you poke your cheek, watching the skin concave from the pressure before lifting as you remove your finger. You move your finger under your eye, pushing down slightly at the skin as you lean in close to the mirror. 

You look so tired. 

It’s strange looking at yourself in this mirror. You used to do it so many times getting ready for work before clocking in, fussing over how to present yourself as a Junior Handler. 

You swear you practice trying to perfect your smile way too much with this mirror too much for your own liking during the first months. A smile that appeared natural and warm enough for the visitors. 

Eventually, once you got into the rhythm of it, you just looked at the mirror for good luck, and to help you muster enough energy for the shift and the unexpected events that may occur during it.

Taking a step back from the mirror, you go to collect your clothes. Usually, you’d fold them before putting them into your locker, but currently, you don’t see any reason to do that. You could store it in your messenger bag, but it feels like it would take up too much space. 

Maybe it’s safer to keep it in the locker room for now since it appears Dandy and the others are the only ones who have access to the more private floors. You could always ask him to bring you back to this floor once you’re finished.

You’re kinda curious if your locker is unlocked, so you can store your clothes in it. Not to mention, you can’t help but wonder if the note you left for Sprout is still there. By now it’s dusty, but still dawning your handwriting.

You finally head to your locker which opens with a little tug. A tiny burst of dust invades your face, making your eyes water and causing you to cough. After wiping your eyes and swatting away the dust in the air, you can finally look inside your old locker. Empty just as you left it except. The note is missing.

Did Sprout find it?

A bit of unease sets itself in you at the idea of it. 

Why are you even stressed about it? 

It’s just a note. 

A note for Sprout to help explain everything, but was that the best you could do? Write him a goodbye note and leave at that? 

For all you know, that note could sound like you’re trying to save your own ass while trying to make yourself seem like the good guy still. A pathetic attempt to make excuses for yourself and your failures.

All those begging for his forgiveness and yet insisting you care deeply for him was just a sorry excuse to soften the blow. They probably don’t even sound genuine.

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t keep our promise. I’m sorry—‘

Honestly, the “I’m sorry”  is so goddamn repetitive that it’s lost its meaning. 

A piece of paper can’t undo everything.

He  has  every  right  to hate you.

Taking a deep breath you close your eyes, trying to clear your mind. Hugging your bag for comfort helps the process speed a bit more. 

It’s fine. You’re fine. 

You hate thinking about those things. No matter how often you try to push them away they always come back. They’re not true, but you can’t help but wonder—worry—that they may be.

Maybe it’s a good thing that Sprout found your note. You did your best to tell him how you felt and the situation. That should be enough to give you peace of mind, right? You hope he’d understand, but you wouldn’t hold it against him if he didn’t, or if he bore any animosity towards you for it.

Wiping away the dust you place your clothes inside before closing it. “I’ll be right back,” you tell your clothes just to humor yourself.

Hopefully, you can get back to this floor because you’re not sure how to tell passersby on the way home why you’re wearing a dated uniform.

As you leave the locker room Dandy who was leaning against the wall near the door notices you, “Oh boy! Talk about a blast from the past!” He snaps his finger, “It’s like nothing ever changed!” His voice as overjoyed as it sounds creates goosebumps on the back of your neck.

As kind as his gesture, giving you a small break from doing machines you’re very aware that Dandy himself is just a misstep away from shattering. You’re just entertaining his desire reliving the glory days before Gardenview’s shutdown.

Grabbing your forearm you squeeze it anxiously. “I’m surprised you’re waiting here. I kinda thought there’d be machines for you to work on,” you remark, hoping this would divert Dandy from the current topic.

“I did look around, but so far there are none! Lucky us!” he chirps. “Though… I gather the next floor will probably make us compensate for that…” he concludes, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. A laugh leaves him as he shakes his head, lamenting, “All good things come at a price.”

The floor is silent until a loud gurgle is heard. Looking at the source it’s none other than Dandy who bashfully breaks eye contact with you, whistling to himself as if he’s ignoring what happened.

“Dandy, when was the last time you ate something?” you question him. 

“Oh! Don’t worry about lil ol’ me! I’m fi—” As if to call him out for lying his stomach rumbles again, this time more persistently.

Dandy looks down at this tummy in betrayal, his face flushed.

Holding in a laugh you decide to propose, “Let’s go see if there’s anything for you to eat. I’m kinda getting hungry myself.”

Maybe the lounge area has something?

As you head down to that place with Dandy in tow you can’t help but ask, “What have you been eating?” Reaching the door to the lounge room you open it for Dandy to enter first.

“Just Basic Flakes cereal!”

“Basic Flakes…?”

The Junior Handler in you is screaming inside. There’s nothing wrong with eating cereal, but it grows into a concern when that becomes your only sustenance. There are only so many nutrients the vitamins and minerals in the cereal can provide. 

It makes you cringe when you look back to you mostly eating granola and protein bars for your lunch break. You can still hear the long scolding Sprout gave you when he found out that was all you had been eating. 

Entering the lounge you quickly reach the mini kitchen that was used for making coffee. There’s gotta be something here for Dandy to eat because you’ll be damned for letting him maintain his cereal diet.

While opening each cabinet you opt to ignore the ‘We Thank Our Toon Handlers’. You’ll never understand why they never updated the portraits with the Junior Handlers. Everyone was excited for the photoshoot after all. 

Shelly was polishing her shell and helping Vee with her screen. Sprout was even trying to style his leaves differently, though he ended up going with his usual hairstyle.

You’re somewhat ashamed that you made a fuss with Sam, tidying them up for the photo, but they were oddly amused by your efforts. Maybe that’s why they smiled in the photo. But it’s not like anyone will ever see it. All the hard work put in by all the Handlers was in vain after all.

Checking the last cabinet all you can find is instant coffee and more instant coffee…. 

“Crap…” you mutter to yourself. “No luck.”

“Aw, that's okay! What matters is that you tried!”

Sighing, you concur, “I guess, but I don’t wanna leave you with an empty stomach when I go back to my task.” You then realise something, “Do you think the diner has stuff I can use to whip up something for you?”

“Actually we do! We sometimes get shipments of materials for it!” he informs you. “B-but you don’t gotta trouble yourself with making something! I can probably snatch some—”

“No cereal,” you chide, cutting him off unintentionally. “I’m gonna make you something.”

“No! You really don’t have to!” he insists to which you push back.

“One good thing deserves another,” you repeat what he said to you in the elevator when you first reunited with him.

 This is enough to convince him to follow along with your antic, returning to the elevator and resuming your journey. 

Floor 7

Dandy anxiously shuffles his feet as the elevator descends. You do feel a tad bad for making him this way with your stubborn declaration. 

You’re not even sure if the floor you’ll reach currently will be one of the diners. You’ll make yourself look like a self-righteous fool if you don’t. But at least, it’s the thought that counts, or so you’d like to think.

To your relief, when the elevator door opens the floor is luckily one of the diners.

“Why don’t you look for the machines and finish most of them while I get to work?” you propose. “I’ll make you your favorite Gardenview sunnyside egg!”

Breakfast always was Dandy’s favorite meal of the day according to Sprout.

Dandy laughs amused, “You don’t gotta bribe me, you know! I’m happy to help!” He eagerly leaves the kitchen but just before he does he turns to you swiftly, “Just…be careful. Okay?” He then leaves, giving you no time to reply.

Before getting to work you try to figure out what ingredients are on hand. Opening the fridge you’re surprised that there’s milk, eggs, and butter inside. The interior of the fridge is cold too, preserving it. 

Just to make sure the contents are still good you inspect the best by date. You’d rather be careful than open a carton of milk and be assaulted by the rancid stench. So far, all the dates have been checked out. All items have been bought recently.

Closing the fridge you check the pantry. There are dry ingredients like bags of flour and sugar, but due to them being opened and their contents spilling onto the floor maybe it’s best you don’t use them. 

Personally, if you were cooking for yourself and only yourself maybe you’d use it, but you’d rather not gain Dandy’s ire for using floor sugar and flour for his food. Hopefully, the pantry still has some unopened ingredients.

Walking past both the ‘U’ shaped counters and making sure you don’t step on any of the items on the floor you walk straight towards the shelves. There’s certainly a lot of condiments like ketchup and mustard stored. There’s also a machine almost blocked from view by one of the wooden shelves. 

Looks like Dandy hasn’t found or touched this one yet since it’s empty and the machine’s light is glowing a bright red almost as if to call attention to itself urgently. Moving on you check the other shelves and spot a small bag of unopened sugar and flour on the top section of a metal shelf.

“Perfect!” 

You’re about to grab the pair until you notice a piece of paper folded and partially covered in ichor peeking from under the shelf. Picking it up you do your best to unfold the paper slowly to reveal its contents. You’re trying not to rip it apart with the dried ichor nearly gluing it together. 

It’s your note.

Why is it here of all places?

Despite how it appeared and where you found it, it’s in good condition. There are small crinkles on the paper and the edges are chipped but care was put into handling it. The fold creases also indicate that it was constantly opened and closed like it was constantly read before it was abandoned. 

The only question you have is: why is your note stained with ichor? It’s almost akin to a handprint holding it. 

You pocket your note inside your bag before carrying the dry ingredients to the main kitchen. With these ingredients, you could make breakfast for dinner. Pancakes with bacon and eggs maybe? Not the most ideal meal, but it certainly beats eating cereal for dinner. Not to mention, it is quick and more filling.

With that in mind, you rush to collect all the extra materials needed. Luckily, you know the pancake recipe that Sprout taught you like the back of your hand.

“Flour, baking soda and powder, eggs, butter…” You take inventory of each ingredient needed, trailing off.

The recipe itself is simple, the only slightly tedious part is separating the egg yolks and whites, and then whipping the egg whites until you have stiff peaks. 

Retrieving the measuring spoons and cups you open the drawer where they usually house them. Opening the drawer you’re met with another piece of paper. This one is in better condition than your note most likely due to it being sheltered in the drawer. There is a light layer of dust, but it is more intact nonetheless.

It looks similar to the small notes Sprout would leave you in your locker, and when you pick it up it confirms your suspicions.

It’s in Sprout’s handwriting. 

‘Welcome back, (Y/n)!’

A sharp pain pierces your heart at the sight of his note. Those simple, kind words are enough to make your entire body shake and your eyes to gloss over with tears. Feels like a heavy weight is pressing down on your shoulders as you linger on the thought.

He was waiting for you. 

And you never came back. 

You hold the note close to you while holding back a sob. “I’ll make things right. I promise… ” is all you can say. 

Carefully you place the note in your bag like how you did with the other one. Trying to busy your mind to not dwell on your grief you get to work on preparing the food.

As a sanitary precaution, you opt to wash the bowls and utensils quickly. Even if you dusted off the dust you’d rather not tempt fate.

DING~!

You look up from the sink and through the window you see Dandy finishing up a machine. In the corner outside of the kitchen, he turns away from the machine tucked against the corner, spotting you he smiles and waves before dashing to the next machine lurking around the diner.

Once you finish drying the dishes, you bring them all to where the ingredients are, combining the dry ingredients in a bowl. With the stove, you put the butter in a pot until it melted. You pour milk into a measuring cup and about a couple of tablespoons of vinegar to create buttermilk. 

Letting the buttermilk prepare, you use this time to then carefully separate the egg whites and yolks, transferring the egg whites to a bigger bowl so you can beat them with a whisk. Now, that is the part you dread the most even when you first learned the recipe. You often use a hand mixer for this task but without one available you’ll need to do it by hand. 

How Sprout could do it effortlessly by hand in the blink of an eye you’ll never understand, but if he could do it so could you! Fortifying your resolve you do your best to feverishly whisk the egg whites until they form stiff peaks. 

Setting them aside you then whisk the buttermilk and butter with the separated egg yolks together, allowing you to then stir it in with the dry ingredients. You make sure not to over-mix it to avoid the pancakes becoming chewy. Finally, you fold the egg whites into the batter, letting it then rest as you preheat the pan.

DING~!

DING~!

Dandy sure is fast at extracting machines faster than you. Then again, this is his home. It’s natural for him to recall the location of every machine on each floor. So far he’s done three which means there may be one left to go.

By now the pan is hot enough for you to pour the batter. In the midst of cooking a couple of pancakes, you begin to ponder; what would happen if you added a chocolate bar to one of your pancakes. A strange thought to have as you stand waiting to flip the pancake to cook the other side. 

You don’t have chocolate chips and so far the candies you’ve snacked on haven’t let you astray. Maybe you could break down the chocolate bar and add it—

“Nope, nope, we’re not doing that,” you scold yourself, trying to fan away the intrusive thought.

Dear god, your palette is becoming more and more like Yatta’s by the hour. You still remember her requesting Sprout and Cosmo they put sour gummies and jelly beans in a cake, devouring it within five minutes. You're still impressed she energetically performed so many flips and back-flips without feeling sick. She promptly had an intense sugar high and then a sugar crash.

You continue to finish making each pancake, stacking them on each other with a plate. With a little bit of batter left and not wanting to waste it, you swiftly make a mini pancake. Usually, when you made one in the past you’d sneak it to Pebble while nobody was watching.

Done with the pancakes you work on the bacon and eggs, cooking up the bacon and then using the grease to cook the eggs. 

DING~!

Another machine done? 

How many times did you hear minutes ago? Three? Now four? That doesn’t make sense usually by then when the fourth one is complete the elevator would open, and looking back to said elevator it’s still shut tight. This shouldn’t be possible unless…

There’s a fifth machine.

You can feel a bit of panic unearth in your mind, but you do your best to pat it down. 

This is fine. I just have three more floors to go. It’s just an extra machine after!

It does unnerve you that the pattern you’ve grown accustomed to for hours has shifted, but it’s just a minor change. There is no need to act ground under you is crumbling.

Dandy enters the kitchen with a skip to his step. “Phew! That’s most of them!” he announces. “Mmm! Smells good! I take it that the food’s ready?”

“Oh!” you exclaim, your attention drawn to him. “Y-yeah!” You almost forgot about the eggs on the pan. With that done all the food is plated. “Do you wanna eat here or find somewhere to eat?”

“Hmm,” Dandy thoughtfully rubs his chin. “I don’t see why we shouldn’t make use of the diner’s seating!” He waltzes to the counter, taking the plates holding the pancakes, bacon, and eggs. “I’ll go find us somewhere to sit!”

“I’ll get us some plates and utensils for us, then,” you state.

Finding the required items you take a pair of them before leaving the kitchen. Thankfully, Dandy didn’t choose the seating too far away, choosing the booth that was in front of the kitchen’s exit. 

You’re certain he went ahead and ate some of the pancakes due to a fair amount already missing like your mini-pancake, but you don’t question that matter. It’s good that he’s eating. At least it’s not cereal.

Putting down the plates and utensils you take your seat, grabbing the food on the plates. 

Dandy is eager to take a plentiful amount his little hands can grab with his fork. “It’s been a while since I had something like Cosmo and Sprout’s cooking!” He marvels at the pancakes before taking a bite, “I missed eating these!” 

He scarfs them down and retrieves more. His eyes are practically beaming with joy like he’s found an oasis in the desert.

“Careful, you’ll get a stomach ache if you eat too fast,” you advise him, eating your own portion.

“I will, I will!” he promises. “But they’re sooo good!!”

You laugh, amused by his reaction. You’re glad your cooking is still edible. It feels nice cooking for someone. It’s been a while since you did that. The sweet, buttery, and fluffy texture of the pancakes is even more rewarding. You didn’t realise how much you missed making these.

“Say! Whatever happened to the other Handlers?” he queries, taking another bite of his food. “Are you still in contact with all of them?”

“I…lost touch with everyone,” you tell him. “Everyone was so busy trying to find new jobs after what happened, and when we did we never really had time to hang out since we were located in vast areas.”

Your brain fails to properly recall in all honesty. It’s like a TV screen blaring static when it has no signal. Or maybe you just didn’t make the effort to reach out to all of them, pushing them away.

It’s what you do best, after all.

“(Y/n)?” Dandy calls out to you, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Sorry! Zoned out for a bit!” You resume eating.

A frown lingers on his face as he looks at you, leaving you two in awkward silence until he speaks up again. “Weird having the diner so empty. Dontcha think?” Dandy remarks, looking around the diner. “No wonder you haven’t found any capsules yet.”

“Sorry about not being able to find them,” you tell them jokingly.

“You’re still doing your part! I wouldn’t be so hard on yourself!” He tries to cheer you up. “It’s just. I’ve never seen a floor so…vacant.” Before you can ask he laughs it off, “Look at me talking your ear off! I’ll pipe down so the food doesn’t get cold!”

The both of you remain silent as you eat, but despite that seeing that Dandy’s enjoying your cooking is enough for you. It makes you feel warm inside like you did a good thing.

Eventually, all the plates are empty, and you and Dandy clear the table, then work together to wash the plates. By the time you’re drying the final dish, Dandy is already gone to finish the last machine. 

When the elevator door opens you head inside, and Dandy is already dashing towards the kitchen, having come from the pantry. Once he’s entered the elevator door closes.

Floor 8

Looking at the lit-up button that announced the destination Dandy purses his lips, hopping over the table to return to his stand.

“I usually have new stock by now, but considering our little detour…”

“Oh yeah…” you grimace. 

Dandy usually pops up in his shop with new goods to sell.

“Sorry about that.”

“Now there’s no need for that!” Dandy pouts as if offended. “You’ve done plenty of that!” he states. “Besides! I think we both needed a nice change of pace!” He goes quiet, humming to himself. “Okay!” he clasps his hands. “I’ve made up my mind! To compensate for the lack of new inventory I’ll toss in a ten percent discount!”

“Are you sure about that?”

You feel like since you’re his only customer he’s losing more than he’s gaining. Your mini-quest by him was to get as many tapes after all.

“Of course,” he assures you. “Think of it as my thank you for the warm meal!” When he sees the reluctance on your face he pouts, “Look, just let me thank you!”

“Okay, okay,” you accept his offer.

“Splendid!” He pulls the red lever to lower himself, waving goodbye. “I’ll make sure to have fresh goods for you! Thanks for the meal!”

And just like that he’s gone, leaving you alone in the elevator until it finally stops on the next floor.

Floor 9

Okay! So far five machines aren’t that bad. Then again the greenhouse is more open which leaves no proper place for the machines to hide. One more floor after this one and you can go home. And potentially return and do this all over again….But it’s fine! It’s nothing you can handle on your own!

Waiting for the door to open you can only plan out your course of action. Looking inside your bag you check the inventory. So far you’ve used your jumper cables last floor just to see how they’d work, and as Dandy advertised they filled the machine a decent amount which sped up the progress. 

As for the valve. How do you exactly use it? Feels like an impulse buy on your part, but it could fill a machine instantly. How could you resist? But maybe you should have asked Dandy how it worked. Your best guess is that it might be some extension or add-on for the machine’s main valve.

The elevator stops and rambles open to reveal another familiar sight.

The play area?

Taking one step out of the elevator the lights buzz and hiss above you, dimming slightly before flickering back to normal. With one last violent hiss, the floor is engulfed in complete darkness. The only source of light is from the elevator which gives you a limited view of the floor. 

What do you do? Do you just go back in the elevator before it closes and try another floor? You don’t know exactly what would happen if you reenter the elevator, considering you can’t control it like Dandy can. Before you can make any conclusion the elevator door closes, and any sliver of light provided to you is snapped away from you.

It’s dark now. You can barely see a thing—more or less your hand. 

Crap, crap, crap.

This isn’t good.

This is worse than the first floor you accidentally stumbled upon. It already took some time to get used to the lighting.

Trying to recall where exactly you are, all you can remember is the playground and jungle gym to your left and the see-saw to the right. So far you can tell you’re on the pavement still which can help you find your way back thankfully.

If memory serves you right before the lights went out there was a machine right between the swing sets.

“Okay, (Y/n), just locate the other machines and get the hell out of here,” you tell yourself, taking a deep breath.

You can’t see any other machines nearby via the bright red light which isn’t the most ideal situation. Your best bet is that they’re on the opposite side where the stage and gazebo are. That takes care of that.

Trying to follow the paved path is difficult, a result of you walking into stacks of wooden boxes. Who the hell decided to put them there?! 

As your eyes adjust to the darkness thanks to the skylight you can gain purchase of your surroundings mostly. You can now still see the grand center tree with moonlight over its abundance of foliage.

A gust of ice breezes past your form, creating goosebumps on your skin. Your stomach anxiously bubbles and churns. 

Something doesn’t feel right.

As you stare past the tree and into the desolate void you swear you could see something tall and lanky, trudging in the back by the gazebo. 

Perhaps it could be your eyes tricking you like the first time? The brain is notorious for playing tricks when mixed with isolation and the dark. 

But you stop the closer you get to the tree, hearing moving faintly. It sounds nearly foreign to you. But it’s akin to stomping on crisp grass and a mix of uprooting a plant with a violent pull. 

You try to reason with yourself that it is once again your mind toying with your psyche, and you force yourself to continue despite the heavy sensation in your gut. Only when you hear guttural groans and heavy breathing do you stop. It’s like they’re struggling to breathe.  

Those alone are enough to make the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and your heart pace a bit fast. 

You’re not alone.

When you see the figure pause and turn towards the tree—right in your direction. Slowly, circle around the tree to avoid being spotted by it. Its footsteps are loud enough to nearly make your heart stop hearing as if the ground under it is unearthing. The sounds it makes don’t help as it can now fully echo in your ear.

Out of curiosity, you peek slightly as it passes the tree and potentially walks to the swingsets. It’s imposing. Enough to tower over and crush you if it desired with its large left hand that it is long enough to nearly drag against the floor. Its crimson eye is prominent enough that you can see it through the darkness even with its head bowed.

What is it?

How did something like that get inside Gardenview?

You can already hear a voice in the back of your head to run and get out of the floor as fast as possible. To avoid whatever that is.

You quickly and carefully rush to where the theater is when it sounds like the figure is about to turn around, trying to avoid any metal shelves and boxes that were laid out. With how vast the play area feels, you’ll never find or reach the mini-theater. The blackout isn’t helping this sensation either.

The indication you’re near your destination is when you’ve reached the side stairs of the stage. Walking onto the stairs you take refuge backstage, slipping past the dusty velvet curtains. Before you did so, however, you briefly peeked inside, spotting a machine hidden in each corner.

Entering the backstage you feel your foot hit something, resulting in the unknown item rolling against a large set of boxes in the middle of the room. 

The noise shouldn’t be loud to rouse the creature’s attention, but with how mute the floor is it’s practically deafening. What did you kick? Approaching where it now rests you see a…capsule?

Whose capsule is it?

You finally found one, but why is there a sense of dread pin-prickling your back? Do you really want to know?

Glancing at the machine’s light you decide to find out for yourself whose capsule this is. The light should be enough for the film wrapped around it to reveal which Toon it could be. Unfolding the film a bit you hold it up to the light. 

A familiar figure with a strawberry-shaped head and bright smile. 

Sprout 

A part of your mind frays at this discovery, trying to send multiple signals of emotions. Logic urging you to trudge on while emotion threatens to drag you down with an array of guilt and grief as tears sting your eyes.

“It’s okay,” you quietly murmur. “Just breathe .”

You’ve already found three of them. All you need is to find the last two. Focus on the task at hand. Putting away the capsule in your bag you steel your nerves to continue your search. 

Going near the curtains you hear the creature’s footsteps close by, and when you glance quickly outside. It’s walking up the stairs and towards the curtains.

Crap. Crap. Crap.

You’re practically boxed in. 

Hastily you hide behind the large pile of stacked wooden boxes before the creature enters, sitting down to compact yourself. The curtains part when it does and the wooden flooring creaks under it with every step. It further enters backstage heading to the machine to your left. 

You have to scoot to the right side of the boxes to avoid its line of sight. What is it doing? Peeking from the side of the boxes, it’s staring at the machine. 

You lean forward to get a better view. The red light from the machine aids in providing more detail to the creature. Strange there’s something almost—

 Leaning in closer the wooden panels creak slightly. Its head then snapped towards the direction of the sound, letting out a haunting groan. 

You retreat behind your hiding spot immediately. Even for a split moment when its eye looks to where you are, your blood is threatening to freeze over. Those brief seconds of your eyes meeting felt like it could see right into your soul. 

Risking another peek the creature remains where it's stationed, thankfully no longer looking in your direction. Maybe it’s safe to sneak out? Slowly and quietly you tip-toe towards the exit. All appears to be in the clear until.

Creeeeak.

With an ear-piercing screech from the creature, you jump off the stage, bolting away blindly in the darkness. Cursing to yourself, you hear its footsteps follow you feverishly. Looking behind you’re still being pursued, its glowing eye pinned on you with its arms outstretched.

You’re not certain where you’re running, simply dodging and weaving through the boxes and metal shelves left carelessly on the floor. Only when you dive into one of the bushes’ foliage do you eventually get it off your tail. When it stops and releases an annoyed gurgle it walks elsewhere. 

It’s still nearby as if surveying the grounds now. 

Should you risk it?

You can’t stay in your hiding spot forever. You’ll never leave this floor at that rate. Bracing yourself, you untangle yourself from the bush, trying to ignore the little scratches razed on your face. 

Where exactly are you now? You’ve lost heads or tails from how frantic you ran. You’ve had to have at least run across the entire floor with how winded you are.

Yet despite how lost you felt there was something familiar about it? Turning around you’re met with two machines that light a wooden structure in front of them. A structure you know far too well. The gazebo. The same place you used during the first time you played ‘flower-go-seek’ with Sprout and the children. 

Stopping yourself from reminiscing, you remind yourself that you need to start working on the machines now that you’ve found all of them.

Going behind the gazebo, you hesitate, the creature's footsteps not too far from where you are now. They’re almost faster? It’s bad enough the creature is already lurking.

Get it over as fast as you can.

Kneeling you try to make quick work on the machine. The Ichor sluggishly pours out from the pipe.

Come on, come on!

You almost want to pull at the valve in hopes of coaxing more Ichor, but that’s practically a death sentence if the machine makes noise. Your heart is violently bashing against your chest, growing anxious and impatient.

Every second you look around behind you out of paranoia. The quick glances don’t help much with the darkness, and any distant shapes from afar are incohesive which can leave your mind to jump to conclusions. 

Not to mention, you’re also on a machine, needing to pay attention as you extract. All you can do is make blind guesses and attempt to take mental notes of the creature’s movement when you decide to focus on the machine.

Soon the machine is almost filled to the brim, the ichor close to reaching the top. All you need to do is finish this one and go on to the next—

You feel something cold drip onto your left shoulder. It doesn’t feel like a water drop. It’s more like a glop with how thick it is, yet soaking through your shirt and unpleasantly compressing against your skin. Your body jolts in response to the sensation, which worsens when you hear heavy breathing above you. 

You’re frozen like a statue; scared to acknowledge what is behind you. Forcing yourself to look, low behold the creature, hunched down and towering over you. Its crimson eye pinned on you as its arms appeared to be ready to attack. Over its right shoulder is a tendril that still drips an unknown substance.

You feel so small under it. Utterly helpless. Immense dread drowns you.

How did it find you?

With the machine’s red light and the creature now close, you can properly see it. You recognise those features despite how they’ve twisted. Green leaves, that white scarf with pink stripes, and those freckles on his cheek although they’re partially covered in ichor.

The sight alone is enough to stab needles into your weary heart.

This cruel sick travesty that fate bestowed upon you almost makes you want to laugh ironically at it.

Of course, it had to be him.

He always did have a knack for finding you. 

No matter where you are.

Chapter Text

It’s him. It has to be. There’s no doubt in your mind that it isn’t him. 

Sprout.

What happened to him? His leaves are overgrown, he’s mostly covered in ichor, the scarf he always had wrapped around him has formed into a tendril, and his only visible crimson eye oozes out ichor. 

The way he’s looking wildly at you with laser focus. It’s a mix of a predator hunting its prey, focused on its own survival, and a rabid animal, erratic and vicious. The emptiness and threatening glint in his eye are enough to tell you one thing.

He doesn’t recognise you.

Your eyes are locked onto each other, both unmoving, like waiting for one or the other to make a move. You can hear your mind screaming.

Run.

Run.

RUN.

But you might as well be a marionette with its string cut off, unable to move a muscle, no matter your attempts.

In seconds, Sprout snatches you, slamming you harshly against the wall. His normal hand holds you by your neck, pressing you high up into the cold wall as your head spins from the impact. 

You desperately kick against his torso for freedom, clawing his hand that’s wrapped around your neck. Your airway is being crushed shut. You need to get out of his grasp before you run out of air. 

No matter what you did, it doesn’t seem to faze Sprout. He’s simply staring at you, bearing witness to your fruitless struggle. With his large, clawed hand, he retracts it almost as if preparing to strike. His claws curled apart, ready to slice open your flesh.

Prying his hand in hopes of freeing yourself remains ineffective, even as your nails dug into his skin, causing ichor to bleed out. You need to do something quick. 

In a moment of desperation, you rummage through your bag, searching for something, anything to use. All items that make contact with your fingertips slip away from your frantic movement. Still, you keep trying in hopes of grabbing something to defend yourself.

Your vision is slowly getting splotchy, and your head is growing dizzy while Sprout tightens his hold on your neck. You’re not sure what’s going to get you first, him snapping your neck or him mauling you into an unrecognisable bloody mass.

Finally, you managed to grab hold of something. The research capsule is still full to the brim with ichor. You only have one shot. Mess up, then you’re done for. 

You shouldn’t hesitate. You hate yourself for doing so, but this was the Toon you grew to care for. The same Toon that would scold you for not eating enough, and go out of his way to make sure you did. He may not recognise you anymore, but it’s still Sprout in some semblance. You don’t want to hurt him. But in the end, it’s you or him. 

Tightening your grip on the capsule, you pull your arm back as far as the wall allows you. With all your might and strength you can muster, you throw the capsule into Sprout’s face. Upon impact, the capsule shatters against his face, ichor splattering over him in the process.

A loud screech erupts from him, but it loosens his grip to allow you to wrestle yourself out of his grasp. Immediately, you fall to the ground and scramble onto your feet to get away from him. Before you can, a puddle of ichor forms, and a tendril erupts out with a jolt in front of you, boxing you in with Sprout, whose face is dripping with ichor.

Wanting to avoid being in his grasp again, you decide to brace yourself and run through the puddle. As soon as your foot crosses the ichor puddle, the tendril lashes at you, making instant contact. A sharp, scalding pain rippled from your left shoulder, but you didn’t let that stop you.

And so you ran.

And he gave chase.

You’re not sure where to go. Just anywhere. Anywhere that will get you away from him, bumping into the obstacles in your attempt, until you’re met with the playground. Running up the narrow stairs to higher grounds to take refuge in one of the crawl tubes.

Never in your life did you expect to hide in a playground like your life depended on it, but it appears fate takes pleasure in proving you wrong. At least it’s spacious enough for you to sit to recollect your thoughts on the recent events, but you’re not sure what to feel as you are sitting on the ground, hugging your knees. 

Feels like you just got splashed with icy water after taking a warm shower. Adrenaline is pumping into your veins, on high alert. Your entire system doesn’t know how to process it. 

It doesn’t make sense. Why is Sprout like this? How did this happen? You try to piece the puzzles together frantically to see the logic of how such a feat would be possible, but only wind up running into dead ends.

Perhaps it’s simply you still caring for him in some shape, despite it all, but it hurts to see him like this. Feel like you’re going mad feeling this way for someone who, not too long ago, hurt you. You almost feel like a fool for trying to find the reason for his actions, but the look in his eye is enough for you to know he’s not fully aware when doing his actions.

What do you do? 

He’s lurking around the playground now as if he’s actively searching for you, like a shark that’s allured by the sweet scent of blood from a poor, injured soul. You can’t hide forever. One way or another, he’ll find a way to you. He always does.

You just need to play it smart and keep as much distance between you and Sprout as possible. If Sprout can slowly detect you, then that means you can only stay in a certain area for a short amount of time. 

You were damn lucky that his capsule was enough to free you. Unless you find another one around the floor, if he catches you, this floor will be your grave. 

Attempting to configure a plan, you recall all the machines' locations. The theater, gazebo, and the swing sets. With Sprout nearby, he’ll be able to catch you if you do the swings first, and you’ll forfeit your closest escape route. 

Best to get the closed-off areas like the theater out of the way as fast as possible. Which means…

Rummaging through your bag, you find the valve you bought. Thank god it didn’t stumble into your possession when trying to escape Sprout. You squeeze it for reassurance before returning it to your bag. If you can get the valve to work on the machine, then you’ll be able to focus on only one machine in the theaters. 

Taking a deep breath, you decide to follow through with the plan. Now, how do you get down? You could use the way you came, but Sprout is near it like he’s waiting for you to come down.

The pole? You’re not sure if you can hold on long enough with the stinging pain in your shoulder. The adrenaline is making it dull, but you dread it when it wears off and forces you to feel the brunt of the pain. 

You’re glad that it’s dark because you’re not excited to see the damage done. The slight tear on your shirt where you were hit is not exactly comforting. Not to mention, how wet your gloves’ fingertips are when you briefly touch that area

The only thing left for you to use as an escape route is the slides; the closet slide towards the theater is that swirly slide. 

Dear god. You can’t believe you’re doing this. 

Keeping your head low, you sneak across the playground’s panels, passing the mini corridor and going up the stairs right where the slide is. 

Sprout so far hasn’t discovered you yet; then again, you’re on high ground. For all you know, you might as well be confusing the hell out of him.

Plopping yourself down and lining up properly, you slide down. Your body swerves around the curves of the slide in your speedy journey, but thankfully, it did not yield any noise to alert Sprout. This would have been fun if you weren’t enveloped in complete darkness, and the Toon you grew close with didn’t try to kill you.

You nearly slide off the slide’s edge when you’re out. 

Getting up from the slide, you hurry to the theater. You only have so much time before Sprout might arrive. All you have to do is get the valve working, and you’ll have one less machine to think about. 

Picking the machine to your left as soon as you enter the backstage area, you retrieve the valve. Kneeling, you try to figure out how to get it to work. Do you remove the machine’s valve? Doesn’t make sense. There’s nowhere to put it.

You search everywhere for a plausible area to place the valve. There was a panel at the bottom where you used your jumper cables on the last floor where the ‘staff only’ sticker is. All you have to do is press the panel against the other ones to unlock it. 

Upon doing so, the panel comes off, revealing the wiring used to circulate electricity to the machine’s lightbulb, but showing no space where to place the valve. 

Cursing under your breath, you cover the wiring with the panel. There’s gotta be somewhere in the machine. You swear that if you just got scammed by Dandy, you’re going to haunt him for causing your death. 

You haven’t checked the machine’s light. Why would you? But maybe just maybe there’s something hidden inside. If not, you’ll simply deem yourself insane and then extract as per normal, and use the valve as a blunt object to defend yourself.

Reaching out to the glass is warm but not hot to the touch. With a simple pull like it’s a door, it reveals the four small yet powerful light bulbs embedded, and in the center is a hollowed-out hole that appears could fit your valve. 

Hoping for the best, you bring the valve to the chamber. Slowly, without resistance, the valve slips inside with a little, soft hiss, and it interlocks with the machine. As soon as it’s in, the red valve spins with zeal, and Ichor pours out into the machine feverishly, almost instantly. 

DING~!

The light from the machine goes from red to green, complementing the red valve now. 

You make a mental note that you need to apologize to Dandy after doubting him. 

You try to see if you could pull out the valve, but it is now fixed in place, seeming to have made itself at home. A one-time use like the cables, too, it seems. After closing the glass lid for the machine, you make your way to the next machine. 

Once this machine is done, you’ll technically only have two machines left, considering one of the machines behind the gazebo was close to completion before Sprout found you.

Turning the valve, you get to work, and the Ichor spills out and fills up the machine. You try to remain alert to your surroundings. How Sprout managed to sneak up behind you is beyond you. You blame yourself for zoning out as you did the machine, because of that, it nearly cost your life. 

Did he sneak behind you? Purposefully quiet his footsteps? 

It’s like even though Sprout is not mentally there, he’s following muscle memory. More specifically, memories of your time with him playing flower-go-seek. 

The gazebo—your first hiding place when you first joined the game. The theater—the safe zone. 

Maybe this is also some kind of game for him.

It is almost humorous in a morbid way.

“You’re still competitive till the end, aren’t you, Sprout Seedly?” you murmur with a pathetic laugh.

You almost wonder if he can still sense where you are. You entertained the idea when he first found you, and it would make sense, but you don’t want that to be true because that means no matter if you hide, he’ll know exactly where you are. 

Finishing up the machine, it lets out a —

DING~!

Two machines down! Three to go!

You’re about to leave until you hear Sprout’s footsteps in front of the stage.

No! No, no, no, no!

Not again!

Hiding behind the boxes, you hold your breath. As an extra precaution, you cover your mouth in fear of making any noise when Sprout gets closer. 

He enters backstage, standing in front of the boxes. You wish you could make yourself smaller. He remains standing in front of your hiding spot. The wooden flooring creaks under him as he shifts his weight. 

Your heart is beating so fast that it hurts, crashing against your chest with such intensity that you fear that if it beats any faster, it’ll explode. It’s already thundering in your eardrums to the point it’s almost deafening. You’re afraid that Sprout can hear it.

Please just leave…!

You hug your knees as close as possible to compact yourself, in hopes that the smaller you appear, the less chance of being discovered. 

Your one regret is allowing your fear to sink its sharp talons into you, coaxing you to get up as fast as possible as you try to race out of the backstage. The terrible shriek Sprout releases as you pass by him is faint, with your blood roaring in your ears. 

Get away from here.

Get away from here!

You’re about to jump off the stage in a desperate attempt to escape Sprout, but you hear a loud roar as if something has been violently unearthed, erupting from behind you. Suddenly, something ensnares itself around your ankle, whipping you away from your escape route and catapulting you backstage. 

The only padding provided for you is the wooden boxes, which splinter and shatter upon impact. Your eyes are locked on Sprout, who is looking back at you unblinkingly while you collide with the boxes. Time feels as if it slows down, unable to keep up with the pace of your heart. Broken wood chips and slivers of splinters appear as if they’re frozen in mid-air while they scatter about. The further you get closer to the ground, the items that were once safely residing inside the wooden boxes also fly out. Time only resumes when you fully land on the floor.

Air is knocked out of your lungs, and you have to gasp out to regain it. Your body rings with pain like a bell being struck. Your limbs feel numb. It takes a couple of seconds for your double vision to realign, recovering from the daze of the crash landing.

Sprout’s visible eye is dead set on you, trudging towards you, his menacing left hand dragging across the floor. There’s not much for you to do, only throwing the wooden shards and items that surround you, which do nothing, bouncing off him as he gets closer to you. He looms over you, almost face to face with you.

Frantically grabbing a thick shard of wood, you swing it at him, but another tendril appears to grab hold of your wrist. The tendril tightens punishingly around your wrist like a vice, like it’s trying to menace you into releasing your poor excuse of a weapon. It burns. Like barbed wire burying into your skin. 

It only loosens when you release your weapon, but as it drops, you grasp it with your other hand, swiftly slashing near Sprout’s face. He releases a shrill scream from this small gash under his visible eye, oozing out ichor. 

This is enough to free you from the tendril, allowing you to attempt to escape him. Just as you make it to the main stage and are greeted by moonlight, your form is seized away from it. Your right arm is suddenly grabbed, and you’re violently pulled back with such force that it risks popping your arm out of place.

Sprout might as well break your bone because it feels like it's slowly cracking under the pressure. It hurts. Make it stop. Make it stop.

Staring into his unblinking eye brings you no comfort, especially when he holds you up by your arm like a doll. Your body is screaming in pain as the joints connecting your arm to your shoulder are threatening—no—on the verge of popping out of their sockets if he keeps holding you like this any longer. 

He brings you closer, and his gurgling and heavy breathing make your stomach churn while maintaining eye contact with him as he treks onto the stage. With the moonlight acting as a spotlight, you can see the gash you gave him under his eye has ceased bleeding, but you notice that the ichor flooding out of the wound is receding back into it, flesh webbing close together. 

Trying to free yourself, you’re trying to kick at Sprout, but much like earlier with your previous encounter with him, it does little to nothing.

“Let me go!”

Perhaps in some sick way, he understood you. Because the next thing you know, you’re flung away carelessly off the stage.

As you're thrown off the stage, your body thuds onto the pavement, still tumbling from the momentum. You feel your head crack against the cold concrete pavement while your body rolls on the ground. Once your body stops rolling, you go limp. 

♡ ♡ ♡

“Gotcha!” Sprout shouts out, smiling brightly at his recent catch and victory. “I win!”

The roar of children cheering on Sprout versus you is, as always, mute whenever you’re in this sort of position. Both are partially exhausted from the chase, with your attention both focused on each other. 

Staring up at him with him on top of you after a rough roll around the grass, you can’t help but roll your eyes. He’s certainly getting more comfortable tackling you and pinning your arms during flower-go-seek. All for the sake of these damn petals decorating these flag-belts. The blood in your veins is boiling for getting caught once more, but not just that.

In the midst of trying to regain your breath, you say in annoyance, “Y-you know, saving me for last is starting to get really cheesy.”

Sprout takes your gripe in stride with a laugh, “Oh come on~! That's the fun part for me!” He wraps a free hand around one of your petals from your belt. “Plus! It’s always fun, seeing how far you get!” he remarks. “I’d gotta say, this is probably the farthest you've gone!” 

“One of these days, I’ll outrun you. I swear,” you vow with a pout.

Time and time again, every time you join this game, Sprout opts to save you for last. He doesn’t even hide struggling to find you. As soon as he catches what he can, he dashes in your direction. You’d like to think that during these countless games, your stamina or speed has improved, but Sprout inevitably catches you with zeal.

“I’d like to see that~!” he teases, giving a gentle pull to the petal in his hand to let the belt around you unravel from your form until it fully slips off into his possession. 

There’s shameless pride in his voice as if he knows you’re not going to be able to outrun him any time soon. You are a tad bitter in his confidence, but it is also due to you being tired of the taste of defeat saturating your tongue.

“Oh, screw you, Sprout Seedly,” you say to him in a mix of mirth and annoyance.

“That sounds like an offer.”

“W-what?” Those words are enough to cleanse your palate of bitterness. 

Did Sprout seriously say that…?

You’re not sure if your head hit the ground so hard that you've misheard him. Those kinds of words almost feel foreign to you when Sprout said it. Your brain feels akin to when Vee short-circuits after slipping and falling on a puddle of water. Heat is washing over you, and your heart paces, but you cannot pinpoint the reason. The closest is that you’re in a cloud of shock and daze, unsure of what to feel. 

Sprout realises his words and the implications, his cheeks turning a dark red. “Oh gosh! I-I didn’t mean it like that!” His blunder must have sobered the competitiveness intoxicating his system.

As he scrambled off you a small trail of ichor runs down his head from under the bangs of his leaves.

“Oh crap!” You quickly sit up at the sight. 

While panic is brewing and threatening to boil over in your blood, you manage to calmly explain the situation to all the concerned children passing by, doing your best to cover the sight of ichor. 

“Sprout just had a little tumble! He’ll be right as rain in no time!” 

Why did Sam have to take their lunch break during this time?! They’re more calm and collected compared to you internally when dealing with these kinds of things.

Just to avoid a scene, you bring Sprout to the gazebo, closing the curtains for privacy. “Stay right there,” you instruct Sprout, gently sitting him down on a chair. “Oh! And,” you take off one of your gloves and hand it to Sprout. “Use this to stop the bleeding. I’ll be right back with a medkit.”

Leaving the gazebo by passing through the curtains, there are a couple of children waiting anxiously. “Is Mr. Sprout gonna be okay?”

Crud. Oh crud. Oh crud.

Taking a deep breath, you put on a reassuring smile, gently guiding the children away. “Of course, kiddos! You know him! He always bounces back no matter what!” you comfort them, looking and thinking of something to take their attention away from the situation. “Come to think of it…now that I mentioned bouncing… we were supposed to have a little performance from our little circus troupe by now!”

“Oh yeah!” This luckily ensnares the children’s attention.

“Why don’t you gather all the others at the theater? I’ll go fetch the circus troupe!” you propose, guiding them towards the theater.

“But what about Mr. Sprout?” One of the children asked. “He’ll miss out on it.”

Humming thoughtfully, you then suggest, “Tell you what! Why don’t you ask Looey to make one of his famous balloon bouquets?” You press your finger over your lip with a mischievous giggle, “But! Get gotta keep it a secret! So you all should stay clear of Sprout so the secret is safe, okay?” 

All their eyes light up, and they enthusiastically agree, racing to the theater with you, naturally reminding them to be careful. The idea of doing something kind for the Toons always excites the children. A sweet way to say thanks for all the sweet memories they’ve created.  

Once you watch them reach the theater, you quickly fetch the circus troupe. Thank your lucky stars, they’re stationed at the playground. 

Yatta is on top of the monkey bars, balancing with ease on the beams and managing to do flips, ending it off with a one-handed handstand. As she performs her acrobatic feats, she’s excitedly shouting out, “Watch this!”

Looey is frantically under said monkey bars, preparing to break the piñata Toon’s fall, their balloon ears twitching every time Yatta jumps about on top of the monkey bars freely. The poor soul looks like their head is on the verge of losing all of its helium with how stressed they look.

Blot is with Blot Jr. on the seesaw, the ink blot’s mini creation’s head and paper bobbing back and forth as Blot rocks the other side. You’re not entirely sure how Blot Jr. manages to stay in the seat without help. Blot is technically doing most of the work, moving the seesaw up and down, but he looks like he’s having fun regardless, letting out an enthusiastic, “!eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeW” 

At least, Blot learned his lesson by not letting his little offshoot on the playground’s merry-go-round. You still remember the little funeral the children held for Blot Jr. 

Waving at them for attention, you call out their names, “Looey! Yatta! Blot!”

Yatta shouts out, hopping off the monkey bars with a seamless flip and landing nimbly on the ground. “Yeah!?”

“What’s wrong?” Looey inquires, running with Yatta towards you.

Blot dismounts the seesaw, following his friends. “?deneppah tahW” 

The trio surrounds you with curiosity.

“Sprout got hurt, and I’m gonna need you three to distract the kids,” you brief them. “I know we had your guys’ act scheduled at the end, but some of the kiddos are starting to worry.” You sheepishly laugh, gesturing to the gathering crowd of children at the theater, “And… I kinda said we’d have a little surprise for Sprout to help him feel better.”

Oh gosh. Sprout is going to be so confused, provided he didn’t overhear you talking to the kids. All you wanted was to divert their attention from Sprout’s injury. 

While the kids are aware of ichor being the Toons’ blood, there can be a variety of reactions to the sight. Some kids could be curious and inquire about it. Then there are the ones who are squeamish and panic at the sight. 

Now, with the aforementioned, such a reaction could lead to a chain reaction. It’s similar to when lighting a match and throwing it on a stack of dry hay. Absolute chaos. A mass number of unhappy children is enough to have letters and phone calls of complaints from parents.

To be honest, you probably could have turned Sprout’s injury into a little lesson for the kids on how to approach this situation, but that would also cause certain parents to be angry for exposing their children to blood, which could then, for some reason, accuse you of promoting violence. This job can be a difficult and rather confusing dance when it comes to dealing with these types of parents.

The circus trio glances at each other, almost as if to gauge the situation. You’re unsure of their thoughts on the sudden change of plan, but Yatta is shaking with excitement and her ribbon tails, and Looey is doing his best to conceal his smile. 

He turns to you, beaming. “Of course, we’ll help you out!”

“Oh, thank you so much! I’ll make it up to you three when I can!” you promise them.

Looey laughs, shaking their head, “Aw, there’s no need for that! You’ve done plenty!” He gestures to himself and his friends in a showman-like manner, “ Besides! We’re always happy to put on a show for the kids!”

Blot concurs with a clap of his hands, “!meht gniniatretne nuf syawla s’tI” He mimes what you assume to be a tophat rolling off his arm, which he catches and places the invisible hat on top of his head. 

Yatta jumps with joy and nods her head in agreement, “YEAH!” She looks like she’s holding back from rocketing into the air with how her body is shaking. “It’s never a task when it comes to them!”

They all look at the theater where all the children are gathered, and when they look at each other, they’re all giddy. Before you know it, they’re racing towards the theater, well, Looey and Yatta. Blot is quick to follow them after retrieving Blot Jr. from the seesaw, taking the inky mass with him while tailing his two friends.

While they’re still in earshot, you shout out, “I’m counting on you three!”

“Gotcha!” Looey gives a thumbs up towards you, their voice full of determination.

“!taht regoR” Blot salutes to you.

“WE GOT THIS!” Yatta cheers with a skip in her step.

With that done and the children’s attention averted, you can get back on your original task. Hurrying to the grand center tree, you fetch the medkit you brought for these situations. 

For good measure, you inspect the contents to ensure everything is accounted for. The last thing you want is a couple of dandy-aids missing because one of the kiddos thought they were stickers. Once you confirm everything is here, you make your way back to Sprout.

Parting the curtain, you smile apologetically, explaining yourself, "Sorry for the wait. Had to shoo away some kids and think of something to distract them.” 

“Don’t worry about it! I kinda heard it all,” he tells you with a laugh, his hand still using your discarded glove to clot his wound. “Looey and the others are probably thrilled that they get to perform sooner rather than later. If you want, you can still catch up on the troupe’s performance. I can patch myself up,” he offers.

“And leave you by yourself? I don’t think so,” you turn down his offer.

“Oh, come on!” he sighs, trying to hide an amused smile. “You’re acting like I don’t know heads or tails how to take care of myself!”

Shaking your head, you let out a laugh, “I’m saying you don’t. I just want to make sure you get the proper attention for this.” 

You take out the needed items from the medkit. “Alright! Let’s see the damage, so we can patch you up.” 

Sprout removes his hand from where his injury is, but uses his free hand to keep his leaves away from his forehead. Ichor still oozes from the cut.

You grimace at the sight, watching the ebony liquid overfill the cut and attempt to pour out. “Yikes…” 

“Is it that bad?” Sprout asks, his tone a mix of concern and lightheartedness.

“No. You’re damn lucky it’s just a small cut,” you tell him. “For a moment, I thought you cracked your head open.” 

And thank goodness it wasn’t the case, you’d have to call Delilah and cancel any scheduled activities Sprout’s in. It’s always the smallest cuts on the head that yield the most blood, leaking worse than a broken faucet.

You gently dab the wipe over the wound and press it for a second, to which Sprout winces with a hiss. “I-I’m sorry! Did it hurt?” You tried your best to keep your cool, but knowing you might have hurt him has panic quickly bubbling to the surface.

“N-No, no, no!” he interjects quickly. “I just got taken off guard!” He urges you to continue, and you comply.

You don’t believe him, but decide not to press on about it, cleaning up the cut as fast as possible for him. With Sprout’s watchful gaze, it also makes you double your effort in tending to him. It makes you question if you’re doing it right as he observes your every movement.

“Does it hurt? Like bad?” you ask.

“Not really. Well, maybe a little,” he admits. “Is it normal for it to feel warm…?”

“Pretty much, but it’ll stop soon,” you reassure him. “Okay. Let’s see how it looks so far.” 

The ichor has ceased, but the sight still makes you uneasy. Although it’s not serious, you don’t like seeing Sprout hurt. Seeing someone you care about in any state of discomfort is never simple. 

Seeing your crestfallen expression, Sprout frowns. “What’s with that look? You’re acting like I got my eye poked out,” he jests, trying to humor you. “You don’t gotta worry that much about me, you know. I’m fine.”

“I know… I just don’t want Delilah or the others to get angry that I let this happen to you,” you lament, retrieving a small bandage to place on top of Sprout’s cut.

Compared to the likes of you, Sprout is more important; if anything happened to him or the other Toons, Gardenview would be turned upside down. As for you, well, you’re just his Junior Handler and Sam’s little assistant. If you went missing, then you’d easily be replaced, and life would go on as usual. 

Your words deepen his frown. “If anything, they should be angry at me,” he remarks. “You shouldn’t take responsibility for my actions. And if they ever try and do that to you, I won’t let that happen.” 

He sounds so sure of himself when he says this to you. It eases the anxiousness stirring inside you. You smile, “Thanks, little man.”

“Any time! We’re a team after all!” he asserts, which earns a little giggle from you. “Team Sprout and (Y/n) through and through.”

With another laugh, you repeat his words in agreement, “Team Sprout and (Y/n) through and through.”

He watches you carefully place the bandage on him. Once it’s secure, he releases his leaves, which conceal it. “So. How’s it looking so far, doc?” He humors you, making you roll your eyes and conceal a laugh. 

“It’s as if it never happened.” His hand goes under his foliage of bangs to feel the bandage over his injury. “Don’t touch it! You might make it worse!” you scold him, tapping his hand away with a finger.

“Sorry, sorry!” He retracts his hand from under his leaves immediately. Although he startled, judging by his smile, he’s entertained by your fretting over him. “Thanks for patching me up.” 

“Anytime! Just be careful next time!” 

Though you have a feeling Sprout is still going to be doing this with you. Much like how he occasionally forgets to turn off the oven, you’re certain he won’t stop tackling anytime.

Not that you’re annoyed by it. It’s almost entertaining to a degree, having yourself challenged to your limit. It’s strange, but there's also a certain thrill to it.

Sprout looks up and down, “What about you? How are you feeling?” He rises from his chair, circling around you.

Now that he mentions it, you never took the time to think about your current state, running around making sure everyone is taken care of. From making sure the kids didn’t worry themselves about Sprout and arranging the Looey, Yatta, and Blot’s circus act to occupy them.

But not wanting to take up his time, you shrug it off, “I’m probably fine! We should catch up with the kiddos by now!”

Sprout narrows his eyes and purses his lips. He circles your form and hums to himself. “I don’t believe you.” He gestures towards the now-empty seat.

“Sprout! I’m fine!” you insist. 

Maybe you are going to deal with the usual soreness from the impact once the adrenaline dies down, but that’s never a cause for concern. 

“Nope! I’m not having that!” He ushers and sits you down with a huff. For good measure, he stares you down to keep you in place. “Lemme see the damage.”

With a groan, you roll up your red pants for him to inspect them. Luckily, your legs are unscathed. A bit bruised, but that’s all. He then taps on your remaining glove for you to remove it. 

His eyes fixate on an irritated part of your hand, almost directly on the knuckles. There’s no serious bleeding, just a pin needle worth at most. The skin is likely aggravated due to the fabric causing immense friction with the skin during your tumbling. The injury is more akin to a friction burn.

“I knew it.”

“Sprout, it’s fine. I’ll deal with it later.” You’re about to put on your glove to conceal it, but he snatches it. “Sprout!”

“Knowing you, you’ll treat it when your shift ends, and I’m not having that,” he asserts, reopening the medkit to go through what items he may need.

“Come on, Sprout! I know how to take care of myself.” 

He doesn’t hesitate to bring up as a retort: “Says the girl who skips meals.”

“It’s not that bad now!” you huff out.

A wry smile surfaces on his lips, “And why do you think that is? Hmm ?” 

You have to look away from him to cease the creeping smile from forming on your face that threatens to match his. This guy is going to be the death of you, you swear.

“Oh, screw you, Sprout Seedly,” is all you can say in response which makes him tense in discomfort. “I-I’m sorry that was probably too harsh.” Even if you meant it as a joke, you still want to apologise if it pushed him beyond his comfort zone.

“No, no! It’s okay! It just reminded me of what I said when you said that earlier. I’m…really sorry I said that. It was out of line and beyond inappropriate to say.” He bows his head in shame and purses his lips.

“Don’t worry about it,” you attempt to comfort him. “I wasn’t offended by it. It just took me off guard…like a lot. Kinda like that one time, you swore. I didn't think you could, to be honest.”

“Hey, I can swear. I just choose not to,” he remarks. “I don’t want to make it a habit and accidentally let one slip in front of the kids, that’s all,” he justifies his reasoning.

You’re certain that through your first year of working in Gardenview, some of the Toons are very aware of profanity. Most simply choose not to. The only Toon you think that doesn’t know is Shrimpo, because everyone knows he’d abuse those new words added to his vocabulary. He'd make a sailor blush if he did.

Letting out a laugh, you shake your head, “Hard to argue with that.”

After sharing a laugh, his expression turns concerned, “But I still mean it. I’m really sorry for what I said earlier…”

“Oh, don’t beat yourself up!” you encourage him. “We’ve all said certain things like that before!”

”I know…but it still doesn’t make it okay,” he lament.

Sprout kneels in front of you, taking your injured hand into his hold and gently cleaning it. The solution in the disinfecting wipes stings a bit across your scrape, but it’s not as intense as you thought. Usually, this kind of injury would hurt like hell on earth, burning like acid had been poured spitefully on it, enough to make your eyes water. But this? It’s only faint.

Watching Sprout take care of tending to your injury, as minor as it is, so feverishly, is oddly soothing. A sense of security in having someone to care for you. It makes you feel warmth inside, like sitting by a fireplace during a bitter winter.

As he’s knelt in front of you, it’s a strange sight. It’s almost…knightly? Like, there’s a sense of duty and admiration as he does it. Everything he does is performed with the utmost regard. Now you know your brain might be jumbled from the tackle if you see it that way.  It’s in his nature to be kind and watchful of others after all. If it were anyone, he’d treat them the same way he treats you.

Sprout finishes bandaging your scrape, and he remains kneeling, his concerned eyes focused on where you were hurt. Before you know it, he presses a gentle, chaste kiss over the bandaged area.

A heatwave surrounds you from this, the place where he kissed tingles. “Sp-Sprout?” 

Realising what he’s done, his eyes widen and cheeks darken. “I-I’m sorry! I don’t know what came over me!” He stands up and takes a couple of steps back.

What exactly do you say in this situation? Feels like your brain is scrambled again. Telling Sprout that it’s okay feels too casual and distant, with the unintentional grand gesture he's done. Your heart feels strange. You can feel every powerful pulse it makes, surging blood throughout your body. Are you flustered or simply confused by it? It’s hard to properly separate these two feelings.

Before you can speak, the curtains part and Sam enters. They must have just returned from their lunch and were wondering where you and Sprout went. 

Seeing your bandaged hand, they frown. “Sprout! What have I told you about being reckless during your games with (Y/n)?” Sam scolds the strawberry Toon. 

You quickly interject before Sam can do a long lecture, “Sam, it’s fine! Plus, we both got hurt, so I’d say we’re even!” You lift up your bandaged hand, and Sprout does the same by lifting up his bangs in a joking manner.

Sam furrows their brows at the sight, and their frown deepens. They’re about to say something, but instead let out a sigh. “I can’t with you two…” they mumble out before turning their attention to Sprout. “The kids are probably looking for you. You should get back to them. I need to have a quick chat with (Y/n).” As if predicting Sprout’s worry, Sam turns to him, “I’m not mad at her. We just need to talk.”

Sprout hesitates to leave, glancing at you, and you do your best to muster a smile, “Catch up with the others. We’ll be right with you soon.”

Sprout nods, heading towards the exit of the gazebo, and parts the curtain to pass. Before he fully leaves, he looks at the two of you and then departs.

“How bad is it?” Sam asks, their voice curt but laced with concern

“Just a small cut on Sprout’s forehead. He must have rolled over something sharp. Doesn’t look like anything serious,” you inform him. 

“And you?” They almost sound offended that you’ve excluded yourself. Their hand is about to reach out to yours, but they immediately retract it.

“It’s just a minor scrape, Sam.”

They cross their arms, “What if it could have been worse? What if you ended up breaking your wrist?” 

“But I didn’t.”

“Still. You could have,” they argue. They take in a deep breath and exhale, “I’m glad you’re having fun with Sprout, but for my sanity's sake, please be more careful. That goes for him, too.”

Although they are being stern, there is care packaged in their words. Sam is speaking both as a coworker and someone who cares for you, expressing their concern.

Bowing your head, you sigh, “I know. We’ll be careful.” But this doesn’t stop you from playfully saying to lighten the mood, “You worry too much, Mx. McLaughin.”

A smile cracks on their face, “And I don’t get paid enough for it.”

“Better than mine,” you joke, punching their side teasingly. “Now, are we going to catch up with Sprout or not?”

“Right, right.” Sam follows you out of the gazebo.

Leaving for the theater, you rub your gloved hand on the spot where Sprout kissed, still tingling. The heat that once abided resonates around you.

Reaching the theater, you are greeted with cheers from the children as they watch Looey, Yatta, and Blot’s circus act. Looey is juggling blobs of ink balls that Blot throws at him, all the while as poor Looey balances on Yatta, who is doing a one-handed handstand. Using her legs, Yatta propels Looey high into the air. 

The balloon Toon is kicked high enough to see the entire crowd under him. All the ink balls Looey had fallen onto the ground, splattering upon impact. As the crowd of children screams and gasps at the sight of Looey’s fall. Blot lifts his hands up, and from the splattered spots, inky pillars form, rising from the ground, each of varying height. Yatta is quick to jump onto each pillar, performing a flip to propel herself faster onto the last one. Perfectly on time, Yatta catches Looey from their impending fall. 

The children roar in cheers and claps as Yatta lifts Looey up excitedly and giddily, jumping victoriously. As Blot claps his hands together, the pillars fuse and transform into a net, catching Looey and Yatta. The two Toons bounce slightly in the net before gathering at the front of the stage with a ta-da!

Sam marvels at the show, “How these three do it. I’ll never understand.”

“ Lots of communication and trust.” Unable to resist you, then joke, “Something we both need to work on.”

“ I’m sorry ?” Sam’s taken off guard by your jab, but humored nonetheless. “Are you saying I’m not good at those things?” 

Mischievously, you smile, “ Maaaybe .”

“Sometimes I feel like you enjoy teasing me,” they huff. “Do you still want me to take you out to lunch again to make up for everything?”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” you impishly muse. “ Buuut if you’re offering.”

Sam shakes their head with a laugh, giving you a light push that barely moves you. “You’re terrible .”

Getting closer to the crowd, you’re able to spot Sprout from it, who is donning a balloon crown. That must have been the little surprise the kids and the troupe thought of for Sprout. It’s a little oversized, concealing his left eye, but it does look dorkily adorable on him as he tries to fix it when it falls on that side.

He turns to you two and greets you with a smile, “You’re back!”

“Sorry for taking so long.” You nudge Sam with your elbow lightly, “ This worrywart had to lecture me.”

“Oh, shut up,” Sam lightheartedly, holding back a laugh. 

“It’s true, though!” As you let out a laugh, it coaxes out Sam’s.

Sprout’s smile falters for a moment, looking at Sam. An indiscernible expression plagues him. His hand fiddles with his scarf, gripping it tightly as his thumb rubs the soft fabric wrapped around him. His shoulders are slightly lowered as if the crown upon him weighs him down.

Seeing this worry swarm you, and you can’t help but ask, “Is something the matter, little man?” 

Sprout’s eyes widen when he looks at you, almost startled.“O-oh! No! It’s, uh… nothing.” He adjusts the crown on his head and smiles, “Let’s just watch the show before it ends!” 

As he says that Looey is shouting out for a volunteer for their next act, and all the children are jumping up and down with their hands up, hoping they’ll be picked. You all managed to squeeze past them to get a good view. Once a volunteer is chosen, you all watch and enjoy the show. 

Although enraptured by it, you can’t help but glance at Sprout. That unreadable expression you’re unfamiliar with remains on his face as he clutches his scarf. When he catches you looking at him, he smiles brightly at you. It lessens your worry, but you can’t help but sense something is wrong.

Even now, you still wonder what it could have been. Maybe you should have asked him before it was too late. 

But you didn’t. Too afraid to disrupt the peace you thought you two had. A peace you didn’t deserve. Too scared it would lead to him hating you if you did ask.

You’re such a  coward .

♡ ♡ ♡

Moonlight’s comforting beams rest on you. Its light veils itself over your eyes, encouraging you to open them. As you do so, your head is spinning with immense discomfort. The concrete is warm under you, likely from you lying down on it for so long.

Everything hurts. 

Your head feels like someone pierced it with an ice pick, swirling the contents of your brain into a pulpy, liquid mess. As you look up at the moon, your vision goes in and out of focus. On occasion, you see the moon accompanied by a twin. Your limbs ache and feel stiff, like the muscles are recovering from the shock. Your chest feels as if someone is trying to crush your heart with their bare hands, ripping off your rib cage bone by bone.

How long were you gone for? It’s hard to gauge the length without a watch. Trying to make sense while your mind is discombobulated from the impact is similar to what you endured after the incident in Gardenview. You’re trying to pull yourself together as you collect your thoughts that were knocked out of you.

You should get up. Finish the machines and leave, but a part of you doesn’t have the will to move. The terror has subsided, and grief and misery take their place, crushing your heart. 

The scar of what happened to Gardenview is freshly reopened, and knowledge of what happened to Sprout only adds salt to the bleeding wound. Even if he’s not in control of his actions, you don’t blame him for them after failing everyone.

Why didn’t Sprout finish the job while you were incapacitated? Did he consider that state enough to not consider you as a threat, or was he saving you for later? A strange way of playing with his food. Nothing makes sense. Then again, you’re in no state to be able to make proper conclusions.

You almost wish you had never woken up. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have.

Should you even bother getting up? Maybe you should wait for Sprout to come and end it all. But there’s no time to wallow and rot yourself in pity. You have unfinished business to fulfill. Whether you like it or not.

Get up. 

Get up now .

Rolling yourself onto your knees, you push yourself off the ground and onto your feet. Hissing through your teeth from the pain, you try to gain purchase on where you landed. The darkness made your fall appear endless, but you shouldn’t be too far from the stage. 

Three more.

Just three more machines and you can escape this floor.

Your next stop would be the machines at the gazebo. Simple enough. Provided you can limp to it without alerting Sprout. His footsteps are slowed down and far away, so you’re somewhat in the clear until you hear them pacing. You only dread when or if he sneaks up on you.

Hobbling towards the gazebo, you attempt to hasten your pace. In hopes of lessening the pain ringing throughout your body and steadying yourself, you take deep breaths and slowly exhale, repeating the process. Only when you’re greeted by two red lights do you feel comforted in some morbid way.

You decide to finish up the machine to your right, passing by the empty one. Under your shoes, you can hear the crunching of glass with each step, most likely from the capsule you threw at Sprout to escape being strangled to death by him. Involuntarily, your hand overlaps where his hand was as if recalling the sensation faintly.

Would he have strangled you until you lost consciousness, or would he have killed you right there and now, while he had you? 

Kneeling down, your muscles strain from this, pulsing with pain until you’ve settled. It thankfully only takes a couple of turns for the light to turn green and let out a DING~! Alright, onto the next! You quickly walk over the broken glass to get onto the next machine. 

You loathe the slight squeak the valve makes when you turn it, grating on your ears and encouraging your paranoia of being discovered. You’re not in good condition to be running now. Sure, maybe for a short distance, but you wouldn’t be able to last long in a long chase. 

Your hands continue to shake when you grip onto the valve, turning it to release the Ichor from the pipes to fill up the machine. Your eyes strain when you try to focus on the glass container to figure out how full it is. 

“Come on…hurry up already,” you mumble to the machine.

Just then, you hear it. Hear him. Each footstep rings out in your ears, and your being and your body freeze, while in contrast, your heart is pressing against your chest to the point it aches. Your grip loosens on the valve, letting Ichor flow freely but clog the pipes, yielding in a blaring BUZZ,  and the pipes violently gurgling. A loud groaning grumble from Sprout can be heard, followed by the hasty stomps approaching the sound. 

Hide. 

Hide.

But would there even be a point to it? It seems that no matter where you go, Sprout is never too far from you. 

Bracing yourself, you do your best to finish the machine, watching the Ichor rise and its brim tickling the top of the machine until—

Sprout’s footsteps eventually reach you, and a loud shriek leaves him. Your eyes only meet a couple of seconds with his crimson ones before you frantically return your attention to the machine. With one final turn of the valve, the machine’s light flashes green, ringing out a DING~! Getting up, you avoid just in time a tendril that juts out from the ground under you, ducking when it slashes at you.

Every couple of seconds, tendrils form under you, some of them attempt to grab your ankle, while others try to attack you. A jolt of adrenaline rushes through your system, dulling the pain to allow you to power through it. The taste of blood spreads from your throat to the back of your tongue. Your lungs and heart are burning like an overworked train engine, still running as it burns itself into ruin.

Home stretch. One more machine!

All you need to do is create some distance between you and him, so you’ll have enough time to complete the final machine. You curse your past self for not considering using the valve or saving a jumper cable to speed up the process. You should have planned better. 

Breezing past every tendril that arose, you faintly see a red light, and double your efforts to reach it. When the light is in sight and you think you’re in the clear, all of that is ripped away when you’re tackled by something heavy, rolling onto the grassy plane. As you’re about to get up, tendrils burst below, wrapping themselves around your wrists and chaining you to the ground.

Staring up at the cause, you’re met with a familiar sight. Sprout towers over your form, his arms further caging you. How ironic to find yourself in this position. Just like a warped version of the past reenacted.

How cruel of fate to design.

A couple of embers within you still desire to fight— to use whatever you have to escape, but you have nothing left to use to fight back. Even as you try to pull against your bindings, they only tighten and slam your wrists back. You can only lie there and allow the embers to fade away.

Drops of Ichor from Sprout’s eye hit your face, running down your cheek as he leers at you unblinkingly. All you can do in this situation is stare right back at him. Moonlight veils itself over you two, Sprout’s shadow consuming you.  

Adrenaline dies down in your system, letting you feel the full force of the pain you've been desperately trying to suppress. 

Is there even a point in fighting anymore? You’re tired of fighting. No matter how hard you tried your best, in the end, it just wasn't good enough. The moment you entered this floor, you had been marked for death.

You’re almost insulted he’s taking his sweet time killing you. Some things never change, you suppose, like how you still can never outrun him. 

“W-what are you waiting for…? Are you going to make me wait?” you questioned him, looking up at him as you lay under him. Your tone is mixed with spite and despair.  “I’m sorry… I wasn’t there for you, Sprout…” Even in the end, you don’t allow yourself to cry or let your voice waver much to your chagrin.

After all, this must be retribution. 

For your failures. 

For your lie and broken promise. 

Atonement at last.

Closing your eyes, you make your peace. Ready to meet your fate. So many things shall remain unsaid in the end, but you’re okay with it. You hear him raise his clawed hand, preparing to claw you apart. 

You’re glad it’s him ending your feeble life—had to be him. There’s something comfortingly morbid about having a loved one be the one to kill you.

As Sprout swipes his hand, the air is sliced around him, and you can feel it hit your cheek, expecting it to strike true. 

But it didn’t.

Instead, you feel more droplets of ichor fall onto your face. As you open your eyes, you see there’s a brief hesitation from Sprout, his ichor-clawed hand jolting back slightly. It’s shaking violently when he clutches it into a ball as if fighting the urge to hurt you. The redness in his sclera faded into a pinkish hue. His visible listless eye has more brightness and lucidity in it as his pupil dilates. 

He looks down at you and his eye widen with a mixture of shock for a moment as they brim full of ichor. Despite the gurgling in his voice due to ichor making it impossible to be coherent, you can tell from the disbelief in his eye one thing.

He recognises you.

“H-hey there, little man.” Trying to gather as much of a smile despite your terror, you gaze up at the Toon you once knew, reassuringly, “Long time no see.”

The tendrils wrapped around your wrists retreat into the ground, freeing you, and you’re caught by surprise when he pulls you into his arms for an embrace. More gurgle sounds erupt from him along with gasps as if he’s sobbing. 

You’re not sure what to make of this—of everything. You rest in his arms, doing your best to return the desperate hug by leaning against him for respite. It feels so strange. 

He’s so gentle with you. He could easily crush you if he wanted, while he’s holding you and unintentionally having you in his lap. Your heart is still beating fast, unsure if you’re safe or not. 

Pulling away, he feverishly checks up on you, his large hands cupping your face. His eye scans you, and dismay builds in his expression. The wound on your shoulder and the markings on you. 

There’s a terror on his face when he pulls his hands away from you, seeming to understand that the cause of your injuries is himself. You must look like a mess. Ruined and partially tattered uniform. The ichor staining your face isn’t helping. 

Sprout’s chest heaves up and down rapidly, making more gurgling sounds as he breathes desperately. Ichor pours out of his widened eye. He’s panicking.

“I-it’s okay!” you utter out. “You’re okay!” Pressing a gloved hand over his chest, you tell him, “Breathe. It’s okay. Deep breaths.”

Under your palm, his heart is also beating fast, much like yours.

It’s funny in a way. Your first instinct is to comfort him, although you’re in no better condition. Perhaps it’s that Junior Handler inside you, putting Sprout’s well-being before your own. Even though he’s changed, he still is the same strawberry Toon you knew in the end.

He closes his eye and does as you instruct, steadying his breathing although his throat still bubbles with ichor. The tension around his shoulder lessens, and his heart rate slows down a bit. 

Once calm, he opens his eye and looks down at you dolefully. “......”

You’re not sure what to do. Shock is still running around your system, trying to take in your near-death, and then Sprout returns to his senses. You can only stare up at Sprout, taking in everything. What do you say to him? The words you’ve held close to your chest that you wanted to tell him are slipping away from you.

Sprout breaks his gaze and turns to the empty machine not too far from where you two landed. The red light glares at him, and he glances back at you. Helping you up, you're guided to the machine. 

You’re not sure how to explain the sensation of walking. It feels like your body is being puppeteered like an empty husk, likely due to your mind trying to distance itself from the pain. All you can do is endure until you can patch yourself up. 

Getting started on the machine, you glance at Sprout, who is averting his gaze and squeezing his scarf anxiously with his right hand. It’s quiet between you two, well, mostly on your part, taking into account that Sprout can’t speak much. But it’s hard to think of something to say, considering the unsavory events that transpired. 

You never thought you had to make an effort to grip onto the machine’s valve, fighting the numbness that spreads throughout your fingers when you turn the valve to extract Ichor. With the light turning green and letting out a DING~ the elevator door slowly opens, its light reaching out to where you and Sprout are. 

Getting up, you turn to Sprout, who remains standing by your side, his expression still crestfallen. He knows that you need to leave. That you can’t stay. Why would you? After what he’s done? Even if he wants you to, he refuses to force you to remain by his side.

“....!” He tries to speak, but the ichor within him denies him this pleasure.

His normal hand reaches out for you, but he retracts it as if afraid to touch you.  He takes a couple of steps back from you and the light. Your eyes meet and remain, both afraid to break your gaze as if you’re both saying farewell. Turning away from you, Sprout trudges away and slips away into the darkness, leaving you alone.

You return to the elevator, its bright light welcoming and providing respite from the darkness that consumed you. Before you take a step inside, you turn back. 

It’s like a string is tugging you away from entering. Perhaps it’s guilt? Looking at your bloodied, gloved hand, you recall the pink promise you made to him.

‘ “I’ll be back..… Promise.” ’

To have been reunited with Sprout and now parting ways with him. It doesn’t settle well. You’ve fulfilled your promise, but did you really? It feels so…empty. 

He waited for you, and now you’re going to abandon him  again  in this sepulcher. 

Why do you get to leave while he’s suffering? After everything? After what he had become?

It always has to end with what’s best for you, doesn’t it? 

Facing away from the light, you look to where Sprout last was.  There has to be something you can do. 

Without thinking, you run into the darkness. 

“Sprout!” you call out.

Right in the center of the play area, you find him, and he turns to you in bewilderment. 

Regaining your breath, you steady yourself along with your resolve. “I’m not leaving you.” Grabbing his hand, you try to coax him to follow you to the elevator. 

Sprout attempts to pull away. He could easily rip your hand away, but he chooses not to, letting his attempt to pull his arm back be the indicator of his hesitance. This only makes you double your effort. He looks at you and shakes his head, and gently tries to pull away again, but you refuse to yield.

Sprout shakes his head, gesturing with his clawed ichor hand, unfurling it like a blade. He glances at it and then at you when he grasps his scarf tightly to occupy that hand. He doesn’t want to hurt you.

“It’s not your fault! You weren’t in control of your actions!” You say this, but a chill passes by you. 

You know you’re safe now, but in the back of your mind, you’re wondering how long he’ll be like this. It’s like having a loaded gun jamming when firing, with the bullet ready to be freed from its chamber without notice. Dangerous and unpredictable. You hate yourself that you’re having these reservations about Sprout and your decision to bring him with you. 

Sprout takes a step back, but it doesn’t stop you from trying to pull him towards you. As impossible a feat as it is, you don’t want to leave him alone.

Looking down at you and your insistence, he lets out what sounds to be a sigh. The closest thing for you to hear him indicate, ‘I can’t convince you to leave me, can I?’

Sprout ceases his resistance and hesitantly follows you to the elevator. When the bright light from it greets both of you, he stops in his tracks right in front of the entrance. He looks at you, unsure, as if giving you a chance to reconsider. 

You squeeze his hand with yours and muster a smile for him. “Let’s get out of here.”

That cautious glint in his eye dissipates, and he returns the gesture with a light squeeze of your hand as he enters with you. With the elevator door shutting, a sense of catharsis surrounds you. Feels easier to breathe now, like a heavy weight on your chest has been removed.

Your eyes almost hurt from how bright the lights are in the elevator, most likely due to them being used to the darkness and adjusting to it. But the lighting does give you a better view of yourself and Sprout. 

The fingertips of your glove that touched your shoulder are coated with dark crimson. The arm that Sprout grabbed and dangled you with is marked with red and is likely going to form a nasty bruise later on. You may need a change of clothes and tons of medical care after this.

As for Sprout, his once vibrant hue has been robbed from him, leaving him to don a dull, sickly green and red. Ichor covers most of his body and half of his face. The leaves on his head are overgrown, going in multiple directions, with a couple of them growing upwards and twisting together. On his back, a tuft of leaves has emerged, and his scarf remains the same color; however, the end of its fabric is a tendril which confirmed your suspicions when you first saw it, and it moves around on occasion while it drips with Ichor. 

Noticing you observing him, Sprout looks at the ground and messes with his scarf anxiously. “......”

“Oh! Sorry…!” You apologise, opting to look elsewhere, like the button panel, to see your next destination.

Floor 10

Finish that floor, and Dandy will let you and Sprout go. 

Would Dandy even allow you to bring Sprout? If he does, then how would that exactly work? How would you be able to bring Sprout with you? If he were his former size, you could smuggle him out if you came back and brought a car to drive him home. 

But given Sprout’s current size, it would make it impossible to smuggle him. You’d certainly frighten the public if you were walking around with what they’d assume to be an eldritch entity. If it were Halloween or some costume event, perhaps the plausibility would be in your favor. 

You’re drawn out of your thoughts by the sound of the lift compartment in the back of the elevator cranking along with the dual doors opening to signal Dandy’s arrival. 

The floral Toon gives a bright smile and welcomes you, “Heya! How’s it—oh dear lord!” Dandy’s eyes widen, and his recently formed smile drops immediately. “What happened ?!” He hops over his stand and approaches you.

How morbidly hilarious for Dandy to see you like this. One moment you’re sharing a meal with him, and then the next thing you’re battered and bloody. What a stark contrast. A drastic and unexpected change. Truly comedic timing.

Weakly, you laugh and joke, “Just ran into an old friend, that’s all.” You gesture to Sprout.

With that, Dandy finally notices Sprout and flinches. “O-Oh, god! Sprout! Buddy ol’ pal!” He quickly changes his tune to a friendly one, smiles, and all. “Good to see you! It’s been a while! You haven’t changed a bit!”

Sprout narrows his eye at Dandy, deepening his glare and crossing his arms. “….” 

The two remain silent as they continue to stare at each other, almost like they’re silently communicating. 

Dandy’s smile falls, and he sheepishly laughs. “I see you’re still not talking to me even now. Good to know you’re still in there…” He claps his hands together and squeezes them, mumbling, “Still hopelessly being Romeo too...” He clears his throat and turns to you, “Let’s get you all patched up. Lucky for you, I happened upon some medical supplies!” 

He takes your hand and ushers you towards his stand. Just like he said, there’s a medkit accompanied by a small pop and protein bar. 

“And as promised! All items are 10% off! What a steal! Dontcha think?”

Staring down at the items, you go quiet. Dandy’s reaction to Sprout, followed by his previous words, has something click into place in your brain.

He knew. 

He knew what dwelled throughout the floors—the dangers that awaited you. 

He knew what befell the others and didn’t tell you. 

He let you walk into your doom.

Why didn’t he tell you? Was this some way to punish you for not wanting to help him earlier? Did he want you to get hurt? Was his concern for you a lie?

Grabbing the hems of your shirt, you tightly hold it. Betrayal and anger surfaced and threatened to boil over within. You almost don’t want to feel this way. Do you even have the right? The justifications? Right now, you couldn't care less about that concern.

“(Y/n)?” Dandy calls out.

“...Why didn’t you tell me?” you question.

“H-huh?”

“ You could have told me when I agreed to help,” you reiterated your sentence. “Instead of having me learn it this way.” You indicate your words with your injuries.

Understanding what you meant, Dandy is frantic. “Believe me! I wanted to tell you! I-I was just scared that if I did, you would say no and leave!”

Staring blankly at him, you don’t know what to think. You can hear the sincerity in his voice, yet it does nothing to ease the betrayal you’re feeling. You shouldn’t have been so naive and agreed to help him unquestioningly. You’re such an idiot.

Dandy takes your hands into his, holding them tight and desperately, “You’re the only one I can count on to help me! Help us !” He purses his lips, “P-please…I… we need you.” 

You hear Sprout approach from behind and grab your wrist, pulling it from Dandy’s hold. “....” He continues to scowl disapprovingly at the flower Toon.

Steadying your nerves, you let out a deep exhale. “Fine…But once I’m done with this floor, I’m leaving with Sprout.”

“Ah…about that,” Dandy begins. “I-I’d love to uphold my end of the deal buut…” he drawls.

“You said once I finish ten floors, I can leave.”

“Which you will!” he hastily promises. “However…I can’t let him leave with you.” Dandy points at Sprout. “B-But no problem! We can drop off ol’ Sprout on the next floor! With that, you’ll be able to head home and recover until then!” He smiles at his resolution, seeming pleased.

Although silent, Sprout's shoulders are tense at the proposal, his eye wide and his frame threatening to shake. He takes a step back from you and Dandy cautiously, unsettled by Dandy’s disregard for him.

“If that’s the case,” you start with. “I’m not leaving him.”

“Wh-what?” Dandy drops his grin but returns it to his face and lets out a laugh. “C-come on! Now’s not the t-time to be joking around, (Y/n)! You and I   both know you don’t want to do that!” he insists. “Plus! You don’t know when good ol’ Romeo here will turn against you!”

“A little too late to tell me that, considering what happened.”

He’s not wrong, but you’re too bitter about the situation. Aside from that, you’re worried that if you do leave Sprout, he’ll revert to his feral state, and maybe next time you won’t be so lucky.

“I-I was going to tell you! It’s just that you never encountered anyone! Which never gave me the chance!” He tries to explain himself.

So he was going to withhold the information until you stumbled upon them? If you weren’t lucky and had one of them present, they would have taken you by surprise like how Sprout did. 

The sting of betrayal still rings true within you. “I’m not leaving Sprout.” 

“I…I see...” Dandy sighs in defeat, “If that’s what you want. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He gestures to his items available, “At least, make sure you have what you need before the next floor.”

You grab some tapes you left under the TV’s shelf and hand them to Dandy, taking the medkit. The exchange between you two is brief, neither of you making eye contact with the other for different reasons.

When the elevator stops, Dandy clears his throat, “Well, now! I'd best take my leave! See you later!” He pulls the red lever and descends, although he tries to maintain an upbeat tone; his frown betrays him.

Stashing your medkit inside your bag, you lean against the elevator’s wall and hold onto the railing. You feel lightheaded, and your balance is swaying. 

Sprout notices this, and his expression is concerned. “ ....? ” He stands next to you, one of his arms outstretched to stabilise you.

“I’m fine, Sprout. Don’t worry about me,” you reassure him, letting go of the railing when the elevator door opens.

You two wait for a moment inside the elevator to see if another blackout occurs, but thankfully, it does not this time.

Black carpeting welcomes you with red and green walls. You’re back in one of the diners’ kitchens again? No matter. All you need to do is patch yourself up and find the machines. Simple at that.

You press the temple of your head and close your eyes when you start to see double, and your head is spinning. Taking a step forward requires a lot of energy, especially when trying to maintain your balance. Why does it feel like the floor underneath your feet is unraveling?

So tired…

Feels as if your consciousness is threatening to disconnect from your body, only hanging on a thread until it finally snaps. Everything gets splotchy as darkness fades in and out of your sight. No matter how hard you willed yourself to remain awake, your body disobeys you. The ground beneath you sways more intensely to match your vision until everything goes dark, and your body collapses to the ground.

All you can feel in those moments before your consciousness slips away is something warm holding you close, catching you before you could hit the ground.

[END OF WELCOME HOME]

Chapter Text

The buzzing from the vents stirs your consciousness, and opening your eyes, your head is killing you. The headache is similar to waking up dehydrated after sleeping for too long. A dull ache is ringing from it. Not just your head, but your entire body. Feels like every fiber of your flesh pulled itself together tightly. Not to mention, feels like your body got slammed against the wall. 

Well, technically, it did. Multiple times to boot. From Sprout, slamming you against the wall, throwing you twice, and then tackling you. How you came back without a broken bone or many, you’ll never understand. 

Where am I?

You’re in the diner’s office, lying on a black carpet with your head resting on a blue bean bag to cushion you. You’re staring up at the dark ceiling. Just to know you’re awake and not dreaming, you raise your hand up towards the ceiling, bringing it up to the light to stare at your ruined, gloved hand, stained with ichor and your blood, married together. 

Out of curiosity, you remove your gloved hand and see a gnarly bruise; it’s dark and purple. It’s kinda grotesque. Your hand doesn’t hurt in any way, despite it, but you don’t like looking at it at all. Kinda looks like a black hole was punched into your hand if you think of it in a humorous light. Add two small circles, and it could make a face. The idea is funny if you forget about the implication of how you received this bruise along with the others.

Sitting up slowly, you’re not in much pain anymore. Still sore, but an improvement from the agony you were in trying to escape the previous floor with Sprout. You look around more, only spotting your messenger bag that is resting atop a swivel chair. It’s currently open, and the medkit you bought is resting on the floor with its contents on the floor used up. 

You feel your injured shoulder, and sure enough, it’s been treated and bandaged up nicely. Scanning the floor, you can see old, bloodied bandages. Did Sprout tend to your injuries while you were unconscious? 

How did he manage to wrap the bandages around you? Unless…did he take off your shirt in the process before redressing you? And judging by the bloodied bandages on the floor, those must have been your old wrappings before he changed them. So he may have had to remove your shirt not once but twice. Maybe many times, depending on how often he changed your bandage wrappings. You’re not sure how to feel about that, in all honesty. 

I mean, he had to patch me somehow. 

If Sprout left the wound on your shoulder unattended, then it may have gotten infected and worse. You just feel bad that he had to see the damage he did while he was in that feral state. He’s probably beating himself up about it, knowing him.

Now that you think about it.

Where is Sprout? 

You get up slowly to exit the office. There are two paths to leave, but you’re halted by a tendril guarding the doorway. Actually, both of them. 

“What the hell….?” you let out under your breath. 

A bit of hesitation eats at you at the sight of the Ichor tendrils, given that they caused your shoulder to be injured. But they’re idle, not reacting to your presence. 

You poke it and it jolts in response to the stimulation. It’s kinda smooth. Gives a damp sensation without actually making your finger wet. Maybe the best you can describe it is firm gelatin? 

You poke it again and it gives the same reaction as earlier, but this time it shooes you away, pushing you away gently. 

“That’s…new.”

As you go into poke it or examine it further, it once more pushes you away. Even when you try to pass it, it coaxes you away from the exit, and even the other tendril does the same when you approach it. Looks like you’re trapped in this room until Sprout returns. 

To be honest, you don’t know when he will. You don’t exactly know how long you’ve even been out cold. The clock doesn’t really help since it could be set up wrong, be extremely delayed, or be ahead. 

As you try to sneak past one of the tendrils, you’re scooped up by the collar of your shirt, lifted up in the air before you're put down far from the tendril. The tendril leans in front of you and shakes, mimicking a head being shaken in disapproval. You can sense the strong disappointment permeating from the tendril like it’s speaking for Sprout. Then again, these are his creations. Maybe he can sense what you're doing somehow.

“Oh come on…!” you groan, poking the tendril, which jolts back and shakes. 

You are essentially trapped. Giving up, you lie back on your back, shift bed, resting your head on the blue bean bag. You swear that if you die in this room, you will haunt Sprout, or at least constantly punch his tendrils whenever he summons them.

If there’s any consolation, at least it doesn’t feel like you're dying or a walking corpse. You must have looked like one to Dandy when he saw you. 

You then hear familiar footsteps make their way to the exit to the right. Immediately as they grow closer, the tendrils retreat into the ground, and the puddle of Ichor disappears. Sprout appears at the doorway, eye wide now that you’re awake.

“Hey, little man,” you sheepishly greet. 

In seconds, he’s by your side, kneeling down and cupping your face. He cradles your face with care, making sure he closes his left hand to make sure its claws don’t touch you. 

Sprout’s eye is filled with worry and relief as ichor drips from it. “.....!” His throat makes a gurgle sound as his breathing quickens.

You’re pulled into a hug. Much similar to the one he gave you when he regained his mind. Thanks to your body recovering it doesn’t hurt as much to hug him back, but you still can’t move one of your arms fully due to your injured shoulder, making it feel almost stiff. 

He’s so big now…

He isn’t your ‘little man anymore’. Well, height-wise at least. 

It’s kinda scary even though you’re not in any danger with him. It’s his height. Size. He could easily do away with you as if you were a mouse, but doesn’t. Even though his appearance changed, he still is that sweet Sprout Seedly you grew to deeply care for during your time as his Junior Handler.

He cups your face again, still consumed by worry, “.....?” 

“I-I’m okay,” you tell him as he pulls away. “Thanks to you.” You pat your patched-up shoulder, which is neatly bandaged. 

Sprout suddenly gets up and rushes out of the office. When you’re about to follow him, the tendrils that were guarding the doors rise up again.

“Oh, come on! Not again!” you exclaim.

Are you imprisoned in this room by Sprout now? The tendril, although without eyes, looks like it’s watching over you. 

You frown and poke the tendril again, “Sprout Seedly, I swear to all that is holy. Let. Me. Out.” With each sentence, you poke the passive tendril, which continues to writhe at your prodding. 

Maybe he heard you because he’s returned as fast as he left, but this time, Sprout returned with a bowl. His red cheeks have darkened, and his frame is fighting not to shake. You’re nervous that he might end up dropping.

“Sprout? Are you okay?” 

He nods hastily, making his way to you. He hands you the bowl in his hand, tapping the side with the tip of his normal hand to make a little ceramic tink tink sound. 

‘Eat.’ That’s your best interpretation of his action when he gets up and takes a step back at the doorway.

What the heck did Sprout make? Looks like soup, but the consistency is like cake batter? Maybe porridge is the best way to explain it. It smells like it with flakes of spices tossed in. Looks like he must have hastily whipped this up for you. 

You’re kinda impressed he managed to make something given his change in size. Then again, this is Sprout you’re talking about. The kitchen is like his second home. Not to mention, you don’t know how long he’s been in this form.

Sprout looks expectantly at you. It's not that you don’t trust his cooking, but a part of you is concerned that some of the Ichor on his body dripped into the soup. But if you know Sprout, there is a high chance that every time it happened, he threw away the batch because he refused to feed you something contaminated. 

You take a spoonful and put it into your mouth. Just like how it smelled like cake batter. You can taste the spices sprinkled in like cinnamon and cloves. Like a dessert in soup form. It’s surprisingly good. The warm sensation of the spices as you eat reminds you of the night of your anniversary as Sprout’s Junior Handler, sharing a mug of warm spiced milk with him. Nostalgic.

You don’t know why, but eating Sprout’s cooking or baking always made you feel energized enough to tackle the day during your time at Gardenview. When you were hurt in some way, it made the ache go away or dull it. You still don’t understand how he does that. 

Finishing your food, Sprout walks to you, pointing at your bowl and then tapping its side again before repeating it a couple more times. ‘Do you want more?’   

“O-Oh! Sure!” You let him take your bowl and watch him stroll back to the kitchen.

This time, he doesn’t resummon his tendrils. Maybe he heard you threatening them? Or can he hear through them? That would be pretty weird if he can, but make sense how he learned you were awake.

Sprout returns with your bowl refilled, handing it to you before returning to station himself at the doorway. He’s not deliberately remaining there to block you from escape. Is he purposefully keeping his distance from you?

“Sprout?” 

He jolts up when you call him, tilting his head curiously. “......?”

You pat the extra space by your side. “Come here. Sit with me,” you offer. 

Sprout hesitantly takes a step forward, but then one step back anxiously. He shakes his head. A clear ‘no’ from him as he averts his gaze from you, almost ashamed to the ground. He crosses his arms, tucking his right arm under his normal like he’s trying to sheath it from. His normal arm does little to cover his right arm’s monstrous and abnormal shape.

He wants to come to you, but he’s not allowing himself. It doesn’t make sense why he’s like this now. Then again, his rushing to you and checking up on you must have been a spur of the moment.

“Come here,” you gently coax. “It’ll be fine.” You once again pat the extra space next to you. 

Sprout eventually does situate himself next to you, but still maintains some distance. He just watches you eat, his eye on occasion looking down at your bandaged shoulder.

“I know you didn’t mean or want to hurt me,” you blurt out. ”It was something out of your control after all.” 

“......” Sprout looks down at you sullenly. 

True, he was not in control of his actions, but he still feels remorseful. For hurting you. Nearly killing you as if you were nothing. Looking at his hand, he can still somewhat recall the sensation of pressing his hand against your neck. 

“You took care of me while I was out. Patched my shoulder up,” you remind him. “And now… you’re being so distant….” 

You hate how you sound, like you’re entitled to his time. After you abandoned him. 

You stare at your bowl of porridge. Although you focus on it, it’s akin to looking past it, feeling the world around you blur as your inner thoughts swirl around your mind. 

He really should have left you to die. 

He should hate you.

In my opinion, you’re just wasting his time again—

“.....??” The gurgles from Sprout snap you out of your thoughts. 

Although incomprehensible, you can see the concern on his face. His normal hand goes out to reach for you, but hovers over your shoulder like there’s a barrier blocking him from you. After what you’ve done, he still cares about you?

God. Your brain is a mess at the moment, taking its sweet time to go over what happened in detail, yet fraying in the process. It repeats on and on, trying to understand everything but failing. 

You smile weakly, “I’m fine, Sprout.” 

He still has worry on his face, but you only smile again in response. You try to focus on eating,  finishing up the bowl quickly before it gets cold.

You set the bowl aside and just sit on the floor with Sprout. You two just remain on the floor, sitting down in concentrated silence. “Sprout…?” You break the silence between you two.

A gurgle, “Hmmm?” comes from him, or at least it sounds like one.

“Mind telling me how long I was out for?” 

He lifts up three fingers.

Three days.

“I was gone for that long?” you murmur out, to which Sprout nods somberly. 

Strange. It doesn’t feel like that. Then again, you were the one who was out cold, so your concept of time while in that state doesn’t really help. What feels like seconds for you while you were away were days for Sprout.

“What…happened to you—to the others?” you hesitantly ask, looking at him.

Sprout’s eye widens at your question, breaking his gaze from you for a moment. He takes a breath and gurgles something. The words fail to form as Ichor bubbles in his throat.

Still, he tries to force himself to speak, “Th…gth…gnh…!” 

When it doesn’t sound coherent, he tries again and again until he coughs violently, cupping his mouth as more Ichor pours out with every hack and cough. 

“Th...ygh…ghng..!” Even as Ichor spills from his eyes due to discomfort, he tries to speak.

“Stop, stop !” you interject, grabbing his free hand. “Don’t force yourself!” 

“.....” He stops. 

You carefully get up, walking to the office desk in front of your makeshift bed. There has to be some stationary still around this place, given the short deadline to transfer everything. You continue to rummage through your items until you find what you need.

You take out a notebook and a pencil. “H-here let’s try this.” You open a page for him and hand him the pencil. 

Sprout takes the notebook with ease, but unfortunately, the pencil, once in his grasp, snaps. “.........” He stares at the now broken pencil in betrayal, shards of wood and graphite falling out of his hand as he turns it.

With a look of surprise, you’re grateful he’s able to control his strength on larger things compared to the smaller ones. If Sprout couldn’t, you’re certain that back on the previous floor, he would have easily snapped your neck or turned your spine into powder when he hugged you.

“Okay! Maybe no pencils!” you conclude, returning to the desk. “Try… this !” You give him the pen. 

The pen’s plastic casing appears to be able to succeed where the wooden pencil had failed, being able to endure Sprout’s strength.

He shakily writes on the notebook’s page, trying to avoid tearing the paper with his pen. Once done, he shows you the page. His writing is a bit messy, likely due to it being a long time since he used a pen on paper. Some of the letters had to be traced, making them darker than the others.

‘Bad things. Ichor did this. Twisted us.’

There’s, funnily enough, a drawing of Shrimpo and another of him covered in Ichor, his eyes wild and mouth covered like Sprout’s. Next to the Ichor-covered one, there are the words ‘Twisted’. 

There’s an example of himself as a Twisted. It looks like he drew an example of the other Mains and Dandy, but they are covered up when a drop of Ichor falls onto the page, ruining it.  

“Even… Cosmo?” you quietly question.

Sprout tenses at it and nods.

"I..I'm so sorry, Sprout." You give him your condolences, placing a gentle hand on his Ichor-stained hand.

He looks at you mourfully, closing his eye to indicate a 'It's okay...'.

“Dandy mentioned that you and the others used to extract from the missions to maintain power in Gardenview. Is that true?”  

Sounds like a stupid question, but considering that Dandy avoided telling you the truth, you’re not sure if he left out any more details that could have been important. 

Sprout’s eye narrows at the mention of Dandy’s name, but relaxes when he looks at you. Judging by his interaction with Dandy in the elevator, it’s best to say that they aren’t exactly on the best of terms. He gives another nod. So Dandy wasn’t hiding the truth when he talked about him and the others going on “runs”. 

Sprout uses his pen to point to his drawing of Shrimpo, pointing at the normal Shrimpo, and then taps the Twisted version with the tip of his pen. 

“So…you did help with extracting the machines, but it somehow turned you guys into Twisteds?”

The term feels odd as it falls off your tongue, but fitting? It fits what happened to Sprout and what may have happened to the others. But…the Ichor making them this way? That sounds absurd. Delilah perfected it. It was Gardenview’s pride and joy. The thing that could power it. You almost don’t want to believe it, but the proof is right in front of you, twisted and covered in Ichor.

Sprout’s eye is unreadable. He goes to write something, but puts down the pen. 

“It’s more complicated than it is, isn’t it?” you ask, receiving and nod from Sprout.

Sprout tries to speak again, but stops himself, knowing that you’d panic seeing him force himself to despite the Ichor incapacitating his ability to properly communicate. 

Seeing the conflict and worry in your eyes, he writes in his notebook, ‘I’m happy to see you again.’

Just like in his little notes he put on the lunches he made for, there’s a little drawing of a smiley face.

“Yeah…” You smile, “Me too, little man.”

Sprout instinctively groans at the nickname, rolling his eye before narrowing. He probably hates being called that even more passionately, given his change in stature.

“Come on! You’re still my ‘little man’ in the end!” you joke. “I mean. I could call you ‘Big guy’ if it makes you feel better!” 

This only yields a longer, dramatic groan from him. He shakes his head as if to tell you ‘no’. Sprout goes as far as to write it, ‘N O. >:(’

“But it’s more fitting!” you entertain jokingly. 

He shakes his head again and taps his notebook insistently.

You laugh, getting up from your spot. “Alright. Alright. I’ll stop teasing you.” You roll your shoulders. “Let’s just finish this floor and head to the next,” you propose.

As you’re about to head to one of the office’s exits, Sprout also gets up and stops you, crossing his arms. He shakes his head before writing in his notebook, ‘No machines. You just woke up. You still need to recover.’

“But-”

Sprout gives you his signature look of displeasure from your stubbornness. That or when you skipped lunch too many times to his liking. You have a feeling that if you even attempt to do a machine, he’ll pick you up and walk you away from it. Worst case scenario, he’d put a leash on you.

And he’s not wrong. You just woke up after being unconscious for a few days. Your body recovered what it could in your slumber, but it still needs to continue now that you’re awake. Although you refused to admit it, you still feel slightly fuzzy and tired. Running around too much on this floor might overexhaust your body. Still, you don’t like the idea of staying in one place.

Noticing the conflict stirring in you, Sprout writes, ‘I’m not gonna coop you up here now.’  He continues to write, ‘You can still walk around the floor for a bit. Just please, for my sake. Don’t do the machines yet. You still need to rest and recover, and we don't know who might be on the next floor.’

“Fine…” you relent. “But for how long?” He ponders, and instead of writing, he lifts up two fingers. “ Two days!?”

‘Considering you powered a fair amount of machines we have at most 2 weeks' worth of power for Gardenview.’ He adds on, ‘Just please. Rest. For me.’

You sigh and plop yourself back to your makeshift bed. It does lessen the feeling of dizziness from earlier. Sprout sits by himself next to you. This time, he's much closer to you than the previous time, getting a bit more comfortable but still cautious.

You’re glad you’re not alone now.

You get comfy again when sleep takes you. 

At least we have each other.

Chapter Text

You always wonder how Sprout can tell the time due to the lack of a clock not working, or at least not being set to the proper time. Sprout, however, can somehow tell what time it is despite this. Since you have no exact time, you’re trusting his internal clock. You really should have brought your phone with you instead of just recklessly visiting Gardenview and leaving it at home. Then again. That was the point, right? 

You’re able to walk around the diner, thankfully, just as Sprout said, which you are grateful for. Unfortunately, whenever he spots you too close to any of the machines, he summons his tendrils to pull you away.  

The good thing about this floor is that, like the majority of your floors, it’s empty, but Sprout still slightly follows you around when you do your rounds. Anything odd sounds he thinks is unsafe, you were scooped into his arms and brought to the office you’re staying at.

As for food, you both take turns making it, but Sprout, being as protective as he is, always takes over to make sure you don’t tire yourself. You’re not sure if Sprout does need to eat, always making portions enough for you, but never for himself. He just kinda watches you eat. Nonetheless, he seems more adamant that you focus on your recovery. But unfortunately, you never liked sitting on your hands and doing nothing on the floor. 

You understand his need to keep you safe, but it’s almost suffocating… Not that you’re ungrateful. It's odd to have someone want to care for you again. You don’t know what to make of it sometimes because it feels foreign again.

So whenever he’s asleep, you take this chance to try and do something for yourself, like cooking. You know that he prefers to make the food, but it does help you pass the time. There are cookbooks you can read, or go over the food regulations rules, but you’ve memorised most of it. 

Though for the cooking book, you do contemplate additions or alterations, you could do the recipe, which is mostly entertaining. But it’s hard to put your thoughts into reality when you have a certain Toon acting that if you hold your knife you’ll faint or get hurt holding it.

At least when he’s asleep, you can cook in peace while you cut the chocolate for the recipe. There are times you study him sleeping, watching his chest slowly rise and fall. He has to sit upright against the wall or on his side while he sleeps so the ichor doesn’t fully suffocate him.

You like that he is looking out for your well-being, but a part of you is curious if he’s doing it out of guilt or genuine desire to heal you. You hate how your mind is thinking that. 

He’s taking care of you, and yet you’re being ungrateful.

Sprout suddenly appears from behind you, his gurgling breaking the silence and startling you. “Ah!” 

As you look towards the sound out of are used to the motion of chopping the chocolate, you fail to adjust the position of your finger, creating a small cut on your ring finger as the knife’s blade slices into your skin.

“Cr-crap!” you hiss out in pain, retracting your hand.

Great, as if your left hand wasn’t beaten up already with that ugly bruise, now you have a cut on your finger. Fresh blood flows out of the injured area eagerly. Little drops of blood falling onto the ground like little rubies.

“....!” Sprout grabs a clean towel and rushes it to you, gently pressing against the cut. “....!” He gurgles out anxiously, but you can also see the disapproval in his eyes. It’s the ‘What did I tell you about being in the kitchen alone?’ face.

“You’re up early!” You try to think of something to say to distract yourself from your cut. “Or is it late?” With his free hand, he lifts four fingers, then puts them down before bringing up his pointer finger. “Five? Like in am or pm?”

With another shake of his head, Sprout lifts up two fingers and, with his tendril scarf, points to the pointer finger, which was the first option: am. 

He gently applies pressure on the area again to stop the bleeding. The cut doesn’t hurt that much, but eventually it will once your body fully processes it. Sprout sighs, shaking his head as he releases his hold on your finger, so you can hold it yourself. 

Pulling the towel away from your finger to see the cut, you’re glad it’s not a serious one. It seems like only the tip has sliced the skin. It does help your finger nail shield you from most of the damage. At least you didn’t chop off your finger. 

Pressing the towel against your finger again to stop the bleeding, you can sense Sprout’s gaze still on you. He’s still giving you that disapproving look in his eye.

“Don’t look at me like that, Mister Seedly .”

The clear groan of displeasure and narrowing of his eye at least indicates still hates being called that. It’s still adorable regardless of his form. You almost wish you could ruffle his leaves like you used you.

His eye returns to focus on your injured finger, which is wrapped up in the towel. He gestures at it as if asking if it’s okay.

“I’ll be fine. Besides, it’s just a little cut.”

There’s gotta be a bandage still in your bag you can use later. Right now, you should clean up the mess and store the clean ingredients you made before you contaminate them with your blood. 

Sprout doesn’t seem to be having any of that, picking you up and bringing you back to his makeshift quarters he made for you in the office. 

“Spr-Sprout! I’m fine!” you protest, trying to squirm out of his hold, which he remedies by holding you closer. “ Sprout Seedly! Put me down n-now!”

He does so, sitting you atop the desk. This feels ridiculous. He grimaces at the little cut on your finger when unwrapping it from the towel. Looks like it’s trying to clot, judging by how the blood is slightly thickening and a darker red compared to the bright and watery one earlier.

Sprout grimaces at the sigh, hands shaking a bit. His already pale red face looked like it’s drained of ichor. That’s strange. You never knew he was squeamish with blood now. What exactly happened to make him this way? How did he manage to tend to your wounds while you were conscious? 

His wide eye focuses on your cut. His hands continue to shake, and his chest begins to rise and fall anxiously. Sprout’s breathing is ragged again, like on the previous floor. His sclera fades in and out of red, then to its pale red as he struggles to breathe. It looks like his eye are going in and out of focus even as it dart around frantically.

“It’s okay! You’re okay!” You grab his normal shaking hand to help ground him. “Breathe…just breathe.”

He shuts his eye, trying to slow his hyperventilation. He grips your hand tightly like it’s his lifeline. It almost hurts. If he grips you any harder, the bones in your hand will turn into dust. 

He slumps slightly, leaning against the desk while trying to breathe. His Ichor clawed hand holds onto the desk’s edge, digging and carving into the wood as it drags against the surface. Now you’re glad you’re holding his normal hand versus his clawed one. He tightens his grip on you. 

“Spr-Sprout,” you call out, but he doesn’t seem to hear you or notice your discomfort. 

Eventually, he opens his eye, staring down unblinkingly at you with his red sclera and pupil constricting. Sprout’s breathing is steady and slow, even as Ichor makes him gurgle. The way he looks at you is just like how he did on the previous floor, wild and dangerous. He’s returned to that mindless state again.

He slams you against the desk. Your back is pressed against the cold wooden surface, and your wrists are cuffed together by his normal hand as you’re held in place. With an unblinking eye dripping with ichor, he pulls back his clawed hand, opening it wide like he’s unsheathing a weapon.  

“Sprout!” you call out frantically.

It’s like his body is moving on its own out of pure instinct, like a dangerous predator ready to strike its prey. 

You freeze. Your body refuses to obey you when you try to struggle free. All you can focus on is his eyes and the sensation of your heart rippling through your chest and resonating in your throat anxiously. 

You don’t know why, but seeing him more clearly in this state versus in the blackout is far more terrifying. Maybe it’s the fact that you can see his movements better. The way his body is hunched slightly and how every move he makes is unpredictable, like a wild animal.

What do you do? Calling his name doesn’t work on him. The vibrant and haunting crimson remains in his eyes, burning into your form.. 

Perhaps there was truth in Dandy’s words:

“....You don’t know when good ol’ Romeo here will turn against you!”

You were just too stubborn to hear him out after he avoided telling you what became of the others. Too hurt by his hiding the truth out of fear, you would refuse to help him. You understand why, but it still doesn’t lessen the sting of betrayal. Not only that, but you didn’t like how dismissive Dandy was of Sprout.

Sprout’s Ichor clawed hand swings downward, and you close your eyes out of fear, but instead of you, his claws dig into the desk’s surface inches from your head. He’s closing his eye in concentration as his claws dig deeper into the wood. His hold on your wrist has lessened, but you remain trapped.

When he opens them, his eyes are back to the faint pink hue, and the light has returned to them. There’s a confused haze surrounding him like he’s recovering from being spun around violently. After a couple of seconds, he notices the position you’re both in.

Sprout releases you, letting you sit up, and is frantic again, cupping your face to inspect you for any injuries he may have inflicted before pulling you into a hug. You can hear him gurgle out words like he’s trying to apologise.

“It’s okay! It’s okay!” you repeat, still in a state of fright yourself. “We’re okay!”

His eye is wide and mortified at his actions, shaking his head. ‘It’s not ‘okay’!’ is what appears to be what he’s implying. The fear lingering in his eye is enough to tell you, ‘I could have hurt you or worse…’ 

He takes a couple of breaths to compose himself, ensuring his mind remains steady.

“H-hey,” you let out, “why don’t you let me patch myself up while you take a breather?”

Sprout sounds like he’s about to retort, but quiets. Nods and trudges away, but not before giving you one last glance as he fully leaves the office. He still wants to help, but you know that going into that Twisted mindset must have taken a toll on him enough.

Although shaken up, you look at the medkit you brought. Most of the items have been used up, but there’s enough for you to use to properly disinfect it. You’ll never get used to the stinging sensation of the alcohol wipes before applying the antibiotic ointment. 

With no bandage inside the kit, you sigh and rummage through your bag to find the dandy-aid box. Opening it, you grimace when you only see one dandy-aid. Sixty tapes. For one band that you carried for most of your stay. You feel scammed, but you couldn’t care less at this point. Opening the bandage, you carefully wrap the multi-colored band around your finger. Once secure, you behold your handiwork. It does kinda take off attention from your black hole of a bruise in the center of your hand, at least. 

You’re about to check on Sprout, but hesitate. Your eyes go to the deep claw marks on the desk, reflecting on how easily it could have sunk deep into your flesh like a hot knife to butter. A needle-like chill bites at your skin and targets your spine. How close were you again to death? You were lucky Sprout managed to regain control, but for how long? 

Maybe you should have left him on that floor.

Immediately, you shake that thought away. You feel ill at the concept of inclining to leave Sprout. You don’t want to leave him. You can’t leave him, not after all he’s been through.

You leave the office and look for him. Thanks to his height and size, it doesn’t take long to find Sprout. He’s stationed himself inside the dining room that is to the right of the broken elevator, huddled in a corner while sitting down. 

“H-hey,” you greet. “How you holding up?”

Sprout looks at you cautiously. “....” He still looks shaken up about nearly attacking you.

“I-I can give you some space if you—“ Before you can move, he gently grabs your hand. 

He shakes his head anxiously, pulling you towards him. You wind up being plopped right in his hug as if his arms hug you close. You do your best to hug him back. The two of you remain like this. You kinda feel like you’re a stuffed plushie as Sprout holds you for comfort, but given his size, anyone could pass for one.

You both remain like this for a good while, and Sprout is the first to pull away. His eye is pained with regret from what happened earlier. Without a word being said, he’s still trying to express his remorse and apologise to you.

“It’s fine…” You raise your hand up to stop him from retorting. “A-and before you say something like that, it’s not. I-I know.” You sigh, messing with the material of your bandaged finger. “This…is probably a weird mess we’re in, huh?” you meekly joke.

“......” Sprout nods in agreement. He gurgles something, but as always, it’s not verbally legible.

“Here. Lemme just get your notebook.” Before you can get the chance to get up, he pulls you back, tightening his hold on you to keep you in place. “Okay! Okay! I’ll stay.”

You glance at your bandaged-up finger and ask, “Hey…Does the sight of blood or ichor bother you?” You feel like you know the answer, considering what happened earlier, but you just want to confirm it.

Sprout breaks eye contact with you for a couple of seconds nervously but nods to answer and solidify your suspicions. You’ll need to be careful then in the future for his sake. If Sprout is too distressed, it means there’s a good chance of his mind turning Twisted again.

“How did you even manage to take care of me while I was unconscious?”He tries to speak but only makes more gurgles. “You need me to get your notebook, don’t you?” you ask, tone being a mix of seriousness and teasing. 

As soon as Sprout nods, this time you’re able to get up and swiftly head to the office to retrieve it with his trust pen. When you return, he graciously takes it to write. 

‘I did have to step out for short intervals when taking care of your shoulder.’ He continues to write, “But it helped that I was more focused on you than the blood.’

You’re tempted to ask why and how the sight of blood or ichor now bothers him, but it’s safe to say that, judging what Sprout implied about what happened to him in the others, it was unsettling. 

“I didn’t know you had to go through that,” you murmur.

Then again. How could you have known to begin with? You weren’t exactly conscious to see it happen.

Sprout then writes something in his notebook and shows it to you. ‘Are you scared of me?’

“Sprout…” You frown. “Of course not. I could never,” you comfort. “I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again. You weren’t in control of your actions when you’re in that state.” 

‘Still me in the end though.’

“I know, but it wasn’t you that did this to me,” you point to your bandaged shoulder. “You didn’t chase me on the previous floor like a madman with the intention to kill me. You’re actively trying to keep me safe even now.” 

Granted, it’s a bit over eccentric how he goes about it, but given what Sprout may have endured, you understand them. 

‘I’m sorry if I’ve been too strict with you. I’m just worried something bad will happen,’ Sprout writes. 

“That’s funny,” you muse. “It used to be my job to worry about you and the others.” A weak laugh leaves you as you joke, “To make sure you or them didn’t burn down Gardenview.”

‘Oh, haha,’ Sprout rolls his eye, but the crinkle indicates he’s amused by it. ‘I’m still sorry for hovering around you or being bossy. I’m barely even letting you make your own damn food. Speaking of which.’ He looks to the kitchen where you had set up your ingredients. ‘Do you want to continue with what you’re doing?’

“You’re okay with it?”

‘As long as you make sure to rest, I don’t mind. Just let me know if you feel odd, and I can finish what’s left for you.’

“You might as well just help me make this,” you laugh.

‘Do you want me to?’ 

“You know I don’t mind,” you smile.

Sprout’s eye lights up, and he’s quick to get up on his feet to follow you to the kitchen. You quickly clean up the blood from when you got cut, which has dried up into dark little splotches. It’s for the sake of sanitary regulations as you bake, but also for Sprout’s sake, just in case.

‘So what were you making?’ Sprout’s shoulders and mannerisms are more relaxed now. Being in the kitchen to bake or cook always did relax him after all.

“I was thinking of chocolate muffins. But after they’re done baking, fill them with a chocolate ganache!”

You can hear a distorted hum from Sprout, which is lost in translation because of the ichor in his system, making it gurgle.

‘Wouldn’t they just be cupcakes then?’ You can see the playful and teasing glint in Sprout’s eye.

“Excuse me, but they’re completely different, Mister Seedly! ” you retort, pretending to be annoyed by this in response, yielding a laugh from Sprout. 

‘Right, right.’ You can hear the sarcasm in his writing.

“Sprout!” you pout.

Sprout lets out another distorted laugh, which echoes through the kitchen. ‘Alright. Alright. I’ll work on the ganache and preheat the oven for you while you work on the muffin batter.’ He underlines the ‘muffin’ part mischievously as if to get a rise out of you.

You measure the wet and dry ingredients, groaning, “You’re literally a baker and cook! You know the difference!”

Sprout rolls his eye and laughs again, using one hand to write in his notebook and also tending to the ganache he’s making for you. ‘Of course I know the difference. I just think it’s cute funny when you’re huffy and angry.’ He quickly puts his notebook down so he can focus on melting the chopped chocolate with the cream.

The process goes faster, thankfully, because you and Sprout are splitting the work. Once he’s done with the chocolate ganache, he grabs the muffin pan along with its liners. You’re then able to gather a scoop full of the batter into the liners, pouring it into each of them. 

Sprout takes the muffin pan and places it into the preheated oven, leaving you two to wait for it to bake for at least fifteen minutes. It gives you both a chance to clean up the baking station while the muffins focus on baking and doming. Sprout winds up washing the dishes while you dry them due to him not wanting you to get your bandaged finger wet. Even as he washes the dishes, the Ichor on his clawed hand doesn’t seem to be washing away, appearing as if it’s a part of him.

“Glad to see we still make a good team despite how long it’s been,” you remark with a gentle smile, to which Sprout acknowledges with an agreeing nod.

While you wait, drying the dishes and then cleaning the counters, you’re in deep thought again. You can’t help but think about how Sprout took care of you and the lengths he went for you despite all he’s been through, seemingly putting you over himself. 

You don’t understand why he’s not angry with you. Shouldn’t he? You broke your promise. Never made the effort to see him. You thought he would be considering Dandy’s reaction, but you don’t know what to think due to your current stance with Dandy.

“Sprout,” you say. “Can I ask you something?” With Sprout looking at you and giving you the okay, you say what’s been bothering you, “Why aren’t you mad at me?”

He looks down at you, almost confused as he tilts his head. “.…?” He grabs a towel to dry his hands and grabs his notebook to write in it. ‘Should I?’

“I-I dunno. I feel like you should,” you admit. “I made a promise I’d come back to you, and I didn’t keep it.”

 There’s a strange look in his eye when you spoke those words. Concern? 

‘When you didn’t come back, it hurt, but it’s not your fault. You were hurt after all because of the incident.’

“But I didn’t even make the effort to visit after Gardenview closed. I just…left. And I feel like since I was there during the incident, I could have done something to stop it. It was my job after all…”

Sprout’s eye lights up almost in realisation. How have you been shouldering the blame over what happened during these many years while you two were separated? He gently cups your face with his clawed hand, taking care to make sure the claws on his left hand don’t hurt you.

‘Don’t blame yourself for what happened. Everything. The incident, you not keeping our promise, and Gardenview closing were out of your control after all.’ 

“But I just—”

Sprout shakes his head to tell you that it’s enough. He holds you close as if to comfort you, like you did with him. 

“Thanks…”

The weight on your shoulder lifts slightly from you. You needed to hear those words from him. You just hug him back until the timer for the oven starts beeping. 

Since only the oven mitts fit you, you have to be the one to retrieve them. The chocolate muffins have a nice top dome, nice and round. You put the muffin pan on the cleared, clear counter, letting them cool. 

Once cooled, you and Sprout take the time to pipe in the chocolate ganache inside the chocolate muffin. At last, you can enjoy the fruit of your and his labor.

You take a muffin enthusiastically, but don’t eat it when you notice Sprout does not take one. “Are you not going to eat?”

‘I’ll be fine. I don’t need to eat.’ 

That’s odd, but perhaps that’s part of being Twisted to not need to eat. Sprout hasn’t eaten anything so far during your time on this floor. 

‘Don’t let my not joining you stop you from trying it. Go enjoy yourself,’ he urges.

You take a bite and hum happily, going in for another bite. The muffin is surprisingly moist, which is increased by the dark velvety ganache piped in the center. In seconds, your first chocolate muffin is gone. You grab another one, but also one for Sprout, who looks confused when you hand him one.

“Come on! Just try it!” You then realise he might not want to eat too due to the ichor clogging his throat most of the time. “Oh! Wait. You don’t have to actually try it!” As you go to try and take it away, Sprout lifts his portion up and out of your grasp.

Sprout lets out a chuckle and tries it. Due to being coated in Ichor around his mouth, it looks like a void as he eats it. He chews for a good while before swallowing, letting out a hum of approval. He looks at you and, with his free, normal hand, he points at the corner of your lip before gently swiping a finger on that point. 

“Huh? What was it?” You touch the corner of your lip, curious why he did it. In seconds, he pops his pointer finger in his mouth, and Ichor covers it as he removes it with a pop. “There was chocolate ganache on my lip, wasn’t there?”

Sprout doesn’t reply, rinsing his finger and giving you a coy smile. “Sprout!” you call out, demanding an answer. "I could have gotten it myself!"

He simply laughs, and you two continue to enjoy the baked goods you both worked hard to bake together. It’s nice and almost nostalgic. It reminds you of when you used to help him out in the kitchen as his Junior Handler, before this mess happened. It feels nice that you can still experience this again with Sprout as you eat together. It’s just like the good old days.

Chapter Text

Two days passed by faster than you thought. You don’t feel like death anymore, well, more or less; the sensation has thankfully lessened due to resting and eating Sprout’s cooking. The soreness in your injured shoulder surprisingly ebbed away. Granted, you can’t do anything rigorous. 

Sprout has also been less nervous with you since you’re getting better, not acting like you’re made of glass, and not carrying you away to the makeshift bedroom he made the moment he hears something startles him. Instead, he opts to put you behind him if he thinks there’s something dangerous on the floor, but you’re lucky the floor is empty, much like your previous ones before reuniting with Sprout.

Not to mention, he’s learned to trust that you wouldn’t touch the machines that you’ve scouted out on the diner floor. Well, it’s not like you could have given your previous condition. You doubt you would be able to stay standing without feeling faint if you completed them straight away.

Upon waking up, you’re greeted by him holding his notebook. ‘Are you ready to head out?’

Looking around the Ichor-stained room, your bag is neatly packed with your remaining and scavenged items. “Time to leave already?” 

It’s not like you two can both remain on this floor forever. You would both only have about two weeks of power, and that is from doing machines for about nine floors, going on ten with this one. It’s no wonder that Sprout and the others had to do these “runs” that Dandy mentioned just to keep Gardenview powered often.

You’re glad you both will be able to get off this floor, but you’re just anxious about talking to Dandy again when you meet up with him. Betrayal is still running through your veins. You know why he did it, but it still hurts regardless. 

You get up, grab your messenger bag, and are ready to leave. “Let’s just get out of here—”

Sprout pauses and stops you, gesturing to the kitchen. As he does this, you can smell something sweet. Breakfast? Sprout puts his hands on his hips, seeming disappointed that you were going to skip a meal. You can’t help but smile at this, being reminded of that very same expression he’s giving you right now, years ago, as his Junior Handler. 

“Alright. I’ll eat before doing the machines,” you relent, walking to the kitchen counter. 

Waiting on it is a plate of perfectly made pancakes. No burn marks or mishap. They’re circular to a terrifying degree, where it looks uncanny. Then again, this is Sprout. Of course, he’d be able to make them look amazing. He really hasn’t lost his touch.

“Oh! Pancakes.” You glance at Sprout, whose chest puffs with pride at his work, which makes you giggle in amusement. He watches you expectantly, and you pick up a pancake, eating it. “Mmm!” Your eyes light up. “These are really good!”

You can see Sprout’s eye light up with more pride and joy at your compliment, which increases when you finish up your first pancake. As you’re about to grab another with a distorted chuckle, Sprout points to the other dishes, which are scrambled eggs and bacon. 

Having not noticed this sooner and knowing how ravenous you acted earlier, your face heats up. “Oh! Right!” 

Sprout rolls his eye, carrying the food to a booth table where he can place the food down. He pats an area on the booth for you to sit on while standing. You sit down and want him to join you, but it then dawns on you that Sprout is rather tall. His legs might not fit under the table, or he just might not fit in the booth in general.

Sprout is just standing there, taking a step back away from the booth. He fidgets with his scarf. He then takes a step forward, but then steps back again. He stands there as you eat, shuffling his feet. After taking a deep breath, Sprout squeezes him into the booth seat across from you. It looks like his torso is being squished between the table and the booth, and his legs are crammed.

“Um. Sprou—”

Sprout scooches back, and a loud CRACK can be heard from the booth’s base, snapping off the bolts that kept it in place. His eye widens at this, and his face reddens, adding color to his pale complexion. He stares at you like a kid who accidentally broke their parents’ window. 

You try to smile to ease the embarrassing moment, “At least, you can move the booth?”

He tests this out, and the booth on his side can now slide back and forth. He scooches the booth, which makes a high-pitched screech sound, more painful than his own. It’s just a long SCREEEEEEEEEE while the base of the booth grates against the floor with every inch. As this happens, he only stares at you, trying to act like you both don’t hear the deafening sound. Once he’s at a comfortable distance, he stops moving, but with the silence from the elongated. You both maintain eye contact, further increasing the silence brought by Sprout if you’re both trying not to acknowledge the unpleasant noise. 

“Well, that was something,” you laugh, breaking the tension.

Sprout eventually laughs as well, watching you eat. You continue to enjoy your food, and on occasions would glance at Sprout to see if he’d snatch any of your food, but he doesn’t. 

He really doesn’t have the need to eat anymore.

You know he technically can eat with the chocolate muffins, but knowing that it’s no longer a necessity almost pains you. One could say maybe it's a good thing, considering you can now focus on feeding yourself, but it feels wrong to think that way. Almost dehumanising? Like you’re treating him like he’s an inconvenience more than a companion through Gardenview, like you used to in your Junior Handler days. 

You’re still a selfish person deep down, you know? Nothing is gonna change that.

“....?” Sprout checks in on you, looking concerned.

“I’m alright, big guy,” you smile reassuringly, eating your food. “You know it’s kinda funny.” You change the topic. “I made pancakes not too long ago for Dand—”

The name leaves a sour taste in your mouth. Even without something actually sour, you can almost feel the cramping and strain on your tongue at the recollection of it. Not even the sweet, buttery flavor of the pancakes can reduce the sensation. 

Sprout seems to notice this apprehension, and he writes it down in his notebook. ‘You don’t have to talk to him when we see him.’

“I-I know…” You sigh. “It feels…weird, that’s all, when we’ll see Dandy.” 

Sprout reaches out for your free hand, gently holding it with a comforting squeeze. ‘He wasn’t honest with you. I get it. Just want you to know that you don’t need to talk to him if you don’t want to.’ The crinkles under his eye indicate he’s trying to smile reassuringly for you, but the ichor around his mouth is stopping him from properly showing it.

“I know, I know.” You sigh, stabbing your pancake with a fork. “I just hate how messy this is…” You still think of your previous exchange with him. 

‘“Believe me! I wanted to tell you! I-I was just scared that if I did, you would say no and leave!”‘

‘“You’re the only one I can count on to help me! Help us!...P-please…I…we need you.”‘

The franticness in Dandy’s voice sounded too real to be a lie. The absolute fear that lingered in his eyes as he grabbed your wrist like it was the only thing that was keeping his world from crumbling completely. Your chest hurts thinking about it, seeing the distress on his face, yet your stomach churns. 

What if it was another lie? 

What if that was just an act? 

Then again. Why would he go out of his way to continue his lie if you found out the truth?

This is just a complicated mess splattered onto another mess. It’s already taxing enough for you to understand it in the first place. That and taking in the information told you about Twisteds. You’re not sure if your body will be able to withstand any other complications. Feels like anymore you’ll melt into the floor, or turn into a mess both mentally and physically.

Eventually, you finish your meal. “Alright! Let’s get the heck out of here!” You stretch your arms, satisfied, and grab your belongings. “I’ll go work on the machines then!” you exclaim, but pause. 

Just five machines, and since you don’t have to worry about being killed and running around, you should be able to finish in no time! At least, for now. You’re not sure how that would go if you had to deal with the other Toons at turned Twisted; you were already a mess and on the verge of breaking when reuniting with Sprout.

Going around the dinner and kitchen, you work on the machines under Sprout’s watchful gaze. It’s nice to have someone to watch your back while you do machines. You know that the floor is empty, but on the previous floor with Sprout, it made your paranoia increase tenfold and even more during the blackout. 

Your senses were heightened to help you navigate around the dark floor, yet in a way that also worked against you, and every time you were found or hurt, it only justified that sense of fear, incentivizing you to listen to it the longer you remained there.

One by one, all five machines are filled up to the brim, letting out that satisfying DING~! with its light, then turning a happy, bright green. 

You kinda forgot how oddly rewarding it is to do the machines, but then you remember that you’ll eventually get mentally exhausted doing the same thing over and over again, finding it more of a task rather than something fun to you. Maybe you should try to ride this fulfilling high while you can before you wind up dreading it.

The elevator in the kitchen opens, and you get back on your feet with a hop. “Alright! Let’s get out of here!” you announce, racing to the elevator with Sprout in tow. 

When you both reach it, Sprout hesitates to enter. He glances at you anxiously, messing with the front of his scarf. You take his large, Ichor-covered hand, squeezing it reassuringly with a warm smile. 

“Ready?” you smile, trying to lighten his mood. “Let’s see what’s on the next floor!” 

Sprout stares at you, and his eye crinkles like he’s smiling under that layer of Ichor. You both enter the elevator, and as soon as you both do, the elevator door closes. 

Floor 11.

You exhale deeply. You’re gonna need to get used to the rhythm of this again, running around the next floor to find the machines. 

You grab your bag and place the tapes you found under the TV for safekeeping, as you do every time. Looking at Sprout, you can’t help but be glad he’s not big enough to crowd the elevator, along with the elevator being rather generous in size and height. 

Sprout lets out a short grumble, getting your attention. “Something the matter, big guy?” you check in on him, returning to his side. 

Sprout looks at the ground and then to you. He grabs his notebook that his scarf's tendril is currently holding. He scribbles something down quickly before showing you.

‘What’s the plan exactly for us?’ He taps the paper. ‘Dandy’s not gonna let you go as long as I’m here with you.’

He’s right. What is the plan? Sprout is right. The only way that Dandy will consider letting you leave is if you drop off Sprout on another floor. You could go home until then, but what about Sprout? 

He’s trapped in Gardenview along with Dandy and the others, and who knows what befell all of them. Not to mention, you’re still scared that if you do leave him, it’ll leave his mind worse for wear again, resulting in his mind turning Twisted. The best you can do is stall for time until you can figure out your next course of action with Sprout. 

Forming a smile, you lightheartedly laugh. “Where else, big guy?” you humor him. “Down.”