Chapter Text
Cosmo doesn’t remember much of his “birth,” or if he really had one. In fact, he doubted any of them really were “born.” They came about artificially, but not in the way you’d think. Apparently they were made in labs using God knows what.
Nobody questioned it, though, which Cosmo was thankful for. He didn’t want to question his existence, how he came about. Plus the conversation of parents was always awkward – how was he supposed to explain to a kid he didn’t have a family? That’d just be… upsetting.
And Cosmo was specifically made to keep kids uplifted! It was part of his program, his DNA. He aspired to fit into that role because without it Cosmo believed he’d be nothing. He was already outshined by Sprout who’d been around longer.
A tall strawberry with long leaves for hair and a freckled complexion from the ‘seeds.’ It was Sprout who brought up the idea for the diner and taught Cosmo all he knew about baking and when they were ready they opened it to the public.
Since then Cosmo’s been busy with both baking and fan-meets, but it gave him something to do. It was a purpose outside uplifting a kid’s wellbeing. This way he didn’t actually have to be encouraging, he could just fill them up with sweets and cavities to make them feel better.
That was way easier , Cosmo thought. Easier than having to explain awkward things he didn’t know the answer to. Plus, Cosmo thought it fit him better to be in the kitchen.
Sometimes he’d even have the other toons come down to the diner for a treat and he happily obliged in fulfilling their silly requests. He even had a few of the regulars' orders memorized.
Poppy liked glazed donuts, Pebble always got a puppuccino when Dandy came around to request a hot snack, usually tiered sandwiches with odd mixes of vegetables and meats. Shelly liked croissants since they resembled the curve and grooves of a stegosaurus.
What even was a stegosaurus? Cosmo had been meaning to drop by the library and ask Brightney. That, or ask Shelly directly. However Cosmo couldn’t bring himself to do it since he knew it’d inevitably lead to him being dragged into a conversation he didn’t have the social battery for.
In fact, Cosmo didn’t really like the long conversations he got himself into. It was draining and beyond intimidating to have eyes on him. He avoided eye contact as best he could and tried to discreetly steer topics away from others interests so he wouldn’t have to listen to the info-dumping of dinosaurs or the importance of reading.
It did make him feel awful! Cosmo was always struck with guilt whenever he’d get those types of thoughts but… he couldn’t help it. Even Sprout was sometimes too much. Cosmo just needed alone time to recuperate from the baking and the talking he did constantly.
Which is why his bedroom is such a safe haven.
Cosmo’s room was small but it wasn’t size that mattered to him, just how he maximized it - a fuzzy rug that spread to cover nearly all his wooden floors, a brown-and-white striped wallpaper that was cut off only by the wood trimming, with a desk in the corner against two walls and his bed to the right of the door.
He even got some wall decorations from Astro and Teagan: hanging star and moon nightlights and a small coffee table with two seats, respectively. It wasn’t much, but it was home to him. More importantly he had a lock in his door which served to keep everyone out, especially the ones who liked to barge in and bug him.
His bedroom was his safe haven, a place of comfort and little stimulation. He could work at his desk doodling or coming up with recipes, sit in one of the seats that were so comfortable you could fall asleep in them, and the added touch of the nightlights made him feel safe.
There was just one slight problem – just across the hall was Shrimpo. Cosmo didn’t mind the toon but he didn’t willingly interact with him, and Shrimpo acted the same way. Other than occasional glances that led to eye contact or a short wave, their interactions were short and brief.
Completely out of Cosmo’s norm and almost exactly fitting for how Shrimpo acted.
Cosmo wasn't sure when exactly Shrimpo became as bitter as burned popcorn kettles, but since the shift Shrimpo’s access to the little olds has been almost nonexistent. At first it just started with this small punk, alternative phase.
Then it snowballed into him acting out, neglecting his duty to attend fan-meets, and going as far as to yell. The final straw was when, at a fan-meet Cosmo was attending, Shrimpo shoved a kid off him.
The kid only suffered a minor scuff, but it was enough to remove Shrimpo completely from the list of fan-meets and limit him to handler-supervised interactions with kids. As the months progress, what Shrimpo has been allowed to do has only become more strict:
- He can’t be out in crowds without a handler present
- He cannot, under any circumstance, be near Sprout or he will attack him
- Isn’t allowed in the kitchen as a precaution so he doesn’t “arm himself for battle”
- Cannot have a door (he lost this privilege after kicking Vee’s door in to “kick her ass”).
The list just goes on, and involves too many curse words for Cosmo to think of. But none of these questionable restrictions were what made Cosmo so drained about being across from him.
Rather, it was the fact that Shrimpo had no door and had taken up instruments as a way to relieve stress. After a close investigation into Shrimpo’s behavior the handlers decided to bring Shrimpo to a counselor, who recommended music therapy as an outlet.
Since then Shrimpo has acquired a guitar, drum set, electric piano, and a microphone for singing and music-making projects. Cosmo honestly thought it was a good, even revolutionary, idea for Shrimpo.
But then Shrimpo actually started playing and suddenly Cosmo’s idea was changed. Without a door, and little sound proofing to his room, all the noise Shrimpo produced poured out into the halls and simultaneously into Cosmo’s room.
This went on for hours, only ending in the night. Cosmo’s safe haven was interrupted constantly by Shrimpo’s need to practice and perform and at times he felt compelled to march over there to demand he stop!
Of course Cosmo didn’t, though. For starters, it’d be rude. Second, Cosmo knew it was in Shrimpo’s best interests to do this and he had seen improvement. That still didn’t change how Cosmo felt and he felt guilty over it too.
This day, or late afternoon anyway, was no different. It was afterhours but it didn’t matter since it was Sunday and the center was closed. Cosmo had been recharging his social battery since last night and had just woken up after his fifth nap to Shrimpo’s screeching guitar riff.
He jolted away from underneath his puffy, weighted covers with alarm. It was enough to get adrenaline shuttling through his veins and encourage him to his feet. Cosmo threw the covers off and slipped his feet into a fluffy pair of slippers.
He glanced at the clock hung above his bed and sighed. It read only 6:40pm, which meant it was peak Shrimpo performing time. That meant what Cosmos was hearing now would be going on for the next few hours.
It gave him such a headache. He needed something, anything. He walked over, guided by the nightlights hung from the ceilings, to the door and felt the wall for the lightswitch. He found it, flicked it on, and squinted.
It was bright, too bright for how sensitive his eyes were at the moment. Regardless Cosmo pushed through, shuffling back to his bed and getting to his knees. He bent down and peaked under his bed, scanning the black abysses for…
Ah, there it is , Cosmo thought, reaching under his bed and grabbing ahold of a handle.
Pulling it out from underneath his bed it was clear to see Cosmo was holding a medkit. He unclipped the two locks holding the lid shut and dug through the kit for any headache medication.
Unfortunately he didn’t have any here. Cosmo reached out and tried again, finding another one under his bed. It was the same results and Cosmo found himself in a loop of repeating this process to no avail.
Maybe he had some hoarding issues, and more importantly a stock issue because where was his headache reliever? Out of the five kits under his bed not one had the familiar baggy of white pills to relieve headaches and congestion.
He sighed and rubbed his eyes. He needed to wake up and think. Where were they last? DId he give anyone some, and how much? He was left with questions, not answers, and still Shrimpo’s playing in his ear, shaking the floor.
Now, it’s important to note Cosmo was crafted to never get angry. It wasn’t genetically necessary for him to have negative emotions like that when he was made to inspire and encourage kids, while also having a knack for healing them.
You can’t have a quick temper and deal with kids who are just learning boundaries; it just won’t mix. Still, even though his personality, and everyone else's, were crafted to compliment their purpose, it didn’t stop them from developing traits outside their purpose.
Take… Shelly for example: on one hand she was bright-minded, enthusiastic, and easy to please. On the other hand, she was sensitive; second-guessing and always lacking a sense of trust.
Although she was definitely extroverted and always down to talk, her contradictory nature of believing everyone hated her, and thus being suspicious of their motives and if they genuinely want to listen to her have led her to act out or self-isolate.
It just goes to show how even with artificial programming they still had a sense of self and could go against their design. And right now Cosmo was about to go against his.
Cosmo casted the medkit aside and used his bed to help himself up. He then turned to his door, unlocked it, and flung it open. Stepping out into the vacant hall he saw Shrimpo with his back turned to him, playing his guitar at full blast.
Cosmo glanced down both ends of the halls but everyone's doors were closed. Seriously, did nobody have an issue with how loud Shrimpo was playing? Cosmo huffed, balling his fists and marching over.
Unfortunately it’s harder than Cosmo thought to resist his DNA because the closer he got to Shrimpo’s room, the more his heart raced with fear. His cowardice got the better of him and for a second Cosmo stopped to rethink his actions.
Was he seriously about to barge into Shrimpo’s room without permission and demand he stop playing? Wouldn’t it just be more polite to ask him to turn the volume down?
As Cosmo contemplated the best course of action Shrimpo turned, and what an odd sight that must’ve been to go from jamming out on a guitar, turning, and seeing your across-the-hall roommate standing in your doorway shaking and looking deep in thought.
Shrimpo immediately stopped and Cosmo looked up, catching Shrimpos’ gaze. He instinctively shot his eyes to the ground, staring at his slippers. A silence carried for an uncomfortably long time but Cosmo couldn’t budge.
He was terrified now - of what he was about to do, of what he should do, and better yet, what to say.
All while this was racing through his head Shrimpo just stood there, looking equally puzzled and irritated off the bat. He stared at Cosmo, waiting, but impatience got the better of him.
“IF YOU HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY SPIT IT OUT!” Shrimpo shouted. He stomped his foot and grumbled underneath his breath. He watched Cosmo nearly jump out of his skin and smirked, pleased to have scared him.
Shrimpo turned away from Cosmo and placed his guitar down, unplugging the cord from his speaker.
Cosmo watched him do it, eyes following his every move. Shrimpo was right - he did have something to say, so Cosmo needed to spit it out! Just… how do you do that without sounding rude?
He watched Shrimpo wrap the cord up then take the guitar to a bag of a similar shape. He gently placed the instrument inside and clipped it shut. Cosmo still hadn’t spoken and with Shrimpo no longer preoccupied with caring for his instrument he turned all focus to Cosmo, marching over.
Shrimpo got close, basically in Cosmo’s face, and huffed. “IF YOU’RE NOT GOING TO SAY ANYTHING THEN LEAVE!” he shouted, yet again.
Cosmo’s legs were basically jelly at this point. What happened to all the macho energy he just had? He fidgeted with the strings of his sleeveless hoodie, twirling it around his finger.
“I… I just wanted to ask you if you’d, well you don’t have too, honestly I don’t even know why I came over here. This was stupid, sorry,” Cosmo blabbered out, stumbling over his words as he spat out word vomit. “Really, just forget I was ever here. In fact, I’ll even make it up to you for me disturbing your playing, how’s about I-”
“SHUUTT UUUPPPP!!!” Shrimpo screamed in Cosmo’s face, cheeks slightly flushed from the strain of having to yell. Cosmo shut up immediately. “GOD, I CAN’T EVEN KEEP UP WITH WHAT YOU’RE SAYING.”
Shrimpo huffed, shoulders rising as he breathed, and he glanced past Cosmo to see into the hall. He stared past him for a second, possibly thinking and connecting dots, and then looked back to Cosmo.
“Your bedroom light’s on,” Shrimpo commented.
“Hm?” Cosmo mumbled, looking up. He glanced behind him and, sure enough, it was still on. Cosmo must’ve forgotten to turn it off. Past-Cosmo probably thought he’d just be in and out, but that wasn’t the case now was it, past-Cosmo?
Shrimpo crossed his arms, frowning. “They weren’t on before,” he added, looking away. “Did I wake you up.”
“Yeah,” Cosmo answered flatly. Once hearing how annoyed his tone sounded he scrambled to clear up any misunderstanding. “N…not that I mind! It really, it's like… it really wasn’t your fault! I’m probably just a light sleeper.”
Cosmo chuckled nervously, desperate to wrap up this awful conversation. Shrimpo snorted, turning away from Cosmo and going over to his bed. It was much simpler than Cosmo’s, only having a single pillow and blanket.
It struck something in Cosmo and he found himself pitying the shrimp. If Shrimpo knew that though he’d probably beat Cosmo’s head flat. The image that came to mind of how he would look with a flat head made Cosmo shudder.
Shrimpo paused, looking over at him with a raised brow. “Cold?” he asked. Before Cosmo could reply, he went on, adding, “it is November. Soon they will close the place down for a whole three days so the workers can celebrate the holidays.”
Cosmo blinked in surprise. Shrimpo was right. But, dang it, this isn’t what Cosmo was here for! He shook his head and wore a new look of determination, marching right up to Shrimpo and standing to his side.
“Shrimpo!” Cosmo said in as demanding a voice he could muster. Shrimpo eyed him, and it made Cosmo’s confidence dwindle just a little.
Then there was the eye contact they were sharing and Cosmo nearly folded on himself from the anxiety blooming in his stomach. He’d probably be skipping dinner now with how full he was off his anxiety ride.
Shrimpo just stood there waiting for Cosmo to finish but he was now too involved in his thoughts to remember where he left off. It was Shrimpo who brought him back.
“Holy shit,” he said, a quiet whisper under his breath, “do you EVER finish your sentences?”
Cosmo stammered. “I do!” he answered, furrowing his brows as he frowned.
“Then say what you need to say and get the hell out,” Shrimpo grumbled, inching away.
“Fine,” Cosmo mumbled. “I was wondering if you could turn your uhm…” Cosmo motioned at all of Shrimpos’ instruments, “everything down. It wakes me up and then I can’t sleep.”
Shrimpo blinked, glancing back from Cosmo to his pile of instruments. He repeated that twice, looking back and forth, before snorting. It caught Cosmo off guard and he defensively hugged himself, believing Shrimpo was making fun of him.
Shrimpo didn’t try to clear up Cosmo’s unvoiced discomfort and, in fact, hadn’t noticed because he’d begun to full on laugh at the request Cosmo had made.
“Are you seriously laughing? It’s not funny. I get headaches because of it!” Cosmo said, reiterating how serious it was. Certainly Shrimpo would focus knowing that it was causing him physical discomfort.
But, no, he didn’t. He just laughed harder, stumbling back to where Cosmo was (who hadn’t moved an inch from Shrimpos’ bedside) and sat down on his mattress, hugging his stomach.
It took a few more seconds of giggling for Shrimpo to calm down and he sighed, leaning back on an arm that kept him propped up.
“Oh my god,” he breathed out, “you were a stuttering mess over that? Just asking me to turn my music down? You’re weird, man.”
Cosmo scoffed. “I’m not weird!”
Shrimpo shrugged. “Hey, to each their own.” He looked over at his instruments and sighed. “Sure, I’ll turn my music down when I play. I’m not stopping though, you can’t make me.”
Cosmo rolled his eyes. “Of course I’m not asking you to stop playing,” he mumbled, “you play beautifully. It’s just loud is all.”
That single sentence made Shrimpo’s formerly bored expression shift completely. His expression dropped, nothing but pure curiosity and seriousness to it as he stared at Cosmo with a raised brow and agape mouth.
Cosmo looked everywhere but where Shrimpo was sitting, too awkward to make eye contact with him when he was looking at Cosmo as if he’d had said something deviously shocking.
Shrimpo cleared his throat and got a hold of his expression. He looked down, fiddling with his hands in his lap. “Thanks, I guess,” he said after a second. “I don’t get compliments on my playing.”
That’s just absurd , Comso thought. With how good Shrimpo was playing Cosmo was under the assumption everyone was stopping by over the course of Shrimpo’s evening playing to listen. He guessed that wasn’t the case.
Shrimpo stared at his hands for a minute, thinking. Then he looked up and grinned. “Want me to teach you? You look like a drum kind of guy.”
Cosmo blinked, shocked. “Me? Play? N-no, that’s not a good idea…”
Shrimpo shot up onto his feet, standing right in Cosmo’s face. “COME ON!! IT’LL BE COOL!!”
The pressure was high and Cosmo unfortunately had the lowest tolerance to peer pressure. He caved instantly, looking to the left to sigh and nod.
To say Shrimpo seemed estatic was an understatement.
He fistpumped the air and then began to talk and yell about his instruments, specifically the drums, and Cosmo just stood there, listening. Shrimpo must’ve gone on for an hour. Oddly enough Cosmo didn’t feel drained?
Maybe it was because he’d just woken up from a long, much needed nap, but he didn’t feel spent and kinda… enjoyed listening to Shrimpo. Watching the guy zip around his room and explain chords of a guitar and how he plays them was fascinating to him.
Dinosaurs and fish never caught Cosmo’s eye (sorry Shelly and Finn) since:
- Dinosaurs were extinct, and thus he couldn’t actually engage with them
- The Gardenveiw’s aquarium was shut down due to expenses, so Cosmo didn’t get to develop as big an interest as Finn did with the old exhibit.
This was different, though. Cosmo could actually get his hands on things and visualize it to scale. It was weird and awkward to hold drum sticks and beyond embarrassing having to play in front of Shrimpo knowing he was a pro.
But, it put Cosmo at ease how carefree Shrimpo was about it all. Completely unbothered by the numerous mistakes Cosmo made. It was so out of place, uncharacteristically weird for Shrimpo to behave like this.
It didn’t fit how he was described in his grocery-list length of restrictions depicting him as some rabid animal who needed their shots and a muzzle. Cosmo wasn’t sure how to feel about it at all, but he was intrigued.
More than he’d like to think.