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Sprout ran his fingers through the cracks on the tiled floor, biting his nails nervously, a tiny but sharp razor blade stained with old blood, laid on his thigh, anticipating. Another, long long day ending with Sprout having to clean his own mess up.
Has anyone even considered his absence? He started making appearances less frequently in the lobby, showing up later and later to him and Cosmo's baking sessions, and only conversing with other toons if he really had too. Yet still, no one seemed to bat an eye.
Sprout broke out into a sob, his bottom lip quivering. His heart hurt, he could feel the pounding, unbearable pain in his chest, and guilt overbearing him. He had reached his breaking point. Vision blurred, he dug the edge of the blade into his thigh with increasing effort, then yanked it away with a swift, clean movement of his wrist.
Sprout clenched his teeth together. The sound of his skin ripping apart took place over the overwhelming sound of silence, other than the occasional flicker of lights. Sprout watched the inside of the wound turn white, then blood slowly start to seep in through the sides.
Slash, again.
Again,
and again.
He loved it. He loved the adrenaline rush, it felt like all of his worries were washed away in the moment. It was addicting.
Soon enough, blood was trickling down his thighs and into the cracks of the rough ground. Sprout threw his accomplice across the room, followed by an agonizingly loud clatter. He was aware he had to clean this up before Cosmo would come, assumingly asking to sleep in Sprout's room that night.
But he was just so, so tired. His legs felt like pure jello, numb, like they had been sugarcoated with honey, sticking to the floors.
With wobbly legs and a blood stained lap, Sprout managed to get himself to stand on his own. How pathetic.
He washed his hands and legs off carefully with warm water, cleaning the floor with a wet rag he scavenged in the closet. Sprout disappointed himself. He could do better tomorrow.
One of his cuts was still oozing blood out, running down his leg in a wavy line, leaving stains of scarlet liquid down its path. Sprout shrugged it off lightly, he was far too exhausted to push himself to do anything else.
But before he even had the chance to put his razor away, he heard a familiar voice behind him. His body went ice-cold.
He hadn't covered anything yet.
Cosmo locked eyes with Sprout, then his legs, then caught his gaze again, shocked.
Sprout started to stutter, trying to find a good excuse for what was going on.
"I-its its not…what it looks like Cosmo!" he blurted out.
It was exactly what it looked like.
Cosmo didn't say a word, he wrapped his arms tightly around his friend . Sprout's shoulders started to tense up, he felt Cosmo's body start to shake, he started to cry.
"Why didn't you tell me?" He choked out, interlocking a hand with Sprout's, the other placed softly on his cheek.
Sprout tried to keep his emotions together, but failed miserably. Tears welled fast in his eyes, and he broke down quickly, sinking back down onto the ground.
"Nononono-it's okay!" Cosmo blurted hastily, kneeling down to his best friend's height, resting his hands on his shoulders.
"Hey, it's gonna be alright." He spoke softly, like he wasn't trying to break any boundaries. Sprout liked that about him, he cared. "I'm hic sorry. I'm really sorry Cosmo." Sprout started to hiccup uncontrollably, his face filthy and tainted with blood, snot and tears, finally letting himself go. Cosmo pulled him into a warm embrace again, this time giving him a gentle, reassuring peck on the cheek.
"It's nothing to apologize for, I promise you." He stopped for a moment, letting Sprout breathe. "Did you want to talk about it? I can fix you up if you'd like, but only if you want me too, no pressure at all." Cosmo pulled back, making sure Sprout heard him clearly. He was still for a moment, and then nodded slightly.
Cosmo used the back of his palm to wipe a tear off the boys cheek, before opening the cabinet beside them, bringing out the first aid kit.
"This is gonna sting a little, alright?" He flashed a heads up. Sprout winced and let out a whimper as Cosmo carefully padded a cotton-ball onto his wounds, disinfecting them.
Sprout opened his mouth, but it felt like no words could escape. He really wanted to talk to Cosmo about it. His mind was spiraling with a million different thoughts, and he could almost feel himself slipping away from reality.
After plastering a few bandages onto Sprout's legs, Cosmo offered a hand towards him, helping him steady himself.
"We can cuddle in my room tonight if you'd like." He suggested, reaching his hand our and offering Sprout a warm smile.
Sprout finally spoke. "I think that'd be nice."