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Sprout had been idly standing in the unloading deck room thing where the trains dropped off supplies to be distributed to the entire building, waiting for Dyle to come tell him what boxes were to be taken to the kitchen because nobody labels them idk.
It started small, just a slight annoyance that made an eye twitch. However, the little uncomfortable warmth in his stomach soon climbed up, reaching the back of his mouth. The feeling in his stomach grew sharp, and borderline painful.
It just hurt, though. Surely, surely it was just gonna be the normal thing that always happens 5-140 minutes after he ate literally anything, right?
… He wasn’t going to be trapped down here, alone, sick?
He slightly changed the way he was breathing, trying to not disturb his lower systems any more than they already clearly were. And it helped his stomach not hurt as bad, but- Well. He didn’t realize he was nauseated until that moment. Yeah, it wasn’t anything debilitating, but it was strong enough to be a cause for concern regardless.
… He really, really felt like he had to sit down in order to continue efficiently coping. However, he knew from experience that once he’s down, he can’t get back up without making everything feel significantly worse ((and sometimes throwing up)) until his body finished being weird.
So he just kept awkwardly standing there, hoping that Dyle would come soon.
…
It just kept getting worse.
He started swaying a little, gently rocking back ’n forth on his feet to try to soothe the hurt but that wasn’t working as well as it usually did, and he couldn’t keep a straight face anymore.
And he was getting tired, too.
He had to sit down.
And so, even though it sent a somewhat blinding wave of pain through his systems, he managed to slowly curl up on the ground. Back against the box he had been idly drumming his fingers on earlier, arms wrapped cautiously around his abdomen, knees slightly pulled close.
He was trying his best to keep breathing in that specific way that made everything hurt less, but he still slipped up every now and then. And when he did, the abdominal pain ’n nausea would increase tenfold for a split second before agonizingly fading out.
Absentmindedly, he lifted one of his hands to wipe away a few stray tears ’n slip under his scarf to massage his uncomfortably hot throat.
If he wasn’t as nauseated as he was, then he would start calling out for help.
Because he just can’t stay here. Not for much longer.
He HAD to get out of there.
He NEEDED to be in his bedroom, in his safe area that he made for moments like these, away from the bright lights and grimy dust everywhere and the faint humming sounds of machinery that made his head ache and the tears come faster.
His safe place, where he could curl up and give in to the exhaustion enough to skip having to consciously suffer through the worst parts…
…
Dyle wasn’t coming. He just accepted that at this point.
And he knew nobody else was, either. Because if the Toons were to try and find him, then here would be the absolute last place they’d check.
After all, the location of where the trains dropped off supplies was only known by a carefully selected few, and all of them would be busy at this hour.
He needed help, he needed it so badly, but he knew that it wasn’t coming which meant he had to stand up and go to an elevator and pray that either he’d manage to make it to his room alone or someone would find him.
It wouldn’t even matter who at this point. Every Toon was capable of at least tracking down the nearest medical cabinet, and a decent number of them could also carry him to some degree as well.
But nobody would come.
Nobody is coming.
He’s on his own.
Which meant that he had to save himself.
Somehow.
Oh, he knew he could still definitely physically get up ’n move around ’n stuff, like if a Twisted were to barge in out of nowhere he’d probably be capable of escaping, but…
… he knew. he knew, that it was still going to hurt.
…
Once he had a clear plan of action in mind, he began mentally preparing himself for what he was about to force himself into doing.
His best bet of getting out of there on his own would be to stand up, then push off the box and do his best to sprint as far and long as he could towards the nearest elevator. Stairs were out of the question.
He was definitely going to collapse and/or throw up at some point, but hopefully by then he’d be close enough that it wouldn’t even matter.
This was undeniably going to be extremely unpleasant. He had made peace with that by now.
So, with the deepest breath he dared to take in, he swiftly gripped the box behind himself with both arms and forced his weak ’n hesitant legs to move under himself. He shakily stood, turned to face the wide-open door to freedom on the far side of the large room, then pushed off the box and broke into the best dead-on sprint he could muster.
The pain was enough to have his wet scarf freezing his neck ’n chest from his AC-chilled tears, and he was unstable to the point that a single badly-placed stone could send him back onto the floor, but he still forced himself to keep going.
He managed to run all the way across the room and a couple feet through the hallway on the other side, but unfortunately the consequences of his actions forced him to come to a stumbling halt and lean against the wall.
No level of mental disassociation that he was consciously capable of could stop him from ignoring his body any longer.
Pathetically he stood there, clutching his pain-riddled abdomen as the burning feeling slowly ate away through his entire self.
The nausea was almost more overwhelming than the pain at this point.
He was breathing hard, vision blurred to a debilitating level by tears, and he dared not to stop clenching his jaw shut because that freaking nausea Wouldn’t Stop.
Cautiously he raised his hand again to try to dry off his face with his scarf, then wearily he lifted his heavy head to look around the winding hall, still misty-eyed, struggling to estimate how much farther he had to go before he was free.
… … … It was getting increasingly more difficult to think through the overwhelming mental exhaustion and strong physical discomfort, but from what he barely managed to string together his best guess was about twenty feet.
He had no idea if it was possible for him to make himself get there within the next twenty minutes.
…
Experimentally, he pushed off of the wall and took a couple unsteady steps forward. Not surprising him at all, he then collapsed.
And threw up.
Then threw up again.
And again.
…
…
…
He just… was… there.
Short term memory barely existed anymore. He didn’t know how he was a couple feet further down the hall curled up on his side on the ground, but he. He just kinda was.
Somehow.
His vision felt weird. Waves of darkness blinded him every now ’n then, and his body felt heavy ’n mostly disconnected, only hanging on by the strong thread of pain.
He was exhausted.
He was done.
He didn’t make it in time.
… He felt very small and weak and pathetic, alone on the ground like this.
Now the floor’s even grosser, his scarf undeniably needed to be washed ASAP, and there was almost certainly someone wondering where he was.
Worrying about him.
When he’s not supposed to be the one to be worried over!
He’s supposed to be the one caring for and worrying about them. Not reversed.
Which is why he’s never told any alive being directly how his body’s all messed up and scary and confusing.
Not even Arthur. Not even Delilah.
Not even Cosmo.
Nobody knew.
Or at least, nobody knows anything more than “Sprout gets sick a lot, but 99% of the time it’s not contagious and 75% of the time he can still do stuff. The other 25%, let him be by himself unless he asks for something/someone.”
He’s- he’s cold. Then why is he sweating??
… his temperature should be checked…
…
He can’t keep his eyes open any longer.
He can’t keep breathing in the special way any longer, either.
He can’t…
…
One final tear slowly dribbled down his face as he gave a heavy sigh of defeat.
He’s accepted his fate by now.
He’s going to suffer down here alone, left to the seemingly non-existent mercy of his own body, completely incapacitated for void-knows-how-long.
…
he felt… like a tiny little speckle. bare and exposed, too.
Alone.
Defenseless.
Scared.
Fragile.
Tired.
he felt like he was the young, confused, easily-overwhelmed Toon he used to be when he was developed enough to begin long-term memory.
Nearly twenty years ago.
…
Sprout finally succumbed to the pain and exhaustion.
Splayed on the ground, he slept dreamlessly.
…
…
…
Cosmo paced around the semi-vacant lobby as the other Toons from the runs that just came back dispersed, hands clasped behind his back, head down as he silently internally fretted over the whereabouts of his best friend. He’d been worrying ever since he realized nobody he’s aware of knew where Sprout was, or if he was even just okay.
He took in a shaky, deep breath, then turned to face Astro again. “Are you sure that you can’t sense him anywhere? He’s not asleep, or passed out… nothing that you can detect?” he wearily asked.
Astro solemnly-yet-hesitantly shook his head, then kept staring at the floor, as if he was searching for something.
Suddenly his eye widened, and he lifted his head to meet Cosmo’s fearful gaze.
“He passed out from exhaustion just now. I can’t directly reach his mind, so he isn’t capable of dreaming right now, but I know where he is.” he spoke in his usual quiet ’n serious tone, with a hint of worry.
“Is there anything else? Can we get to him?” Cosmo couldn’t help himself but to ask.
The Main in front of him tilted his head, glanced over to an empty elevator, then back to the cakeroll. “He had been drifting in and out for a while, just barely out of my reach, then finally succumbed to what caused him to fall asleep.”
Cosmo just nodded in understanding, letting go of his wrists to support his head.
“… I can only feel how far away he is from us. If someone were to ask me for his exact coordinates I could write them down, but I wouldn’t be able to provide much further instruction. I’m sorry, Cosmo, but I honestly don’t know how to get to him from here.” Astro finished with a small sigh, then continued watching a specific section of the floor with clear concern.
The two Toons awkwardly existed there for a couple minutes, then Cosmo slightly perked up a little and turned to face Astro again.
“Dandy and Dyle have been everywhere in Gardenview, right?”
Astro nodded. “They’re VIP top-of-the-ladder employees, after all.”
“Well, surely one of them could look at his coordinates and tell us how to get there, right?”
The Main gave a low hum as he thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Well, it doesn’t seem too far-fetched of an assumption. Let’s go see if one of them are at their stores.”
“But I do have to warn you, Cosmo. I can’t recall the last time I’ve sensed someone in the area that he’s in, so there is a high likelihood that he’s passed out somewhere that one- or neither- of us are allowed access to. We may have to split up, or trust whichever Toon we ask to bring him back alone.”
“I understand.”
…
“You want me to-“
“… I’m embarrassed to admit that he’s probably been standing there waiting for me for quite some time, now. Cosmo, if I forget to personally apologize to him for taking up so much of his time once you and I are down there, please remind me.”
“My wording? Oh- I’m sorry, Astro, but I don’t believe you’re permitted access to the area he’s in. However you’re free to come with us through the parts of the building where your keycard allows you to follow.”
…
“This is it. You’re as close as your card allows you now, right?”
“… I wish you luck as well. Thank you, Astro, and if we don’t come back relatively quickly then feel free to report back to Dandicus about how the situation’s been.”
…
…
…
Sprout was suddenly brought back into the waking world by the sounds of the nearby elevator’s machinery jolting into motion.
Dazed and drowsy and drenched in freezing sweat, he rolled over to lay on his other side, because the shoulder and ribs he had been lying on were hurting.
However, that just triggered more pain to flare up.
His abdomen reminded him of when he was first being taught to cook and burned his entire hand on the stove, and when a shaky sob slipped out the sudden-ness of the motion made the pain worsen.
… This was really, really scary.
He was afraid and confused, and then “distressed” became an appropriate label as well when his brain registered nearby stench of vomit.
Wh- What the actual heck had happened before he fell asleep?!
Try as he might, the borderline-hyperventilating strawberry couldn’t recall at all a single thing.
Not immediately at least, because after an agonizing two minutes of frantically searching his foggy brain he then remembered being in pain and waiting for… someone. Someone was supposed to come, but they didn’t, and he was getting sicker by the second so he had tried to get out of there…
… he’s alone. He’s so sick and he’s ALONE and he can’t move everything feels weird and wrong and too much and he’s alone, and there’s nobody coming for him. Nobody’s going to reach him anytime soon.
Another sob escaped his weak figure.
He can’t do anything.
He honestly might even die down here…
… honestly, death would probably hurt less then what he’s experiencing right now.
Too bad that’s a hypothesis he can’t test, huh?
…
And then the elevator door opened.
And then the sounds of footsteps and quietly exchanged words he couldn’t hear reached him.
And then they stopped, but he- even though he couldn’t move his head he KNEW that they were just right there, nearby.
Staring at him.
“Oh, Sprout…”
That was Cosmo! H-his best friend! His bestest friend in the whole world was here!!
He sounded really sad, though. He wished there was a way he could change that.
- but he still couldn’t move.
“… What do you recommend as the best course of action right now?”
That was the faint whisper of Dyle’s voice, clear as day.
He sounded worried.
H-he finally… … … … …came.
They were still talking, but he couldn’t make out their words anymore. Thoughts, mean ones and nice ones and scary and and just- just, Thoughts-
“H-hey, let’s not rip out your leaves, okay?”
Cosmo’s voice cut through the flash flood like an anchor, and he desperately tried to mentally grab onto it as a way out.
The shorter Toon’s hands gently- yet firmly- grabbed his own, and carefully got him to release his grip on his leaves. Once he had let go, Cosmo slowly draped it over himself. Sprout instinctively shifted that arm just the tiniest bit so it could hold his stomach.
“Can I take your scarf, please? It’s dirty, and I know how you are about this stuff, so I know you’ve probably been wanting it off for a while now anyways.”
He weakly nodded along, then squinted his eyes shut as Cosmo then took off his scarf and set it aside somewhere nearby. He opened his eyes just as his friend gently pressed his hand against his forehead, and when Cosmo noticed he was quick to retract his hand.
“Sorry, buddy- I was just checking your temperature, since your arm ’n stuff felt really warm. I think you might have a fever, but we can’t know for sure until Dyle comes back with the supplies.”
So he’s actually sick, huh?
Huh…
Honestly, if it wasn’t for all the medical training he and some other Toons went through together over the course of their entire lives up until the shutdown, he’d be freaking out here a whole lot more then he was.
If he wasn’t so desensitized to so much, if he didn’t have what was engrained in him by the teachers, if he hadn’t already been dealing with medical scenes his entire life…
… this would’ve gone pretty differently.
“… Sprout? Are you- are you still here?”
Cosmo’s question was left unanswered.
Because how did he not catch the signs himself sooner that he- he-
He was trained by Delilah herself! And other really smart important people!!
He was the top student and second-best physician of all the Toons, too, and yet he couldn’t even identify something as simple as a fever in himself…
“… Ah. I-I see.”
…
A tear slid down Sprout’s face.
Cosmo began rocking back ’n forth where he sat at his side. …
Footsteps. Dyle’s footsteps- he was the only one known to casually wear shoes everywhere.
Accompanied by the sounds of various materials hitting against eachother.
He was carrying… a- a bucket of some sort? With stuff inside of it?
“I found everything you asked for.” Dyle’s voice was a bit louder, but still sounded basically the same as last he heard it.
Cosmo nodded. “You clean while I help him?”
Out of the corner of his vision he could see Dyle giving the cakeroll a thumbs-up. “You’re significantly better at aiding Toons directly than I am- I don’t trust myself to be able to do all that correctly.”
“Don’t worry, Dyle- I’m sure you’ll learn what you need to know eventually. And I’m also sure that Dandy or Finn would be open to helping you!” Cosmo gave the noticeably taller Toon an encouraging smile, then turned back to Sprout.
Based off of the sounds he heard, Dyle was cleaning while Cosmo searched through whatever remained inside that bucket.
…
He had almost drifted back to sleep when Cosmo’s voice shook him from his internal listless melancholy.
“… 103.5 Fahrenheit, forehead… 104.2 was the armpit reading…” he stopped when he noticed Sprout was closely paying attention to him.
He gave him a weak smile before speaking. “Hey, Sprout. Would you mind if we got a temperature reading from your mouth? I’m just trying to calculate how bad it is, right now.”
The strawberry sluggishly shook his head, expression unchanging.
Cosmo nodded in return, then took the hand that wasn’t as tightly pressed into his stomach and placed the thermometer in it.
Sprout shivered as a wave of anxiety washed over him when he realized realized what was expected, ((the last thing he wanted was to throw up again)) but still followed through regardless. He carefully put it in his mouth, and then after two minutes he pulled it out to read it.
105.8 degrees Fahrenheit.
… That’s really, really bad.
It meant that something is really wrong with his body. Something scary-wrong.
Tears welled in his eyes, and his throat was painfully warm despite the chill he felt everywhere else excluding his stomach.
Cosmo was clearly alarmed to some degree- or at least, that’s what Sprout guessed. His eyes went wide, eyebrows lifted, and mouth fell to a limp somewhat-open frown.
That was an alarmed expression, right?
“What’s it say?” the cakeroll cautiously asked, in a serious-worried kind of way.
And so, for the first time in hours, Sprout spoke.
“Uh undred fibe, poin’ ate.”
Cosmo was painfully obviously astounded.
Wordless, he simply reached for the thermometer. Sprout was glad to finally get it away from himself, so he eagerly returned the small device.
Cosmo’s hands were shaking as he pulled out his notepad ’n pencil, scribbled the math equations, and checked over his work anxiously.
At last, he gave the final number.
“104.5 is what I’m getting consistently, so it’s the right answer I think.”
He squinted at certain parts of the paper, then sighed. “Oh, I don’t know- Dyle? You’re good with math, right?”
The Toon in question must’ve nodded or something- he was out of Sprout’s limited vision range. “It’s kind of a big part of my job, so yes.”
“What’s 103.5 plus 104.2 plus 105.8, and that answer divided by three?”
“… One-hundred four point five.” Dyle cautiously replied. “Why? I haven’t been paying much attention to you, sorry-”
“No no, you’re fine! Just trying to figure out Sprout’s fever is all.” Cosmo clearly tried and failed to calm the pocketwatch.
“… You understand that I’m just going to worry about him even more now that you’ve just confirmed that I confirmed he has a relatively high fever, correct?”
“Yeah; I live with the physical embodiment of that every day.” Cosmo gave a weak chuckle as he gently patted Sprout’s head. “But even though the numbers are concerning taken out of context, in context they’re not what I’m worrying about the most right now. Actually, they’re not a concern at all, because I know more about how to take care of a fever then I do when-”
Sprout didn’t know why Cosmo cut himself off there, and from the looks of things the cakeroll wasn’t entirely sure either.
Which worried him.
“How do I even say this…”
he was… pained, by something. something connected to sprout.
his bestest friend was on the verge of tears, and he could only watch.
Cosmo half-crawled to somewhere out of Sprout’s vision for a couple minutes, then returned to where he had been sitting.
“… That’s not what’s important right now. The priority should be getting Sprout out of here and taken care of, his scarf washed, and this area sanitized.”
“Then I bet you’ll be glad to hear that I just finished with that last one!” Dyle was obviously faking a lot of the cheer in his tone, using it as a mask for worry and… something that Sprout’s brain was too fogged and sluggish to name.
Cosmo brightened up, and gave the pocketwatch one of his signature heartwarming genuine smiles. “That I am. Thanks, Dyle.”
The taller Toon’s response must’ve been nonverbal, as Cosmo then nodded in his direction before turning back to Sprout as the sounds of footsteps carrying things away echoed through the hallway.
The silence that followed was kinda suffocating, broken one-way for Sprout due to the dulled, lingering ache and occasional pinpricks of pain in his abdomen keeping him from dwelling on the silence for long.
Then, the softest little whispers could be heard in Cosmo’s voice.
“… no, I-I shouldn’t here… … till we get to… …let him get situated… yeah…”
Immediately Sprout responded, with a weary, ridiculously-cracked voice.
“Whas on ya min’, Cosm… Cos- Cossie? I ‘ear you.”
Cosmo’s head whipped around to face him with a stunned ’n regretful expression, and the silence stretched on once more. This time, Sprout felt the awkwardness of it.
“… Cossie?” he asked, after a couple minutes went by.
No response.
A few tears dribbled down his face, as a soft-yet-hurt heaviness hit his chest like if a weighted pillow had been slammed against him.
Eventually, Cosmo’s expression softened with sadness, and he spoke.
“You’re really not yourself right now, h-huh…”
Sprout’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“Ob corse I’m maself! Wah ya mean?!”
Cosmo looked his face up ’n down, and was also clearly paying attention to his entire body language as well. He gave a huffed little laugh, and an awkward smile.
“Well, there’s that.” He continued chuckling to himself for a couple seconds, then sighed. “I’ll tell you more once we’ve made it to your room.”
“W-we goin’ to mah bedwoom?” Sprout’s eyes twinkled with hope, and his voice was delicate ’n fragile here.
Cosmo nodded to him with a slight smile. “I know that your safe place’s where you feel the most comfortable when you’re sick.”
“Can we go nwow?!” his volume was hushed, but his repressed frantic desire to get out of here still managed to unearth itself and come across.
The cakeroll gave another short ’n huffed chuckle, then shook his head. “No, we gotta wait for Dyle to come back first. I know that if you were capable of sitting or standing or getting out of here yourself then you would be doing that stuff by now, and I’m not nearly strong enough to physically support you for as long as it’ll be needed, but don’t worry! He should be back any second now!”
“We’ll be in your comfortable room soon, where you can rest for as long as you need.”
…
… Sprout must’ve fallen asleep again or something, because next he knew he was being cradled securely in Dyle’s arms under the blinding white lights of the elevator, and Cosmo was standing at the machine’s control panel, keycards in hand.
The elevator door rose to reveal a very familiar and relieving sight, and tears of joy budded in his eyes. Oh, it was so good to be back on the floor with all the Mains’ bedrooms again!
The tears threatened to spill over his face, but Dyle shifted his hold on him to delicately dry his eyes with his sleeve’s clean white cuff.
The softness of the fabric caught him off-guard, but he eventually decided he really, really liked it.
He should try to find a blanket that felt all good like that once he’s not sick anymore.
He’s been needing a new big comfort blanket for his safety nest, anyways.
Dyle chuckled when Sprout gently gripped that bit of fabric in his free hand, and looked down at him with a soft and safe and happiness-causing expression.
“Like the fabric?” he asked, still beaming down at him.
Sprout eagerly nodded, managing to smile a little in return.
“Well, I’ve got a couple really big blankets of various weights made out of this exact fabric that I don’t use anymore in my room. I could wash them, and give them to you?” the pocketwatch offered.
“‘Es pease!” the wide-eyed strawberry excitedly flexed his hands as he spoke, like how he’s kneaded dough for baking things before so many times.
Dyle laughed a genuine real laugh, a rare but wonderfully beautiful sound that made him feel all warm ’n happy inside and out.
“Of course, little bud! I’ll get them all nice and ready just for you when I can.”
The new nickname was quite a surprise to Sprout, but it was a welcome one. It made him feel safe and good, and for just a moment he managed to blissfully forget the awful condition his body was in as he basked in the happy feelings.
Clearly, it was also a surprise for Dyle, too.
“… Ah, I’m sorry about that, Sprout. I-I know you’re a bit-”
“Shh!” Sprout was quick to hush him, lifting a finger to bop the black dot on the taller’s face. “Nuh-uh. No sowwies. I likes it!”
He then realized that they all somehow were now in his room, and that Cosmo had been intently watching them quite closely with a very, very worried expression.
His bestest friend was sad, which made Sprout feel sad too.
Dyle, who’s also been paying close attention this whole time despite carrying a sick Toon that was only an inch or so shorter then himself, cautiously walked over to Cosmo, who’s expression softened a tad with genuine happiness as they approached.
“It’s so good to hear you talking again. And it’s such a good sign for your health that you’re not suffering to such an extent that it’s hard for you to take your mind off of it, too.” he wearily smiled.
“Why sad, Cossie?” he asked the moment he was done processing the conversation-starter.
Cosmo’s face fell again, and he sighed. “It’s… it’s hard to explain. Besides, you’re the one who’s sick with a high fever, nausea, and stomach pains. My problems can wait.”
Sprout didn’t like that answer.
He really, really didn’t like it. Not one bit.
He didn’t have it in himself to reply, though. He didn’t know what to say, and he was getting sleepy-tired again anyways.
Cosmo eventually broke the silence by changing the subject entirely.
“… Dandy’s in his room. Would you be alright with me bringing him in to check you over? I’ll still be here, right with you.” he reassured.
“I’m off-work for the rest of the day and most of tomorrow too, so I can stick around for as long as I’m needed.” Dyle added, swaying gently. Rocking on his feet.
Sprout just sleepily blinked at each Toon, consciousness slipping with each comforting rock.
“… Can I bring Dandy in here to give you an exam?” Cosmo rephrased his question.
Softly, he nodded before turning to hide his face in Dyle’s clean-smelling suit jacket.
“I’ll be back with him.” Cosmo said before presumably exiting the room.
There was silence for a little bit, then,
“… Could we sit down on your bed, little bud? My arms are kinda tired from being stuck like this, carrying you around.” he then gave a little chuckle at the end, alleviating his worries.
Sprout nodded, and so Dyle walked over to his bed ’n gently set him down on it. He sighed a big, slightly huffy sigh that reminded him of when the two would sometimes have to haul boxes around together, shook out his arms- and especially his wrists, he noticed- then slipped off his shoes to sit beside him on the plush surface.
Being moved down onto the bed had made his stomach hurt again, even though the pocketwatch had been oh so careful with him. He winced, then shifted his position to be closer to Dyle and rest his head in the other’s lap.
The taller Toon tensed, then slowly relaxed again, and begun running a hand up ’n down the shorter’s back.
Waves of darkness started passing through his vision, and when the first sweep of numbness washed through his mind he gave in to sleep immediately.