Archive of Our Own

“Aaand that's how I managed to piss Sam off for the third time today. It makes you wonder why they keep trying to get me to bake more often when all that comes out of it are these bad boys.” Sprout grinned, rolling up his sleeves and revealing a whole colony of relatively small yet painful-looking burns and blisters.

Yikes. That didn't look good. Shelly couldn't help but wince as she glanced at his injuries. If it was her in his shoes, she'd be steering clear of the kitchen for the rest of her days.

“Umm…Sprout, are you ok? Those don't look good. Want me to-”

“I'm fine!” he insisted with a small laugh, nudging Shelly in the shoulder. “Seriously, this is just first-degree burns and stuff. You should be more worried about the oven. I might actually burn Gardenview down someday.”

“You won't!” Shelly nudged him back.

“How do you know that? I mean, you can't tell the future, and the odds lean way more towards the…you know, destruction of the kitchen.”

Shelly had to give her response a few seconds of thought, and every microsecond of each and every one of those seconds seemed to hang in the balance like a physical weight of some kind.

His smile grew a little uncertain. A little shaky. She could tell he wanted to know the reasoning behind her bold claim.

“Uh, well…” Shelly pursed her lips and looked down.

“I mean, maybe you make mistakes sometimes…but you're always super focused when you bake, you know? Like it's the best thing in the world and you don't want anybody to take you away from what you're doing, and I think that's way more important. You'll get better with time, so just keep doing it and it'll happen, ok?”

Sprout’s eyes widened a little. Then they locked onto Shelly, and then he swiftly turned his head away, which he usually did when trying to hide a smile or a laugh or anything he didn't want others to see.

“Hm?” Shelly inched a bit closer to him. “Sprouty, what happened?”

“I…” he clearly wanted to say something, but didn't have the right words. There was a slight crack in his voice. It felt fragile, and Sprout wasn't often fragile. “I…just wasn't expecting you to say that.”

He turned towards her again. Silence passed between them.

They were sitting side by side, under the massive tree in the middle of the lobby. The night air was cold, and they could very well get into trouble, but it felt nice on their skin and nicer to be alone together.

Without meaning to, Shelly looked into his eyes, and he looked back, and they kept doing that for an unknown amount of time that couldn't have been more than a minute or two, but felt…longer. This moment was so precious, but it was going to slip through her fingers soon. They'd have to go back to bed and go back to work the next day, just like that.

For a split second, she wished she could freeze time and stay here forever, with him, without any of the others. Without any duties or responsibilities…just…her. And Sprout.

Even if that did make her feel a bit selfish.

Sprout blinked, ending their unofficial staring contest, and red coloured his cheeks. His face was turning into an entirely new shade of crimson unrecognised in any palette.

“Back to what you said, though– you really think that?” Sprout drew his gaze away from her and scratched the back of his head. “That's…that's really sweet. I don't think anybody else could say these things.”

Now it was Shelly’s turn to be surprised. What she said was essentially just the truth repackaged in a slightly more motivating way.

“That's- well, that's also super sweet! See, you find ways to be sweet even when you're not baking!” Shelly tried really hard not to smile from ear to ear. “But they ARE just words, y'know. Anybody can say them. It's really nothing!”

“It's really everything, because…look, anybody can say them, but not everybody thinks of saying them. I sort of get why they wouldn’t, you know?”

Sprout’s tone was warm, but his voice shook a bit, heavy with something he was trying very hard to hide. Shelly paused and gave him a once-over, and she could've sworn there were a few tears glistening in his eyes. Only for a second—but they existed.

“Sorry, I- I'm not crying, it's just- something's in my eye!”

Sprout grabbed his scarf and wiped at his tears in a fast, furious pace, trying to erase any trace of sadness or stress. He was very intent on keeping the ruse up. That much was obvious, even if it broke her heart.

Being Sprout's best friend made her know a lot of things he didn't know about himself, and she knew his compulsion to act like everything was alright all too well. The issue was, she didn't know how to make him stop.

Once he was done, he faced her and forced a weak smile. “See? I'm fine now. D-don't worry about me.”

Sprout was a terrible liar.

In her chest, she felt a sharp squeeze. It was just a squeeze, but she couldn't ignore how much it hurt.

A hand made its way over to Sprout's, which was balled into a shaky fist, and grabbed it. She made sure to squeeze extra tight, just because.

“You don't have to pretend…I know Sam can be kinda harsh on you sometimes. Delilah too.” Shelly remembered the things they'd said to him, and had to steady herself.

“But- you're still the only one I know who's this good at baking! And you keep doing it, even if you get yelled at, and even if it comes out all burnt and salty…” she reassured. It was working, thankfully—Sprout seemed to notice the genuinity in her tone. The ambient sound of his sniffling ceased for a minute.

“You’re strong, Sprouty. Even stronger than me. You can push through anything. So, I believe in you. You should believe in yourself too, ok?”

Comforting words wasn’t always her area of expertise, but right now, they had landed somewhere deep in Sprout's heart. Tears flickered in his eyes again, and one even spilled down his face.

But he didn't wipe it. He didn't make an attempt to hide the tear. They rolled down his cheeks, and Sprout was finally free to cry as much as he needed to.

Her friend's hand shook again, and then it held onto hers. Tighter this time. A scared squeeze that said “stay with me” better than language ever could have.

“...Ah, Shelly… you're way too nice. You have, like, lethal levels of nice and kind in you.” Sprout sniffled slightly. “You…You're right about that. I–just- ugh, I've got no reason to be crying…!”

“You don't have to have a reason! You might make mistakes sometimes, but you're Sprout, and I've never met another Sprout before…so don't be hard on yourself.”

“And I've never met another Shelly before,” he tapped her on the forehead, eyes still shining with unshed tears. “I get that you want me and everybody else to be happy, but- you're important too, you get that? Don't forget it.”

You're important too.

Suddenly, her vision began to grow blurry, and very…uh, watery. Was she beginning to cry?

Sprout’s emotions always found a way to transfer over to Shelly. His anger, his sadness, his happiness became hers without either ever knowing how that was so. Naturally, before she knew it, his words had driven her to the verge of shedding some very happy tears too.

Shelly fidgeted with her suspenders some more, unable to think clearly. His words played over and over like someone had very carefully placed a cassette tape of him saying those exact words—you’re important—inside her brain and set it on repeat.

“So are you-!”

“This isn't about me, you know. I'm talking about YOU! You're awesome. You always know how to cheer me up. And I…I just don't know what to say, so…”

Sprout pulled her closer, and his arms wrapped around her in a tight embrace. Warmth enveloped her so quickly she thought she'd broken a fever. It was silly, but Shelly realized he was hugging her quite some time after he had done so.

The hug, for its part, wasn't overly squeezy or suffocating—he hugged her so very tenderly without thinking twice, like she was a prized teddy bear. He trembled against her. His head soon found the crook of her neck and buried itself there, his leafy hair spilling over her shoulder. Sprout's breathing shook just a little bit, just enough to let her know he was scared of something he wasn't ready to tell her.

…She knew what he wanted to say, even if he didn't want to say it. She knew he was scared she'd disappear or get up and go back to her room if he made the irreversible mistake of letting go of her. Knowing him, he was probably fearing all of these things at once. Thankfully for him, she didn't want to leave. Not now, not ever.

Shelly pulled him towards her, hugging back with the same tenderness, and the same nauseating worry that he'd go away. They were together. That was all that mattered now.

“You're a good hugger, you know that…?”

“I think you mean to say you're just huggable.”

His joke made her crack a smile, and then a grin, and then she let out a soft, breathy giggle, and that made Sprout laugh right after. A bright, carefree laugh that didn't carry any of the earlier tension. There weren't any worries or tears left for him—he was just…happy. Shelly couldn't explain it, but seeing her best friend happy made her want to find a million more ways to make Sprout smile that adorable smile of his.

“...Hey, Shells-” Sprout pulled away, the warmth of the hug dissipating. There was a thoughtful edge to his voice. If he was in deep thought about whatever he wanted to say, it was, without question, exceedingly important.

“Mhm? Go on, I'm all ears.”

Since she'd given him the green flag to go ahead with whatever he wanted to say, all inhibition Sprout previously had disappeared, and he raised a pinky finger up. Even though he didn't seem scared, didn't tremble, his finger shook ever so slightly, and his next words came out in the form of a weak, yet genuine stammer.

“P-Promise we'll be friends forever? You gotta mean it, ok?”

Shelly blinked.

The corners of her mouth lifted up on their own, without any input from her, somehow. Call it magic. Call it Sprout's charm. It happened.

She raised her pinky too, and wrapped it around his with zero hesitation.

“Of course I mean it–” she said, taking a moment to look at their fingers, wrapped around each other. Pinky-promising. They were close. So, so close. And their words were tying them closer than they'd ever been before.

She was always meant to be close to Sprout…right?

“We're going to stay friends forever. Nothing will change that!”

—

Shelly was barely managing to get any sleep these days.

God, if only it was just mere insomnia. No, sleep refused to touch her with a ten foot pole. If she did commit the sin of falling asleep, she awoke in a cold sweat, heart pounding, fingers numb as the words he said so carelessly and so resolutely rang in her ears and tasted like acid in her mouth. Every time, without fail.

She pulled the covers over herself and shut her eyes. It was warm in her room, and the lights were dim, and she'd already tried counting sheep and taking deep breaths and drinking warm water while facing north. Lo and behold, nothing worked. She was still wide awake.

The blanket on her wasn't a thin one, and it was her favourite blanket, but as she lay there in bed, she could feel the cold of his absence freezing her over from the inside. The Sprout that used to glare at anybody who rolled their eyes at her silly dinosaur facts was now one of those people. The Sprout that saw her as a friend was gone.

How was she supposed to sleep with the knowledge that she couldn't get him back?

When she wasn't trying to sleep, or thinking, both of which she spent the majority of her time doing, then she was wandering around the museum exhibit of Gardenview and looking around and convincing herself she was having fun and the hollow activity was extremely rejuvenating. The pain in her knees and the heaviness in her chest were not quite accounted for.

She was reading her encyclopedias over and over and over, cramming every single word into her head. It was an activity. Distracting enough to make her forget about her problems, and semi-related to her interests, so all in all, it wasn't…that bad.

Unfortunately, it didn't take her mind off of him. Every word she attempted to pore over would summon another memory of him sitting beside her and listening to her as she rambled on about the Late Jurassic Epoch and anything else that came to her mind. He would laugh and nod and sometimes she'd get the impression whatever she said didn't exactly make its way into his hippocampus, but the fact he made an effort certainly made its mark on her heart.

Shelly turned over in bed.

…At least he used to care. She hugged the pillow closer to her, and her thoughts, stubborn and disobedient as they often were, circled back to Sprout again. His voice. His touch. His smile. His sweet, false words.

You always know how to cheer me up.

Nobody else knew about that promise besides…maybe Sprout himself, but did he remember? At this point, she wasn't sure he even remembered her name. But there was a time when he remembered the kind of tea she liked, her favourite thing about the triceratops, and everything that made her smile.

What was it about her that made Sprout go away? She'd assumed it was her fault, but Tisha said she was a good friend. And she and Sprout hadn't fought or anything. When Gardenview closed down, he just…stopped. He'd never started again, not in the same way.

He glanced at her sometimes, but they were few and far between. Distant, faraway glances, like he was forcing himself to look at her. Occasionally, he'd ask her how she was, but it was more of a pleasantry than a conversation starter, because he'd be back to talking to Cosmo with all the enthusiasm in the world after she'd said she was doing okay. There wasn't an exact day or month he began to prefer him more and go to him whenever he needed advice.

It was slow and gradual and still so sudden at the same time, like poison in those spy movies. Dumb comparison, but they acted slowly, deliberately, and eliminated their target without the doctors ever knowing why. Was that how their friendship was going to fade too? With only one party ever knowing why it happened?

At least dinosaurs weren't so vague. Shelly liked that about paleontology—there was nothing to hide. Whether a dino came from the Kimmeridgan era or the Berriasian era, whether it belonged to Theropoda or Ornithiscia, it was all written without the intention of keeping anything a secret. Because that was just what knowledge was. It was supposed to be shared.

Sprout didn't consider the explanation for his actions worth sharing, did he?

Maybe that wasn't very nice of her to think. Sprout definitely had his reasons for what he was doing, but if she KNEW the reasons, she'd be able to sleep at night knowing exactly what she did that drove him away.

But she didn't, and that was why she was up at 2AM with icy cold sweat dripping down her forehead.

Restlessness forced her to sit up in bed, trying to catch her breath. Nothing was blocking her airways, but breathing seemed so difficult when all of this…when…when her thoughts were weighing on her like this…How could she have let Sprout go? Just let him slip through her fingers like wet sand? How?

No, no—she needed to get moving and forget about all of this, didn't she?

Shelly didn't like staying sad for too long. Pessimism was never really her cup of tea, even if it welcomed her with open arms given the circumstances. She ignored the emptiness coursing through her, and forced herself out of bed. Moping around wouldn't solve anything…

Once she got up, she noticed that the world was very…quiet. Usually, there'd be some sort of noise to serve as a backdrop to whatever she was doing, whether she was reading or thinking—something to remind her the Toons were still around even in the dead of night. There would be the sound of Gigi’s victorious laughter after she'd successfully stolen a pack of chips from the kitchen, or maybe Yatta crawling around in the vents…

But there was nothing.

Interesting. Was this what it was like to be the only one still awake? No, no, Astro was probably up. You could go into his room at two or three or four in the morning and there was a ninety nine point nine nine nine percent chance he wasn't even in bed. That comforted her a little—if she needed someone to talk to, Astro was around! Probably!

(If only she could talk to Sprout.)

She opened the door of her room and stepped out into the hallway. Everybody's door was closed, and everybody was busy snoring away to glory. Or maybe they were all having a slumber party she wasn't invited to. It sounded far fetched, but jumping to conclusions isn't exactly crazy when the conclusions are actually possible.

She walked through the hallway, meandering around like a ghost possessing Gardenview. To be honest, as lame as it sounded, she did feel that way a good amount of the time—she existed, sure. Unfortunately, she existed in the way a crying baby on an airplane existed. People knew she was there. They just kind of had to pretend she wasn’t for the sake of their sanity.

Her steps were light, afraid someone would hear her, even though, again, nobody was awake. It was just her and the massive museum that practically begged her to wander around it. With all the Twisteds and stuff, though, was that really a wise choice? Running into one of them wouldn't be pretty.

Should she run into one of them—would someone be there to protect her?

Shelly finally ceased walking around like a mad woman. Since when did she start having such strange thoughts?

And…uh, since when had she gone downstairs?

Shelly looked to the left, and then to the right. Nobody was still awake, but there was a bright light emanating from…somewhere, that made her squint her eyes hard. Who else was awake? She didn't wanna bother them, and she wasn't interested in starting a conversation- but it couldn't hurt to investigate the source of the light…

Moving forward, Shelly got on her tiptoes to make the least amount of noise possible. That light…

The light was coming from the kitchen. Ok, not that out of the ordinary. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility for someone to be hungry at this hour. Plus, a midnight snack didn't sound too bad—

She stepped closer.

As soon as she saw who was in there, every thought of food in her head vaporized.

Was that…

Was that Sprout?

Indeed, it was. Sprout was there in the kitchen. He was the reason the lights were on, and he was humming to himself without a care in the world, mixing…cake batter, probably. In the middle of the night, for some reason.

Whatever the goopy something-between-liquid-and-solid was in the bowl was, it was being handled with the utmost care and precision, and she could see his culinary genius in action. Most of all, he was enjoying this with every fiber of his being. And she wanted to admire that, she really did, even if the thought of staring at him made a generous amount of shame radiate through her. Stalker much?

Thinking of somewhere to take cover, she ran behind a wall, peeping at him. Shelly was, for a moment, proud of her smart thinking, but the pride vanished as soon as it had wedged itself in her mind, replaced with a weird discomfort that settled deep into her bones. It made sense for her to be uncomfortable—this wasn't exactly the best course of action to take. She could've done a million other things, like ignore him, or go back to bed….

Or…try and speak to him?

No, what the hell? Shelly inhaled sharply, trying very hard to not draw his attention. He was too busy trying to make whatever it was he was trying to make, and he didn't even know she was watching him like some creeper—which made it the worst possible time to do that! It was three in the morning! How was he gonna react??

She ducked to make sure he didn't see her, even though it was dark enough to not warrant that.Sprout was muttering to himself about some cake mix. He was occupied, and that gave her some time to think on what to do. She wanted to talk to him…but she also wanted to go back to her room…uh, maybe she just wanted to help him bake? Decisions, decisions…

Her stomach twisted into tiny little knots, and filled with impatient butterflies. Not a very good combination for when it's late at night and you're trying to hide. It felt likeSprout himself was waiting on her to make her choice…

Attempting to get her left brain back to work, Shelly weighed the pros and cons of each decision she'd thought up. None of them seemed like good ones, and her thoughts were running at a million miles per minute–

What if he got mad at her? What if he ignored her? What if she was just bothering him while he was trying to have some peace and quiet?

What if he listened? What if he was happy to see her? What if they talked—really talked like they used to all those days ago under the tree in the lobby?

What. If?

Time was ticking, and she knew she was wasting it as she sat there and watched him pull out some eggs from the fridge like an idiot. What the heck was she doing?? She'd barely been spending any time with Sprout lately, and now she might lose her only chance to make that right! Letting that happen would be fatal for what was left of their friendship!!

Gears were turning in her head, and the concept of talking to him about this whole situation began to seem less like an impossible dream, and more…plausible. More like the right thing to do…

—Yeah, no, she was definitely going insane. No way in hell, heaven or limbo was this a good idea.

Then again, this didn't…sound like such a bad idea, either. Sure, Sprout had grown distant, but he'd never been malicious or shown any sign of disgust or anger or anything that would make him hard to reason with. He simply showed disinterest. And while the hate would've hurt less, at least disinterest meant his opinion on her was neutral at worst. That could be worked with, sorted out.

Distance usually had a reason behind it, and Sprout wasn't the kind of guy who did things without a reason. So if she figured out the cause, then she could figure out the solution, and she could get closure, at the very least, even if he wasn't willing to be friends again. All she needed to was find a good-

CRACK!!

“Oh, god, no-!”

…time.

Shelly jolted, heartbeat beginning to grow violently arrhythmic. What was that sound? Sprout wasn't hurt, was he??

Peeking out of her hiding spot, she could see Sprout standing upright, perfectly unharmed, save for the utter devastation written all over his face.

There, she could also see the cause of the devastation splayed out on the ground. Three eggs had fallen to the floor, and now there was a very yolky, very hard-to-clean mess on the floor that he was clearly not expecting to have to get rid of. Poor him…

A sigh of relief left her. The eggs didn't deserve their fate, but at least Sprout was safe and sound, even if he was a little—er, distraught.

Eureka!

A lightbulb suddenly flickered in her head, despite the inopportune time. Sure, it was risky, and sure, maybe Sprout wouldn't be very happy to see her at this hour of night when he thought he was going to have some time to himself. But she was never going to forgive herself if she didn't TRY.

And so, she stood up. Her knees went weak and wobbly the very second she did, warning bells to stop her from moving any further.

She didn’t.

Walking over to Sprout, she swallowed the lump in her throat, and fidgeted with her fingers as fear danced around in her stomach and twisted it. Her heart was going through a billion different rhythms at once, and she had no idea what to say.

Now or never…

“Uh…do you need some help with that?”

Sprout's eyes met hers.

And they stayed there.

There they were, staring at each other, for who knows how long. Then, he staggered back, letting out a strangled gasp. Only a small amount, but it was enough to show his immense surprise without a yell or a scream—which was pretty advantageous, considering the ridiculous hour the whole shabang was taking place at.

“I- Geez, why are you up so late? You scared me…!”

It'd been a while since she'd heard him be so…emotional. The last few times they talked, he wasn't like this. He was calculated, and measured, and he'd come with his facade all polished and sharpened and imperceptible. Seeing him without it—seeing him drop stuff and be startled and gape at her like she was some kind of extinct species…

…it was a lot.

“Sorry,” she bent down to clean the mess. “I just .. couldn't sleep, I guess, and I got worried about you when I heard that noise-”

“I'll get that.”

Sprout grabbed a towel from the counter and began wiping the eggy stuff up on his own, effectively eliminating Shelly’s role in doing so. What more could she do? Fight for her cleaning rights? He was very much intent on doing this by himself. And she was very much intent on not causing any unnecessary conflict in the middle of the night, so she stepped back and let him do what he was doing.

Honestly, even though his action wasn't cruel, nor was it intentional—Sprout didn't like it when other people had to clean his messes—her chest began to tighten, and a question rose in her mind. It faded quickly, but it left a sinking feeling inside her.

“Can I-” the words were at the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't bring herself to say them. This entire situation was just so…awkward. “Can I try to help? A little?”

“It's not a big deal,” he said absently as he scrubbed the remaining mess off the floor. “There. I'm done. Don't worry about it.”

Great. She was standing there like a statue while Sprout did all the work. She'd offered to help, and he'd declined, but she still felt more than a little useless. There was a feeling she couldn't exactly name no matter how hard she tried to search for an appropriate word. She just knew it wasn't a good feeling.

On the other hand, he didn't seem to notice her inner conflict, and he just turned around and washed the towel like it was nothing. He wasn't irritated, but he also wasn't happy to see her.

So what WAS he feeling? Why did he have to be so difficult to understand?

Shelly cursed herself for being so put off by such ordinary things. Still, she felt the need to keep her distance. Somehow, she got the vibe Sprout didn't want her around, and she stepped a few paces back into the darkness, giving him more personal space. There wasn't any clear sign that he was happy about this, but his shoulders loosened ever so slightly.

She held back a frown.

“Anyway, why are you here? It's late.” Sprout said that in a way that was pretty straight-to-the-point, and yet went straight to her heart and stabbed a very crucial part of it in a very unnoticeable way. “You weren't looking for anything to eat, or something like that?”

“Um, no…not really.”

Sprout paused. “Uhh, then did you want to tell me some dinosaur facts? I think you should-”

“Go to bed?” Her tone sounded normal, usual, but beneath it, something was slipping. She didn't want it to, but she couldn't afford to put it back. “I don't want- I don't want to talk about that either. I can talk about stuff that's not related to dinosaurs…”

“Then what did you want to talk about? Can it wait until the morning?”

… What happened to just talking to her without having to decide what it was about or when they talked like she was setting up some kind of appointment with him? Wasn't that what friends did? Shelly gripped a fistful of her skirt as her eyes narrowed.

She knew what she wanted to talk about. More importantly, did Sprout want to talk about what she wanted to talk about?

“...I just…sorry, I know it's not the best time.” The apology slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it. It was warranted, yeah, since it was super late and he was probably tired, but she couldn't help but feel a smidge embarrassed after it came out like that.

3AM was not the time to start such a difficult conversation. But she had to start it if he wouldn't.

“I mean, we…we haven't been…talking as much lately. And I just missed you. I know you've been busy with stuff-”

He was busy hanging out with Cosmo and making friendship bracelets with him and spending every single day chatting and giggling with him like he used to with her. Seeing it, knowing it was happening and knowing there was no way to stop it was asphyxiating.

“But I still want to know if I did anything wrong, you know? If I did, we can talk about it, I'm listening!”

“You didn't, it's fine.” Sprout said, letting out a breath that she hoped wasn't an annoyed huff. His answer was so short, so empty, for lack of a better word, that it prompted her to stand there for a few seconds, waiting for the rest of his sentence.

The rest of his sentence didn't exist.

He'd begun to clean up and prepare to leave without a word. That was it. Back when things were better, he'd be pretty worried about her not being able to sleep–

And now, he just wanted to get this over with. There wasn't any smoking gun evidence of him feeling that way, but Shelly just…knew.

If he tried to end this conversation, she'd never know what happened or how he felt. She could deal with his reaction later, but letting this opportunity pass by her–

Her hand flew towards his wrist, and it gripped with a force she did not know she had in her. Was she hurting Sprout? She knew there was a pretty high chance she was, with the tight hold she had on him—but it grew tighter on its own in spite of that. She could not let him leave. Whatever the answer was, she needed to hear it, even if it broke her heart and made her cry herself to sleep. She HAD to hear it!

“T-then why don't you- you know, talk to me as much?” She blurted out, noticing the way he looked at her. He wasn't angry, just tired and a little shocked. The last time he was angry was when Shrimpo made that mean comment about Cosmo's cooking.

Did he not even have the will to be mad at her?

“I'm not gonna force you to start talking to me. I know stuff has changed, just- tell me what I did!!”

Sprout's eyes widened, and for a moment, it seemed like he felt just as desperate as she did. Only, she didn't know what the desperation was for—was he desperate for her to stop bothering him? For things to be okay again? If it was the latter, then…

“I told you, you didn't do anything,” He shook his wrist out of her hold, his voice shaking a bit. He didn’t react in any discernible way—no anger or sadness or anything. All Shelly could gather was that he was a little thrown off balance by her outburst.

“Honestly, I…I don't actually know why. It just sort of happened, I guess. Don't think I hate you or anything like that. It's alright, Shelly.”

Oh.

Right…it just happened.

That's the point, Shelly thought as he kept on tidying the counter up without a care. That was what hurt most. She didn't do anything.

It just happened.

If it was her fault, at least she had some amount of control over what happened—at least she could change, or be better, or something! Anything to prevent this from happening again or getting worse!

What was she supposed to do now?

“I get it…” Shelly pursed her lips, the knots in her stomach twisting again.
Chances of reconciliation with him were dwindling by the minute.

Really, what WAS she supposed to do?

“I-I know a lot has happened, and there was the whole shutdown and everything! And it's not your fault you, you know, got a little distant and stuff. You're stressed out and I understand that. It’s…”

This was going to be hard to say, but he deserved to know what she'd been thinking, didn't he?

Sprout turned to her, stopping for a second to see what she wanted to say. Hope rushed through her instantaneously. He was—he was listening to her! That had to count for something!

“It’s like, every time we hang out, Cosmo always has to be around. Don't get me wrong-he's nice! He's a good friend. But whenever you're with him, or whenever you're talking to the others like, Vee or Glisten, or Looey, you seem like…you. Which is…”

Sprout was just staring at her, not making a single attempt to interject. He looked a little guilty, and he was fidgeting with his scarf and his gaze was locked onto the floor—but he didn't stop her, like he wasn't sure he had the right to. That gave her all the more reason to go ahead and keep talking.

“I'm glad you're happy! But– whenever you're around me, you're- kind of closed off, and quiet, and you don't seem like yourself. When I ask you if you wanna talk, you say you're busy, and then it never happens again. We don't talk. I want–”

Once she was done getting all of that out, she had to take a second to catch her breath. Her gaze was fixed to the floor. She couldn't even bring herself to look at him.

This was it.

Shelly lifted her head, and tried her hardest to look Sprout in the eye.

“I want to know why. We don't have to go back to how stuff used to be. Just…If there's a reason, please tell me. Please.”

He didn't answer her.

All she got was silence. How could the silence of all things feel like a serrated blade being plunged into her gut?

“I'm.. I…” Sprout stuttered. His mouth opened and closed, and he turned his head away, still fidgeting with his scarf like it was the only thing in the world that mattered. God, if he'd told her he hated her, that she was stupid and worthless and she didn't deserve to be anybody's friend, she'd have the closure of knowing how he felt about her.

But this?

This…was…

“Are you gonna say you don't know again?”

“Huh? No, it's not like that. C'mon, Cosmo’s gonna worry about me if I don't–”

“I know, just- just listen for a second, I…Sprout, if you're trying– if you're doing this because you don't want to hurt my feelings or something, you don't have to! You can say it! Whatever the reason is, please say it!”

Maybe she shouldn't have been yelling at this hour, but she couldn't slow herself down. Like she was watching a car crash she couldn't tear her eyes away from. Some part of her—the one that had kept all of this hidden for ages—refused to shut up.

Her hands balled into fists as she tried to control herself, tried not to shake his shoulders and scream at him to tell her why already. She needed to believe they could resolve this. They had to resolve this. Sprout hadn't been talking to her much, but leaving her without an explanation or answers or something that justified his actions wasn't like him!

That promise had been broken, but it wasn't for nothing! They'd made it together! It mattered! They weren't strangers even if Sprout treated her like she was one and–

Sprout was still rubbing the back of his head, still looking out into the hallway outside the kitchen…still trying to find some way to go back to his room and not have to deal with her. Had their promise really devolved like this?

Shelly’s fists shook a little harder, her vision beginning to blur. Tears, maybe? Was he really making her want to cry now? Would Sprout finally listen if he saw the tears spilling down her face?

He bit down on his bottom lip. The sound of his breathing was suddenly heavier, a bit like how she was struggling to breathe just an hour or so ago. Knowing that she mattered enough to Sprout for him to get anxious over her meant that she could still get through to him, couldn't she? But he was still blowing her off, still being vague, still not answering—still—

“What?”

“...I don't…I don't know what to say. I need to think.”

“Why? What do you need to think about?” Shelly was trying to rein herself in. This wasn't like her, he didn't deserve to be yelled at—but her mouth moved before her brain could close it. “If you don't have a reason for why you're doing this, then why are you doing it? Is it something I did? Or…or maybe there's something about me you're-”

“No! There's– there's nothing wrong with you!” Sprout tensed up. “Cosmo and I just…get along better. It's not your fault. We both like the same things, and spending time with him doesn't mean I've forgotten about you! We talk, don't we? It's not like things are all bad.”

…They just got along better. Shelly’s breath caught.

Was that his reason? She knew her interests weren’t interesting to him, and she knew she could be a bit too much, but was that something worth breaking their promise for?

If it was, then had she really been a good friend after all?

Maybe his decision was justified. No wonder he'd gone to Cosmo when she just focused on what SHE liked all the time. What was the point of any of this? Sprout had already given her his answer.

She had just failed to be his friend. Somebody else, somebody better, somebody who was far less selfish had taken her place. Sprout deserved a friend who understood him, after all.

But…

But SHE wanted to be that friend with everything in her, damn it!

“We…we talk every once in a blue moon and you force yourself to talk to me! I know I haven't been the best friend! But I'm trying to bake too, to do what you like too, but I just- I can't do it right! Please, just tell me! What do I need to do to be better? I'll do it! I'll sew, I'll- I'll bake, anything! Just- TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED TO OUR PROMISE!”

After yelling that last part out, Shelly stopped to catch her breath.

Tears burned against her eyes, blurring her vision once more. Bringing that up was a low blow, but it was something so important to her…something she thought was important to him, too. It was…

It was, or used to be, their promise. HIS promise.

The mere mention of it made the atmosphere shift, and Sprout backed away like she was cornering him with a knife. He didn't say anything—he stayed there perfectly motionless and perfectly silent. Even after everything, he was still silent.

At least she had the courage to admit she'd been ignorant and couldn't be good enough! Why didn't Sprout have the courage to say it back?!

“You…you still remember our promise?”

“I- what.”

Shelly had never thought she’d want to slap Sprout before, but there's a first time for everything.

“I…I thought you'd forgotten about it,” he choked out. She didn't really know whether he was telling the truth. No, that couldn't be the truth—it’d be a million times better if it was a lie instead, because that was the worst thing she'd ever heard–

“Why would I forget about it?! I could never bring myself to! I couldn't! I never wanted to break that promise, so why would I-”

Sprout straightened himself, and then he began to…walk towards her? What did he want now? Whatever he was trying to do, it made her stop in her tracks. Was he trying to run off? That made sense, but it didn't hurt any less–

Suddenly, two hands made their way onto her shoulders. Sprout's warm, shaky hands.

“I…I'm so sorry, Shelly.”

She blinked.

“What?”

Sprout pulled away, and she could see the tears in his eyes glistening but being forced down—just like the day they made their now-worthless promise. Only this time, she didn't know if she wanted to assuage him. She didn't know what to do.

“I-I'm not denying it. I was wrong, ok? I thought things had changed, and the shutdown happened, and I thought you already had Tisha—I…I thought..” He grit his teeth and swallowed, like whatever else he was planning to say was poison not to be spoken aloud.

“...I thought that we'd just grown apart and…just… I didn't…I didn't realize…”

Shelly held her breath. Hearing him apologize did soothe her, knowing that he acknowledged what he'd done—seeing him on the verge of tears, though…? Maybe he was being vague, maybe he was distant, but he cared about her.

He didn't deserve to be treated like this.

“It's…I…It’s not your fault.” Shelly tried to sound genuine, even though her vision was getting blurry. “It’s…fine. I just hope you can start feeling like yourself around me again, ok? Like, you know…all the joking and talking and laughing, and stuff. All of that meant a lot to me.”

Sprout's hold tightened. “I-It meant a lot to me too! I know I haven't been the best at showing it, but–”

When was the last time Sprout had been like this? Blaming himself, apologetic, unable to be the responsible Sprout everybody else knew. In a way, maybe him feeling safe being the imperfect Sprout around her meant things hadn't completely fallen apart yet. He felt like he could break around her. If anything, at least she could give him that.

“‘It’s…it's okay, Sprout.” Shelly forced a smile, gaze dropping to the floor. “I'm really sorry for yelling like that-”

“No! You don't have to be sorry! I should be sorry, I'm the one who-”

“I said it's okay. That promise happened a really, really long time ago. I-I didn't forget about it, and I'm sorry that you felt I did- I…I…”

She didn't have anything to say.

Shelly backed off a little, and watched Sprout freeze in shock. His hands fell to his sides, shaking harder now that they weren't on her shoulders. Seeing him like this was absolute torture—she wanted to comfort him, return him back to when he was baking without a care in the world…

What exactly was she supposed to do, though? Sprout was hellbent on taking the blame. Reassuring him it wasn't his fault wasn't working, and if she got mad at him now of all times, he was going to shatter.

“It’s really late. You should head to bed. You're probably really tired after all of that…”

This was a hard gamble. But…maybe, if she left, he'd have the space to feel okay again.

Sprout let out a short, strangled gasp, like someone had cut off his air supply. Shelly fidgeted with her hands, trying to ignore the cool sweat on her palms, and how her fingers felt numb, and him struggling to process this. Had she pushed him too far?

“D-don’t go! Look, we can talk this through! I-I swear, I never realized, I didn't know! If I'd known, I would have…”

“Yeah, you didn't know-” She turned around. That look on his face was her fault, and she just couldn't look at that.

“So don't worry about it. You didn't know how I felt. I just—anyway…goodnight. Try to get some sleep, okay?”

“No, wait- Shelly, I-”

She began walking to her room, and then her walk turned into a violent sprint. She couldn't face him. She couldn't look at his sorrow and the pain on his face—she just couldn't!

As she ran upstairs towards her room, her heart racing hard, she stopped, trying to catch her breath. It was dawn now. She'd made him stay up until dawn.

What the hell was wrong with her?

The tears she'd been trying to hold back rushed down her face, spilling out hard and fast. Her voice broke as she choked them back, trying to make sure she didn't wake anybody else with her crying. She'd already hurt Sprout, she couldn't do that to somebody who didn't have any part in what happened!

This was a mistake. All she'd done was hurt him. Now he was breaking down, apologizing for—what? Being a little distant? Not talking to her for a bit? He thought she was better off without him, for god's sake! Cosmo never would've done this!

And she had the gall to yell at him about some promise at this hour! What kind of person did that?!

…Perhaps, she was the one who'd broken it in the first place. With her behaviour. With the way she treated him. Tonight was just undeniable evidence of her being a pain in the ass.

Some friend she was…

—

Sprout hadn't been able to think straight at all.

He’d been in a daze all day, and no matter how hard he tried to distract himself—baking, spending time with Cosmo, anything else—it just didn't work, and his conscience screamed at him to do …something, anything to salvage this.

Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined he'd end up hurting her like this. He thought Shelly could manage on her own. His presence would be a burden to her, and perhaps she was happier this way. Unbothered by worries, able to focus on what she loved…wasn't that how things should be? Wasn't she doing just fine without him?

How could he have thought wrong for so long?

Sprout sighed, paced around the room for what felt like the umpteenth time, and stared at the ceiling. He'd been holed up in his room all day, telling everyone he was tired. In his defense, that wasn't a complete lie…he just didn't know what he was so tired of. Lying to himself, maybe.

Apparently, he was quite persuasive when he wanted to be. Everyone believed him, somehow. Even Cosmo told him to take care of himself and gave him some space—and thanks to that, he'd had plenty of time to think things through.

Especially last night.

God, he wished he’d said something, or begged her to stay– he wanted to ask her so many questions, but clearly, he needed to ask HIMSELF the questions here. He'd broken their promise, even if he assumed it didn't matter to her anymore!

That was the problem, wasn't it? He'd just assumed it didn't matter and now she thought she wasn't good enough and-

And she, bless her heart, wasn't even as mad as she should've been. Despite everything, she didn't yell, she didn't say anything nasty even though he definitely deserved it—she just…forced a smile, and said she was sorry. And she left. She probably didn't even want to face him again. How was he ever going to make things right?

Make things right…

Right. This wasn't a situation that was self-pity worthy. For a completely unreasonable amount of time, Shelly had been thinking, believing, with all her heart, that it was her fault things were this way when HE was the one that pulled away. He needed to fix that.

So, he needed to talk to her. If he wanted to make things right, she needed to hear that from him. It sounded easy—he hadn't done that in a while, but he knew where her room was and it wouldn't be too hard to stop by it. And, if luck was on his side, they were on speaking terms, so…

Now, all that was left was actually getting
the courage to go.

And, well…even though it wasn't like him, he hadn't been able to do it for hours.

Sprout couldn't tear his gaze away from the door of his room—if he opened it, if he talked about everything…he had to deal with the consequences of giving her the cold shoulder for months. She could refuse to talk to him, or forgive him, or let him in her room at all. The more surprising thing would be for her to NOT do one of those things.

Besides, she deserved to hear him apologize. Properly, not in the incomplete way he had attempted to last night. She deserved to hear his thoughts too, she deserved to know she'd done nothing wrong—but why was he so paralyzed? Why did this feel like such a hard decision?

Hard decision or not, he needed to pull himself together and get it done. Sprout took a tentative step towards the door, and his heart began to thump in his chest. Then he took another, and another, and then he was in front of the door. That wasn't so hard after all…

Squeezing his eyes shut, he opened the door. Click!

Sprout stepped out of his room, grabbing onto his scarf and beginning to fidget with it. He was nervous, stupidly nervous—he had nothing to worry about, Shelly wasn't gonna do anything—yet his mind wouldn't stop bothering him. The Mains’ rooms were all on the same floor, thankfully, so he sped off over to hers without hesitating any further. At least one of Delilah’s decisions came in handy…

Shelly's room was right across from his, so it didn't take him very long to get there. Sprout found himself staring at the label beside it, then at the walls, then at the floor. Thought didn't come to him—it swirled over and over, like a blender trying to desecrate his brain. He was getting cold feet already, but he was right in front of her room.

Just a little more…he couldn't chicken out now…

Knocking on a door had never been such a monumental task before. Hesitantly, he brought his fist to the door and rapped his fingers against it once, twice, then thrice.

“Shelly, are you in there-”

She opened the door before he could mentally prepare for her to do so.

Sprout turned into a statue, minus the stone. His legs turned to jelly. And his vocal cords were not working with him today, so it took him a solid five seconds to get a proper sentence out. How classy.

“Um…hi.”

He cringed. Hi? Really? Was “Hi” all he was able to say?

Shelly, on the other hand, blinked, as if coming back to reality.

“Hey, Sprout-!” Of course, she was still Shelly through and through, and she still forced herself to smile at him. And even though she was trying to pretend her way out of this, the swollen eyes and tired voice told a different story.

God.

Guilt spread through him like sepsis through the bloodstream. Knowing he'd done this to her, that this was all his fault—it was quite possibly the worst.

Maybe turning back was a better plan of action-

“...It’s all in the past now, haha. You should come in– don't just stand in the doorway like that!”

Shelly went back inside, and he followed, not having much of a choice. He didn't want to leave her alone after what had happened, especially now that she was shrugging it off and saying it was all in the past. That didn't matter when the past was less than twelve hours ago, not to mention everything he'd done before that.

No, no, he needed to stop… Lamenting wasn't going to help anyone.

Instead, Sprout focused his attention on the more important person: Shelly. She'd sat down on her bed and was flipping through some kind of heavy-looking book, which was probably one of those encyclopedias she liked reading. Whenever she had a hard time thinking about what to say, she'd try to switch the topic over to her interests and show or tell the person something she thought they'd be interested in.

It was a habit he found kind of cute, but…she probably thought it was annoying now, didn't she?

She was just sitting there, not really saying anything. The room was quiet, save for the sound of his thoughts echoing through his mind.

Might as well make the first move..

He inched closer to her, which he seemed to notice by the way she paused her reading for a second—she looked at him, and he did too. Then she went back to flipping pages, like she was trying to find something very precious.

Sprout looked down. As hard as it was to make the stuff written on the pages out, he could tell it was about ancient plants or something along those lines. He could barely wrap his head around what he had for lunch yesterday. It was admirable how his friend managed to read hundreds of pages about stuff that happened millions of years ago and actually remember all of it!

“Whatcha reading?”

Shelly’s eyes widened. She perked up, sitting upright like a million liters of adrenaline had filled her every cell, and she was clearly trying not to bounce off the bed. It has been so long since the last time so in her element. It was refreshing.

“I thought you'd never ask!” Shelly squealed, before clearing her throat to dial the enthusiasm down. Another habit of hers, one he found a little more worrying than endearing. “I- I don't know if you remember, but a while ago I was telling you about the Cycads, I think. If you don't, that's okay too-”

“Wait, I remember now—the one that was in the, uhh…carbo…carbonara period? That one? I'm pretty sure I pronounced that wrong.”

Shelly smiled hard enough to bruise her cheekbones. “You remember?!"

“I mean, I still have a functional memory.”

“But it was a long time ago- I thought…you…you didn't find it boring? I- gosh, I just–”

Sprout scooted over to the awestruck girl, sitting down beside her and peering into the page. The words were super tiny, and they were super big and formal too, but he suddenly felt an intense urge to read the whole thing. If Shelly was so pleased by him knowing one fact, then imagine her reaction when he read the entire book!

“It's not. I don't know much about it, but you can tell me more,” he said, pointing to the book. “Last time you were talking about the Cycads, I couldn't really hear everything you had to say. How about you continue?”

She buzzed with excitement so hard he worried she'd explode.

“Yeah, YEAH! Where do I start–so, they were around in the Carboniferous period. Not the carbonara period, although I'm sure that would be a really tasty period to be in. Anyway, they're pretty cool! I'm more into dinosaurs, but everything about the geological past is super awesome! I'm so glad you asked–speaking of dinosaurs, did you know Cycads existed way before them??”

After hearing all of that information, Sprout had to do a double take. There were many mysteries in the world, but two stood out to him at the moment—how Shelly had so much info stored in her brain and how she managed to say it in one breath.

“Back up a bit. There was…stuff BEFORE the dinosaurs?”

“A lot of stuff! That's what I mean by geological past! Millions of years of stuff, Sprout—The dinosaurs only existed around the Mesozoic era. Before that, there was the Paleozoic era, and the Precambrian era, which spans from the creation of the earth to around-”

Shelly stopped herself. Sprout used the momentary silence to process all the stuff he'd just heard. He hadn't even gotten over the fact there was an era before the dinosaurs before she spoke again, rather timidly this time.

“I, uh…I think I kind of went off on a tangent there, hehe. I know these things aren't exactly what you like, and I can get a little overexcited when I talk about them. Sorry–”

“You don't have to do that.”

The words escaped their speaker without him thinking them over, but Sprout was glad to have said them. He'd brushed it off before, but she did do this a lot, didn't she?

She looked at him for a moment too long. “Do what? If you mean the whole, y'know, geological past thingy, then I can stop. We can just talk normally, I don't mind-”

“We are talking normally. You don't have to act like the stuff you like is the most annoying thing ever. It's…” Sprout hesitated.

“It's..?”

“It’s cool, okay? I know I sorta blew you off about them earlier, but…I think it's really nice that there's something you like so much. If you want to talk about it, I want to hear about it."

That shocked Shelly harder than electricity ever could.

Shelly had a habit of going quiet or shrugging things off with awkward laughs, but the particular quality of silence in the room wasn't one that meant she was trying to hide something again. Well, she very much was trying to hide something, but Sprout caught on to how happy she was before she could hold herself back.

Warm as the moment was, everything is transient. Shelly pulled away, laughing a short, somewhat forced laugh. No matter—at least he'd made her happy, just this once. That was all he needed.

“I- You're so nice! Thank you!” The fact she felt the need to thank him for simply asking her some questions struck him as worryingly odd. “And I was just about to put that away. I never would've imagined you would LIKE this stuff! It means a lot to me, but if you ever do get bored…”

Sprout wanted to speak, to tell her that her fears weren't grounded in reality—but the bitter truth was that they were. Last time she was trying to tell him about the Cycads, he was waiting for her to finish so that he could go back to baking with Cosmo.

He played with his scarf again, not wanting to draw her attention.

“Nope, I'm not going to get bored. And even if I do, you don't need to worry about that. Why are you always thinking about whether others are bored or not when you aren't?”

Either Sprout had gained the innate ability to make Shelly speechless every time he said something that he'd given more than an ounce of thought, or she was just…not used to hearing these kinds of things. That didn't sit right with him, despite the undeniable plausibility.

“Oh, that's…that's a good question, I think. I don't really do it intentionally, I guess. It just happens.” Shelly mumbled. “I mean, if our friends aren't as interested, then I gotta tone it down, right? But I can't do that, so–anyway, it's not all that important!”

Sprout let out a huff. “I know the others aren't always as receptive. I know they make you feel like it's boring and you're boring and you're invisible- hell, I made you feel that way! Still, their opinions don't rule you. My opinion doesn't either, so you don't need to think about all of that so much!”

“...I appreciate it, but- your opinion is still important to me, you know. So is everyone else's. I can't just forget about them, and I really can't just forget about you.”

“Why not?” He stood up, determined to prove her wrong. “It's fine if you want to care about them, I'm not gonna stop you- but even after everything I did, you want to know what I think? Sure, I'm sorry, but that doesn't change anything…I still ignored you, I still made you feel like you weren't good enough, and I still–”

Shelly's gaze flickered back to the book, closing it. “You still came here and talked to me.”

Something in his chest gave way at her kind words. If only there was a way he could convince her she didn't need to put him first…

Sprout turned to her. Shelly was still looking at him, with those same tired eyes, and her voice was still the tiniest bit hoarse from last night. But there wasn't anger, or malice, or anything that would've been easier to explain. She just sat there, and seemed to be waiting for a reply with the patience he wished she didn't have.

Thinking of something to say was quickly turning out to be impossible, though. And he needed to do that ASAP—this was really not the greatest moment to be standing there and staring at her!

He cleared his throat, forcing the hesitation down.

“You…you're right. I did come here to try and talk to you about last night, but that's not something grand or something you need to thank me for. You opened up to me, and you told me how you felt despite how much of a jerk I was earlier. None of this…”

A lump settled in his throat, and his hands began to tremble again. For a fraction of a second, he could see a flash of worry in her eyes—but he didn't need to be worried about; what was most important was giving her his answer. Even if it didn't make any sense.

“None of this could've happened without you. And- you know what, Shelly? Thank you. Thank you for being honest with me. I wasn't honest with you and- just, I kept thinking things were fine the way they were. That maybe you had your own friends too, and that surely Astro or Tisha or someone else would be there and-”

Sprout met Shelly's gaze. It was brief, probably only a second long since he went back to looking at the floor as soon as he'd said that. How was she going to react when he was done?

“I kept thinking maybe I wasn’t the best friend for you… I don’t even know how I convinced myself of that. There was just so much going on after the shutdown, I didn't want to burden you with all of that, but…but I know now that I should've been honest with you, too.”

Pouring all of his feelings out into verbal form took a lot out of him. He did it, though—he told Shelly what he'd been trying to hide from her for so long, and that was that. He couldn't take it back anymore. Somehow, the whole thing was relieving, in a weird twist of fate. Sprout was expecting to be scared. Maybe get into a fight with her. All sorts of horrible scenarios.

This was different.

He'd never been so free in ages.

Still, his mind was in a swirl. Before he knew it, he'd sat down next to her, and while he couldn't bring himself to look at her just yet, there was a strange kind of peace that washed over him knowing that she knew everything now. He might've been a bad friend, but at least he wasn't a liar anymore.

"Shelly..." he said, finally casting his gaze towards her. Shelly was waiting for him to finish, of course, but there was a slight smile on her face that made him wonder why he hadn't done this sooner.

He reached out and took her hand. She jolted, not having expected it—but she didn't stop him, and just gave him a slight squeeze in return.

"Mhm?"

"... I want...I want all this to be behind us. I mean, I know it's not gonna be easy. This has been going on for a while. But I don't want it to go on anymore." Sprout leaned in a little closer, breath hitching a bit.

"Look, you don't have to forgive me or anything like that. I don't want you to forgive me or pretend this didn't happen or something. You don't even have to believe me. Just... know that I want to be there for you too, yeah? I'm not going anywhere now."

Shelly let out a weak laugh, but not one of disbelief. Sprout thanked his lucky stars.

"Ehehe...uhm, that's a lot. I-In a good way!" She stuttered that last part out. "Like- I...I don't really have a big speech, or anything like what you said. I have to say, though..."

Shelly grabbed his other hand. Now both of their hands were entwined with each other, and it was only then that Sprout realized their sheer proximity.

How long had it been since they'd been so close to each other?

"This...this means way more than you know. So- thank you. So, so much...! I'm kind of glad I went out of my way to talk to you last night."

Sprout's chest hurt a bit at the mention of the previous night. Being the awesome actor he was, however, he put on a small smile to make sure she didn't get all worried about him.

"Yeah, so am I. I think that's enough thank yous for the rest of our lives, though," he laughed, hoping to lighten the mood a smidge. "You don't need to thank me. I'm just doing what I should've done a long time ago."

Neither of them spoke. Sprout, especially, liked how peaceful it was without anybody else bothering them. As silly as it was, it almost reminded him a lot of the day they'd made their promise.

"Hey, Shelly?" He felt a tad guilty for ruining the moment.

Shelly lifted her head up to look at him. "Yeah?"

"Do you...do you mind if I stay here? Just for a little while. I just- really missed hanging out with you, I guess..."

She didn't say anything, but gave him a small nod. It wasn't hard to tell when she was happy, though. And Sprout was happy if she was happy.

He looked down at their hands. Still entwined. Still together...

If they could still be there, just the two of them, and be happy together, even after everything, then perhaps it was going to be ok after all.