Chapter Text
There was a tree in the middle of the lobby for a while, not quite healthy but standing tall and sturdy nonetheless. Nowadays, it was rotten and dark, surrounded by a pool of ichor that reformed the cloned bodies of the recently deceased while their old ones rot in the lower floors. As gross as it sounded, it made dying less scary.
Less scary for everyone but Sprout, anyway.
Cosmo’s death was as frequent as the runs he went on, sacrificing extensions of his own body for others to heal. Likewise, each time felt like a heart attack, like someday death would suddenly be permanent like any other living creature, even if that day never came. Call it what you would— overprotective, irrational, suffocating— but Cosmo was all he had, and so much as losing him for an hour already felt like forgetting to breathe.
He could at least rest a little easier, knowing Cosmo was comfortable as he reformed; everyone was, really, it felt like a pool of water you could breathe in; thick, but not suffocating; cold in some spots and warm in others. It was a little sickening once you’d returned, as was most ichor, but considering they were made of the stuff, reformation in of itself only felt natural. Regardless, of course, Sprout still had a twist in his gut, and if he thought about it too hard, a ship-of-theseus mindset on the whole ordeal.
When Cosmo finally popped out, woozy and unbalanced, Sprout caught him in his arms at the steps and helped pull him out. It was strange how they reformed in clothing, the same odd texture of their cartoon outfits, but lucky for them they had multiple pairs of their preferred looks anyway. Still, it felt weird in his hands— like a second layer of skin. Cosmo laughed at him.
“If you keep making that face every time we do this, I’m gonna start asking other people to come get me instead.”
Sprout rolled his eyes. “You don’t mean that.”
Cosmo’s steps were shakier than last week— Sprout took note of every tiny movement he made; it wasn’t difficult to notice the shift.
“Are you okay?”
“Disoriented. I’m fine. Normal ichor stuff,” Cosmo said simply, leaning against his shoulder as they walked down the stairs.
“The pool usually only fucks with people for a few seconds.”
“I’m fine!” He laughed. “Sprout, you worry too much—”
“—Is that mold?”
Sprout paused at the floor, Cosmo stumbling at the final step. Before Cosmo could open his mouth, Sprout lightly pushed his head down and inspected. Ash green spots. He bit his lip. That never happened before.
“It’s probably just leftover ichor,” Cosmo grumbled. “Dude, let go—”
“Cosmo, that is definitely mold, I didn’t know we could do that, have you been eating right?? Have the runs been damaging you? It must be from—”
“Dude,” Cosmo pulled away, balancing himself. “If this is just going to turn into some lecture on my healing techniques, I’m going to my room on my own.”
“Cos, this isn’t normal.”
“I’m probably just sick. Like… like the Vee episode. I’ll be fine.” … “I’m going to bed.”
“I love you.” Sprout frowned.
“…You too.”
As he walked away, Sprout felt his heart sink into his gut, twisting into a horrible, squeaking mush. There was no level of comfort that would make him stop thinking about it, the way they could apparently deteriorate without ever knowing. Part of him wanted to look into it. The other part wanted to keep Cosmo in a cage for the rest of his life so he never had to find out how bad it could get.
When the elevator closed, he shuddered and tried to shake the weight off of his shoulders. From behind him, further into the lobby, a laugh rang out— familiar, almost, but not quite there, high pitched but clearly masculine accompanied with deep and womanly before the sound of a door squeaking shut. It was muffled from the distance, but Sprout knew he didn’t know these voices anyway. He’d memorized everything about everyone a little at least, and these two were complete strangers, maybe even intruders.
He put on his main-boy panties and started walking in the opposite direction of the elevators, cracking his knuckles in mental preparation in case he had to beat up a few humans, not that he’d seen any in a few years by now. The closer he got, the easier he could hear the woman humming a tune to herself— no, singing it.
“—Everybody loves somebody—”
Her voice was pretty, like it was made for jazzy, show-tune melodies, and when he got a good look at her, it suited her well— a rose-headed lady on the shorter side, plump and elegant like the thorny bushes she was likely based on. She was decorating the holiday room in pinks, reds and whites, covering it in hearts and stuffing the shelves with chocolates and fake flowers. He’d never seen her before in his life, nor seen anything pertaining to a holiday like this, if it was one. Did it have to do with health? Was it… romance? He’d only heard of the concept a few times from parents.
“I know you’re staring, Mr. Seedly.”
She turned her head, striking dark eyes piercing into him as though he was exposed for simply existing. He barely registered that she knew his name, let alone the way she curled her lips into a smirk. There was something cold about her, something nauseating, but when she spoke it was nothing but warmth.
He looked her over once before shaking his head. “I— I’m sorry, who are you exactly? We haven’t had a new toon since—”
“New!” She interrupted, bursting into laughter. “Ohhh, is that what he’s told you? That Dandicus and his jokes. I’m Rosé, baby, don’t you remember? Ms. Valentino; you made a little cameo!”
She approached him, placing both her hands on his shoulders, admiring him.
“You’ve got a mighty fine head on your shoulders. I never did get to see Delilah’s other little creations. Isolation can get quite boring, sweetheart, be sure to talk to people once in a while.”
“Isol— I don’t— look, I’m really, really sorry, I don’t really remember you being in any episodes, but my memory has probably been a little rough lately!” He laughed it off, sweat dripping down his cheek. “Could you remind me? Who were you talking to earlier? I heard him laugh.”
“Hmm? Oh, honey, you can’t even remember Lucifer? You must’ve bumped your little noggin pretty hard!” She poked his forehead, and when he gave her an awkward look, she furrowed her brows. “…Cosmos brother? Not ringing any bells?”
“Cosmo would’ve told me he had a brother.” He said simply, crossing his arms.
She frowned and let go of him, sitting at the desk she’d set up for herself and looking at the floor, likely in thought with the way her eyes narrowed. There was some silence, for a moment, and he didn’t blame her— he was having trouble grasping seeing a new face himself. It made his stomach weak. What didn’t he know?
“Was an episode ever released?” She finally asked, looking back up at him. “About Valentine's Day.”
“I’ve never heard of that before. Is that a holiday?”
“What a sick joke.” She stood back up, a sour look on her face. “Of course you don’t know me. You wouldn’t know any of us. I apologize, Sprout, I should’ve known better, I certainly hope I didn’t frighten you.”
She pushed past him, and he continued to stand motionless, eyes kept on the door the other toon left through.
“I’ll be back,” she told him. His spine tingled as she began to leave the lobby, hips swaying behind her and a large leaf tail dragging against the floor as her heels clicked.
“A brother, huh…?” He squinted, before turning around to look at her. “Hey,”
She didn’t stop walking.
“Who are you meeting?”
“An old friend.” She smiled.
“Whats his name?”
“‘His?’” She chuckled, glancing back at him. “How do you know they’re a man?”
He hummed. “Sorry. That was insensitive.”
“It was.”
She waved, her back once again turned to him.
“Ta-ta! Until we meet again, Mr. Seedly. Be a doll and bake me some heart cookies, will you?”
There was a tree in the lobby and it provided him no comfort to see as she vanished. She was just another mouth to feed, now, as were whoever else was here. Another clone to pop out of that pool.
The way she carried herself reminded him of someone.