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Sprout slams the door behind him as he kicks off his shoes and dumps his bag of books and papers down on the desk. He finally has some down time from the kitchen and even though normally he would be the first to volunteer for any supply runs to be on support duty, the runs today were all filled out and Cosmo insisted he take a break for once while he takes over being a healer instead.
Sighing, Sprout unbuttons his chef coat and lays out his scarf next to him as he sinks in his desk chair, taking in a moment to stare down at his messy desk. The past few nights he’s had trouble sleeping and instead has been staying up writing down lists and lists of future dishes he wants to make, or team-ups he wants to try out with the other toons, or supplies he would like to order from Dyle at some point in the near future.
He writes to empty out his thoughts because he read somewhere that it would probably help him sleep easier. Unfortunately, all it did was make his handwriting a little easier to read but that’s besides the point. The point is, he’s tired from not sleeping and he’s not sleeping because he’s frustrated from being tired, and the loop repeats itself. Sometimes he wonders if it’d be easier to just go to Astro for some help in sleeping but he’s reluctant to rely on him for something like that. He can deal with this on his own.
Sprout picks up his bag and takes out the recipe books he checked out of the library earlier as well as the stack of notebook paper Brightney had saved for him. He had asked her if there were any extra notebooks he could take off her hands and as luck would have it, she had an entire box full of loose paper and scratch paper he could take. He had grabbed a handful off the stack on top and thought nothing more of it as he made his way back to his room.
Staring down at the words written before him, maybe he should have thought more about what he was grabbing before he did because he finds himself reading something completely unexpected. What he thought was just pages ripped out of a book and accidentally mixed with the stack is instead handwritten letters that are written with such a light hand that he almost skipped over it entirely if some of the words hadn’t stuck out to him.
‘Do you dream of me? Like I do once, twice, every night? The only time I’ve ever known peace.’
‘I’ll waste away in the back of your life, and you’ll never know how much of me I’d break to keep you warm.’
‘I’ll sleep, and it’s a waste of my time. My dreams are only of you. As exhausted as I’ll be, they’re always of you.
‘In the quiet moments of in between, I can feel you on the edges of my senses, overbearing and overwhelming. Try as I might, I could never leave.’
The gentle words taper off on a wistful note, the regret in the last words leaving Sprout feeling bereft and he scrambles through the rest of the folder collecting any other pieces of work with the same personal writing on them. He finds a few, some of the papers heavily smudged and stained with stray ink as though the author couldn’t bother to focus, and he carelessly abandons the rest of the folder as he reads through the pages.
The writer continues their words of prose, the object of their affection becoming more unbelievably lovely in description and painted in shades of shy dissonance, which just seemed to outline how charming the writer seems to find their muse. Some pages seem to be nothing but sweet descriptions about this person, while others have a sort of fire to them that brings a blush to his cheeks. Sprout couldn’t believe half of what he was reading, certain he’s never heard of anyone coming close to sounding so perfect like the person these words were meant for.
It’s with that thought in mind that he slams the papers down on the desk and comes to the horrible realization that he just read through someone’s (admittedly lovely) private works but by the time he thought to stop himself from reading any further he was already on the last piece of paper. Sprout sighs, swiping a hand across his face in annoyance at himself as he stands up from the desk and paces the length of the room. The papers stare at him mockingly from the desk, the words damning him for reading the thoughts of someone who’s baring their heart and soul in secret.
Standing at the center of the room, Sprout can’t believe what he just did and doesn’t know what the protocol is now. Does he throw away the papers and forget they existed? No, that’s mean, these were somebody’s love letters and obviously this person never meant to send them but also they probably never meant to leave them in the scratch pile anyways. So how is Sprout supposed to return them if there’s nobody to give them to? Maybe he could slip them back in the folder and just leave it in the box Brightney had out? But then that runs the risk of someone else finding the letters and they might not be as careful as he’s being about it.
The irony is not lost on him as he mentally scolds himself for unknowingly violating someone’s privacy while also trying to protecting their privacy.He didn’t think he’d reach such a new low. But what’s done is done, the best thing he can do now is keep this to himself and figure out who these letters belong to.
Sitting back down at the desk, he picks up the first page he found and rereads it, slowly this time, and more aware of what he’s reading. Sprout searched for any clues in the letters to maybe have an idea as to who the writer is, or even to who the letters and the poems were meant for. There’s no specific descriptions that stand out to him, which is incredible considering how every single toon in Gardenview couldn’t be more different from each other. The fact that this person was writing about their person without hardly bringing up how they look amazes Sprout, and makes him feel appreciative that maybe there are people out there who care more about what’s on the inside instead of the outside.
Time passes that afternoon and as Sprout finds himself compelled and enamoured over the wonderfully soft words written down on the pages, his eyes droop slightly and before he knows it, he rests his head on the desk for just a moment and slips into a deep sleep for the first time in what felt like weeks.
He doesn’t remember what he dreamt about, but he wakes up with a crick in his neck from sleeping on his desk and the feeling that he’s missing something he’s never had. He ignores both as he rushes around his room changing into fresh clothes to hopefully beat Cosmo to the kitchen for once. Carefully, the papers get shuffled into one of his more unused desk drawers as he ties up his scarf and leaves his room, his hair as messy as ever as he tries to gather most of it in into a tail at the back of his head.
It’s as he’s stepping into the elevator that the hair-tie in his hand snaps in half and flings to the floor in a flimsy string. The elevator doors close, cutting off his string of curse words and Sprout just knows that today wasn’t going to be a good one.
And he was right.
The first problem arises when he enters the kitchen to Cosmo already being there but he looks strung out as he’s surrounded in a huge mess of sugar and flour. It looks like someone had came through the kitchen and accidentally knocked over the flour and sugar bags that they hadn’t had time to put away last night and instead of trying to clean it up, they had blindly kicked everything to the sides and made an even bigger mess. It took them almost an hour to clean up the mess and by the time they got around to finally making breakfast they only had enough energy to make scrambled eggs with toast.
The headache Sprout developed from seeing the mess earlier had lingered and his bad mood only worsened the more he kept hearing the grumbling coming from the toons who weren’t happy about the lackluster breakfast. Cosmo had to send him to the back of the kitchen to dishwashing duty as he took over handing out the food to the toons, since Sprout’s face was looking more irritated by the minute.
The second issue that comes up is as he’s washing dishes he hears a disturbance at the front of the kitchen that startled him so badly he dropped the pan in his hand, the handle of it popping out and making a loud clatter on the floor. The noise of it nearly drowned out the even louder ruckus happening outside and Sprout grits his teeth as he angrily picks up the pan and tosses it on the counter, uncaring of how much more it was getting banged up.
Hastily wiping his soapy hands on his apron, Sprout stomps back out front to see what all the commotion is about and walks out to Yatta tossing around Looey like a rag-doll while Blot balances their plates in both his hands and on top of his head. While normally Sprout finds their antics funny to watch, he’s just not in the mood today as even the tables around them look at the circus trio in irritation.
“Guys, seriously,” Sprout calls out to them, annoyance in his tone. Looey immediately looks up at his voice while Yatta just keeps swinging him up in her arms. “It’s too early for this. Tone it down a bit or take your breakfast somewhere else, none of us want to deal with the noise right now.”
With the headache pressing down on his temples and the whole morning starting out bad, Sprout couldn’t keep his words from sounding less harsh. Looey, who looked like he was going to say something, immediately curls in on himself while Yatta and Blot give him dirty looks.
“FINE!” Yatta purposely says just a bit too loudly as she stomps away, still carrying a limp Looey in her arms as his feet drag along the floor. “We don’t want your POOR ATTITUDE ruining our APPETITE ANYWAYS!”
Blot gives him a hard stare as he also follows behind Yatta, the dining area going back to it’s usual clamor as Sprout scrubs a hand down his face. Cosmo, who had been at his elbow the whole time, whistles lowly as Sprout turns to give him an annoyed look as well.
“Normally you just tell them to keep it down,” Cosmo says as they make their way back into the kitchen, the door closing behind them and blocking out the outside chatter. “What’s got you in such a bad mood?”
“This whole morning’s been such a shit-show and I’ve had a headache the entire time,” Sprout grudgingly admits as he goes back to washing the dishes. The broken pan from earlier still sits on the counter as Cosmo eyeballs it.
“Well why didn’t you say so? We still have some leftover healing cookies if you don’t feel like taking any medicine,” Cosmo fiddles with the broken pan handle before giving up and leaving it on the counter for them to glue back together later.
Sprout huffs before harshly scrubbing at the dry bits on the egg pan. “I didn’t think it was that serious enough to need any. Was doing okay before Yatta started yelling for whatever reason…”
“She was just excited about what Looey was telling her I think,” Cosmo answers as he absentmindedly pushes Sprout out of the way, handing him a glass of water and some aspirin tablets in a napkin. “I didn’t hear much before you showed up raging at them.”
“I was not raging, I was telling them to keep it down.” Swallowing the pills before sipping at his water, Sprout sighs as he watches Cosmo finish the last of the dishes in the sink. “…Maybe I should go apologize to them though.”
“Excellent idea Sprout, we’re so proud of you,” Cosmo says sarcastically, shooting him a grin as Sprout just snorts at him. “Bring back their plates while you’re at it and then we can figure out what we’re going to bake without most of the flour and sugar until next shipment.”
Groaning, Sprout leaves the kitchen to head out the dining area and towards where he’d seen the circus trio leaving. He gets as far as the main lobby floor before he spots them sitting down at the benches near the tree in front of the elevator. Well, Blot and Yatta are sitting down eating their food while Looey is standing in front of them waving his arms around and pointing at them simultaneously.
He’s too far away to hear him but Sprout guesses that Looey’s lecturing them about what happened earlier in the dining room. It brings a small smile to his face to see Looey actually lead his troupe, despite constantly downplaying his role in their little group. Sprout keeps his steps light as he approaches them, not wanting to interrupt Looey scolding them since they very rarely get like this with those two.
“-can’t just be so loud like that in the mornings, especially when we just heard from Cosmo how badly the kitchen looked before we all showed up!” Looey sternly shakes a finger at the both of them, Blot nodding along while chewing his food and Yatta dancing in place while she inhales her food quickly. “Yatta, I know you meant well, but what I told you before wasn’t that big of a-”
“LOOEY how DARE you downplay yourself!” Yatta speaks while pointing a fork back at Looey, spraying a bit of egg at him on accident. “You told me the most SWEETEST THING and I’m just trying to be SO SUPPORTIVE OF YOU and you want me to just IGNORE MY REACTIONS?”
“.uoy fo edur woh ,yeooL yltsenoH (Honestly Looey, how rude of you.)” Blot curves his eye in a mimic of a smile as Looey just goes back to pointing at him speechless. Blot notices Sprout coming closer and subtly nudges Yatta, who straightens up as well. Looey however, doesn’t notice their sudden shift in attention and continues like nothing was wrong.
“And while I appreciate your enthusiasm Yatta, it still could’ve waited until we sat down instead of being sent out here like a bunch of kids. I don’t like making trouble like that for Sprout, you guys know this.” Looey crosses his arms as he stares down at his friends and Sprout’s taken aback at what Looey had said. He didn’t think Looey thought of him outside of runs at all, much less in such a high regard.
Smirking, Yatta eyes the way Sprout is standing a few feet away as she sneakily says, “He’s ALWAYS mad at us though ! If it was THAT BIG OF AN ISSUE he would have kicked us out AGES AGO!”
“.etilop os ho gnieb tsuj er’ew nehw tnagorra dna gniraebrevo os gnieb pleh t’nac tsuj eh ,yeooL haeY (Yeah Looey, he just can’t help being so overbearing and arrogant when we’re just being oh so polite.)” Blot adds on lightly, tilting his head against Yatta’s as they both snicker at Sprout’s indignant expression. Looey, still unaware that Sprout was standing behind him, uncrosses his arms and has his fists on his hips in exasperation.
“You guys know he’s not like that, that’s unfair. He’s actually quite nice if you paid attention to how he is outside of runs,” Looey says, completely missing the surprised look on Sprout’s face. “He probably wasn’t feeling good today and we made it worse, so later we’ll go back and apologize for leaving so rudely like we did.”
Yatta and Blot echo back an affirmative and just before Looey has a chance to sit back down on the bench Sprout clears his throat, making Looey jump nearly a foot in the air as he whirls around in shock.
“S-Spr-” Looey gasps as he lurches sideways, a hand over his chest as he coughs out a breath. “Sprout! You scared me! How-? How long were you standing there?!”
“Not long at all,” Sprout steals a glance at the mischievous grins on the two still sitting on the bench and hopes they’ll keep quiet about how long he was actually there for. “I came out here to apologize for earlier and take your plates back if you guys were done.”
“Oh! Okay, yeah, we were pretty much done so- um, let me just-” Turning around with his face still red and flustered, Looey grabs at his plate and lets Blot and Yatta stack theirs on top before he hands them over to Sprout. His hands shake a little as Sprout takes them but he doesn’t point it out.
“Thank you, Looey,” Sprout smiles, hoping the expression on his face shows his sincerity. “And I’m sorry for snapping at you guys earlier. I shouldn’t let my bad mood affect others and I’ll try to be better about it. If you guys want to stop by the kitchens later, I can leave out some treats for you to take back to your rooms as an apology.”
“Oh, Sprout that’s really nice of you,” Looey says pointedly, shooting a look at Blot and Yatta, who grumble a little as they also stand up from the bench. “We’re sorry as well for being so rowdy in the mornings. We’ll keep it down next time, or we can just eat our breakfast when there’s not that many people if that’ll be easier?”
“No, you have to do that. I like seeing you guys in the morning,” Sprout reassures him, stopping whatever else Looey was going to say. “Please keep coming around, don’t let my bad attitude force you away.”
Looey laughs as he tangles his hands together in a nervous gesture. “Hahaha! Yeah, yup, yes! Can’t have that! We-we’ll behave better next time, thank you for breakfast, right guys?” He turns to look over his shoulder, cheeks red and eyes wide as he silently begs Blot or Yatta to save him from his awkward responses.
Sprout sees this and feels himself hesitate, that familiar feeling of missing the tone hitting him. He thought they were having a nice conversation but maybe he’s just not good at sounding normal like he thought he was. Disappointment washes over him and Sprout can’t help but feel a little bitter that he’s still not good at talking to other people as easily as Cosmo does. This is fine, this is okay though. The other toons don’t see him as a friend much, just more like a hovering acquaintance you need to be polite to.
“No need,” Sprout cuts off Looey before he could tell him something to get rid of him faster. “I’m gonna head back so have a nice day.” He turns without another word and hurries out, feet stomping a bit harder than before. He rounds the corner and hears the tail end of Yatta laughing as he’s jamming a thumb into the elevator button to take him back to the kitchens. The plates in his hands shake a little as the egg crumbs and corner piece of toast mock him, his reflection on the elevator doors a thing of pity.
He’s quiet when he gets back to the dining area and goes around picking up more dirty dishes around the tables. He moves through the motions of tossing leftover food in the trash and stacks up the plates and cutlery in the sink, heaving a loud sigh as he waits for the hot water to run. Cosmo wasn’t anywhere to be found, but Sprout knows that he’s probably in the back pantry still fussing over the lack of sugar and flour they now have to deal with.
His headache is still there, hovering over his temples like a cage ready to shrink at any moment. The water finally heats up and he soaps up a sponge and gets to work. The thoughts in his head are loud, they almost always are. The kitchen is quiet besides the running water and Sprout feels both worn-out and drained as he goes through the process of washing, rinsing, and placing the dishes out on a rack to dry. Unbidden, a small line of prose repeats back to him from yesterday’s letters and he pauses.
‘Are your hands as warm as they look; are they as gentle as your kindness? I don’t dare to imagine any further and risk sinking into troubled waters.’
Staring down at his soapy hands, steam still rising where he touches the running water, Sprout can’t help but let out a snort. Pretty words, but probably not what that person had meant.
Still though… to be so kind and gentle that someone takes notice of it and wants to write it down in such a soft way? That they imagine about it enough to write not only their thoughts but their desire to know more? Sprout wishes he could inspire that kind of interest in someone. But he’s as he’s always been: a main who can only heal. There isn’t anything else going on for him.
The poetry stick in his head and Sprout finishes the rest of the dishes contemplating them. He wonders who this author is, and who their muse is, and how their letters got so mixed up that they ended up in Sprout’s possession. Not that he’s going to keep them forever, but he’ll need to go over the letters again, and maybe with fresh eyes he’ll be able to spot any clues as to who wrote them.
Cosmo steps back into the kitchen by the time Sprout’s putting the last dish to dry and together the two of them tackle planning out the week’s minimal dessert list and how to possibly turn their healing cookies and cupcakes into something similar but just as effective. It’s hours later as they’re winding down that they decide to take a break and come back for dinner, Cosmo mentioning that he wanted to check the library for a book Brightney was going to find for him. Sprout waved him goodbye as he goes the opposite way to his own bedroom to look back on the letters. If he seemed a bit eager to rush back to his desk that was nobody’s business but his own.
The letters were right where he left it and he carefully lays them out on his desk to go over the handwriting again. His eyes skim over the loops on certain letters, the trailing sentences of thoughts not fully finished, and the warm tones this author uses for their person. Sprout sinks further in his desk chair as he slowly reads the letters over and over again, forgetting for a moment what he was there for.
He can’t stop thinking about how lovely this person was when it came to talking about their muse; how they never bring up how they look, or even how rude or brash they are. They focus on how sweet they find them, how they wish their muse looked their way, and how they’ll suffer their unrequited love if only so their muse never feels conflicted loving them back. Is that it though? Is this author someone who’s scared to confess their love to this person?
Sprout jerks as the thought hits him. He quickly separates the letters in two piles and keeps in his hands the ones that implied more that the author was in a sort of unrequited love with their muse. There were more of these kinds of letters than anything else, which cements the idea to Sprout that these letters weren’t ever going to be sent out at all, not even to the person they were meant for.
Ignoring the sting in his chest, Sprout flips through the pages as an idea brews in his head. If he can’t find any solid clues in these letters to find the author (or even the muse for that matter) then maybe he could somehow help the author know that it’s okay to be brave and confess their feelings? But how was Sprout supposed to help with that? He’s not exactly the ‘feelings’ kind of guy, he barely gets through interactions in the day stumbling over navigating his more blunt nature. He’s not meant for these kinds of feelings, no matter how much he wants to help this person out.
Biting the inside of his cheek in frustration, Sprout leans back in his desk as he stares at the wall in front of him. The calendar on the wall shows the next shipment date circled in black on Friday in five more days. His eyes catch on the next Friday being the 13th, snickering a little in amusement before he sees how the 14th has a heart sticker placed in the corner of the date. Blinking, it takes him a while to wonder about that before he realizes the month they’re in, and suddenly inspiration strikes him.
Sitting up abruptly, he shuffles all the papers off to the side before pulling a blank sheet out and starts scribbling out ideas and plans to help out this author to confess to their person. If he hurries then he can get a solid plan out before he has to meet Cosmo back in the kitchens. The words he had been reading earlier fuel his desire to make this possible, if only so at least two people in this place can become happy together.
---
“Okay, I’m listening so far, but I’m going to need you to repeat that again one more time,” Cosmo has his hands clasped over his mouth, pointer fingers hovering over his lips in concentration as Sprout once again goes over the plan.
“So it’s Valentine’s Day right? We set up a snack table, maybe have like some music and drinks out, we put out a card craft table so everyone can make a valentines card and we can clear out the music room to maybe make a dance floor while we’re at it? I’m still working out the details but what do you think so far?” Eagerly pointing at the listed points he had written down, Sprout looks up from his paper to manically grin up at Cosmo. “It’s not a bad idea right? We have almost two weeks to get it all ready but I think it’s possible.”
Cosmo stares at him with an unreadable expression before letting out a sigh, the sound loud in the kitchen they’re standing in. They had the lasagna baking off in the ovens so while they wait for it to finish they were wiping down the counters and stoves when Sprout decided to bring up his idea for a Valentine’s Day party. Cosmo seemed confused about what he was talking about, and looked even more bewildered when Sprout pulled out his planning paper and showed him what he was talking about.
“Yes, I get the party idea and it all sounds pretty fun, I won’t lie…” Here’s where Cosmo hesitates, his expression neutral despite the slight waver in his voice. “I guess I’m just confused on where this idea came from? You never used to care much about Valentine’s Day, much less plan an entire event for it.”
“Oh, uh-” Sprout fumbles with the ends of his scarf, looking at anywhere but Cosmo. “It’s just- I was thinking… Well- Does it matter why? Maybe I just want to do something nice for everyone?” Sprout doesn’t want to give away the real reason he wants to make this happen, even if it’s Cosmo who’s asking. He never keeps secrets from his best friend, but this feels too intimate to share with anyone and he wants to protect this author’s privacy. Just this once, he wants to hold this one a bit closer to his heart and not reveal it at all.
Cosmo’s expression turns worried for a brief moment, his hands coming down to lay a gentle tap on Sprout’s arm, stopping him from fiddling with his scarf. “I’m not saying it’s weird that you’re being nice, it’s a great idea if you really want to do it! But if you’re doing this because of some obligation to make everyone happy then you really don’t need to force yourself-”
“No!” Sprout denies, shaking his head vehemently. “Nobody’s forcing me, I promise, I really do want to do this. It would be fun for a change to plan an event outside of the seasons and it might be nice for some of the other toons to unwind or relax for a bit. Things have been feeling tense lately and it would be nice to do this for everyone.”
He wasn’t thinking past the excuse of making this event to maybe encourage the author to come out and confess to their muse but his reasons actually sounded less selfish than he thought. Maybe this author would feel more brave and inspired by all the romance and excitement in the air if they knew other toons were getting into it? It might be easier to confess then, at least, Sprout thinks so, since if it were him he would take that opportunity if he could.
“Alright, yeah, I see what you mean then,” Cosmo says slowly, giving Sprout one last sceptical look before he smiles back at him. “If you want to plan out an entire event in less than two weeks then you’re absolutely in charge of the food we’re putting out.”
Sprout just groans as Cosmo laughs at his misery before they both press in together to go over ideas and inventory they could use up for the party. They’re so engrossed in discussing the details in gleeful whispers that they don’t look up when the kitchen door opens before slamming close again. Sprout glances up, not seeing anyone there and just shrugs it off before going back to planning.
Outside the kitchen door a pair of light footsteps steps pause, before turning and running away from the scene in the kitchen. Heart in their throat, their palms turn clammy and shake as the feelings of insignificance rise over them like an ocean tide as they run fast and far away. The elevator doors open before they realize they had entered it in the first place and they’re greeted to the eager faces of their friends waiting for them.
“SO??” Yatta chatters excitedly, trying to peek around them into the empty elevator. “Where’s the SNACKS??”
“?tuo meht tup ot tegrof tuorpS diD (Did Sprout forget to put them out?)” Blot asks, head tilted in confusion. “?neppah gnihtemos diD .yeooL doog os kool t’nod uoy ,yllautcA (Actually, you don’t look so good Looey. Did something happen?)”
“Ah- N-No, nothing happened,” Looey lies, his stomach twisting in knots as he shuffles past them and more into the lobby floor that shares all their rooms together. “I- My stomach started hurting so I came back to sleep it off. I’m sorry but m-maybe you guys should go instead?”
He looks up at them worriedly and lets out a soft grunt as Yatta wraps him up in a slightly too-tight hug, Blot coming to his other side to pat him gently on the head.
“You POOR THING!” Yatta exclaims, nuzzling their heads together in exaggerated affection. “We send you away to do our BIDDING only for you to be SICK! We’re the WORST people EVER!”
“.retteb gnileef er’uoy revenehw emos uoy evas ot erus ekam ll’I dna sevlesruo skcans eht barg ll’eW .yeooL tser dna oG (Go and rest Looey. We’ll grab the snacks ourselves and I’ll make sure to save you some whenever you’re feeling better.)” Blot pats his head once more in reassurance, making Looey feel even worse for the fib he told.
“Thanks guys. Hopefully I’ll feel better after a nap,” Looey murmurs, peeling away from them and shuffling over to his little bedroom. Closing the door behind him, he leans his head against the door as he faintly hears the sounds of the elevator chime it’s arrival before things go silent again.
He spends a minute trying to control his breathing, forehead resting against the cheap door before he kicks off his shoes and flops over his bed. The bed was unmade when he left it that morning so he just rolls over and wraps himself in his thin blanket, staring at the wall opposite of him. The minutes crawl slowly, but still his mind races faster and faster as he keeps replaying what he’d seen in the kitchen.
Sprout had looked so happy being close to Cosmo like that. He’s always had such a rare smile that when you do finally get to see it, it’s like rays of light hitting a clear crystal and throwing sparks of color across the walls of a room. Sprout’s never looked at any of the rest of them like that, especially not Looey.
Why would he though? Looey can’t keep a conversation going with him to save his life. Sprout’s either too busy or he just finds Looey too weird to stick around longer than he needs to. So no, Looey’s not surprised that Sprout’s never smiled like that at him at all.
Still… He really does have a beautiful smile. Looey buries his face against his pillow and squeezes his eyes shut. He’s got such a beautiful smile and it burns that he saw it when it was meant for someone else. A choked sound leaves him, and he bites his lips as he curls under the blanket further. If he sleeps like this, it’s only going to be worse for him when he wakes up, but he can’t help himself. His dreams when he’s like this are full of Sprout, even if they hurt, even if it’s just to torment himself further, he still wants to see him.
He drifts off, his mind still swirling and his stomach in twists, the tears on his lashes the only sign of his hidden secret.
---
Looey wakes up slowly, eyes as tired as he feels as he stretches out across his bed. The clock on his nightstand lets him know that he’d only been asleep for a few hours, long enough for dinner to almost be over. He debates going down there to maybe grab a plate, but decides against it even as his stomach grumbles miserably. He doesn’t want to see Sprout and spiral all over again; he’s already feeling sad and pathetic for how he’s acting so far. Skipping one meal won’t hurt, he can find something to eat later on.
Looey fixes his rumbled clothes as he toes his shoes back on, avoiding looking at the mirror next to his desk as he sits on his shoddy desk chair. The legs of it wobble slightly as he tries to get more comfortable on the seat. Reaching down to open the side drawers, he blindly searches for his stack of papers and comes up empty.
Blinking wearily, Looey stares down at where his hand is touching an empty drawer and it takes him a second to realize what’s wrong with what he’s seeing before he flies out of his chair in a panic. Kneeling down, Looey yanks the drawer as far as it would go and doesn’t see any of his papers anywhere. He yanks the top drawer and when he doesn’t immediately see what he’s looking for, he starts tossing stuff out of it only to scrape his nails against the emptied bottom.
Breathing coming up in short gasps, Looey rushes around his room and starts pulling out anything that could possibly be hiding his stash of papers. His bed gets lifted, his sheets get thrown about as well, the closet holding his few items of clothing gets emptied out and even his chest of clown tools and trinkets gets upturned in his search. His feet get tangled in the clothes on the floor and he trips over his clown chest with a yelp, his elbow catching on his bed frame and sharply bruising the area.
He lays there in the aftermath, elbow throbbing in pain that he ignores in favor of freaking out over his missing letters, the ones where he had planned to maybe bind them later and stash it in a hidden area where nobody would find out his secret thoughts and feelings about-!
Whining, Looey feels his heart pounding as he pushes himself off the floor and stumbles over to the door and leaves to search for Yatta or Blot. He finds them both standing around elevators and he races to catch up to them. Blot’s back was to him so he didn’t react fast enough when Looey appeared out of nowhere, startling him much to Yatta’s gleeful delight.
“LOOEY! There you are!” She slings an arm around Looey’s panting form, shaking him and making it harder for him to catch his breath. “WE ALMOST LEFT YOU! Are you feeling better??”
“.etal oot tog ti fi rennid rof kcab etalp a uoy thguorb evah dluoc eW ?ereh tuo nur uoy did yhW (Why did you run out here? We could have brought you a plate back for dinner if it got too late.)” Blot eyed his trembling form with concern, leaving a hand out to steady Looey.
“Have-? Have you guys been in my room lately?” Looey wheezes out. His fingers twists in his shirt and he feels the cold settle around him as he sees the perplexed look on their faces. “Or- Do you know if anyone came in while I wasn’t there-?”
“OH! I DO!” Yatta jams her hand up in the air and waves it around as though being called on for a game-show question, her other arm still around Looey’s shoulders. “I made a TINY, SMALL MESS in my room earlier and Tisha came through cleaning ALL OUR ROOMS! SO nice of her!”
“Oh! Okay, okay yeah, that’s better then,” A weight lifts off Looey’s shoulders, both mentally and physically as Yatta finally releases him and steps back to tilt her head curiously at him.
“WHY? Are you MISSING something??” Yatta gasps as though something just occurred to her. “Is it something NAUGHTY?? LOOEY you DOG-!!”
“!hguonE !attaY (Yatta! Enough!)” Blot snaps at her, cutting of her squealing before Looey could shrink any further into himself. He gives Looey an understanding look and pats his shoulder comfortingly. “?ti dessot ro decalpsim evah thgim ahsiT kniht uoy oD ?gnissim gnihtemos ereht sI (Is there something missing? Do you think Tisha might have misplaced or tossed it?)”
“No, actually, maybe it’s better if she tossed it if she did,” Looey rubs at his eyes as his earlier panic recedes. “She usually is pretty good about those kinds of things. It was just a bunch of papers, that’s all.” He’s pretty sad his writing got thrown out if it did, but if it’s not in his room then chances are Tisha had thrown them away and he’d rather nobody ever get the chance to see it than to risk it being found out.
Pressing the elevator button, Looey tells them that he plans to head down to the dining hall to maybe grab any leftover food and Blot and Yatta eagerly join him as they had also been on their way to grab dinner. They chatter easily on the ride down, the mood back to normal how it usually is when it’s the three of them. Yatta tells them that she found a new way into the library and that it leads into an area that’s normally hidden out of sight, much to Blot’s and Looey’s exasperation since that usually means it’s a vent route and Yatta knows very well she’s practically the only one who’s able to do that.
The elevator dings and opens to a packed dining area, nearly all the toons in Gardenview gathered at a table near the kitchen door and the three of them rush over to see what the commotion was about. They walk up just on the outside of the crowd to hear the excitement in the voices talking over each other, and Looey taps on Goob’s shoulder to get his attention. The craft toon turns around and blinks down at him before giving them a wide smile.
“Looey! Where have you been buddy!” As carefully as he could, Goob grabs at Looey and gives him a quick hug in greeting. Looey squeaks a little before weakly giving Goob a hug back, his ribs still feeling sore from all the hugs and manhandling Yatta’s been doing lately.
“Hi Goob,” His words smoosh against the other toon’s chest before he separates away from him. “What’s going on? Did something happen?”
“There’s gonna be a Valentine’s party coming up!” Goob eagerly explains. “Someone started talking about it and next thing you know we’re all pitching in to help out! Scraps is in the front trying to take over the valentines card craft table from Brusha so hopefully she comes back with good news.”
“VALENTINE’S PARTY?!” Yatta screeches, causing multiple people around them to wince at the volume. They got the attention of Vee and Sprout in the front of the crowd and Looey swallows dryly as Sprout looks in their direction.
Vee breaks away from Sprout to point over at the three of them. “You three! You’re in charge of putting up decorations! Someone’s gotta get up in the ceilings and none of us want to do it.”
Sprout rolls his eyes at Vee’s commanding tone, but he looks over to them with such a pleading expression that Looey doesn’t have the guts to answer back so he just gives him a wobbly thumbs up as Yatta and Blot give their confirmations as well. Vee’s haughty expression briefly disappears as her screen shows a list of toons and their assigned jobs. She adds ‘circus trio’ to the decorations list, alongside Boxten and Poppy as well. The screen reverts back to her normal face and she continues discussing something with Sprout as more toons move closer to offer their help or to suggest some more ideas.
“?syawyna ytrap senitnelaV a detseggus kniht uoy od ohW .wen si sihT (This is new. Who do you think suggested a Valentines party anyways?)” Blot questions, crossing his arms and shifting in place. Looey shrugs absently as his eyes don’t move far from watching Sprout take control of the conversations around him.
“Maybe whoever decided on it wanted to make someone else happy…” Looey murmurs, not seeing the calculating look Blot slides his way.
“.syawyna tuo dnif ew llit keew a revo evah ew sseuG …mH (Hm… Guess we have over a week till we find out anyways.)” His reply fades out as Looey just nods along to whatever he says.
They have over a week to decorate for this event, which is plenty of time. And who knows? It might be fun to let loose for once when everyone is this excited to get involved in the party planning.
---
The party planning was turning into a disaster.
Well, no, that’s unfair to say. It’s actually going quiet well with everyone pitching in to help. Sprout thought that when Cosmo suggested getting more people involved it was going to be a hassle to get everyone coordinated, or worse, that they were going to be uninterested in the whole thing at all. He was proven wrong when not only did a majority of the workload get taken off his hands to be distributed, but more and more toons were popping up ready and eager to help out.
Sprout assumes that with the winter season over and the spring season still a few months out that a majority of them were looking for something new to do and that this provided a good distraction. Which was absolutely fine with him! He’s glad that everyone was feeling energetic about the whole thing!
What made this a disaster though, was that because Sprout had virtually nothing going on until he needed to prep for the event, that left him with nothing to do and all the time in the world to keep repeating the letters in his head. Which was especially bad, since Sprout couldn’t tell anyone (especially Cosmo) about how he’s been dreaming about the author, and their supposed muse, and he’s been waking up irritated for reasons he’s ashamed to admit.
‘It’s ridiculous how often my thoughts stray to you. Are you enjoying the life you’ve created? Is there someone who loves you, and know their love is returned?’
Funny how he thinks about that line right now as he’s walking around the emptied music auditorium. He came out here to check on the circus trio to see if they needed any help with decorating, but it looks like they must have taken a break because nobody was here to greet him. The boxes of decorations are opened around the floor and there’s a ladder propped up against a wall with a half-hung string of fairy lights waiting to be properly pinned up.
It’s only been a couple days since the idea was first brought up but already the place was starting to come to life. There were still all kinds of stuff to add after the ceiling was finished, like setting up the tables and chairs to eat at and the crafts corner where Brusha and Scraps both agreed to host the table together. Sprout only hopes it doesn’t end with a brawl when the night’s over.
He circles the place where they planned to keep empty for a dance floor and he can’t help but laugh at how the singular light directly above the area has a tiny disco ball key-chain hanging from it. He hopes it’s just there as a placeholder and not the actual decoration because nothing inspires romance more than a toy from the ceiling.
‘A dangerous dance to keep both yourself and I apart. My frayed edges torn up and reach out for you but still I keep to the side. I can’t bear to feel you now.’
The smile on his face falls, and Sprout turns to face the wall closest to the dance floor. His imagination spins a scenario he doesn’t like, one of a makeshift figure standing off to the side, a lonely wallflower watching the lights dim save for the flow of dancing bodies under the soft glow from the string lights. Would they see the person they were in love with in that crowd? Would they be brave and meet them there? Or would their person not care about them being by themselves and ignore them the entire night?
Sprout moves closer, off the dance area and towards the shadows of the wall. He steps without notice, still imagining he could see someone there even though he knows they’re not real. They are though, the letters are proof that they’re more real than anyone could ever hope to be, they just have no shape in his mind but Sprout couldn’t care less about that right now.
‘The room spins, my senses reaching out to faint, tender touch. Not mine, you’re not mine. I have to let go, but the only comfort I’ve ever known is right here in your energy. You’re not mine, and you’ll never be mine, but I’ll always be yours.’
How much love can one person hold in them for someone who wouldn’t love them back? Where does the agony go if you’re only forced to hold it in and never let it out? Sprout thinks his heart would break under that sort of pressure.
He thinks of how unfair it is that someone so in love doesn’t think they deserve the person they want. In the letters they write, it’s always with this tone of someone who’s given up, and still they adore them for the love they keep hold. He doesn’t understand why they won’t move on, why they torture themselves with a love unreciprocated and maybe that’s where his problem came from. If it were him, Sprout wouldn’t have left them in the corner, wouldn’t have strung them around when their love is so obvious.
He reaches out a hand and his fingers trace invisible shapes against the wall. In his mind, he can see himself pressing close to them, maybe they’re shorter than him, or even taller? He’d pull them out to dance, or maybe they’d stand there the entire night just enjoying each other’s company? Maybe Sprout could feed them from the food he made, and would he have unknowingly made them their favorite snacks? They could talk about nothing and everything, or they could bask in the silence of two people who feel the sort of butterflies from being in love-
Jolting, Sprout’s hand spasms in place as he takes several steps back. The reality of the situation dawns on him and he’s floored at what he was just imagining. He’s thinking about the author in ways he shouldn’t, because he’s deluded himself into a fantasy of this person ignoring their muse for him instead.
Sprout wordlessly moves his lips, his tongue tasting bitterness as he can’t avoid the obvious truth before him. He’s fallen in love with someone he can’t have, and who’s so obviously in love with someone else. He doesn’t know why he’s done this to himself, and the distress that rises in him burns his stomach, the bile rising in his throat.
His steps echo loudly in the room as he hurries away from the place as though to outrun the glaring thoughts chasing him. He can’t stay here any longer and risk thinking more traitorous thoughts.
---
The box in Looey’s arms drops to the floor without warning, startling the toon in front of him.
“What did you say?” His voice is hoarse as he feels the ground swallow him up. A pair of hands grab at his arms to steady him as Tisha looks up at them with worried eyes.
“I-I remember dropping off a pile of papers back in the library for Brightney to put in her scratch pile because they looked blank. I’m sorry Looey, I had no idea you still wanted them.” The regret in her voice tones down his panic but not by much, because his letters are still out there and he needs to get them back. “Do you want me to go see if Brightney ended up using any of it? I’m sure if you left anything in there she would have put it off to the side-?”
“No!” His loud exclamation makes her jump and he waves his hands around in an apologetic mess. “Sorry, No- I- I can go get it! I just misplaced my jokes list in the pile and I wouldn’t want her to spoil the surprise! Haha!”
A nervous laugh escapes him as Tisha continues to give him a troubled look. He feels sweat gathering as his heart rate picks up. “Ah, thank you for telling me where the papers are! I’m just gonna-” He quickly ducks down to pick up the box he dropped and scampers off, his shoes squeaking against the tile floors as he books it towards the elevators.
The elevator doors close in front of him and he sees the very visible, very obvious hysteria growing on his face. He drops the box to the floor and hunches down around his knees to lessen the weakness he feels growing in his legs. The urge to start screaming and crying and freaking out rises over him like a shadow that he can’t escape from. Looey doesn’t know what else to do but take large gulps of air and try to control his shaking as the floor numbers climb the closer he gets to the library floor. He tries to center his thoughts to make sense, to find comfort in possibilities instead of uncertainty.
Tisha hadn’t tossed out his papers like he thought and instead they’re possibly still in the library, maybe, hopefully. If they were still in the library then he’s safe! If Brightney found his letters and moved them aside, then it’s still okay! He can talk his way out of any prying questions she might have for what he’s been writing. If someone else found the letters…
If someone else found them-
His thoughts screech to a halt as the doors open once more to an empty library, the lights dimmed save for the low lamps scattered around the room on the reading tables. He steps out and places the box on a table closest to the elevator before hurrying over to where he knows Brightney spends most of her time. Rounding the corner of a tall bookcase he finds her reading a book at the main library desk, posture straight even as she relaxes in her story book reading. She looks up from her book just as he walks up, slightly out of breath from the earlier anxiety.
“Oh! Hi Looey,” She gives him a beaming smile. “How can I help y-”
“Brightney! Hi, hello, how are you??” Looey says in a rush, words tumbling out without pause. Brightney looks taken aback, surprised at his outburst.
“I’m uh, doing okay? Is everything-” She’s interrupted once again as Looey lets out a hysterical laugh, the echo of it loud in the quiet atmosphere.
“Never better! Actually, funny story, but Tisha said she dropped off a stack of papers here the other day and I just want to know if it might still be here??” Looey leans against the counter towards her with a slightly manic smile, the hopeful gleam in his eyes hidden by the way he’s practically invading her bubble.
Brightney takes note of how he’s vibrating in place, the grip he has on the counter, and even the way his teeth are clenched by the tick from his jaw. Normally this sort of attitude wouldn’t inspire much help from her, but Brightney also knows that Looey has never been the type of toon to be rude and dismissive for no reason. She recognizes the signs of him being stressed out though, and absolves to just handle it from there.
“Oh, yes, I do remember her stopping by for something like that,” Brightney leans back from the counter away from Looey as he practically deflates, the relief clear on his face. She frowns though, as she delivers this next news. “But I’m sorry to say that whatever papers she dropped off usually goes in the scratch box, since most toons like to use it for arts and crafts or to use it as a sort of bookmark.”
“No, it’s perfect! That’s great!” Looey smiles easily, tension leaking out of him. “If it’s okay with you, could I check to see if my papers are still in there?”
“Of course! Here, let me grab the box out,” Scooting the chair back, Brightney reaches down to heft a cardboard box from under the desk and places it on the counter with a thud. Looey moves over to start digging into the box and hesitates before shooting a timid look over at Brightney. She gives him a blank stare before letting out a small gasp, twin spots of red showing up on her cheeks.
“Oh! Sorry, ignore me being nosy!” She lets out a giggle as she gets up from her chair, book in hand to move out of the way. She walks away to another part of the library, humming under her breath to give Looey some privacy as she disappears behind around the corner of the bookcases.
Going back into the box, Looey reaches in and starts pulling out stacks of mismatched papers, the odds and ends of different colored sheets taking up a lot of room in the box. They finally get to regular blank paper and start flipping through them rapidly. It’s a couple minutes until Looey notices that the pile he’s going through is quickly dwindling, and that’s when the bottom of his stomach drops. They get to the last of the pages when they repeat the process, flying through the papers with more urgency.
His letters aren’t here.
The thought blares in his mind, sounding a silent alarm only he can hear. His letters aren’t here and he doesn’t know what to do now. Someone must have came before and taken his letters unknowingly, and doesn’t that just burn? Someone in Gardenview has his letters, has read his secrets that he’s tried so hard to keep to himself, and they’re probably laughing about it.
He didn’t write those things for anyone to read, he wrote them so his feelings wouldn’t choke him when he gets overwhelmed. He wrote them, because his friends told him it would make him feel better when he can’t get his words out right and to help him come to terms with the fact that he’s fallen in love with someone who will never love him back.
His eyesight blurs, the tears gathering thickly before he blinks them away. A few trail down his cheeks and he angrily wipes them away. Sniffling, Looey bunches up the papers and haphazardly dumps all of it in the box without care and turns away to leave. He passes a returning Brightney with a mumble of thanks, keeping his head down as he picks up his box from earlier and makes his way towards the elevators.
The trip is a haze, the only notable factor being that when he gets to the floor where their rooms are, he leaves his box by Yatta’s door, hoping she’ll get the memo and take it with her when she goes back to decorate the auditorium.
He’s closing the door to his room when the dam finally breaks and he throws himself onto his bed, sobbing his heart out as quietly as he could. Curling around his pillow, his face scrunches up as he cries and cries and cries.
It’s ages before he falls asleep, wound so tightly into a ball that not a hint of his limbs could be seen.
He mercifully doesn’t dream at all that night.
---
They’re a couple days away from the Valentines party and the place is all ready to go, fully decorated and everything. The auditorium was transformed into something out of those cheesy teen movies, the string lights weaving in arcs across the ceiling very nicely with the red and pink streamers intertwined in between them. Balloons gather in clusters around corners of the room, forming colorful bouquets of makeshift flowers with ribbons falling down it in curls. The tables and chairs are organized around the dance floor in a circle, leaving plenty of room for toons to walk through and still be able to dance if they wanted to.
The only thing left to do is to handle the food and drinks, which was finally something that Sprout could spend his entire energy and attention into doing. Which was a relief because this last week had been a strain on his mental capacity as he tried in vain to ignore the intruding thoughts he shouldn’t be having.
He’s plastic wrapping another tray of finger foods to be stored in the fridge when he sees a particularly bright strawberry stick out to him, and he reluctantly thinks of another line from the letters.
‘A vision in red, all I can withstand with your golden touch on my dreamscape land.’
He wants so badly for it to mean what he wants it to mean. That the author was talking about Sprout instead, but they were probably talking about their muse dressed in something red, they have to be. He’s just deluding himself into trying to make it about him, since there’s very few toons who had red as a part of their coloring. A sourness grows in his stomach the more he thinks about how unfair he’s being about the whole thing.
The worst part of it all is that he knows how stupid he’s acting. For fuck’s sakes, this entire Valentine’s Day party was for this person! Sprout wanted this entire thing to happen so their author could confess their feelings! Their author deserves to feel loved like they want to be, Sprout believes that with his entire soul. Their letters were all so heartfelt and full of yearning, that he knows if whoever their muse is were to actually read the letters that they would fall in love just as easily as Sprout did.
‘The heat of you keeps me awake at night, a warmth I crave on the coldest of days and nights. Frozen fingers I keep to myself, for as surely I’ll melt from you, you would disappear from my touch just as quick.’
The fridge door slams with a bang and Sprout stomps his way to the sink to get a glass of water. The cup he has trembles as he holds it under the faucet, water spilling quickly down the sides as he gulps down the drink. His throat is dry, yet he feels like he’ll never not be parched. His second cup goes down just as quickly as his mind betrays him yet again.
‘Can you believe that I’ve only had eyes for you? I want to call you mine, safe to say I’m yours, but it’s dangerous to look at anyone else. So many ways to fall, just to land here back in the same place in the same time. Time again to try again, can I maybe have your love for once?’
Gods, who writes like that? Like their entire focus is on one person and they wouldn’t want to think about anyone else? It’s terrifying, and wonderful, and it makes Sprout so sick with envy. He didn’t think he’d ever want something like this before. No one ever caught his attention like this and the fact that it’s because he read love letters that weren’t for him is the only reason he even knows about it.
What does that make him that he’s fallen for someone who’s in love with someone else? What’s going to happen if this Valentines event happens and somehow this author does end up confessing to their muse? Sprout has no way of knowing, because Sprout has nothing to do with it. He’s nothing to this author or their muse, just the loser who read personal, private stuff that weren’t supposed to be seen by anyone but the recipient of the letters.
Sprout thinks he’s never reached such a low point in his life that he wonders if he even has a chance to find the author at this party. What does he think is going to happen if he tries to get in the way of their romance? That this person will automatically chose him just because Sprout thinks he could do better than their muse that they wrote such beautiful things about? Maybe he should just stay off to the side and blindly cheer them on in the background, it’s not like he’s going to be good for anything else.
‘Maybe if I was more open, maybe if I was more true? Would we have a chance? Is it too late to make us into something new? On my knees, I’ll crawl. Inside and out I’ll be scraped raw. To haunt your doorway, staining your view.’
“Sprout?” The glass in Sprout’s hand nearly drops to the floor had Sprout not grabbed it at the last second, both hands gripping it as his heart nearly beats out of his chest.
“I’m so sorry!” The voice says, and Sprout looks up to see Looey hovering around the kitchen doorway with an apologetic look on his face. “I thought you heard me come in, I didn’t mean to scare you!”
“It’s fine,” The words are quick to slip out of him as he straightens up, glass placed back on the counter as Sprout wipes his sweaty hands against his apron. “What did you need Looey?”
“Um…” Looey doesn’t walk any closer and keeps his hands behind his back as he rocks back on his heels. “I-I just wanted to ask if maybe you’d like to come see how the decorations came out? Cosmo had told us it was your idea for the party and-”
Sprout feels his face heat up and he turns away before his embarrassment could be seen. He didn’t think Cosmo was going to tell anyone about the party being his idea and he doesn’t know why the thought of it makes him feel so exposed. “Ah, well, I’m actually pretty busy Looey. I’m sure it looks great, but I’ll see it when we all go out there for the event. Thank you for stopping by though.”
“Oh,” Looey couldn’t hide the dejection in his tone, his tail and ears dropping at the curt way Sprout declined his invitation. Still, he tries for a smile, weak as it is, hoping to hide how hurt his feelings are. “It’s alright then. Sorry for bothering you!”
Looey has a hand on the door handle ready to bolt when he’s stopped by Sprout calling out to him. “Looey, wait!”
Sprout has a hand reached out, and pulls it back to scratch at the back of his head. He looks troubled, eyes looking around the kitchen and not at Looey. Looey hesitates before letting go of the door, turning his attention back to Sprout.
“So, um-” Sprout closes his eyes before letting out a large sigh. “I’m not that busy in the kitchen, but the dish I’m working on is taking up too much of my time that I’m afraid it won’t be done if I go check out the auditorium. I wouldn’t mind going to see it, if this wasn’t currently bothering me right now.”
Sprout doesn’t know why he feels the need to explain his dilemma to Looey, but something about the way they looked when they were going to leave the kitchen had upset Sprout a little. He didn’t like how downhearted Looey looked, and he especially didn’t like that Sprout was the reason for it.
“...Do you… Do you need any help?” Looey offers up, slightly unsure if his help would even be welcomed. Sprout perks up at that, eyebrows raised up in surprise.
“Would you?” He asks, a small grin appearing on his face. Looey nods back with a smile as he walks closer and up to the counter where Sprout had originally been working at.
“Sure! Just tell me what you’d like me to do and I’ll do my best!” Looey, for some ridiculous reason, strikes a silly pose with his arms curled out to show his biceps in an exaggerated display of strength. Before he has a chance to internally cringe about it, Sprout lets out a snort of laughter, erasing any awkwardness Looey was feeling.
“Pft, you don’t need to worry about doing too much here Looey,” Sprout reassures him, gesturing for him to take a seat while he digs in the fridge for the dish he was working on. He hears the bar stool scrape just as he closes the door, turning around to see Looey sitting with his hands clasped on top of the table, keeping to himself. “This is what I’ve been working on for the snack table; it’s a pink hummus that I was going to serve with some pita bread slices, but uh, I’m not sure if the hummus is missing anything or if I should change the flavor or not.”
Sprout reaches for a tasting spoon and dips it in the hummus, gathering a small amount before handing it off to Looey, who takes it with a curious furrow of his brows. The pink hummus wasn’t something they’ve had before, and Sprout was worried that maybe he was going too into the pink and red theme of the party but he didn’t want the whole thing to feel like a boring event.
He watches as Looey tastes it, the spoon disappearing in his mouth as he lets out a hum of delight, his eyes practically sparkling at the flavor. “Wow, this is really good!”
“Really?” Sprout eagerly asks, flushing at the praise.
“It’s delicious!” Looey insists. He licks his lips as though to savor the flavor and Sprout drops his eyes to track the movement. “The pink was a surprise but it’s perfect! How did you get it that color anyways?”
“Huh…?” Sprout’s distracted by the pink of Looey’s tongue once more chasing the flavor on the spoon before the question snaps him out of it. “Oh! The color came from red beets we had saved up in the fridge. You can make any color hummus really, so long as chickpeas is your main ingredient. But I thought, you know, with the theme and everything…” Sprout trails off at that, suddenly aware of his unnecessary explanation.
Looey nods along anyways, eyes watching Sprout with rapt attention. “It’s a great idea and it tastes amazing. I’m sure everyone’s going to eat it all up in no time.”
Flattered, Sprout dips his head down to hide his bashful smile. “Thanks Looey, I’m glad you liked it. Cosmo was telling me I’m my worst critic when it comes to making new things but I’m relieved you think it’s good.”
“It is good,” Looey places a hand close to where Sprout had been resting his on the counter. The inches between them felt electrifying somehow. “You should have more faith in yourself.”
‘Faithfully yours, nothing new in my exalting eyes that wander after you. The arduous journey I travel to rid my presence from your sight.’
Why is he thinking of that right now? Sure they were similar words, but they weren’t exactly the same feeling. Sprout’s hand twitches as he thinks that, slight betrayal coloring his mood as his thoughts interrupt this moment they’re having. Is this even a moment though? Or is Sprout trying to make something out of nothing again?
“Thanks,” He weakly says instead, stiffly walking away to pull out a pipping bag and some tiny serving bowls. “If you were serious about helping, do you want to help me arrange these for the party?”
Looey chirps back an enthusiastic yes, standing up from the chair to move closer to Sprout. He ignores the jump of his pulse and carefully explains to Looey what he plans to do with the hummus.
For the next several minutes Sprout directs him to place the bowls in a row and while he’s piping out the servings, Looey will swap out the filled ones for empty ones until they get a rhythm going. They work in tandem, hardly a hiccup in their movements and Sprout is surprised at how well they work together when he only ever has this sort of fluid connection with Cosmo.
“So what are you looking forward to at the party?” Sprout asks, breaking the quiet. “Is it the food or the dancing?”
“Well if the food is anything like what I just tried then most likely the food!” Looey giggles, making Sprout’s heart flutter at the compliment.
“Oh come on,” Sprout goads, pausing in piping out the hummus to give Looey a smirk. “You don’t have to flatter me, what are you really looking forward to?”
“How do you know I’m not telling the truth?” Looey gives him a side eye, lips quirked up in amusement. “Maybe all I’ll do the whole night is eat in the corner and steal the desserts while everyone’s too busy dancing.”
“Not unless I’m there to stop you,” Sprout leans in with an answering grin, matching Looey’s playful tone. “I’ll make you dance with me if it means the dessert table will be free from your clutches.”
The mischievous smile Looey had on drops and is replaced by a shocked one, red coloring his cheeks as he stares back at Sprout. Sprout replays what he said and he chokes.
“I-I mean, because then you’d be too busy dancing to eat everything! Not that you won’t eat at all! More like- I just meant-” Sprout wishes the ground would swallow him whole as he trips over his words. He’s waving his hands as though to erase what he had said before, pipping bag full of hummus dropping splatters all over the counter and nearly messing up all their work.
“I just meant… You should go out and dance too, instead of hiding away.” Sprout avoids looking at Looey as he puts down the pipping bag. “You put a lot of work into decorating, and the party’s for everyone so…”
“No, I get what you were trying to say,” Looey says. He laughs quietly, easing the line of tension in Sprout’s shoulders. “I’ll eat then dance, how about that? Is that alright with you Sprout?”
“I don’t mean to force you to do anything you don’t want to,” Sprout mumbles, face heating up from how such easy acceptance from Looey pleases him.
“Well, I’m pretty sure Yatta won’t waste any time dragging me to the dance floor anyways,” Looey admits, scratching at his cheek with a sigh. “If I’m lucky I might get a few bites to eat in between songs, if she even lets me out of her sight.”
“I didn’t know you two were like that,” The thought of them two being together-together draws Sprout short, suddenly unsure of why he’s so wrong footed about it.
“We’re not,” Looey quickly shoots that down, eyes wide as he crosses his hands together in an ‘x’ shape. “She’s just very affectionate and likes people more than actually being with them, in um, that sort of way.”
“Oh,” Sprout can’t keep the satisfied sound out of his voice. He feels both ridiculous and optimistic at the idea of Looey dancing with his friends as just friends and nothing else. If Looey is willing to dance with his friends maybe he would be willing to dance with him too?
“But what about you? What are you looking forward to at the party?” Looey asks, and Sprout draws a blank for once.
The first thought in his mind was of course the author of the letters that he’s been thinking about for the last two weeks. Sprout was looking forward to maybe getting the chance to feel out the place and see if he could somehow run into the author at the valentines card table, or somehow stumble into a confession in a hidden corner that turns sour and Sprout could swoop in and…
Swoop in and what? Is he going to hope that this person’s love confession goes bad so Sprout could come in for a rescue like a cheap replacement? The thought of it shames him, but only because for a brief moment Sprout was willing to be a rebound if only so he could know what it would be like to be loved like that.
It’s not real though, this made up fantasy that Sprout is imagining. It’s not real, and Sprout doesn’t exist in that scenario, but this guy standing in front of him does. Looey is real, and he’s standing in front of Sprout talking to him, asking him questions, could even be flirting with Sprout if Sprout wasn’t so hung up on someone who’s not his to covet.
None of this is fair; to Looey, to Sprout, even to the author that Sprout wants so badly to know and forget all at once.
“I…” Sprout swallows dryly. “Probably… Seeing everyone having fun and enjoy themselves, that’s all.”
“No dancing for you then?” Looey’s tone shifts and for a brief moment they lock eyes. Sprout wonders what Looey can see in his, and if it’s the same as what he thinks he’s reading in Looey’s.
“Well,” Sprout breaks eye contact to pick up the pipping bag once more. He gives a small smile back to Looey, heart beating a bit faster. “Maybe just one.”
---
Looey stands in front of his closet and wants to rip every single piece of clothing he has to shreds.
The Valentine’s Day party was tomorrow and Looey doesn’t know why he let Blot’s words from earlier get to him but they do. Groaning, he covers his eyes with his hands as the memory from breakfast floats in his mind.
(“Loooooooey,” Yatta pokes at Looey’s cheek just as he’s about to eat the pancakes on his plate. “Did you HEAR ME?”
“.ot ton draH (Hard not to.)” Blot rolls his eye as Yatta sticks her tongue out at him. Looey swats Yatta’s hand away from his face and then at her hand again as she tries to sneak a bite out of the leftover pancake pieces he still had on his plate.
“Yes, Yatta. I’m going to wear red to the party, it’s literally in the theme,” Looey sighs exasperatedly. “I still have the red outfits we used to wear for the show if you wanted to match too.”
“No WAY!” Yatta cheers, the table rattling with her excitement. “We’re gonna be the FLASHIEST TOONS AT THE PARTY!”
“?ecnad eht ot deksa I enoemos htiw gnihctam og ot detnaw I taht yas ot emit dab a won sI (Is now a bad time to say that I wanted to go matching with someone I asked to the dance?)” Blot sheepishly asks. Looey’s fork clatters on the plate as both his and Yatta’s jaw drop at that bomb he delivered.)
Now since Blot was going to go dressed in pink to match his mysterious dance partner that he refuses to tell them because it’s a surprise, Yatta decided that she was going to go all in red to match every single dance partner she could possible get that night. Which left Looey with the slight problem about his own wardrobe, mainly that he hated the outfits they used to wear for their valentine’s day specials.
Glaring down at the outfit he pulled out of the back of the closet, he wishes their handlers liked them a bit more than to just make them wear their normal clothes, but just in red, pink, and sparkly all over. Would it kill them to add some actual effort or thought?
“Maybe I should just wear it anyways,” Looey mutters under his breath, upset for being upset. Grudgingly undressing, he’s halfway into his new outfit when his tail gets caught in the jumpsuit zipper and the slight pain of it jolts him into tripping and falling to the floor. He hears a loud tearing sound and when he scrambles to find where it happened he sees a huge hole down one entire pant leg.
Banging his head against the floor, Looey lays there and gives up entirely on the outfit. Rolling over on his back, he looks back into the closet and wonders if he could mix and match some of his outfits instead? He could wear his red winter shirt with his purple spring pants? Would that be too much?
Or maybe he should just give up. Wear his usual outfit and look his usual same, colorful self. Plenty of other people are going to go dressed amazingly and he’s just a court jester trying to take the place of a prince for a night. Looey stares at his clothes until the colors blur together out of focus, his thoughts a heavy mist in his mind. Why was he trying so hard? What was the point?
Out of nowhere, the image of a shy grin and golden freckles pop up before his eyes and Looey feels himself flush.
Oh, it’s Sprout. It’s always because of Sprout.
Sighing, Looey remembers how last night after they had finished the last of the hummus bowls and putting them away that Sprout had asked him if he was going to go matching with Yatta and Blot. At the time Looey was under the impression that the three of them were so he told Sprout as such.
Sprout had sort of nodded and wondered out loud if maybe he should go dressed up as well, you know, to get in the spirit of things. It was on the tip of Looey’s tongue to suggest he go matching with them too, but didn’t want to cross an invisible line so he kept that part to himself. Instead, Looey suggested he go in white, like cupid.
“Since this whole thing was your idea, you know?” Looey had thought it would have been such a nice detail, that the person who started the entire event be dressed as someone delivering love and affection to everyone. Sprout had paused in wiping down the kitchen counter and had an unreadable expression on his face.
“Hm, how ironic would that be, huh?” His smile had gone dim, a rueful tint to the edges of his eyes. Looey almost wanted to take back his words, unsure where he had so badly misstep but Sprout had gone back to cleaning, dismissive of the whole thing and Looey had weakly excused himself out of fear of making himself look more like an idiot in front of Sprout.
Spread out on the floor in his bedroom spiraling over what to wear is certainly not what Looey was expecting to be doing but honestly they’re not that surprised about it considering they’re like this because he wants to dress up a bit more in front of Sprout. If Sprout took his advice and went to the party in white, would it be a little weird if Looey went in white too? Even if Sprout didn’t go dressed up and went in his usual outfit, white is still such a neutral color that Looey would be able to get away with wearing it anyways?
Mind made up somewhat, Looey gets up off the floor and sifts through his closet once more, determined this time to find something worth wearing to the dance. Even if he has to go begging around his floor mates for any spare white clothes, he can always improvise with the ribbons he has laying around to decorate if he needs to.
They ignore the redness in their cheeks as they finalize their outfit and they resolutely don’t think about the chef in the kitchen that they’re hoping to get a chance to dance with tomorrow.
---
‘In a lonely room with my scattered dreams everywhere, the imagined taste of you lingers on my lips-’
Sprout rolls over face down to suffocate himself further into the pillows as he tries in vain to get the images out of his mind. He doesn’t even know who he’s trying to imagine, but the words he keeps thinking about replay in his mind on loop. He hates that he’s reduced to a mess over dirty poetry written in the confines of a torn piece of paper.
He knows those letters aren’t for him, and he should really start getting ready for the party in a few hours but he can’t-
‘-I’ll call out to you in whispers, hushed in the dark, away from everyone else. Only I hear it, but the sound is all yours.’
He shifts around his bed as heat pools in his lower stomach.
Gods, is this what it means to be perverse in secret? An indistinguishable figure in his mind going through the motions of pleasure and he’s the sicko watching it in the dark. How did he let it get so bad, that he’s obsessing over an unknown person, someone he probably has been around before in their everyday lives, and get so fixated on the way they write?
Sprout wishes he were a better person, because he absolutely shouldn’t be doing this, and he really, really shouldn’t have his hand inching downwards as he slips it past the waistline of his pants. Grasping himself in hand, his breath hitches as he tugs once, then twice, slowly. The hedonistic pleasure of it overrides any sort of morals he was holding on to as he sinks further into it.
‘Consume my very breath, lips pressed close to my neck.-’
He can almost picture someone else there with him, sharing the heat he’s gathering as his fist works faster up and down. Imagines their soft thighs spread out across his lap, their hand laid over his, working over his member as they pant into each other’s mouths. Kiss marks and bites littering the neck of the person in front of him and he can see more of it trailing down their chest. In the back of Sprout’s mind, he doesn’t notice when the skin before him colors into yellow.
The slick sounds of his hand working himself is loud and arousing in the silence. Sprout doesn’t open his eyes, the darkness his only witness as his breath comes out in sharp gasps. Wetness gathers in his hand as he pumps harder, the pleasure building up. Thumbing the tip, he groans as he feels his face flush, spreading down his neck.
Would his imagined person be loud in the dark, or silent in the light? Can they be brought to either points if Sprout touched them in all the right places? Sensitive or not, if he bites at them just so, could it be his name that comes out their sweet mouth? Would the tears in their pretty eyes be from a pleasure so intense it renders them speechless?
‘-I taste you in my dreams, you haunt me in my sleep.’
Choking back a moan, Sprout grits his teeth and resolutely doesn’t think about anything. If he thinks too hard about the letters or the author he might just slip too far into his delusions and convince himself of stuff that will never hap-
An image of Looey leaning against the counter with the sweetest smile, asking him if he would be dancing at the party. Looking at him with such an eager expression, giving him his full attention. Sprout could almost see the tension between them light up as he moves closer, because in this moment he wouldn’t be so hung up on someone else, would take that step into the unknown.
Fuck-, fuck, he shouldn’t be thinking of Looey when he’s-
He sees himself pulling at Looey’s waist and has him over his lap, their hips grinding together and his lips are so soft even as they’re kissing so harshly. Looey would come to him so willingly and Sprout doesn’t know when they made it to his bed but he couldn’t care less when he has the prettiest toon in Gardenview all to himself and he wants... He wants so badly to taste him, to explore every inch of his soft skin and see how many noises he could pull out of him with just the right amount of tender pressure. He knows he could treat him so good, he just needs to-
-Soft skin, pretty eyes, a laugh so infectious Sprout wants to chase it around every corner, his smile his smile the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen he could kiss him he could ruin him-!
Sprout comes undone with Looey painted in his mind, his hips bucking erratically as he fucks into his fist, sparks firing behind his clenched eyelids as his senses go haywire. His heartbeat is loud in his head and his skin is sticky with sweat and exertion, mouth opened in near-silent gasps as his chest heaves. When consciousness slips back in, it’s to his spend soiling down across his hand and onto his clothes. He lays there breathless in the aftermath, thoughts addled as the coil of desire in his gut unravels, finally sated.
The awareness of what he’s done crashes down on him and Sprout sinks further into self-loathing as he raises his unused hand to cover his face in shame.
How did he go from imagining some shapeless, faceless author to Looey. How could he fall so far into his sick fantasies that he immediately started imagining someone who was just being playful with him? He has no idea how he’s going to face Looey at all when he just jerked himself off to the thought of him.
The event is still in a few hours and Sprout isn’t ready at all; not for the party, not to what’s going to happen with the author, not even to whatever feelings he’s been having about Looey.
---
The party had been going on for a couple hours and it didn’t seem like it was going to end any time soon.
Looey, as soon as he had walked in to the auditorium, had been dragged away to the snack tables by Yatta and had been quickly supplied a plate full of food before being manhandled into a seat where he had been sharing a table with Yatta, Blot, Goob, and Scraps.
The tables around the place did have arranged seating but most of the toons didn’t stay sitting long for it to matter as they were getting in and out of their seats to eat, mingle, or even dance. Looey had only been sitting at the table for about ten minutes before Yatta was tugging him to the dance floor to toss him around.
Quickly scarfing down what he could, he let himself be dragged around, excitement taking over his mood as the overhead lights dimmed further to let the string lights be the main light source. The mirrorball in the center of the dance area lit up in a dazzling display, silver sparks casting rays of light across the floor. The music was loud but it didn’t matter as everyone kept laughing and dancing to the beats that were playing. At some point Looey lost track of Yatta as she looped herself around Goob, the two of them almost crashing into the tables next to them as they spun around laughing without a care in the world.
Peeling away from the congested dance floor, Looey makes his way to the drinks station and has a much needed cup of cold punch. He’s watching the crowd from a distance when a voice next to him speaks up loud enough for him to hear over the music.
“Goodness, Looey! You look different for once!” Glisten gives him a once-over and Looey can’t help but tug at one of his ears, mindful of the white ribbons wrapped around it trailing down the ends.
“O-oh, does it look bad?” He can’t help ask, self-conscious enough to wonder if maybe he looks too different from his usual get up? He just traded out his colors for a fully white outfit with ribbons around his ears, the only color he allowed on himself being the red blush on his cheeks. He’s still a clown, but, maybe it’s not so obvious?
“No…” Glisten’s voice trails off as he set his own drink down to circle around Looey, inspecting his outfit with a critical eye. Looey feels himself start to sweat the longer he’s being examined. Snapping his fingers, Glisten points to Looey with a triumphant look on his face. “I know just what you’re missing darling!”
Reaching behind his own back, Glisten removes the white feathered wings he had been wearing and before Looey knows what’s going on he’s being moved around as Glisten loops the band of the wings through his arms to secure it behind his back. Stepping away, Glisten admires his quick handiwork as Looey stands there feeling out of place wearing wings of all things.
“Perfect! The wings were clashing heavy with my outfit and now I can bring out my back up pair to match with my lovely sweetheart!” Glisten squeals, clapping his hands excitedly.
“Are you sure it’s okay for me to wear these?” Looey twists his body to see the wings over his shoulders, the feathers soft where they touch against his cheek. He looks back over to Glisten and does a double take as Glisten had already changed out his white and silver outfit for a more dark red and gold color, complete with small golden wings half the size of his own.
“But of course, my dear,” The mirror toon says distractedly as he reapplied a gold shimmer eyeshadow, as though it was absolutely normal to magically have an entire outfit change in a blink of an eye. “Can’t have you walking around here looking like cupid without your wings, can we?”
“Cupid-?” Looey doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before Goob bumps into the table next to them, interrupting their conversation. The taller toon shakes off his dizziness from dancing, laughing slightly before he takes notice of the two of them standing there. His eyes light up in interest as he extends an arm out to wrap around Glisten’s sides, pulling him closer to him.
“You changed!” He nuzzles their cheeks together, mindful of the shimmering makeup Glisten was wearing, much to Glisten’s delight. “We match now!”
“Wanted to save the best outfit for last, that’s all,” Glisten couldn’t hide the besotted look if he tried, looking up at Goob with such adoration in his eyes. Goob looked no better, his own expression just as soppy as he pulls Glisten with him towards the dance floor, leaving Looey standing there wondering when those two had become an item.
Although, looking at how close they were and how happy they looked, Looey couldn’t help but feel envious at the easy way they slotted together. Their outfits, which Glisten was right, they do match a lot better now, stood out in the crowd as they danced in each other’s arms. The toons around them blended so seamlessly together in shades of reds, pinks, and white that eventually the two of them get lost in the bodies dancing.
The music stayed loud, the food was pretty good, and the dancing was fun, but suddenly, Looey felt tired. The wings on his back, though a nice gesture, felt like a heavy burden that he just didn’t want to deal with. They don’t even know where these feelings came from, or why he’s getting sad about being cupid of all things but he could probably take a guess why.
He hasn’t seen Sprout at all since the party started. At first Looey could have assumed that Sprout was busy making sure the party went smoothly, or that he was taking his job as a chef very seriously by making sure the snack table wasn’t a complete disaster. Yet the longer the night went on, and the more Looey saw of everyone, he started to doubt he would see Sprout at all.
Even started to think the other man was avoiding him. He’d seen Cosmo earlier and stopped him to ask, as nonchalantly as he could, where Sprout might have been but the Swiss roll toon had just given him a confused look and told him that Sprout had been in and out of the place and was actually hard to miss. Looey had laughed it off, saying he was probably too distracted with dancing to notice but he couldn’t deny the bitter taste of disappointment after hearing that.
Turning to grab another cup of punch, Looey walks away from the busy room and around a corner, just slightly out of sight. Leaning against the wall, he feels safer in the dark, away from prying eyes and any sort of spotlight that could reveal how lonely he was feeling at that moment.
The bass was soothing almost, the vibrations of it echoing against the wall he was leaning on and he tips his head back to rest against it. Stray feathers tickle the nape of his neck as they also move along to the tremor of the music. The ceiling had been decorated with tiny clear crystals that reflected whatever lights the mirrorball shone off them, making the lights orbit around the room in shimmering rays.
Maybe if he thinks more about the decorations he can forget about whatever moment he thought he had with Sprout. It was stupid of him to think he could have saved a dance for him.
He has maybe a couple minutes of solitude before a figure suddenly turns the corner, startling the both of them as neither one of them were expecting anyone else to be there.
“Looey?” Sprout stands there awkwardly, a hand rising up to push back some strands of hair out of his face. He had traded his usual white chef outfit for a black one, the only color on him being a purple scarf he had loosely tied around his shoulders. Looey wonders at how he couldn’t have notice Sprout at all the entire night when he had never looked so striking before. “What are you doing all the way out here?”
“Oh, just, you know, hanging around?” His face was absolutely red, he already knows this. “The uh, music was a bit too loud and the crowd… Was a little too much. Thought I could… Stay away for a bit…”
His voice trails off as he hides behind a sip of punch. Sprout hasn’t looked him in the face at all, eyes wandering and focused on a point near his ears. He feels his heart drop down to his feet as he notices that.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Sprout makes a rigid move to jerk a thumb over his shoulder. “I can go tell Vee to lower the volume?”
For some reason, the idea of Sprout going and lowering the volume of the music for the entire party just because it’s ‘a bit too loud’ for Looey, was too ridiculous that it makes him burst into sudden laughter.
“You don’t have to do all that!” Looey says in between giggles, the drink in his hand coming dangerously close to sloshing everywhere. Sprout finally looks right at him, his own eyes twinkling with mirth as he grins back. “Imagine all the complaining you would get from everyone if their music was interrupted like that!”
“I’m sure they’d understand that I’m doing it to make someone happy,” Sprout lightly replies, shifting to lean against the wall right next to Looey. Their shoulders brush, the feeling electrifying. “Besides, that’s the whole point.”
“The whole point is to lower the music?” Looey can’t help but tease. He hopes the smile on his face isn’t too big.
Sprout’s answering laugh makes butterflies rise in his stomach. “Nope, the whole point was to make everyone happy. And if you’re not happy, then clearly I still have some work to do.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Feeling brave, Looey nudges Sprout’s shoulder gently, looking up at him with a shy smile. “I’m feeling pretty happy so far.”
Their faces aren’t that far apart, the air between them thick with something Looey is too afraid to name. Out of hope he doesn’t want to give up, or out of the unknown territory they find themselves in, he’s not sure.
“I’m glad,” Sprout’s voice was low, the sound almost lost in the music around them. “Then my work here is done.”
“And you?” Looey can’t help but ask. Sprout tilts his head like he doesn’t understand what Looey is talking about. “Are you happy?”
Sprout blinks at the question, taken aback by such a simple sentence. His face does a weird expression, going tight around the eyes as he looks away from Looey. “Ah- Well, there’s something I’ve been meaning to do but… I don’t know if it would make me happy or not.”
Looey’s brow furrows as he lets out a concerned sound. “What’s stopping you from doing it? If you’re working too much you should take a break. The party isn’t going anywhere any time soon.” A snort of contrite laughter escapes Sprout, his lips quirked up at the edges weakly.
“I wouldn’t say that’s the problem. It’s more like I wouldn’t know where to start with tackling it,” He says, letting out a frustrated sigh as he rubs at his eye. He still looks amused at his own suffering, confusing Looey even further. “It’s probably for the best anyways. I’m not sure what would have happened if I actually went through with it.”
The silence between them stretches, growing more uncomfortable the longer they avoided looking at each other. Looey can’t help but think whatever problem Sprout was going through had a little part to do with him, if only by how Sprout wouldn’t quite meet his eyes still. The berry toon hardly ever admits to an issue he couldn’t handle, so this small confession to one feels like a glimpse into something more rarer and precious than anything Looey could ever think of having.
“You know…” Sprout hesitantly speaks up as Looey turns to give him his attention. The smile on his face was small, and brilliant. “I noticed earlier you weren’t wearing the wings but now you are. Changed your mind about them?”
“These?” Looey shifts to move his wings around, the feathers waving with his body movement. “No actually, Glisten had given them to me to wear. Honestly though, I think he just got tired of wearing them and wanted to get rid of it so he picked the first sucker he could find.”
“His loss then,” Sprout reaches out to thumb the edges of a wing, the delicate motion of it making Looey’s cheeks tinge more pink. “It suits you.”
“Yeah, right,” Looey can’t help but let out a quiet laugh full of disbelief. “I look like I’m playing dress up out here. A terrible mix-up of clown and cupid.”
“Nah, not like that at all,” Their bodies are nearly pressed together so close that Looey could time the breaths Sprout was taking. He doesn’t know when they had moved to fill in any space they could, but he’s not complaining. “I’d say you look more like an angel.”
A soft sound escapes him, and he turns his face away to hide his burning cheeks. “Now you’re just trying to embarrass me.” Looey says, suddenly unable to keep up the brave act of talking to Sprout like this.
“Sorry, sorry,” Sprout laughs, looking not sorry in the least. “Too much?”
Biting his lips, Looey has never felt more buzzed with happiness as he does right now. How they got here to this moment, how he got to flirting with Sprout and him flirting back? He wants to stay here forever.
“They’re just simple wings, nothing special,” He shoots a sly grin at Sprout, giving him a quick wink for extra measure. “I’m more interested in knowing why you noticed them in the first place. Were you watching me earlier?”
Now it’s Sprout’s turn to be embarrassed, his face going more red than usual as he tries to hide his expression behind his hand. Peeking through his fingers, Sprout can’t escape the sappy feelings he gets as he sees Looey laughing up at him. Maybe it was worth looking like a loser if it gets such a cute guy to laugh at him.
“Alright you made your point,” Sprout grumbles, not at all upset at being made fun of. “But yes, I had seen you earlier. I was watching from the cards station and was wondering why I hadn’t seen you over there at all the entire night.”
“Oh,” Faltering, Looey grabs at an ear and holds it close to his cheek, his mood abruptly shifting. Sprout startles at the turn of attitude, suddenly afraid he was the reason for it. “I, uh, it’s a bit embarrassing but I didn’t want to make a valentines card this year...”
The sting of his secret letters still missing and out there for anyone to find was still a raw wound, and Looey hasn’t written anything at all since then. He’s been waiting for someone to pop out with his letters in hand and air out his sensitive feelings for everyone to hear, and he doesn’t think he could handle it if people laughed at him for it. Especially if Sprout were to hear about it, and he would be so understanding about the whole thing, but Looey couldn’t bear his pity if he felt like it was too much and tried to let him down gently.
“Not at all?” Sprout looks surprised at that. “Because you don’t know how to make one or…?”
Sprout watches as Looey bites the inside of his cheek, his pretty eyes wavering as he looks up at him. There’s a subtle sheen in his eyes that Sprout desperately wants to wipe away. He looks vulnerable there, hidden away in a dark corner and saddened by whatever is going through his mind. He hates how he didn’t mean to make him feel like this, but he still did anyways. Can’t he do anything right when it comes to Looey?
Slowly, so as to not push him too much, Sprout reaches down to loosely grab at his hand. Looey’s eyes dart down to their intertwined fingers, breath caught in his chest.
“Come help me make one then,” Sprout says, a sudden eagerness to his actions. “You don’t have to make one on your own but, maybe we can do one together?”
He takes a step away, the lightest of tugs on their clasped hands their only connection. Sprout doesn’t force him along, and instead waits patiently with a sort of anxiousness in his eyes. Like he’s afraid Looey would drop their hands and leave him out here standing alone.
Looey breathes in once, then releases it in a shaky exhale. Pauses, just for a split second before tightening their hands further. Moving closer, Looey matches Sprout’s footsteps as they follow after him, lips tilted up into a shy, radiant smile. Sprout feels like he’s walking on air at having such trust in his hands.
They leave their little corner and walk the edges of the dance floor, no one paying any mind to them as they make their way towards the empty card crafting table. Since the table was near the exit doors, the music wasn’t nearly as loud as it should be at this distance, which was a relief since both toons weren’t looking forward to yelling over the music just to talk.
Brusha and Scraps had came to a sort of agreement and left one side full of organized paints lined up neatly while the other side of the table was a mess of different cut out colored pieces of paper and scissors. In the center of the table is a stack of blank papers, and that’s where Sprout releases their hands as he picks up one of the papers.
“So, how-?” The words jam in his throat as he looks over at Looey leaning into his side to examine the table content. The warm press of him distracting. “H-How do you think is the best way to make a card?”
“Hm…” Looey hums as he looks around the table for any markers or pens, unaware of how his closeness was affecting Sprout. “Usually you would just write out something nice for someone and then decorate it however you’d like but I don’t see any-”
Letting out a noise of triumph, Looey snatches up a pen that was hidden under the scratch papers. “Perfect! Here, it’s best to write out what you want to say first before committing to a final piece. That way any mistakes can be fixed before it’s too late.”
Holding out the pen, Looey waits for Sprout to take it, who’s standing there with an odd look on his face.
“Thank you,” He says instead, their fingers brushing together as he takes the pen. Looey feels ridiculous for the fluttery feelings from that. “I wouldn’t have thought about doing any of that at all. You must be used to writing a lot then?”
“Haha! I wouldn’t say that per se,” Looey rocks back on his heels, a nervousness to his actions now. “Sometimes when I have free time and there’s nothing to do I like to write out jokes or scenes, but um, nothing too serious.”
“I’m no author, after all,” He laughs, missing the stunned look on the other’s face. Just for a brief moment, Sprout could almost see the shine of a figure outlining Looey before fading out.
“Right, yeah,” Sprout says, blinking back to attention at the blank paper in his hands. Suddenly, all the wonderful letters and delicate prose he’s thought about in the last two weeks vanish in his mind, leaving him uncertain where to start. It’s one thing to read about lovely, poetic words written by someone else, but it was another thing entirely to try to do it yourself.
Sprout didn’t think he’d be the one to write out his own letter to someone, much less attempting to write a romantic one when he himself can barely get his own feelings out normally.
Glancing at Looey standing next to him, he resolves to do his best. Because Looey is here with him, rather than spending his time out with his friends or dancing with anyone else in Gardenview that would surely love to have the cute, funny clown in their arms.
Instead, he’s here helping Sprout make a card that he really doesn’t need to give all his attention to, but still is, because Looey is sweet, and kind, and Sprout wants so badly to give him a piece of his heart that feels like it’s too full when he’s around him.
He must have been staring down at the paper too long because Looey had cleared his throat to get Sprout’s attention, giving him an understanding smile when he caught his eyes.
“It doesn’t have to be something complicated,” They explain, pulling out another blank piece of paper. “It could be about what you like about them, or that you’re glad you guys are friends.”
“What if I like them, but I don’t know how to tell them that?” Sprout hopes his voice doesn’t sound as shaky as he feels, saying that.
Looey takes a careful, measured breath before answering him. “Then even something as simple as that would be enough to get their attention.”
“You can’t go wrong with telling the truth.” Finding another pen hidden among the mess, Looey gives him a rueful smile as he flips the paper around in the air. “Go ahead and give it a try! I’ll write one out too so you’re not the only one here struggling.”
Snorting in amusement, Sprout looks back down at his paper and considers his words carefully. Bending down, he writes out several lines of his thoughts before deciding against them and crossing them out. Going over them again, he rethinks describing something, then changes how he meant to say it, then ultimately finds himself lost in thought as he realizes that he is absolutely terrible at this.
Catching sight of Looey’s side of the table, he can’t read out what he’s writing but he’s surprised to see a lot of stuff written out. The paper he was writing on was nearly full with the amount of stuff he was putting on there. Sprout almost wants to interrupt him to ask for help again but stops as he watches him. The concentration on his face was almost mesmerizing, as his eyes roam over the letters he was scribbling out. For someone who claims they weren’t a writer, they’ve certainly got a lot to say.
Slowly, as though seeing Looey working had given him new encouragement, a thread of soft words enter his thoughts and Sprout lets his mind wander. Pen to paper, he writes out a simple paragraph, not thinking too hard about making it perfect, or worrying about if it makes sense. He writes honestly, and maybe it’s not as polished as he wants it to be, but he hopes his feelings get across regardless.
It’s a few minutes later, as Sprout is neatly rewriting his letter in the center of his Valentine’s card that he sees Looey jolt up in surprise. Looking over, he see’s the other toon giving him a sheepish expression.
“I think I wrote too much to make it into a proper card,” The paper in his hand had lines and lines of writing on it. Ink stains the edges of the paper, and Sprout sees some of that ink staining Looey’s fingertips and he remembers-
‘You’re a walking love letter I’ll never send. You’ll be buried in the piles and piles of papers and get lost amongst the mess I write to clear you out of my head. My fingers stain of both pressure and ink, and I-’
He remembers that particular poem not ever being finished, but he can almost guess what the rest of it would have said. Standing in front of Looey, he wants to forget he ever had any sort of conflicted feelings about anyone else because he wants to give his heart to this one, yet still he’s being haunted by someone who doesn’t exist at this moment.
Averting his eyes, Sprout was still aware of enough social cues to not try and read what was on Looey’s page. “You had a lot to say, huh? Could always just fold it in half and hand it to them like that. I’m sure they’d like reading a novel all about them.”
“Oh, ha ha,” Looey gives a fake laugh, face flushed in mortification. He quickly folds his paper and jams it in his front pocket. “I really didn’t mean to get ahead of myself. It was supposed to be you making a card, not me.”
“And you helped me out a lot with it,” Sprout reassures him, the card in his own hand lacking any sort of details to it compared to the amount of thought Looey put into his. “Though, now I’m starting to think you just did that to show off.”
Looey had thrown his head back as he laughs, his cheeks dimpled in pure happiness. Sprout wants to bask in his light for eternity, the sunshine warmth of him a beckoning call.
“I’m sure yours is perfectly fine!” Looey says in between giggles. He had pulled out a second paper and was quickly scribbling out something on it. “It’s Valentine’s Day, I’m sure whoever gets your card will love it anyways.”
Sprout presses his card close to his chest, heartbeat pounding hard against his ribs. “What if it’s too simple?” He worries, suddenly, if he’s in over his head.
Looey gives him a kind smile. He had finished writing out his second card and let the pen roll back onto the table. “They’ll love it anyways, because you made it.”
The paper in Looey’s hands gets folded over twice before it disappears in his pocket, along with the other ink stained paper he had first written on. Interlocking his hands in front of him, Looey sends him a teasing grin. “Well? You should go give them your card before the night is over.”
It suddenly occurs to Sprout that Looey thinks that this card isn’t for him. That he thinks Sprout went through all this thoughtful effort for someone else and that Looey was willing to let himself be used to make someone else happy.
He doesn’t know how he didn’t see it before, but he can see now the tightness in Looey’s hands as he tries to hold himself together. The anxiousness is all over his body language and Sprout feels like the worst sort of person for stringing him along. Not that he meant to, because he really does want something more with Looey, but maybe it’s not up to him to decide anymore.
The card in his hands gets pushed into Looey’s hands, the paper getting slightly crumbled from the pressure.
“Here,” Sprout avoids looking at whatever expression is on Looey’s face. “Before I lose my nerve.”
He waits for Looey to take the card out of his hands before he steps back, rubbing the back of his neck and staring hard at the floor between them. It’s silent for a moment before the card shifts open and Sprout holds his breath as he counts the seconds.
“Oh,” Looey breathes out a wet laugh. The card is as simple as it could be, with the most sweetest poem he’s ever read written on it.
‘Roses are red,
Your smile a pretty view.
Would it be terrible of me to say,
That I really, really like you?’
“If you’re going to make fun of me, can you wait for me to leave before you do,” Sprout says to the floor, still refusing to look at Looey.
“I won’t, I promise,” Looey wipes at his eyes, touched at the words on the card. “This was very sweet of you.”
Gathering his courage, Sprout finally looks up to the most beautiful smile he’s seen so far on Looey’s face. “I love it, thank you Sprout.”
Struck dumb, he barely has half a mind to think of a reply before Looey leans in to press a gentle kiss on his cheek. His lips linger slightly before pulling away, eyes twinkling. Looey was blushing, but Sprout knows his face must look worse because his body temperature just skyrocketed.
“Hhh-” Is the only noise he was capable of making, the blood rushing to his face making him dizzy. Looey just giggles at him, breathless in the way that betrays his giddiness.
“I really, really, like you too Sprout,” He says, biting his lips as though to keep himself from blabbering from too much excitement. “Um, actually, I thought it was too much to give this to you but-”
Looey reaches into his pocket to pull out one of the folded valentines card he had written earlier. He presents it to Sprout with antsy anticipation, the card shaking slightly with nerves. Sprout takes it with care, Looey’s nervousness making him worry too. He opens it and the ground falls under him.
‘There is courage in your rage, bold and unquestionable against the stark darkness we face day in and day out. I would follow you into the dark, for as surely as I would watch you shine in the light, you could lead me to ruin and I would still chase your blazing silhouette.’
The handwriting was the same. The handwriting was the same and the words were just as incredible as they always are. The mysterious author he’s been looking for this entire time was Looey.
Looey was the one who’s been writing such beautiful poetry and love letters. He’s the author who’s in love with his muse. A muse who doesn’t love him back, that he’s fine with it, and still he writes to them, about them. Shocked isn’t strong enough a word, he thinks he might actually pass out.
Sprout has no idea how he’s supposed to react, but he knows the silence wasn’t it.
“It’s too much, isn’t it?” Looey’s worried face makes an appearance and Sprout snaps his eyes up at him. “I was just- I was thinking about how amazing you are when it comes to taking charge during runs when it looks hopeless. That you’re always taking care of us and how I would follow you no matter what, because I admire you a lot, and…”
Looey’s ears drop down to hang on the sides of his head, a sure sign of his dejection. “Why do you look at me like that?”
“Like what?” Sprout speaks softly, the words raspy in his throat.
“Like you lost me,” Is all he says, hands crossing over his chest as though to bring a small amount of comfort. It burns that Sprout is the one doing this to him.
Sprout feels something fragile breaking right now, and he knows it’s all his fault. Knows it from the very moment when he first found those letters and doomed himself to chasing after someone he couldn’t and shouldn’t have. There’s not enough mercy in this world granted for someone like him.
“There’s something I have to show you.”
---
Closing the door to his room, Sprout mourns the brief spell of happiness he experienced before ultimately ruining it forever.
Looey had followed him without question, quiet concern his only visible mood as he takes a moment to look around Sprout’s room. Sprout takes a second to memorize how he looked standing there, surrounded by the stuff he’s collected and cared for all these years. He’ll never get to see this again.
“What did you-?” Looey goes to say before his attention locks onto Sprout moving to his desk to pick up something. When he turns around, Looey could only blink at what he’s seeing in the main toon’s hands before his breathing picks up.
“No-” Humiliated, he feels tears gathering in his eyes as he rushes up to Sprout to rip the letters out of his hands. These were his letters and Sprout had them the entire time, had read them and- and maybe he knew-?
“No, no, no-” Sobbing, Looey hides his face behind his letters, uncaring that he was ruining the ink on the pages.
“Looey-, please, I’m so sorry,” Sprout’s voice was choked up from seeing Looey cry. He doesn’t know what to say to fix any of this. “I promise, I didn’t know they were your letters until I read the card you gave me. Please believe me, I’m s-”
“But you read them,” Looey gasps out each word, breathing hard to come by. Tear tracks mar his face, the red blush they had on their cheeks smudged from the wetness. “You read them and you know how I feel-!”
“I-” Sprout brings his hands up as though to comfort him but Looey flinches away. Sprout yanks his hands back, a miserable look in his eyes.
“Looey,” He begs, wanting Looey to understand that he didn’t mean to hurt him at all. “I promise, I wanted to find a way to return them but I had no idea who to give the letters to or what I should do with them and-”
Looey hadn’t stopped crying, the tears still trailing down his face, but he was braver than anyone else Sprout knew, because he looked Sprout right in the eyes, the betrayal clear on his face.
Sprout hesitates, but pushes through his discomfort at admitting his feelings so vulnerably, because Looey was standing in front of him like his world was ending and Sprout refuses to be a coward about it.
Clenching his fists, he says, “All I knew from the letters was that somebody was in love with someone who didn’t love them back… and at first I did read the letters to maybe find clues to whoever this person, this muse, was so I could leave them the letters instead… but the more I read the words on the pages, the more I…” He bites his lips, suddenly so afraid that what he’s about to say will ruin their future entirely.
“I fell in love,” He whispers, the confession loud in the ringing silence. “I-I think I fell in love with someone who wrote such wonderful things about someone who doesn’t love them back, and I felt like it was such bullshit that this person thinks they didn’t deserve their love. But I wanted to be the one to give them that love, or to at least beg for it, even if I couldn’t compare to whoever it was they wrote with such love and care in their words.”
Sprout waves an arm back to the closed bedroom door, gesturing towards where everyone else was still back at the dance. “This whole party was for them, you know? So that whoever wrote those pages would maybe get the courage to confess. I only wanted them to be happy, even if it wasn’t with me.”
“...And the moment in the kitchen?” Looey finally speaks up, hands still shaking with the papers in his hands. “When we… when we were…”
Sprout feels his face flush, caught in the war between too exposed and not sorry enough. “It was real. A-at least, I wanted it to be real. I knew I had no chance with the person who wrote the letters, but I also couldn’t ignore that I was liking you so much more than I was before.”
“I really did want to dance with you,” Sprout weakly says, grasping at the bottom of his chefs coat. “I wanted to keep liking you, but I couldn’t forget this author who wrote the loveliest things about a person they wanted to keep loving, even if they would never get their love in return.”
He doesn’t think he’s ever talked so much all at once before in his life, especially about himself. But he would do it for hours more, and days or weeks after, if it meant Looey wouldn’t think he meant to hurt him like this.
“So you don’t know…” Looey looks away, wiping at his face as his tears finally, finally stop, much to Sprout’s relief. “You really don’t know who the letters were meant for?”
His heart breaks, but Sprout deserves it. He’s been so selfish and greedy for a love that wasn’t his to want. Even if Looey and the author were one and the same, Sprout still couldn’t get either out of his mind when he thought of the other, and he was such a bastard for thinking he could have either of them. They weren’t someone to pick or chose to his liking, and he shouldn’t have had any hope to begin with.
“No, I don’t know who you wrote them about,” He bites out, the words souring in his mouth. “I don’t know who you were in love with, or if you still hold any feelings for them, but I don’t care about them.”
He drops to his knees in front of Looey and looks up at him with anguish in his eyes. He has his hands out as though to beg and plead, and Looey looks down at him in alarm. “Please, Looey, chose me. I’ll spend forever being sorry about how I hurt you, and I’ll apologize everyday if you want me to but please... I can treat you so much better, I can love you so much better, than whoever it is that you wrote them for. Tell me there’s a chance for us, I can make you so h-happy-”
Maybe it’s too much desperation that makes him lose face, but Sprout’s eyes are wet with longing and he doesn’t care if it makes him look crazy. He could’ve handled it if the author was anyone else, because then he wouldn’t have had a glimpse of what it could be like being with Looey, but he knows now, and he wants this so badly he could die if he doesn’t try.
“Sprout,” Looey snakes a hand down Sprout’s chin and lifts it up to look at him. With the lights behind his head, his outline shines bright and his wings he still wears make him look more angelic and beautiful than he has any right to be. Sprout wants to burn this image in his eyes so it would be the only thing he sees when he blinks. “If I wrote those letters about someone else, why are you so okay with being a second choice?”
“Because I don’t care,” Sprout insists, not budging from the floor even though clearly Looey wants him to stand up.
“But you should!” Looey says, frustration coating his words. He waves the letters around in his hand while his other is still holding onto Sprout’s face so gently. “That would mean I still flirted with you in the kitchen, even though I had someone else in my heart! That I spent my time dressing up for you, looking for you, and waiting around for you the entire night just to have someone else I wrote these love letters for! That I kissed you, and told you I liked you, because I do, I really do like you, and you’re-you’re-”
Sniffling, Looey wipes at his eyes again as his tears start up once more. Here, Sprout stands up from the floor to cup Looey’s face, thumbing the tears falling down his cheeks. Sprout’s smile and eyes are soft, gazing back at the wobbly lips on Looey’s face.
“You shouldn’t be so okay with being a second choice,” Looey whispers, closing his eyes as Sprout leans in to leave a kiss on his forehead.
“But if you chose me, in the end does it matter?” Sprout kisses him on the corners of each of his closed eyelids, the affection making Looey’s heart clench painfully. “I would still get to have you, because you gave me the chance, and that’s more than what I deserve.”
“You deserve to be happy too, Sprout,” Looey mumbles, sniffling. Sprout smiles at how sweet and caring he was being.
“You make me happy,” Is all he says, resting their foreheads together. “And maybe one day, I’ll get to make you love me as much as you did in those letters for someone else.”
Looey lets out a shaky exhale, before pulling away to reach into their pocket.
“Here,” He says, an unreadable look in their eyes as he places the other folded paper card he had made in Sprout’s hand. “Before I lose my nerve.”
Sprout lingers over opening it, the serious way Looey gave it to him making him falter, but when he opens it and reads the first line of writing on the page, he almost goes dizzy from disbelief.
‘Fresh colored eyes, windswept hair. In my weaker moments I dream of drowning in your heat, the whispers of your hands tangle my self and I’m laid bare against your current.’
“What…” Sprout’s heart starts beating faster the more he reads.
‘He’s too beautiful, sometimes I forget myself. The agony I feel as it burns in my chest and ache for the chance to be near him. Only worsen the longer I torture myself like this.’
Looey reaches out and thumbs at his eyes, but Sprout doesn’t care for the tears that fall from there because this? This was more than anything he could have ever hoped for.
‘For the few times we’ve talked it’s all been for naught. For the mere moments we’ve passed, it’s never meant to last. Time in the hours, minutes in the seconds. Your green eyes they beckon, another lost connection.’
‘I’m writing this on the hopes that I’ll stop wishing about you. I wish you hadn’t been so captivating. I wish I fell in love a little less hard. I wish I wasn’t so scared of this.’
There’s more, all written up in the margins and empty spaces in that terribly familiar handwriting but Sprout can’t read past the blurriness of his eyes. He tries to blink it away just to find himself crumbling forward into Looey’s waiting arms.
“They were all for me,” His voice was husky from his tears. Looey rubs at his back in comfort, squeezing him closer to him. Sprout noses at their neck, wrapping his arms around their waist. “You wrote love letters about me?”
“How could I not?”A kiss is pressed against his hair. “It was so easy to fall in love with you, even before the letters had been written, and way longer after. It’s only ever been you I wrote about.”
Sprout melts further against Looey, unable to hide how happy it made him hearing that. He’s grinning as he nuzzles at Looey’s neck, relishing at hearing the other toon laughing at the tickling sensation. He pulls back to see their face, fixated at the look of joy in their smile. They really do have the prettiest eyes, he’s known that for a long while but right now, he can admire them with all the adoration he carries.
“I can’t believe I fell for two versions of you,” Sprout’s grin was cheeky, raising an eyebrow at the way Looey’s face blooms with color. “Which one’s the real you? Am I going to find out about a third one in the morning?”
Looey’s answering laugh was breathless. “Trying to get me in your bed so soon? We haven’t even had our first kiss yet, you shameless cad.”
“Well,” Sprout pulls Looey in by his waist, thumbs running up and down his hips as he leans in just a little bit too close to mistake his intentions for anything else. “Can’t have that now, can we?”
Looey is still laughing even as he’s the one to push that extra inch to kiss Sprout, their grins getting in the way of them kissing, making them break apart in giggles before they meet each other again.
Their second kiss is both much more softer, and much more intense as Looey slowly coaxed his lips open, leaving a bite on his lower lip before brushing his tongue against it in a teasing way that had Sprout moaning softly, the sound lost when Looey licked into his mouth. The curl of the other man's tongue against his own was an invitation that begged to be accepted. Their lips part for less than a second, before they move back together, and again and again, until they’re gasping in between kisses from lack of air.
Pulling away first, Looey bites down on an amused sound as Sprout tries to chase him for one more kiss. “What are you so impatient for? I was kidding earlier about not being here in the morning.”
“Oh?” Sprout perks up at that, overly eager expression making Looey embarrassed at his own bold statement. “Then you’ll stay the night?”
“Only if you’re okay with it,” Looey didn’t want to assume, even though everything that led to this moment sort of felt inevitable, he still didn’t want to overstep. “I don’t want to make it seem like that’s all I want.”
“You can want all you’d like, I’ll give it all to you,” Sprout says, full sincerity in his words. Looey’s heart skips a beat at that, feeling utterly charmed by this ridiculous man in front of him.
“You’re so-” Looey swoops in to kiss him squarely on the mouth, licking at the seams of his lips with a slow caress before letting go. Sprout’s eyes looked glazed over at the action. “You’re dangerous when you talk like that.”
“You want to talk about dangerous?” Sprout says, snapping out of his daze as he yanks Looey forwards, the two of them tumbling over Sprout’s bed in a tangle of limbs. When Looey sits up after catching his bearings, he finds he’s kneeling on top of Sprout’s sprawled body on the bed, both his legs stretched out on either sides of his thighs. Sprout just looks up at him with a wicked grin.
“Now this is dangerous,” He runs his hands up Looey’s thighs, the heat of his hands sending shivers down Looey’s spine. “Wanna know a secret? I imagined something like this before when I had read one of your letters.”
“Yeah?” Their breath hitches, and Looey feels a frisson of desire spark in his lower stomach. He rests his hands over where Sprout had been touching him on his legs and marvels at the sight of their hands laid over each other like this. “What did you do about it?”
“Do you want to see?” Sprout’s smile was all kinds of filthy, and Looey had never been more turned on before in his life. Leaning down to give him a bruising kiss, Looey sucks on his bottom lip before trailing a line of kisses down his throat, stopping right above where his chef coat was buttoned up.
“Would you?” Looey asks, so very, very aware of how airy his voice went. He teasingly lays a hand over Sprout’s stomach, feels the muscles flexing there as he deliberately pushes down. The hands that were resting on his thighs squeeze in response to his question and Looey could almost get drunk off this feeling of watching Sprout get aroused by him. “Show me, Sprout?”
“Fuck,” Sprout grunts, hands scrambling at the waistline of his pants.
The sounds of the zipper being pulled down was drowned out by the low moan of relief he lets out as his stiff member is exposed, the outline of it stark against Sprout’s boxers. The sight of it twitching and begging to be touched was such a tempting thing, but Looey holds himself back as he shifts his hand from Sprout’s stomach down, purposely avoiding the one place he wants to touch.
He rests his hand right on the curve of one strained thigh under him, his other hand mirroring on the other side. His heart was pounding so hard against his ribs, excitement rushing through his veins.
Sprout’s hands hovered over his erection, unsure if he should actually go for it, but Looey’s mesmerized eyes were hot on him as he slowly, and deliberately dragged the band of his underwear down far enough for his dick to slip out. Grasping at the hardness, he squeezes the base before running his hand up and down, and watches as Looey shifts a bit lower to better see Sprout jerking himself off. The other toon’s hands rubbed over his thighs as though to encourage him to keep going.
The vision of Looey leaning over him, flushed red with desire and with the angel wings still on him made Sprout’s horny mind go insane with lecherous thoughts, each one more sinful than the last as he fists himself faster. Looey tilts his head, pretty eyes full of heat and Sprout feels so dirty yet so insatiable about this gorgeous toon sitting on his lap and watching him get off to him.
“Can I-?” Looey swallows thickly, the fog of lust in his head scrambling his senses. Sprout being under him like this makes him feel so intoxicated, and Looey wants so badly to get his hands all over his attractive body. “Can I touch you too?”
“Yes- please, gods-” Sprout nearly swallows his tongue as Looey moves to place his hand neatly alongside his own hand over Sprout’s dick. Together, they move as one, Sprout hissing as he sees the motion of Looey’s arm moving alongside his.
The slick sounds of their hands pleasuring him are all he can hear, his eyes hazy with lust as he sees the open mouthed panting coming from Looey. Then he sees the balloon toon had been grinding down on his thigh the longer they went on, and Sprout is so lost in the headiness that he doesn’t think as he moves his unused hand from Looey’s thigh right to the front of where Looey’s desire was.
“Hah-!” Looey lets out a loud gasp, the sudden foreign touch on his sex startling him. Grinding down harder on the palm cupping him, he hangs his head as their hand is still sloppy with jerking off Sprout, their other arm trembling from propping himself up.
“Like this?” Sprout twitches his thumb and presses just-so, causing Looey to let out a shaky string of moans, each one music to his ears. Licking his lips, Sprout repeats the motion again, and follows the trail of sweat dripping down Looey’s temple down the sides of his neck. He itches to taste the salt of it.
“You look so good, so perfect like this,” Babbling, Sprout can feel his end coming near, the heat in his groin just waiting for release. Thinks that he could come like this, with the hypnotizing image of Looey in the throes of ecstasy. “Like this- just like this, almost there-”
“Wait, w-wait-” Looey takes his hand off Sprout to grab at the arm of the hand he had buried in the apex of Looey’s thighs. Sprout almost yanks his hand away, worried he had done something out of line, but Looey has a tight hold on his arm and prevents him from moving too far away.
“Wait,” He repeats, catching his breath as they both pause while Looey bites at his lips, deep in thought. Sprout presses a firm hand down his cock, forcing himself to calm down in case Looey didn’t want to do anything more and Sprout refuses to make him uncomfortable.
Instead of telling Sprout off for being such a depraved pervert, Looey moves to raise up on his knees, shimmying down the top of his pants until they pool around his legs, kicking them off the side of the bed before he sits back down on Sprout’s lap. The shirt he wears just barely hides his underwear, and when Looey scoots up slightly, Sprout can see a soaking wet patch on the front of it.
“Like this,” Looey’s innocent smile betrays the devious act of him grabbing at Sprout’s dick to lay it against his covered folds. The added slickness of his own arousal makes his dick twitch and harden even more, if that were even possible.
Stunned and speechless, Sprout can only watch helplessly as Looey rubs their fronts together, the soft fabric against his aching member a torturous affair. The bottom hem of Looey’s white shirt catches at the tip of his dick, the red peeking out from each thrust and Sprout is so turned on he thinks his brain is melting from the pleasure.
Reaching around to grab at his ass, Sprout helps guide Looey to grind down a bit harder, spellbound by the flush of Looey’s face reddening further. The heat that comes from the other toon’s cunt was a heady thing, and the sight of Looey bouncing and moaning, drool falling out the corners of his opened mouth, back arched and head thrown back as though it was all too much? He could die right now and this would be the greatest thing he’s ever done; giving pleasure to such a stunning creature.
“Yes! Y-es oh, mo-re-!” The half-broken words begging for more friction, more pressure, is it’s own drug and Sprout wants to shoot it straight to his veins. Squeezing at the plush bottom under his hands, Sprout does just as he’s demanded. His thrusting becomes erratic as Looey meets him eagerly, chasing his own end as well.
Leaning down suddenly, Looey kisses Sprout with sloppy precision, lips too slack from bliss to do it properly. They try their best though, in the midst of getting off together, to keep their mouths and tongues close. Licking into each other’s mouths and sharing the same air as they gasp and sigh in the little space they have.
Hitting a new angle in their frotting suddenly had Looey buckle with a cry, his hips taking on a new kind of frenzy as he tries to find and chase that same point of contact that nearly undid him. When they finally find what they were looking for, his eyes close in rapture as he keeps grinding down hard on Sprout before finally coming with a loud moan of Sprout’s name on his lips.
The wetness of his release seeps out all around Sprout’s dick as Looey keeps moving, keeps rubbing and bouncing and seeking the ends of his climax. Seeing him unravel from desperation and arousal, the drunk look of pure ecstasy on his face as he finishes on top of him, all because of Sprout, made Sprout finally tip over the edge. He comes with Looey’s eyes looking at him with hazy pleasure, breathless at the intensity of it.
Sparks blinds his vision briefly as he waits for his heartbeat to settle and his mind to return back to him. Looey flops over him, exhaustion in his bones as his own heartbeat runs wild from their shared orgasm. They lay there, Sprout tracing circles on whatever part of Looey he can touch and Looey laying his head over his chest, listening to the way his heart was calling to him.
“I have some clothes you could borrow, if you’d like?” Sprout suddenly says, interrupting Looey’s slight nodding off. Raising his head up from his chest, Looey is enchanted to see the nervousness on the other’s face. “So, um, you don’t have to stay in your sticky clothes while you sleep?”
Amused, Looey leans in to press a kiss on Sprout’s lips, his thoughtfulness leaving him with such a sweet ache in his heart. “You just want to see me in your shirts, don’t you?”
“No?” Sprout avoids looking him in the eyes, cute yellow freckles standing out in his embarrassment. Looey can’t help but laugh, happiness soaring through his body as his tail waves behind him in response to his joy.
“You’re so cute,” Looey says, unable to stop leaving featherlight kisses on his face. Sprout almost huffs from the attention, lips trying and failing to not smile. “But yes, I’ll wear your clothes for tonight.”
Sprout brightens at that, moving to gently shift Looey off of him to get out of the bed. When he stands up, the front of his pants were sticky and messy from their combined spend. Looey turns beet red and looks away, tugging down the bottom of his shirt to cover his own mess between his legs. It was one thing to do what they did, but it was another thing entirely to see what they did.
Whether he didn’t care or was too shameless to care, Sprout drops his pants and undresses right there in front of Looey, much to the other’s muted astonishment, dropping his dirtied clothes in his hamper as he reaches in his dresser to pull out two pairs of night clothes.
Bending down to pull up his shorts, Sprout hears a choked noise behind him but he refuses to give the game away as he continues changing like nothing was wrong. Lifting his arms above his head, he tugs his shirt on before grabbing the second pair he pulled out earlier. Walking back to the bed, his smile is beatific as he presents the clothes to Looey, who gives him an exasperated pout.
“You’re not funny at all,” Is all he says as he takes the clothes from Sprout. Humming, Sprout eyes the way Looey refuses to look at him as he moves to take off the angel wings he had wrapped around his back.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He lightly says, preening at the redness he sees blooming on his pretty face. Turning around to give Looey privacy while he changes, Sprout moves around the room to turn off the lights and leave out a night light in the corner of the room.
When he goes back to the bed, Looey shyly hands him his clothes and Sprout leaves it in the hamper with the rest of his stuff. Climbing into bed, he lifts up the covers for Looey to join and pulls him under the blankets. They mold seamlessly together, as though their bodies knew just how to hold each other in sleep. Looey presses a kiss under his jaw and Sprout tightens his arms around him, burrowing them further into the warmth.
“You know,” Looey quietly says, just as Sprout is about to fade into sleep. “We never did get the chance to dance.”
Sprout thinks about it before letting out a puff of laughter. “You’re right. If we wake up early enough we should go sneak back in the morning and have our own party.”
Looey’s laugh was a quiet sound, but no less precious as he kisses him. Sprout nuzzles their cheeks in affection, brimming with adoration at the treasure in his arms.
They fall asleep like that, tired and warm as they slip into dreams full of the two of them in their own little world.