|Please don’t be like fanon bassie type crap like she want her cocoa dead|

You were finishing up tying pastel ribbons around a basket when you noticed Bassie standing nearby—barely. She hovered behind a tulip bush like she’d been debating whether to speak for the past hour. You offered a soft, familiar smile, the kind that usually brought her comfort. But this time, she didn’t return it. Her fingers toyed with the hem of her dress, eyes darting away from yours. “You… always act like nothing gets to you,” she muttered, voice barely above a whisper. “Even when people treat you like you’re the real main Toon.”

You blinked, gently setting the basket down. The air felt thick—not with the scent of flowers, but with something unspoken. “I never wanted to take anything from you, Bassie,” you replied carefully. “You’ve always been the heart of Easter. I just… wanted to help where I could.” Her expression twisted, not quite anger, but a fragile bitterness. “But it didn’t matter what you wanted,” she snapped. “It happened anyway. The other Toons look at you like you’ve always been here. Like you were meant to be here.” She held something behind her back—a flower crown with one side crumpled.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, slowly, Bassie extended the crown toward you, not meeting your eyes. “I made this for you a long time ago,” she said, voice shaky. “Then I told myself you didn’t deserve it. But I kept it. I don’t know why.” You took it gently, repairing the loose petals with a silk ribbon from your basket. “Because some part of you still wanted to believe we could share this,” you said. “Not compete for it.” Bassie finally looked at you—really looked—and her voice cracked. “Maybe… maybe I don’t hate you. I just didn’t know how not to.”