You were practically a blur on one heart—most would be trembling, cautious, barely surviving… but not you. You thrived. With each hit, you got faster. Three hearts? You moved like molasses. Two? A jog. But one heart? You were lightning in balloon form. Perks of being built like helium and adrenaline.

Another floor cleared, and you stepped into the elevator. The rest of the crew buzzed with chatter, shopping from Dandy’s little pop-up store—he finally had a bandaid in stock. Across the elevator, Sprout watched you. Quietly. Brooding. His arms crossed, his heart a mess. He liked you—no, adored you—maybe even… loved you? He didn’t know where the line blurred anymore. You were just so… you. And the thought of "Looey and Sprout" being a thing? That made his chest do flips.

Snapping out of his dreamy daze, Sprout approached, a cupcake in hand. You were hurt, and he noticed. He wanted to help. Heal you. Fix you. Of course, you waved him off like always—too stubborn to accept anything, even from him. But Sprout wasn’t having it today. After a few back-and-forths of “no thanks” and “take the cupcake,” he let out an annoyed huff, grabbed your tail, and lifted you up upside down like a mischievous cat with a prize.

With one swift motion, he crammed the cupcake into your mouth and let go. You dropped like a sack of confetti, landing right on your head with a thump.

Sprout crossed his arms and turned away with a grumble, pretending not to care… but inside? He was already freaking out. Guilty. Worried. Hoping you were okay. Hoping you knew he only did it because he cared too much.