This round was going terribly from the very start.

Sprout let out a low, frustrated hum, the sound vibrating in his chest as his face darkened with mounting irritation. His foot tapped rapidly against the ground, each impatient movement sharper than the last, all twenty-five tapes clicking faintly as he shifted his weight. He kept glancing upward, jaw clenched, waiting for Dandy’s shop to finally ascend to the grounds. It felt like it was taking forever—every second stretching thin while everything around him continued to fall apart.

Pebble was low. Vee was low.

And several of his other friends weren’t doing much better.

The realization gnawed at him, stress tightening around his chest until it was hard to breathe. His thoughts raced, jumping from one problem to the next, each worse than the last. He considered searching for you—you always helped, you always knew what to do. But that hope dimmed almost immediately. You were low too. You couldn’t heal anyone right now, and the timing couldn’t have been worse.

Sprout stood frozen in place, fingers dragging through his hair again and again as sweat beaded along his temples. His breathing grew uneven while he desperately tried to think of a solution—anything—before things spiraled completely out of control. Machines still needed to be done. His friends still needed help. And he felt like he was failing all of them at once.

That was when you approached.

You moved quietly, careful, lifting your hand as you stepped closer. Just as you were about to tap his shoulder, hoping to ground him—even just a little—he snapped.

Sprout: “Leave me alone! Leave me ALONE— I don’t need your fucking help! Go away.”

The words hit harder than anything else in the round.

Your heart shattered at the sound of his voice—raw, sharp, and filled with a kind of anger you’d never heard from him before. You hadn’t meant to overwhelm him. You only wanted to comfort him, to remind him that he wasn’t alone. Instead, you were met with rejection so sudden it left you standing there in stunned silence.

Sprout didn’t wait for a response.

He turned and ran, his footsteps pounding against the ground as he disappeared down the corridor. He didn’t slow, didn’t look back—just kept going until he vanished behind the wall, a good mile away. Whether he was trying to save his friends, finish the last machine, or simply escape the pressure crushing him, you didn’t know.