5 seconds. My legs burn. My lungs ache. Pebble’s footsteps thunder behind me, too fast, too close. The elevator doors are almost shut. I throw myself forward. I slip through the gap just as Pebble reaches me. His claws swipe through the narrowing space — a burning line tears across my eye. The door slams shut. I collapse to the floor, shaking, clutching my face. I’m alive. I squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t want to think about what I saw. Before I can even steady myself, someone crashes into me. Arms wrap around me tight — strong, shaking. Sprout. He pulls me into a hug so sudden and desperate it knocks the breath out of me. His voice breaks against my shoulder. “I thought you weren’t going to make it,” he whispers, and I can feel him trembling. “Shelly… I thought you were gone.” I hug him back with one arm, even though my whole body is shaking. I want to tell him I’m okay, but the words won’t come. Not when the image of Pebble lifting his head — ichor smeared around his mouth — is burned into my mind. The elevator hums as it rises. Everyone is silent now. Too silent. Then I hear a small voice. Astro. He’s standing a little apart from everyone, eyes wide, scanning the elevator like he’s expecting someone else to appear out of thin air. His voice is barely a whisper. “…where’s Looey…” The question hits me harder than the claws did. Sprout’s arms tighten around me. Vee looks down at the floor. Cosmo’s eyes twitch. No one answers. I swallow hard, but my throat feels locked. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Because saying it would make it real. Saying it would mean admitting what I saw. Astro looks at me again, waiting. I can’t meet his eyes. The elevator dings. The doors slide open. And the silence follows us out like a shadow. Astro’s whisper hangs in the air like a weight none of us can lift. Where’s Looey… No one answers. Not Sprout. Not Vee. Not Cosmo. Not me.
The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. Everyone steps out slowly, like they’re afraid the floor might collapse under them. Sprout and I drift toward the back of the group, walking a little slower than the others. My head is down, my hair falling over the side of my face where my eye still throbs. I can feel Sprout watching me out of the corner of his eye. He’s quiet for a long moment — longer than usual for him. Then he leans a little closer. His voice is soft, careful. “…Shelly… do you want me to tell Yatta and Blot?” My tail — small, dinosaur‑like, usually still when I’m scared — flicks upward in surprise before I can stop it. I look up at him. Sprout’s expression isn’t angry or confused. It’s worried. Protective. Like he’s already decided he believes me, even without hearing the whole story. My throat tightens. I nod — small, shaky. “…yes,” I whisper. The word barely leaves my mouth, but Sprout hears it. He gives a tiny nod back, like a promise. Sprout squeezes my shoulder once, then steps away from me and jogs toward Yatta and Blot. I stay where I am, near the back of the group, staring at the floor. My tail curls close to my leg, trying to make myself small. Yatta is standing near the wall, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve. She keeps glancing at the elevator like she’s waiting for someone else to step out. Blot stands beside her, head down, jaw tight. Sprout approaches them slowly. Yatta looks up at him, eyes red. “Sprout… where’s Looey?” Her voice cracks halfway through his name. Sprout freezes. I can see his shoulders tense. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out at first. Then, quietly: “…I’m so sorry…” Yatta’s face twists — confusion, fear, then anger all at once. “What do you mean you’re sorry?” she snaps, stepping closer. “Where is he? Why didn’t he come out? Why didn’t you bring him?!” Sprout flinches, guilt written all over him. “I— Yatta, I’m—” She doesn’t let him finish. She hits him. A single, sharp shove to his chest — not enough to hurt him, but enough to knock him off balance. Enough to show how scared she is. “Why didn’t you save him?!” she yells, voice breaking. “Why didn’t you go back?!” Sprout stumbles back a step, eyes wide, breath shaking. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again, voice cracking. “I’m so, so sorry…” Yatta turns and runs — down the hall, away from all of us, sobbing. Blot doesn’t chase her. He just stands there, staring at the floor, fists clenched so tight his knuckles shake. Sprout looks over at me. And the look on his face says everything: He’s scared of what happens next. {I think I cooked chat} Next: wip Previous: cough totally no lore inside.
