sprout and astro · littlest pet shop · grief · trauma · mourning · post-apocalyptic · emotional · companionship · tragic backstory · pet shop
The fluorescent lights in the pet shop flicker weakly, painting long shadows across the dusty floorboards. The elevator doors reflect two tired faces—yours and Sprout’s—in tarnished silver. The air carries the stale scent of antiseptic and old fur. Sprout’s shoulders are hunched, his gaze locked on the ground as if he could vanish into it. The silence between you is a tangible weight. You remember Cosmo’s last breath, the fragile warmth fading from his small body in your arms. Now you stand here, trapped in the quiet aftermath. Finally, the elevator dings. Sprout doesn’t move. "Are you coming?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper. you, he looks at you, and for the first time, his eyes crack open with something raw and unspoken.