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How Sprout found out about his secret is beyond him.
Cosmo doesn't have a diary like his friend Flutter, and he definitely doesn't flaunt his curiosities to the rest of the cast, so he's really not sure how Sprout found out about his whole strangulation thing.
There is one saving grace, however, and that's because Sprout is unaware of who his intrigue is targeted on. Cosmo knows that it's repulsive to fawn over your best friend in such a way, but he is only a man, albeit a somewhat sheltered man.
So after an incredibly awkward talk about it, Cosmo and Sprout continue on with their days like it didn't happen. Sprout lives blissfully unaware of Cosmo's feelings towards him, and Cosmo revels in the freedom of Sprout not knowing.
That is until today. Cosmo really thought he was doing a good job at hiding it.
Sprout looks the pastry dead in the eyes. "Do you want me?" The question pierces through the air like a knife, poised just above Cosmo's heart and ready to plunge at a moment's notice.
The two are placed directly opposite of each other, leaning against the kitchen counters. One of Sprout's palms placed behind him on his counter, his other lay limp at his side. Cosmo fidgets with the strings of his hoodie.
Cosmo says nothing, internal warfare firing off every nerve in his body. How did he find out? He could've sworn that he was being careful. As Cosmo panics, the slimy feeling of disgust trails up his chest. Even now when he's on the verge of losing someone close to him, he can't help his mind imagining his palms pressing into smooth skin and rough cartilage. The urge to kick himself is stronger than the heat in his stomach.
Sprout doesn't verbally ask again, he only stares with bated breath.
Cosmo eventually folds, Sprout's gaze burning into him. He pulls the drawstrings of his hoodie as he says, "yes." It comes out a bit breathy, which is the exact opposite of what Cosmo was trying to do. If he was going to ruin his 30 year long friendship, he at least wanted to come across as assured.
Sprout makes no movement, his expression teetering on unreadable, but there's just enough emotion conveyed to Cosmo's trained eye for him to see apprehension. He continues to stand eerily still, aside from the subtle shaking in his limbs. It makes Cosmo feel a bit better that he's not the only one nervous.
Then, Sprout's eyes dart between Cosmo and the floor. And after a few more agonizing seconds of silence, says, "then you may have me."
Cosmo has already made his way toward the strawberry when the words first tumble out of his mouth. He hadn't even registered his legs moving until he stood directly in front of Sprout. He looks up and their eyes meet once again. Cosmo gingerly tugs the edge of the scarf, a silent request for permission. Sprout looks away quickly, his face flushed, but he nods. Cosmo focuses on the cloth covering his neck.
He removes the scarf slowly, amping up the tension between them as his fingers skim Sprout's throat. He stores the handmade cloth in his apron pocket.
Tentatively, Cosmo places his hands onto Sprout's shoulders. He stays there a while, letting both of them get used to the proximity before anything drastic occurs. When he's finally ready, he begins to shift his hands up to the expanse of Sprout's bare neck. The man underneath makes a sudden sound of surprise, but just as quickly regains his composure.
Cosmo can feel every rushed breath and frantic heartbeat as his fingers lazily trace the ridges and grooves of Sprout's throat. What's most interesting is when Cosmo circles around his Adam's apple, enamored with the small bobbing when Sprout swallows. Sprout lifts his head up slightly, eager to reveal more of the muscle and cartilage that Cosmo had shown interest in.
He wishes he could show more; shove his hands into his throat and pull out all the connecting tissues and muscles, serve it to him, and watch him as he eats Sprout's crushed vocal cords, all the ripped muscles beginning with sterno—until all that's left is an exposed cavity where his valuable cartilage once laid. But for now, this will be enough; a handwritten note of consent to do what he wanted to him, signed lovingly with an anticipating heartbeat.
Cosmo swallows heavily, his confidence and grip slipping. The moment stretches for what feels like hours before Sprout, a surge of boldness spurring his actions, places his hands atop of the ones encircling his neck.
"Use me," he says lowly, hesitantly, "be my undoing."
Cosmo grips the neck of his best friend with fervor. Something sick and twisted curls in his gut as the other chokes and gasps.
An awful sort of pleasure blooms inside of him, something he only entertained in the far off corners of his mind. At the time, he had condemned these thoughts because of how revolted they had made him feel. But now, as he fulfills his dark fantasies, he can only find the urge to squeeze harder. And he does.
The response is almost instantaneous. A raspy breath is cut short once his hands tighten around the neck of the strawberry. Blunt nails claw at his arms and scrape at his back. For a second, he worries he's going too far. That thought is quickly dismissed when he finds Sprout completely engulfed in what can only be described as ecstasy.
It scares Cosmo. But his fear is once again replaced with that disgusting feeling crawling inside his rapidly beating heart. The look of the man between his shaking hands thoroughly enjoying the torment sets something alight within Cosmo.
In an act of pure, brash, impulsivity, he kisses the quivering mouth of his best friend. He relaxes his grip slightly against Sprout's neck, just enough for him to breathe better. Sprout scrambles his trembling hands to Cosmo's back and head, kissing back as best as he could with his scanty air supply.
Seeing as they do not know how to kiss, they pull each other as close together as they possibly can. Silent intentions communicated through the touch of their chests, through the rough caress of Sprout's fingernails on Cosmo's back, and the bruised impressions on the strawberry's neck left behind by terrifyingly capable hands.
Unfortunately for Sprout—or really the best interest of him—Cosmo pushes himself off of the other and releases his neck. Sprout falls forwards, clinging onto the pastry with shaky limbs as he immediately sucks in a breath. It's then quickly expelled as he coughs raggedly; saliva falling to the floor due to his open mouth.
Cosmo pushes Sprout towards the edge of the counter gently. He peers over the hacking mess, studying for any major injuries. His hands—the same hands that had been so vicious and unyielding just moments before—tug Sprout's head up softly. Tears pricked in the corners of his dazed eyes, saliva trailing down his jaw, leaves mussed.
Sprout looked thoroughly ruined.
The thought excited Cosmo more than he'd like to admit.
He cleans up the saliva covering his best friend with the end of his apron and removes it once he feels it's been thoroughly wiped dry. His thumbs caress the bags under Sprout's eyes, wiping away the tear stains on his cheeks.
Cosmo stands there silently, intently, watching as Sprout regains his breath. He brings up one of Sprout's palms and kisses it; what a gentleman.
Then, slowly at first, he leans into Sprout's neck and kisses the bruises that lined it. Sprout gasps quietly, then coughs from the sharp intake of breath.
A wet brush of something bumpy trails the bruises. Sprout's face heats up tenfold when he realizes that Cosmo is licking the marred neck. He remains frozen in place as the pastry continues with his pursuit. Cosmo's hand shifts up to cup the other side of Sprout's face, his thumb running over the corner of the strawberry's mouth. Internally, Sprout is overcome with giddiness, so much so that a dopey smile briefly fronts.
Cosmo feels the subtle movement and sighs a sort-of laugh. Cosmo once again pushes himself off, much to the dismay of Sprout, and smiles at the other man.
Sprout is caught in between the half lidded stare of his best friend and the feeling of enthusiasm bubbling in his chest. He finally finds the urge to do something, anything, but before he's able to, Cosmo fully pulls away.
He turns to leave the kitchen, a smirk hidden just a second too late as he exits through the open doorway.
Sprout stares aghast. The wetness on his neck mixing with the air that was once uncomfortably warm. It sends him reeling.
He's reminded of his scarf, the one thing to combat any lingering eyes as well as the chilly atmosphere. He reaches around him, fingers skittering on the ground in a half desperate search for the fabric. It's then that he remembers that Cosmo had taken it with him, possibly to spite the strawberry. It irks Sprout first, and it feeds into his rotten desires second.
He quickly stands up and heads to his room, covering his neck with his hands as he speeds towards the main's rooms.
What an interesting game they're playing, he thinks blissfully.