Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It's been a few months since Trophy was eliminated from the contest. And to say the least. It sucked. Being trapped in that dreaded eliminated contestant closet for weeks. Being sneezed on by tissues constantly, not to mention being roommates with the guy. Ugh, he HATED being roommates with tissues.

He's asked OJ countless times to switch rooms or even get a room to himself. But he was met with the same answer every time. “No” or “there's no room for that, and if you get your own room, everyone else will be asking for one”. He hated being told no or things not going his way.

But that's the past, now it's the present. The contest was at its final two! Suitcase and knife! Trophy didn't like either of them, go figure. But he absolutely loathed knife. Hated the guy so much, back when trophy was still in the contest, he and knife would be at each other's throats all the damn time. Not to even mention the Dora doll thing. Trophy doesn't like bringing up the Dora doll thing.

It was a pretty big day for sure. For the final two Oj decided to throw a big party for the season coming to a close, the party was called “Hop” or “Hojp” depending on who you asked.

Everyone was at the party, even some of the season three contestants; it was kinda awkward for the first few minutes with them there. But it quickly dissolved.

Trophy was hanging on the sidelines with a can of dr. Fizz, not doing much. just people watching really. He liked to kinda lay low at parties sometimes. He felt tired today, more mellow, not really up for socializing. It was kinda unlike him, always so high-strung and irritable.

During the usual party antics, Oj grabbed one of the karaoke mics and tapped it to get everyone's attention.

“Ahem, Hello everyone! I'm glad everyone's here at the Hotel Oj party. I have a lil announcement to give out.” oj smiled.

There were some murmurs in the crowd of party attenders.

“Yes, an announcement. As I have been hearing, there's been some…uh…complaints about everyone's room and roommates. I've received many..many complaints….to many.” Oj looked down a bit, probably regretting his life choices.

Trophy huffed; he couldn't help that it kinda felt targeted towards him.

“And since some of the Season three newbies and the finalists are staying at the hotel, I decided to change up some of the rooms and roommates!” he announced.

There was some excited chatter from the crowd of party attenders, and Trophy couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was oj..actually listening to complaints?! This was unheard of.

“Yes, so some roommates are going to change. Also, Trophy. Yes, that means Tissues isn’t your roommate anymore.” he said while singling out Trophy.

Everyone looked over at trophy, he felt kinda embarrassed having all the attention on him when he wasn't ready.

“Oh…uhm..yeah. Whatever. Thanks.” Trophy mumbled and crossed his arms, looking off to the side, feeling overwhelmed by the sudden eyes on him.

There was some laughter from the crowd, but attention fell on Oj again as he continued to talk.

“So, anyways,” he continued

But Trophy didn't really listen to the rest; the only thing he cared about was that Tissues isn't his roommate anymore. Best news this week, hell. Probably this year.

A little while later, after Oj was done with his speech. Trophy felt done with this party, so he decided to go to his room, now tissue-free. But before he left for his room, he wanted to get some cleaning supplies to decontaminate the room, and probably himself after.

“Hey, soap.” Trophy walked up to Soap casually

Soap and Trophy were somewhat friends; they weren't Best friends by any means, mostly close acquaintances.

Soap was talking to microphone, “yeah then I-oh. Hold on mic.” she said to microphone, and then turned to trophy

“Hey Trophy, what's up?” she said cheerfully.

“Oh, nothing much, but uh..Can I use some of your cleaning supplies for my room? I would like to decontaminate it since tissues isn't my roommate anymore.” he told her while crossing his arms.

“Oh! Sure, go ahead, you know where I put my extra cleaning stuff. Also, thanks for asking before taking.” She smiled.
“Yeah. Thanks." He looked off to the side.

And with that, he walked off, and Soap went back to her conversation.

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Trophy walked to the closet where Soap puts all of her cleaning supplies in; it wasn't a very far walk from where he was; it was close to the kitchen and the laundry room. He got to the closet and opened it. There were a lot of boxes and different storage things in there, not to mention a shit ton a cobwebs and dust

“Hm, thought it would be well…cleaner in here,” he said to himself out loud

After a few minutes, he found what he was looking for: a bucket of cleaning supplies. Just the usual stuff. Gloves, disinfectant, paper towels, and various spray cleaners.

He picked up the bucket; it was kinda heavy, but nothing he couldn't handle. He closed the closet door and started to head up to his room on the 2nd floor. It took him a few minutes to get to his room. The bucket was actually kinda heavy, I mean, there is a bunch of cleaning bottles in there.

He finally got to his room, finally ready to scrub tissues away from his room and from his life, he opened the door with his free hand.

“...”

He dropped the bucket from shock, now seeing who replaced Tissues…it was none other than his rival, the one guy he hated most. Knife.

Chapter Text

Trophy still stood there, looking at knife, frozen for about two minutes like a deer in headlights.

“Uhm…you..you good Trophy??” knife said, slightly uncomfortable while closing his magazine, he was reading while on his bed.

Trophy snapped out of whatever this was, and sighed. He was very irritated, and bent down picking up the bucket he dropped.

“Oh my fucking god, why?! Why are you…Anyone but you, UGH.” 

He walked over to his desk and set down the bucket of cleaning supplies.

“Oh. wow. You sound enthusiastic.” knife said while sitting up some more on his bed

“Oh- har har dipshit.” Trophy snapped at knife while turning around, leaning on his desk.

“So, why the HELL are you in here?” he asked knife in a rather angry tone.

Knife rolled his eyes, “Well, I'm your new roommate, duh. Did you hear what Oj said?” he said, looking at Trophy.

“Well…yeah?? But why…you..ew.” Trophy rudely looked at knife.

“Yeah, but you're stuck with me if you like it or not. So get used to it.” knife said while crossing his arms.

Trophy scoffed, “Yeah. No.”

“...what do you mean no??” Knife questions

“I mean no! I'm going to OJ’s office and telling him to move you!” trophy declared.

“... I wouldn't do that.” knife said, picking up his magazine to read it again.

Trophy was already halfway out the door and stopped

“Oh? And why shouldn't I??” He mocked

“He's probably like, really busy today. I mean, he's moving around everyone's living situations. It looked hectic as hell.” Knife mentions glancing up at trophy.

“Oh. I don't care. I'm not living in the same room as you. So fuck off.” trophy huffed and left in a stomp.

“....that guy's a piece of work.” Knife commented, rolling his eyes.

                                          --------------------------------------

Well, that sharp jerk was right about one thing. It was pretty hectic in the hallways of Hotel OJ today, boxes everywhere; it's like when Salt got addicted to online shopping that one time. But it was worse, people's stuff everywhere, and just a lot of commotion in the hallway.

A little while later, he finally got to Oj’s office, which was on the first floor of the hotel, after a lot of “excuse me” and “coming through". Trophy sighed when he finally got to the door and knocked.

“It's open!” said a voice inside the room, presumably Oj. 

Trophy opened the door. Oj’s office was a nice, small office. Two desks, one was paper’s. A bookshelf with various books on it and a small couch, Oj was at his desk doing some paperwork.

“hello-...oh. Hello, Trophy.” Oj said, starting out cheerfully and then bluntly. 

You see, Trophy didn't have the best track record with Oj…at all. Like- at all period. He would constantly complain about everything when Tissues was his roommate, at least four times a week. So you can expect how this is going to go.

“Heyyy…uhm..Oj..” trophy said while walking into the room, a bit too casually

“Mhm…hi, what do you need?” Oj said, seeing right through his calm act.

He sighed, “Fine, I'll cut the shit.”

“Why in the Fucking hell did you make my Roommate knife out of all people?!” He said, very irritated.

“...first off, language.” Oj scolded him.

“Second off, I know you and Knife have some...history. But if I were going off of each of the many complicated relationships of all of the residents, I would be here all day trying to figure out who can room with whom. And that's quite the headache I don't want.” Oj explained.

“Yeah, yeah. But I'm not sharing a room with the guy, he's insufferable!" Trophy complained.

Oj sighed, frustrated like he was about to snap.

“Trophy. You and knife are both adults. I'm sure you two can work out something to live in some resemblance of peace. It can't be as bad as tissues, I can assure you.” 

“...” trophy stood silent

God damnit. He had a good point. Knife was a considerable upgrade from that snot bag. And even if Oj were to say, “Fine, I'll move knife.” who would he be stuck with? Better the enemy you know than the one you don't. And also he hated everyone, but knife was at least bearable, to some extent.

“Ugh. Fine… I'll try to co-exist with him.” Trophy crossed his arms.

Oj smiled a bit, “Thank you, but if something does open up, I'll let you know, okay?

“Yeah, yeah. Thank you for your time. Or whatever.” Trophy sighed, leaving the office in a small huff.

Chapter Text

It was later in the day, trophy didn't go back to the room, he didn't want to go back to the room. Because he didn't want to face knife again after storming out like that, not because he was embarrassed about getting nowhere with Oj, no, he just didn't want to be in the same proximity with that dickhead.

 The whole situation angered him. He was finally rid of tissues; this was supposed to be a great day. Finally rid of someone who made every day a living hell for him. But no. The universe really hated him, didn't it. yeah. The universe just had to give him a roommate with whom he had a very bad history. History that he didn't want to unpack.

He sighed while walking; he didn't know where he was going, probably outside. He just needed to distract himself and regroup before going back to that dreaded room. 

He walked out of one of the side doors of hotel OJ, the one near the kitchen. It was a nice day outside. not too cold, not too hot. light jacket weather it seems like. But Trophy didn't have his jacket on him; he didn't care. He kept walking.

 There were some other people outside, and he steered far away from them; he didn't want to deal with other people's shit. 

Trophy got to the garden area, which was his favorite place in all of the hotel, besides the gym room. No one really came here, so it was a nice place for him to come to when he was not in the greatest mood. He sat on the bench close to him. He clasped his hands together and sat there.

“...” Trophy sighed.

He was thinking, but at the same time, his mind was blank. He hated it when he got like this. His leg was bouncing at a million miles a minute. He couldn't even do the activity that calmed him most, photography. He left his camera in his room, and no way in hell is he going back there, with the off chance that Knife was still in there.

He ran a hand through his hair. “Ugh…get a hold of yourself!” he talked to himself.

This was silly. He's getting bent out of shape because of this. Why is he letting Knife affect him like this? He doesn't like this. One bit. He grabbed his phone from his pocket and turned it on. It was 4:30 pm, and he decided he was just going to take pictures with that. So he did.

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A few hours later, he was walking back to the hotel in a much better mood. He was looking at the photos he took with his phone, not the best pics he ever took, but they were good. There were some pictures of flowers, mushrooms, and even a faraway shot of a bunny he saw.

As he walked into the hotel, it was obviously dinner time. He could hear the others talking and the smell of whatever was for dinner tonight. But he wasn't hungry, and if he was, later he could just make something, not like anyone would notice he wasn't at dinner. So he went upstairs to his room. The hallway was silent; he liked it that way.

He got to his and…ugh. Knife's room. He opened the door, and thank god, that jerk wasn't in here. Probably down at dinner. Or whatever he does. Trophy closed the door and sat at his desk. The cleaning supplies that he was going to use earlier were still on his desk.

“...” trophy stared at the bucket of cleaning supplies.

He should probably clean the room; it still needs decontaminated. But he's not really in the mood. But if he doesn't do it now, he's never going to do it.

“Ugh..fuckin…fine,” he mutterd.

He begrulingly got up and went to turn on the top light, went over to put on the cleaning gloves, and started cleaning.

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It was 30 Minutes later, and Trophy was making good progress. He was almost done. He was cleaning his bookshelf. Tissues would touch his bookshelf all the time, even with Trophy yelling at him. He was in a really good mood, actually.

And then, the door opened and in walked knife. Well. Say goodbye to that good mood.

“Hey.” Knife said casually, closing the door.

“...” Trophy didn't acknowledge him, but he knew he was in the room.

Knife sat on his bed, Trophy kept cleaning, the atmosphere of the room was kinda tense. To say the least. 

“...so..what did oj say about you trying to move me” knife asked.

“...” Trophy didn't answer.

Not one of them uttered a word, but trophy was done cleaning, and put everything back into the bucket. picked it up and started walking out of the room.

“...I'll be back. Or whatever.” Trophy says bluntly.

Knife was going to respond, but Trophy opened the door and walked out without another word.

“...” knife sighed

 knife sat there. Just. Looking at trophy’s side of the room. His side looked normal. He couldn't get a feel of what Trophy was actually like. He always couldn't. That's what always made Knife not like him. Trophy felt fake to knife. Like he was all an act.

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A little while later, Trophy came back to the room. 

“Hey.” Knife greeted Trophy

“...” Trophy didn't say anything and lay on his bed, back turned from knife, looking at the wall.

“...” Knife sighed. Going back to looking at his phone.

Chapter Text

It's been a few weeks since knife became Trophy's new roommate. And it's been fine, well as fine as you can get when your roommate is your enemy. They both try to avoid each other as much as possible. The only time they truly ever see each other is either in the morning or at night.

 Knife always tries to engage in some type of conversation, well- something resembling a conversation. But the only thing that he gets back from trophy is one-word responses, which low-key pisses him off. 

Oh, and Trophy? Well trophy is not doing good, I mean, when isn't he not doing good??  He's been more irritable and more of a jerk lately. He honestly doesn't know why. But of course, he blames knife.

They both have fallen into quite a routine, meticulously trying to avoid each other at all costs. Trophy is usually the one that wakes up first. Trophy has always been a very light sleeper, not to mention he has some type of insomnia. By the time Knife usually wakes up in the morning, trophy is either gone or almost gone to do whatever he does each day. 

But this day, he is just a bit too slow getting ready for the day.

As Trophy was brushing his hair while in the bathroom, he could hear knife stirring, he sighs to himself thinking, “Great. I hope that jackass doesn't come in here.” 

As he knows, the universe is not on his side. At all.

Knife walks up to the bathroom and knocks on the door lightly.

“Hey, you in there?” knife mutters, still half-asleep.

Trophy sighs and opens the door “Yeah. I'm done anyways.”

He passes knife to go to the main part of their room without saying another word.

A little while later, Knife came out of the bathroom, now done in there, trophy was still getting ready.

“Hey.” knife says, trying to get Trophy's attention

“...” he did hear him. But he didn't care much to answer; he was tying his shoe.

Knife sighs, irritated. “Yo. Trophy? I'm trying to talk to you.” knife takes the seat on his bed.

“Yeah, I know. What do you want?” Trophy says not even looking up to look at knife.

“...did you hear there's a party tonight, in the living room?” Knife told Trophy.

“So? What about it?”  trophy said while trying to tie the other shoe.

Knife Huffed, “Are you going to the party?”

Trophy stopped tying a shoe for a second. Why the hell was he asking him if he was going to the party? Why did he care? Trophy huffed and stood up, done tying his shoes.

“Why do you care?” Trophy looked at him with an Icy stare.

Knife rolled his eyes and put up his hands in mock defence

“Chill, dude. I was just asking. Ever heard of conversation?” knife looked at him.

“... probably. I don't know if I'm going or not”. Trophy said while walking to his desk and picking up his Crossbody bag.

“...cool…cool..” knife said nonchalantly.

“Hm, yeah. Cool.”  Trophy rolled his eyes, although Knife didn't see it because he had his back turned to him.

And without another word trophy left the room.

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Later in the day, Trophy was outside doing what he usually did, taking pictures of whatever caught his eye. So far today, he's only taken 4 photos. Not because there's nothing notable today, no. He's slightly distracted. Thinking. He hated thinking.

As he was walking down a path around the hotel, he came across a bench. He sat down with a sigh. And picked up his camera and started looking through his picture gallery.

“...hm..” he hummed, looking through the gallery.

All of the pictures he took today were shit. Either too blurry or just not up to his high standards. In a frustrated huff, he deleted them all, only the ones he took today. After that, he set down his camera next to him and put his head in his hands.

“...” he sighed.

He kept thinking about this morning, that encounter with knife. Why was he asking if Trophy was going to the party tonight?? Why did knife care what Trophy did? No one else cared about what he did. Ever. No one ever cared about him. Not a single person in this godforsaken hotel.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking off into the distance. He could see some others outside. They looked so happy. Talking with their friends. He wondered what that felt like. To have friends like that. To have actual connections with people. He felt like a creep for people watching like this. He probably was.

“ugh.. I'm so pathetic.” he muttered while getting up, grabbing his camera to walk away.

A little while later, still walking around, he thought about the party again. He was honestly thinking about skipping it. Lately, he's not feeling up for that shit as of late. It's unlike him. He would rather not think about it.

He found a nice flower, it looked pretty. Well, in a non-girly way, if that makes sense. It did to him. He got his camera ready to take the picture. And-

Click

He took the picture, and as he looked at it, he sighed

“Eh…fuck it. I'm going.” he said out loud to himself.

He decided to go. Not really a real reason for the decision, mostly to just keep up appearances, not like that matters, but for him, it kinda did. It had to matter. 

And with that, he continued taking pictures, but they weren't good enough. But they were fine. Everything was fine.

Chapter Text

It was around 5:30, and in the living room of Hotel Oj, there was a party going on. Parties were a frequent occurrence at the hotel, mostly for “quality of life,” as Oj put it. It really wasn't a party per se, more like a big hangout, with drinks.

There were quite a few people at this party. not a lot by any means, but there was more than usual. Residents were engaging in conversations with their respective friend groups, a few people were playing video games on the TV, and there was some shity music playing on a cheap Bluetooth speaker that they probably got online.

Trophy was hanging on the sidelines, as usual. He was nursing a Dr. Fizz while on his phone. He wasn't really doing much on it, just on socials. Not like he had notifications anyway.

“Hey.” someone walked up to him.

Trophy looked up, oh god. It was knife, what the fuck did he want? Trophy sighed.

“What?” trophy looked at knife, guarded.

“How are you doing?” knife asked.

“…fine? What do you want?” Trophy said, wishing this interaction would end already.

Knife laughed a bit.

 “Have you ever had an actual conversation? With anyone.” Knife questioned.

“No. I haven't. I don't care enough to.” Trophy said rather harshly.

“Well. Let me be your first actual conversation.” Knife took a swig of his drink.

“..is this optional?” Trophy asked in a deadpan tone.

“Nope. How has your week been going?” knife asked

Trophy rolled his eyes and sighed. He's not going to get away from this, is he?

“It's been fine. I guess,” he answered while taking a sip of his Dr. Fizz.

“hm..dr. Fizz?” Knife looked at trophy.

“..yeah?? What about it?” He looked at him, confused.

“Oh, I don't know... I thought you would be, y’know. Drinking or some shit.” knife shrugged.

“..i don't drink.” trophy looked off to the side.

Knife huffed, “Why?”

“Does it really fucking matter. I just don't drink.” Trophy looked at him; he was starting to get to his limit.

“Whoa- dude.” Knife put up his hand in mock defense

“Chill the fuck out. Just asking a question. No need to get up in a fucking Tizzy.” Knife looked at trophy.

“..dont you have someone else to bother?” Trophy rolled his eyes.

“I mean. Yeah, but I wanted to check up on you.” knife looked off to the side.

Trophy nearly choked on his drink. Knife. KNIFE. Out of ALL people, knife wanted to check on him; it made him feel odd. He would rather ignore that.

Trophy huffed, “Yeah. Well, I don't need checking up on. So go bother someone else.”

Trophy stormed off, leaving knife alone.

“My fucking god.” knife muttered as he took a drink of his beverage.

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A few hours later, it was now almost 11:30, and the party was still going on, full swing. It was more lively, since people were actually kinda drunk now. Still the same shity music was playing. Trophy fucking hated it. It wasn't his music taste at all. Not like anyone knew his music taste, they didn't deserve to.

He was just hanging out by himself for a while, then Pepper came up to him, and started yapping. He didn't care that she was talking to him. It was whatever, honestly. Then a familiar someone came up to them.

“Heyyyy..Trophy…” knife laughed, he was obviously very drunk.

“Oh god-” Trophy sighed, this was going to be a fucking headache in a half.

“Pff- why are you…soo…yeah.” knife slurred his words.

“You are so fucking drunk, dude.” Trophy pointed out.

“Ha- nahh… I'm not drunk at all…just…a lil buzzed…heh..buzzed” trophy said, then laughed to himself.

Trophy looked at pepper in a “do you see this shit to” kinda way.

“Uhm..maybe you should-” Pepper started to say.

Trophy sighed, “yeah. Fine.” he reluctantly agreed.

He grabbed one of knife’s shoulders and started walking out of the party.

“Wait- waitt…wha- what you doing?” knife said to him, his speech was slightly slurred.

“Taking you up to our room. Before you do something stupid.” trophy told him.

They got to the elevator, Trophy didnt want to risk the stairs, that sounded like a fucking headache to get a drunk, almost shitfaced person up a flight of stairs.

The elevator opened up quickly, and he pushed knife in the elevator and got in. then pushed the “Floor 2” button.

“...” he sighed

The door closed, and he could hear knife mumbling, but he didn't know about what. Then knife leaned on him. Trophy froze; he didn't like physical contact. At all. He was going to push knife off of him, but he didn't want to deal with knife if he fell to the floor.

“Dude. Get off of me” Trophy told knife.

The only thing he got back from him was incoherent mumbles.

They got to their floor; luckily no one was up here yet. Everyone was still at the party. The pair got to their room and trophy closed the door when they got inside.

“I wanna go back” knife managed to actually get out a sentence.

“No. You're not going back down there. You're a fucking mess.” Trophy sat knife down on his bed.

“Ugh.. you're no fucking fun…a- always so stoic. Ever heard of an…an yeah.” knife couldn't even get out a coherent sentence.

“Dude. Lay down.” trophy told him

Knife did lay down on his bed, and as trophy got some pajamas out of his own dresser for him to change into.

After he was done in the bathroom changing, he came back out. And knife was passed the fuck out, it seemed like.

As trophy was going to his own bed, he could hear knife saying his name.

“Trophyyy..Troph…” knife called out, very half asleep.

“…yeah? What is it.” trophy walked over to knife in his bed.

“Im…im gonna be so fucking hungover tommrow…ugh..why did i do this..” knife hid his face.

“..no clue man…just go to sleep..” trophy crossed his arms.

“Ugh..i feel like shit..” knife said.

“Yeah. you look like it to…look, ill get you painkillers and a water tomorrow morning…would that suffice? He told him, and ruffled knife’s hair..without thinking.

“Hmm..yeah…” knife leaned into his hand.

Trophy realized what he was doing, and his face got kinda toasty. He stopped and crossed his arms.

“Y-yeah. Sounds good…night.” he looked off to the side.

He went to his bed. Why the fuck did he do that!? He was freaking out. He didn't know why, though. But his face was getting hotter. He lay on his bed facing the wall.

“Night…hehe” knife muttered 

They both fell asleep, knife in 5 minutes flat. But trophy in 30 minutes. Cursing himself for doing…whatever that was.

Chapter Text

The morning after a party at hotel Oj were usually quiet, many hungover residents. Not to mention it's a Sunday, it was definitely a lazy Sunday.

Knife stirred in his and Trophy's shared room, his head was pounding, and he felt like absolute shit.

“Ugh..” knife sat up in his bed and rubbed his eyes.

Wait.. how did he get up to his room? He doesn't remember coming up here. Or hell- anything past 10:30 last night. Pickle probably brought him up here, he usually did.

Knife looked around the room, to get him back to reality, his eyes fell to Trophy's bed, trophy was nowhere to be seen.

Knife huffed, “go figure.” he laid back down, his arm going over his eyes.

He could barely think because his head was very fuzzy. But the only thing he could think about was…for some reason, his roommate, Trophy. He was so uptight and such a dickhead.

knife was only checking on him last night out of kindness, not for shits and giggles. He actually wanted to strike up a conversation with him last night, too try to actually get to know him. Knife has been trying for weeks. But I guess Trophy is still Trophy no matter the situation.

Not even 10 minutes later, the door to their room opens, knife doesn't even bother to look; he has a gnarly headache. He could hear someone walk up to his bed and set down something on his nightstand.

“Knife.” Trophy tried to get knife’s attention

Knife peeked a bit from the arm that was over his eyes, he looked over to his nightstand, there was a water bottle and some painkillers on the table.

“Take those, now.” Trophy walked to his bed to sit down.

Knife sat up, looked at the painkillers and water, and he was confused. Why did trophy give these to him? And are they trusted?

Trophy sighed, “dude. They are in plastic, how in the hell could I tamper with them?” Trophy could see the gears in knife's head turning.

“Oh..uhm..yeah..thanks.” knife grabbed the painkillers and water, and took the pills.

None of them talked for a while, knife looked outside, it was raining pretty hard.

“So, that's why you're not outside, huh?” Knife questions.

“Yeah. But it's fine. I have some other shit I could do.” Trophy gets up from his bed and goes to his desk.

Wow. He was actually getting full sentences back from Trophy. Odd.

“Hm. cool..cool.” knife laid back down. He couldn't even think of getting up right now.

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It was now mid-afternoon. The hotel was pretty much back to normal, and it was now just a rainy, slow Sunday, honestly one of knife’s favorite types of days. But he couldn't enjoy it. He was still very hungover, but was slightly getting better; it usually doesn't affect him like this. How much did he drink last night?

Knife has just been hanging out in his bed all day, on his phone. Now and then, he catches himself gazing at trophy, he's still confused why Trophy gave him those painkillers. Was it some kind of peace offering?? He was very confused.

Knife sighed, “Hey, what are you doin'?” he called out to Trophy.

“Nothing much.” Trophy answered.

“Hm. cool..cool…uhm. Hey. Do you know how I got up to the room last night? I don't remember anything past 10:30.” knife asked him.

“Oh. uh. I brought you up here. You were blackout drunk.” trophy turned his chair to face knife.

That came as a shock to knife. Trophy. Trophy. Helped him up to their room. The same guy who punched Knife in the stomach for looking at him 10 seconds too long HELPED him while he was very drunk and vulnerable. Wow.

“O-oh..well..thanks.” knife managed to get out.

“Yeah. Well, I took pity on you.” trophy looked off to the side.

Well. There was the Trophy that knife knew.

“Hmm. Well, thanks anyway.” knife looked at trophy, and he meant it too.

“...” trophy huffed and turned back to his desk, “yeah. Don't mention it, seriously. Don't."

Knife huffed, “Yeah. Okay, dude.”

He laid back down and got on his phone; it fell silent again, but the silence wasn't so tense now. That was progress. Even though it wasn't much. It was something at least.

Chapter Text

It was late September, and the days were starting to get colder. The days ended earlier. Hotel Oj was in the full Fall spirit. Fall decorations everywhere, pumpkin spice in the air every morning at breakfast. It was truly looking like a nice, comfortable fall this year.

Trophy was up to his usual antics, being a nuisance and annoying people, you know what he usually does. His victim right now was silver spoon; Trophy was zeroing in on the fact that he only got two votes in the invitational finale. Which was a very sore spot for silver. Candle had had enough of the bullying.

“Trophy. Quit being rude to silver spoon.” Candle scolded him in a stern tone.

Trophy scoffed, “Oh- yeah?? And what are you going to d-”

Candle decks him in the face. Trophy stumbles back and falls on the floor. He was in shock, used to being punched, yeah, sure. But he didn't expect to be punched at this moment. He held his face in pain.

Just as this was going on, Oj walked into the room.

“Whoa-” he walked quickly and stepped in front of trophy before candle could hit him again.

“Candle! Stop. What the heck is going on?!” he said in a stern tone.

“He's being Douchey to silver spoon. I have had enough of it. He deserves it.” She crossed her arms.

Oj sighed, “Okay. But that doesn't mean that you had to punch him. You can talk it out??” 

“Dont care, come on, Silver, we are leaving.” Candle grabbed Silver’s hand and made a quick exit.

Oj sighs and turns to look at trophy, he is holding his eye while blood drips from his nose, breathing shakily. 

“Uhm. Are you okay, trophy?” Oj steps closer to him.

“What the fuck do you think?!” Trophy shouts.

“I- okay, yeah. Do you want me to help you?” Oj asks while reaching out a hand to help him up.

Trophy gets up on his own, still holding his face, “yeah. I guess.” Not like he had a choice, really.

They go to the infirmary in the hotel, it wasn't a full-fledged hospital, more like a Shitty nurses' office. The room smelled of sterile disinfectant and hand sanitizer. There was a cot in the corner of the room and a bench. They walked into the room and Oj sat trophy on the bench.

“Okay. You sit here, and I'll get something to stop your nose from bleeding.” Oj said as he started getting supplies.

“...” trophy didn't say anything.

As OJ started to patch up Trophy, he sighed.

“You really need to stop doing this.”

“Doing what?” trophy asked.

“Y’know. Being a dick to people. Because yeah. You deserved this. You were being a jackass on purpose. And it came to bite you on the ass,” Oj continued.

“...” Trophy looked off to the side.

“Look. When are you going to realize this is why people don't like being around you? Over half the complaints I get are because of you. Something's gotta change, man.” Oj looks at trophy.

“...” trophy says nothing. But he does listen. That he does.

Oj sighs, “There.” He was done patching up trophy.

“Yeah. Thanks.” trophy got up.

He now had on an eye patch and some tissues up his nose.

“I really hope you take what I said seriously. I don't mean anything bad about it. But it's affecting everyone in the hotel.” oj looks at trophy as he starts to head out.

“Yeah. okay.” Trophy leaves.

Oj sighs. Pinching his nose bridge. He really hopes Trophy at least listened. 

---------------------------------------------

Knife was in his and Trophy’s shared room; he had hung out with Pickle not even an hour ago. He was on his phone, doing whatever. He hasn't seen Trophy all day, which was a common occurrence. But usually, he would have seen him by now.

The door to their room opened, well, speak of the devil. Knife looked up, and to say the least, he was shocked. Trophy had on an eye patch and tissues in his nose?!

“Uh..dude. Are you good?” knife sits up a bit and looks at trophy. 

“No. I'm not. I got fucking punched.” Trophy sighed.

“Pff- by who?” knife asked

“...I was being a dick to silver spoon and candle punched me!” trophy sat on his desk chair.

Oh my god. This was the best thing Knife had heard all week. Hell. probably all month. Trophy got decked in the face by someone. The best part wasn't that. But he got decked in the face by a girl. Knife let out a laugh.

“Oh my god…are you okay?” he asked. This was a genuine question, but was ruined by the stifled laughter.

“HA- this must be the best day of your life. Me, getting hit.” Trophy said harshly, with an underlying hint of something else.

Trophy turned to his desk in a huff. But knife couldn't help but continue to laugh.

“I wouldn't say that..but-” he laughed again, “you getting put in you place, by candle of all people” he laughed again “its kinda fun-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP.” Trophy snapped and shouted, he got up, stormed out of the room, and slammed the door. The loud sound echoed throughout the room.

“Uh...wow.” knife was left in stunned silence.

Chapter Text

Trophy walked down the stairs to the ground floor of the hotel and out the front doors quickly; he didn't know where he was going. He just needed to be alone. He could feel like he was about to break down.

He got to the Garden area of the hotel, where he knew no one would be, and sat down on the bench. His breathing was shaky. So were his hands as he looked down. When he had emotions like this. It tended to be a breakdown. And this time, it's bad.

“F-fuck..” tears started to fall down his face.

He put his knees up to his chest while sitting on the bench. He hated getting like this. But this is what bottling up your feelings gets you. He started to shake a bit while doing the finger tap Stim on his left hand. He's had panic attacks and breakdowns all his life, so he knows what to do to calm himself down. No one could see him like this. He's weak.

After 30 minutes, he's somewhat calmed down. This could have been bad if he hadn’t caught it early. His mind was fuzzy; he was thinking about what Oj said to him earlier that day.
“When are you going to realize this is why people don't like being around you?”

That hit him harder than he let on. He knew people didn't like him. But he made himself believe it was in a “oh, they are just jealous" kind of way. But now, he's back to reality. And it hurts. He wishes he weren't this way.

“...” he looked up, looking around him. The flowers in the garden were pretty. It was almost sundown, and he didn't have his phone on him to check the time.

He doesn't know what's been wrong with him lately. He's not been up for things. More irritable and more Tired. It could be just the season changing; seasonal depression is a bitch. But it was more than that.

What really set him over the edge wasn't OJ's words but they did make it worse, it was knife’s reaction to Trophy getting punched. He hates to admit it. But he is actually starting to tolerate knife as a roommate. I mean, it's not like he actually likes him. Right?

“...” Trophy Freezes.

Oh god. No. okay- wait. Wait..he likes him as a friend. Right? Right.

“...oh shit.” Trophy mutters. He likes knife more than a friend.

It was obvious that he liked him that way. He's always liked him that way to be honest, but Trophy just thought it was just a rivalry thing.

“...” Trophy started to freak out a bit at the revelation.

He doesn't like knife. He just can't. Not because he's a guy and knife is a guy, no. Trophy is somewhat Bisexual. It's because knife was his rival. And trophy has made it a personality to hate Knife with a burning passion. And without that rivalry, who is trophy?

The question of who he really is without that in his life is not a question he's ready to answer yet. Or ever really.

-----------------

A few hours later, he got back to the room; it had to be at least 12:30 a.m. He did stay out in the garden area for quite a while. He got in the room and closed the door. He saw that knife was asleep, which was good cause he did not want to talk to knife at all after his revelation.

trophy sighed as he walked into the room. He stopped to look at knife. knife was absolutely passed out. It boggles trophy's mind how anybody can be that sound asleep, probably the years of insomnia that he's endured.

He took note of how knife’s hair fell on his face, the faint smile, and his calm expression. how he was sprawled out on his bed. He looked almost cute.

“Oh my fucking god.” trophy looked off to the side and crossed his arms.

As he walked to his bed, he could only think about one thing. He didn't like knife, he liked-liked him.

With a Sigh, he fell onto his bed face-first; luckily, he was already in comfortable clothes, so he didn't have to change or anything before he went to bed. He put his blanket over him and then looked off to the side, over to knife sleeping.

“...” He could feel his face getting hot, like It did a few weeks ago when he ruffled his hair when knife was drunk.

“...oh my god..why” he said to himself.

He didn't like-like knife, what is he? In grade school? No, he loved knife. Absolutely smitten with him. Great. Just what he needed.

Chapter Text

It was mid-to-late October, the outside air crisp, and the trees outside half-empty with the leaves falling in beautiful colors of yellow and red. The Halloween season was in full swing in the halls of Hotel Oj.

 Orange and black garland, bats hanging from the ceiling, cheesy skeletons, and pumpkins everywhere. It was one of the paper's favorite holidays, so of course, Oj would go all out with the decorations he did all himself for his boyfriend. 

Everyone was happily anticipating the yearly Halloween party this weekend. The parties at the hotel were usually fun, but the Halloween party was the best party of the year! So it has high expectations. Today wasn't really a busy day; it was just more or less a normal day in the halls of Hotel Oj.

Trophy, ever since his breakdown a few weeks ago, hasn't been doing well at all. He's been getting worse, more aggressive, and more prone to snapping at people. He's more withdrawn from everything. 

He fell into a routine. Wake up, throw on a hoodie, leave the room, do whatever all day, be mean to someone, regret it…and go back to the room to repeat it all again tomorrow. He's used to the monotony of life. He's numb, has been for years. doing the same thing over and over and over and over and over and-

Trophy opens the door to his and knife’s room and runs into the bathroom. He quickly grabs the first aid kit with shaky hands. The blood flowing from his nose and dripping onto the counter, He doesn't even remember who he was antagonizing this time. Whoever it was, they can punch hard. 

After 10 minutes of trying to stop the nosebleed, it finally stopped. With a sigh, he looked at himself in the mirror. God, he let himself go. His once bright blonde hair was now a dirty blonde, with his roots very much showing. Both of his eyes were hazy with eye bags, red from crying. His lip was busted from the punch he got earlier.

“..god. Im so fucking pathetic.” he spat out looking at himself in the mirror in disgust.

He sighed and started cleaning up the counter, wiping up the blood from his nose and putting away the first aid kit. He threw away the toilet paper he used to clean and left the bathroom. He fell face-first into his bed. He decided to stay here the rest of the day. Not like anyone would care where he is.

“...” he turned over to stare at the ceiling.

No one would care. No one cares about him. Not even his roommate. In the weeks he's been like this, no one has asked him if he's doing alright, or if he's okay. Not like he would open up to anyone. Why would he, not like anyone would care.

He's stuck in a loop. A loop of self hatred and doubt. If he wanted help, he couldn't get it. He's scared of looking weak. So he does this alone. He has always done things alone. It's easier that way. 

He turned to the wall, putting his knees up to his chest, while crossing his arms to give himself a makeshift hug to try to feel better, it never works. But he tries anyway.

       -----------------------

“DUDE- not fair?!” Pickle shouts and punches knife in the shoulder, playfully.

“Ow- Nah! You're just a sore loser dude.” knife laughed.

Knife and pickle were hanging out in the hotel's living room, playing a video game, they both had nothing to do today. Well they did, but they were slacking off.

“What do you mean?! We are on the same team?” Pickle looked at knife with a playful annoyed expression.

The game that they were playing was a co-op shooter game and they were on the same team playing against NPCs.

“i- we were??”  Knife looked at pickle confused and slightly embarrassed, he genuinely thought they were not on the same team.

“... dude.”  pickle looked at knife shocked, “do you pay any attention Knife??”  pickle let out a laugh.

They continued playing, both of them engaging in lighthearted banter while talking about random things. The conversation turned into plans for the halloween party.

“So, what are you thinking of being for the Halloween party this weekend?” pickle asked knife while choosing a new map for them to play.

“Oh…probably a vampire. I don't know.” Knife shrugged as he watched the screen.

“Dude. You're always a vampire for Halloween. Change it up for once?" pickle looked off to the side at knife while starting a new game.

Knife rolled his eyes, "what's wrong with it? It's a classic, and I already have half the look. So it's easy.”

As they played and talked about party plans, Soap walked into the living room.

“hmm…Oh! Hey, knife, just the guy I'm looking for!”  soap called knife smiling, she had a basket of cleaning supplies with her.

Knife and pickle looked behind them over to soap, walking to the couch casually.

“Hey soap. What’s up?” knife asked her, pausing the game at the same time.

“Would you know where trophy is by chance? Oj needs him to move some stuff for the Halloween party this weekend.” Soap answered.

“Oh…Trophy? No. I haven't seen him all day.” knife rolled his eyes while crossing his arms.

“uhh…Me neither. Which is kinda odd, usually he's being a nuisance to people around this time.” Pickle added while shrugging.

Soap sighed, “knife, can you go find him? He's the only one who can lift stuff this heavy.”

“I- why me?!” knife interjected, while standing up.

“Hes your roommate. Can you just please find him?” soap asked him nicely.

Knife sighed, he's not getting out of this. “Fine. Only because you asked nicely.” 

Knife sighed, and said goodbye to pickle, going off to find his roommate trophy, not like he had a choice really.

    ----------------------------

Knife started to look in all the places that Trophy usually hung out every day.

The common room?

Nope.

The gym room?

Nope

The garden?

Nope.

Near the woods??

Nope.

As knife looked for him, he started to get an odd feeling… like he was worried? Why would knife be worried about him? He has never been before. Well, besides that party a few weeks ago, but I guess that wasn't being worried. That was just really an excuse to talk to someone. Anyone, that party was boring.

but still! Trophy has been acting… weird these past few weeks. But he brushed it off because Trophy is always like that. Aggressive and standoffish, like he's better than everyone else. Knife always hated that about him.

As he walked back to the Hotel, he spotted Cheesy. Would he know where Trophy is? I mean knife always kind of figured that Trophy and cheesy were somewhat friends…did Trophy even have friends? Eh- whatever. 

“Yo! Cheesy.” knife walked up to him.

Cheesy was on a midday stroll, coming up with new jokes for his comedy show, when knife calls him from afar. “Oh! Hey knife? What's gouda?” 

Knee slap

“Do you know…” knife sighs at that word pun. 

“Do you know where Trophy would be? Like at all??” he asks Cheesy.

“Hmm..no? Not really...but I did see him earlier.” cheesy looks at him.

“Oh. You did? Where did he go?” knife asked.

“Welll….after getting-” he laughs “punched in the face by paintbrush!” cheesy says while laughing.

Knife frowned “he got punched….Did you see where he went?”

“No, but I'm assuming that he went to your guy's room. But that's just my guess. Anyways, see ya later alligator!” cheesy shrugged and walked away.

Knife sighed, of course he would be in their room, why didn't he check there first? He started walking back to the hotel, and in the front doors.

----------------

He was mildly annoyed that he had to find Trophy, this wasted half of his day! He could be busy doing nothing! But no, he just HAD to find his dipshit roommate.

“...” he sighed as soon as he got to their room and opened the door.

The room was dark, the light was turned off and none of the lamps were on, the curtains were drawn and trophy was on his bed, facing the wall.

“Uhm..hey. Trophy?” knife walked into the room and closed the door.

“...” Trophy didn't say anything.

Knife turned on the overhead light. It's pitch black in the room. What is trophy? A vampire?

“Turn that the fuck off.” Trophy mutters.

Great. Trophy was in one of his “Good” moods. Knife sighed.

“No. oj needs you for something.” knife told trophy while he leaned on his own desk.

“...” Trophy didn't answer back.

“Dont ignore me.” knife looked at him.

“.....what does he want?” Trophy grumbled.

“He needs you to move shit for the Halloween party.” Knife answered back in an impatient tone.

The both of them stayed silent for a while, Knife was getting impatient. After a while Trophy sighed.

“Tell him I'm busy.”

“Busy doing wha-” Knife crossed his arms.

“Ugh- just stuff.”  Trophy cut him off.

They stayed silent for a while more, then Trophy spoke once again.

“Why does he want me to do that stuff?” Trophy asked.

Knife rolls his eyes “i dont know? Probably because you're the only one who can lift heavy shit?”

Trophy huffed “of course. They only want me around when it's convenient. Get someone else to fucking do it.”

Knife sighed frustratedly “Fucks your deal? Is this because you got punched?”

Trophy went silent, he faced the ceiling. Knife could see his face better, Trophy’s face had a black eye and a busted lip, his appearance was messy, his hair was a very dirty blonde very much showing his roots. His eyes were red and there were tear streaks down his face. 

Knife has seen him batter up and bruised, many times… mostly from knife himself. but not like this. Not this bad. He got a deep pit in his stomach, his face dropping at the sight of him. 

“i-...Trophy” knife started.

Knife felt odd in this situation. This was his rival. The same rival who made him feel bad over some stupid doll, well. Not stupid to knife….but seeing him like this, He didn't like it. At all.

“...Are you okay? like…Acually.” knife approached his bed, like approaching a fragile doe.

“Get the fuck out.” Trophy warned.

“...no. this is my room too.” Knife stopped approaching Trophy’s bed.

Trophy sighed “i said-”

He sat up, reaching to a glass cup on his nightstand.

“GET THE FUCK OUT.” He yelled while hurling the cup at knife's head.

Knifes eyes widened and he dodged the cup, the cup shattered on the wall behind him into pieces.

“...” knife was speechless.

He stood there for 5 seconds before leaving the room, but before he left.

“...im here if you want to talk. Don't forget that.” he looked at trophy from the corner of his eye. Then left.

As he walked down the hall, he sighed. He could see that Trophy was struggling. He didn't like it. He didn't know why. Rival or not. He wanted to help him. Knife didn't know how.

Chapter Text

A few minutes passed after Knife left the room, Trophy sat like a statue staring at the broken glass on the floor. He kept playing knife's last words over and over in his head

“...I'm here if you want to talk. Don't forget that.”

Yeah right. The guy who probably hated Trophy the most says that. As if that's not the most obvious attempt to get blackmail that Trophy has ever seen. It just had to be Blackmail, it's not like Knife meant that…right? As much as Trophy wished that knife meant his words, he just… couldn't believe it.

“...” Trophy sighed while pinching his nose bridge.

God. He was so stupid, out of all of the things on his nightstand, he just had to throw the glass cup. At least it wouldn't be hard to clean up; it's not like the carpet in their room was a shag carpet. It was more like a shitty, cheap type, the kind you would find at an office building that was barely passing building codes.

He got up and walked over to the bathroom to grab a plastic bag to clean up the glass, making sure to avoid the glass so he didn't step on it and get glass in his foot. That isn't a fun time.

After he got the bag, he knelt near the glass and started cleaning it up. Luckily, the cup didn't shatter into very small pieces, just a few big chunks. As he picked it up he kept thinking about what knife said. That was literally just an attempt to get blackmail. Trophy saw right through it.

As he was thinking he picked up the last big shard, it was the sharpest piece, the point was like a blade.

“...” Trophy froze, looking at the glass shard.

He looked at it for a few moments, then shook his head, snapping out of it. He put the last shard in the bag, tying it up quickly. His breathing was uneasy, and his hands were shaky. He hasn't had an urge to do…that in years. Not like he would even go through with it. He's way too scared to do it.

He threw the bag near the door and got up. He went to sit on his bed again. His mind was racing. Maybe sleeping would help? Probably not, but worth a try. He lie down on his bed.

As he lied there, he muttered out “pff-...yeah right. That was totally an attempt at blackmail…”

He wanted to believe that because why would anyone care about him? No one ever did. And it was fine that way.

Chapter Text

A few days later, the halls of the hotel were buzzing with activity! For what you ask? For the most anticipated Party of the year, the Hotel OJ Halloween party!

They had spooky games that make you want to drink and spooky drinks that make you want to game! They paid a lot for that phrase to be trademarked, so you bet they use it to its full extent.

The hotel was fully decked out in Spooky decorations, it's like the Halloween equivalent of Santa had thrown up everywhere. It was very overboard, yes. But who cares! It's Halloween, and what’s a Halloween party without costumes?

 Almost everyone was dressed up; some of the residents went all out this year. Fan and Test Tube were doing a duo costume; Test Tube was Dr.Frankenstein, and Fan was her monster. Oj and Paper were LiMu Emu & Doug from those insurance commercials. Lightbulb was the Lorax, and Paintbrush was a Truffula tree, just to name a few.

 It was 6 p.m., Trophy arrived at the party 30 minutes late. He was debating whether or not to go to this party. But he has to keep up appearances or whatever. Even though it probably didn't matter, it had to matter to him, so he's here.

He didn't have a costume and didn't care to have one. But if someone does ask, he's dressed up as himself. Walking into the living room was almost too much for him; there was a very big turnout this year. Almost everyone was here. It was also very loud. I guess they upgraded that shitty speaker. It was playing very typical “spooky” music.

“God, these people are so fucking cliché..” He thought to himself as he got to the drink table. There was an array of drink choices, alcoholic and non-alcoholic. He usually goes for non-alcoholic, as he doesn't drink. But the month he's been fucking having, he grabs the vodka and pours it into a red solo cup.

He stares at the cup for a moment, then chugs the vodka, straight up. He winces.

“Ugh...oh my god.” he regrets it almost immediately, feeling like he's going to throw up right there. It's like drinking straight rubbing alcohol. The burning sensation in his throat feels somewhat nice, I guess.

Attempt two, he puts some punch in his cup first, then the vodka. He took a sip. It was better. He never liked alcohol; it was gross to him. But he gets why people drown their sorrows in it. Even with how unhealthy it was, he didn't care. Not anymore.

He walked away from the drink table and to his usual spot, which was great to ignore the party from. Trophy didn't get it, what was so...Special about Halloween that warrants a big party? It's just another corporate holiday, if you can even call it a holiday. It was just an excuse to dress up for some people and to get free candy that probably had razor blades in it. 

A while later, Trophy was on his phone, just on socials, doing nothing. His drink was almost empty and then…

“Heya Trophy!” said an annoying voice, walking up to him.

Oh god. Not him. It was the 2nd guy he hated most, cheesy. You see, Cheesy called himself a "comedian," but last time Trophy checked…comedians were funny.

Trophy sighed. “What do you want? Twerp.”

Cheesy laughed, “Wow! You seem so happy to see me.” 

“... I'm not.” Trophy looked at him.

“...uhm...Well, I just wanted to tell you happy Halloween and to give you a “treat” that I'm giving everyone!” Cheesy smiled and handed Trophy a wrapped box.

Trophy was shocked. No one has willingly given him…anything like a present before.

“What is it?” he asked while inspecting the box.

“Oh! It's a 3D-printed thing, every box is randomized.” Cheesy explained.

“Oh…cool. Thanks, I guess.” Trophy looked down at his drink, not even sure what to say.

“No problem!” cheesy smiles. “Say, what are you dressed up as?” he asked Trophy.

Great. He knew this question was coming.

“Oh. I'm…uhm, myself? I guess.” Trophy takes a swig of his drink.

“....oh..well that's something.” Cheesy looks at him then laughs, “It's kinda like your personality is a costume in a way, like it’s fake.”

It's like Cheesy hit him with a brick with that sentence. That hit him hard, more than it probably should. It was a joke after all, right? Usually, he would get overly pissed and yell at him for that. But this time, he laughs. 

“Yeah, I guess.” he says while downing the rest of his drink.

Cheesy laughs again, “yeah. Alright! See you soon, big baboon, I gotta make my rounds!”

Cheesy leaves, leaving Trophy alone again.

“...” Trophy sighed and looked down at his cup, now empty.

He decides to swing by the drink table again. This time, he's putting more vodka than punch.

-------------------

A few hours later into the party,
It was now around 10 pm, and the party festivities were at an all-time high! The Drinks and conversations were flowing, it was turning out to be the best party that the hotel has ever thrown. By this year’s standards.

knife was at the party also; he's just been chilling out with his friends for the majority of the party. He was, of course, dressed up as a vampire. He's been one for 3 years straight. As he says, “don't fix what ain't broken”.

He was with Pickle and bomb. chatting with them, well, listening to them chat, and every now and then adding something into the conversation. He was half distracted by his phone, but he was chill. The party was chill; he had a small Buzz going on.

“Knife??” Pickle caught his attention.

“Oh- yeah?” Knife looked up from his phone.

“Dude. I've been calling you for the past three minutes." Pickle laughed.

Knife chuckled, “Yeah. Sorry, dude.”

“Anyways- they are starting karaoke in a bit, do you wanna join me up there?” Pickle asked knife.

“Nah, I'll pass. Not feeling up for it, but I'll watch.” Knife shrugged.

“Oh, i-ill do it with y-you pickle!” Bomb said to pickle.

“Alright, cool. Then let's go up there. I want to be up first.” Pickle said while walking away with Bomb.

Knife followed them from behind. It was true that he wasn't feeling up for it, but he was also terrible at singing. So he just wanted to save everyone's ears.

A while later, and 30 minutes into watching karaoke. He didn't feel bad about his singing voice because everyone was shit at singing while drunk. But no one cared; it was all for fun. And for a while, he was having actual fun. Then someone tapped his shoulder.

“Oh-” he turned around, it was paper?

“Hey! Knife..uhm.” Paper looked at him, nervous.

Paper and knife weren't really friends; they used to be back in season one. But only for a bit. After knife “betrayed” him, they haven't really talked. But that's all in the past.

“Hey paper, what do you need?” knife asked while taking a sip of his drink.

“Uh, you should probably go check on trophy in the kitchen,” he told knife.

Knife frowned, “Why?”

“Well, I was grabbing some more cups for the drink table. As we were out of them, and went to grab them, and Trophy was throwing up in the kitchen sink.” Paper explained.

That worried knife, quite a bit.

 “Oh. ill certainly do that, thanks for telling me.” knife said to paper while starting to head to the kitchen.

“No problem!” Paper smiled.

As Knife walked to the kitchen. He couldn't help but feel uneasy; he's been very worried about trophy for these past few days ever since that interaction they had.

 He knew Trophy was struggling, badly.  Knife has actually been trying to bring up what happened that day with trophy, but he didn't really know how to come at it exactly; he didn't want another cup to be thrown at his head, to be honest. 

Knife didn't know how to do the act of comforting other people that much, but being friends with suitcase has kind of helped that department. 

---------------

Knife got into the kitchen; it was much quieter in here. It was almost silent, besides the music in the next room. But it was muffled.

 He walked up to the kitchen island and he found trophy sitting on the ground, knees up to his chest, hiding his face. His cup next to him. It made knife's heart hurt, for some reason.

“Hey.” Knife called out to Trophy.

Trophy sniffed, “w-what do you want?”

“..well, just coming to check on you. Paper said you threw up in the sink.” Knife continued to look down at him.

“So it's a fucking obligation, huh?” he huffed, his voice sounding emotional and shaky.

“...not necessarily.” he sat down on the ground next to Trophy.

Knife could sense that Trophy was Very Tense. He looked down at his cup and picked it up, and sniffed it.

“Wow- oh my fucking god…” he looked at Trophy. “This is straight fucking vodka.” Knife said, kinda shocked.

“Yeah, so fucking what?” trophy muttered.

“...I thought you didn't drink.” Knife questions.

“I dont, I just dont care anymore.” Trophy said back.

Well, that explains why he threw up in the sink. Knife sighed 

“So what? Are you trying to drown your sorrows in fucking alcohol?”

Trophy didn't respond; that was confirmation itself. 

“Well, it's not going to work. You're just going to make yourself sick. And probably an alcoholic in the process.” Knife scolded Trophy lightly.

Trophy didn't answer back; they both stayed silent for a while.

Knife Huffed, looking at trophy, “You're an idiot, y'know.”

“Yeah. I know.” Trophy answered back in the most self-deprecating tone.

Knife frowns at that, feeling a bit of guilt for calling trophy an idiot. it makes him feel worse that trophy agreed with him.

“No sarcastic remarks? No back talk…nothing?” Knife questions him.

“Nope. I give up.” Trophy looks up, and now, Knife can see his face. It looks like he's been crying.

The concept of trophy giving up kind of actually terrifies Knife, because like, what does he mean by “give up”?!

Knife looks at him, “What do you mean, give up?”

Trophy laughs and sighs, “I give up, why even try when people just see you as a Fucking fake asshole? you...try and try and try.” He sighs shakily, tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

“And I dont even mean to come off like that half of the time...and still gets you fucked!” he sighs again, his voice starting to break.

“Why am I even wasting my breath? You don't care... no one does." he looks off to the side.

Knife looked at trophy, his mouth slightly opened, this was the first time…ever that trophy had opened up to him, Hell, probably to anyone.

“…Trophy i-” Knife started to say.

“No. You don't care, so don't even start.” He cut off knife.

“...Trophy.” knife frowned.

“No. You don't care.” trophy told him again.

This went on for over 5 minutes of back-and-forth bickering. Knife knew that Trophy was stubborn, but god damn.

Knife finally had enough and grabbed Trophy's face to make him look at knife. “Troph! Listen to me.” 

Trophy stops immediately, shocked by the sudden contact, his heart skipping a beat. 

“Trophy. I do care. I've been worrying for weeks about you.” he says, looking trophy in the eyes. It was nice having his face in knife’s hands.

“You are not an idiot. And people do care about you, they do. I mean, sure. You're an asshole. But that's just who you are. And who cares about what other people think? You don't." Knife softly smiles at him.

Trophy looks at knife blankly for a few moments, then starts fucking bawling. Knife was caught off guard and brought him into a hug.

“Shhh…it's okay. It's okay.” he comforted trophy. 

Trophy continued to cry while speaking 

“no..No, I care so much about what people think.” he sniffled.

Knife was still comforting him as he spoke, and he started to rub his back softly.

“I care so much about what you think, so much. And I hate that I'm such a dick. To everyone. I get why everyone hates me.” His voice was shaking with so much self hating venom.

Knife hates the negative self-talk that Trophy is doing right now,  the trophy he knows is confident and doesn't take anyone shit. not whoever this is.

Knife leaned him back to look at his face again. Trophy was still crying, but he was mostly calmed down. His eyes were red from crying, and his hair was messy…he looked almost…cute? Knife sighed.

“Hey, quit with that talk. People don't hate you. They, uhm…are aware of your presence.” Knife told Trophy while wiping away a tear.

Trophy sniffled and looked at Knife, “Do you...hate me? I mean, you should hate me after everything I have done to you.” 

Knife looked at him...I mean, how could he not hate him? But for some odd reason, he doesn't hate Him. Not one bit.

“...no. I don't. I don't hate you, Trophy.” Knife looked Trophy, his hand still on his cheek, wiping another tear.

Trophy looked at Knife, dumbfounded. They stayed silent for a bit…then, Trophy did the unthinkable.

Trophy closed the space between him and Knife, kissing him. Knife’s eyes widened, but he leaned into the kiss.

It was either the emotions between them or them being both drunk, but this felt nice. And for a moment, it felt like it was going to be okay. Everything was fine.

Chapter Text

The party was still going on, full force. People are having fun, drinking, and making bad decisions. Speaking of bad decisions, there was one going on in the kitchen. Trophy and Knife were in a drunk kiss, well. Only Trophy was really intoxicated, knife was only a little bit, but still drunk nevertheless.

The kiss was short and hesitant. But it felt like it lasted longer than it did. Knife could feel that Trophy’s lips were chapped. Knife thought that he should invest in some Chapstick for Trophy as they pulled away.

They looked at each other for a bit. Knife was still holding him close, then out of nowhere, Trophy just started laughing.

Knife was very confused. “Uh...was it bad?” he asked while Trophy leaned on Knife's shoulder.

Trophy shook his head while laughing, “No…i just dont know what's going on right now.” 

Knife gazed at him and sighed, “Well, I know one thing.”

“Pff- what’s that?” Trophy asked while reaching for his cup.

Knife rolled his eyes and took Trophy’s cup from him, “You're definitely done at this party, and you need to go upstairs.” 

“Ughh…no- give me the cup!…Knife…” Trophy whined, reaching for the cup. But knife kept pulling it away.

After some struggle, Trophy managed to get his drink from him and drank the almost full cup of straight Vodka in under 4 seconds.

Knife looked at him, shocked, “Oh..my god.” Then he chuckled, “I should party with you more.”

Trophy crushed the cup and threw it, missing the trash can. “Danmit. Fine, let's go.” he sighed.

Knife got up first, reaching a hand out to Trophy. He hoisted him up carefully. Trophy stumbled a bit, leaning on the counter for support.

“Uhm, you good, Troph?” knife asked.

“Mhm…yeah. I’m just a lil-” He stopped mid-sentence.

Trophy turned around quickly, leaning forward to the sink and threw up. It was straight bile; there was nothing in it. After a while, trophy stopped. He was shaking. Knife came up to him and started patting his back.

“Yeah. You're not gonna remember anything tonight,” knife remarked.

“S-shut up…” Trophy muttered while wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

Knife turned on the sink to wash away the throw up, after it was gone, he turned off the sink.

“Alright. Let's get you upstairs...or well, try.” Knife grabbed trophy’s hand.

 He led him out of the kitchen and to their room. The party was still going on, but it was calmer. Just a few stragglers left at the party.

-------------

The Morning after the Halloween Party was a very slow start to the day ahead. Half of the hotel is hungover, after all. It was a very gloomy day. It was raining outside all night, and it looked like a very cozy, lazy day.

Trophy stirred in bed, his head was very hazy.

“Ugh..” he grumbled while squeezing his eyes shut.

Trophy doesn't even feel real right now. So this is what a hangover is, huh? It's horrible, never again. It takes him a few minutes to feel real again. He sighs and opens his eyes.

“...” he stares at the ceiling.

That's odd. How did he get up to the room? He probably left the party before he didn't remember anything anymore. Although, the last thing he remembers right at this moment was going to the kitchen. 

Trophy sat up and rubbed his eyes."I'm never doing that again,” he says to himself.

 Trophy looked around the room. knife wasn't in the room, go figure, thank god for that.

“...” Trophy looked across the room to his bed. 

Huh, odd. Trophy was in knife’s bed…Trophy was in Knife's bed. Why the Fuck is he in Knife’s bed?! A million thoughts run through his head. Way too many for him to process with this headache. As he starts to get up, the door opens.

“Shit.” Trophy mumbled, like he got caught doing something wrong.

It was knife, he had a water bottle, and a bottle of painkillers. Knife was still in pajamas.

“Oh, hey. You're awake.” knife sat on the bed where Trophy was sitting.

“...yeah. I am?” Trophy said, looking at knife, his mind was still running.

“How are you feeling? I got you some pain pills and water.” Knife says while giving them to Trophy.

“..Thanks??” Trophy was very confused.

Trophy hesitated to take the pills, but his headache is horrible. Eh, if he dies from tampered pills, he dies.

He took the pills, and then they sat in silence. Trophy’s mind was still racing. Why the Fuck is he in Knife’s bed? Why did knife get him pain pills? Was it pity…was it something else??

Knife looked over to trophy, “Hey, you okay?” 

Trophy looked at him, Defensive, “...no. Does it look like I'm okay?” 

“...well..uh.”  Knife started.

Trophy cuts him off, “I have so many questions.” Trophy sighs, pulling his knees up to his chest. 

“First off, why the hell am I in your Fucking bed? And why are you being so…nice? Also, how did I get up here?” Trophy looks at him.

Knife looks at him. “You don't remember anything from last night, do you?” he asks Trophy.

Trophy huffed and rolled his eyes. “Of course I don't?! I was fucking drunk as hel-...”  Trophy stops mid-word.

“What do you mean by that?”  he gets quiet.

“What do you mean?” knife questions.

Trophy sighs; he's about to snap. “What the Fuck do you mean by 'You don't remember anything from last night' knife?” 

The Gears in Trophy’s head were turning. As soon as Knife was about to speak, again Trophy interrupted him.

“Oh my god…did we?” Trophy looked down, his face was getting hot.

Knife looked at him, speechless. They both stayed silent for a few moments.

Knife finally spoke, “Why is that the first thing you think?! Why?” 

Knife hits Trophy with a pillow

“Ow- hey! I mean, I'm in your fucking bed? Wouldn't you think that before anything else?!” Trophy grabs the pillow from knife before he could hit him again.

“Well-...okay.” knife looks at Trophy, “You have a good point, but that is far from what happened.”

Trophy pinches his nose bridge. “Then tell me what happened.”

Knife sighs, “ok so, so during the party last night Paper came up to me and told me to check on you in the kitchen because you threw up in the sink or something. So I did.”

Well, that explains the gross taste in his mouth. “Okay?? Is that all?” Trophy asked.

“No. I'm not done, so I came into the kitchen. You were on the floor, and you didn't look good. You were drunk as hell, y’know. Instead of just saying “I don't drink,” you could have said you were a lightweight.” Knife smirks.

“Hey! I'm not a lightweight.” Trophy huffs, “Ugh- just continue.”

Knife continues, “Anyway, so I asked you if you were okay, and you were just really Depressed looking, so i sat with you. And you were trying to drown your sorrows in alcohol, so I told you to stop.”

Trophy rolls his eyes while knife continues.

“And I said that you were an idiot, and you agreed. Then asked you No sarcastic remarks? And you said “no, I give up”, then I asked you what you meant, and then you just snapped I guess, and spilled your guts out to me.” knife went on, Trophy expression was unreadable.

“Yeah, you were going on about how no one cared about you and they only see you as a fake asshole jerk, or something. Then-” Knife went on.

“Stop, please.” Trophy’s cut off knife, his voice shaky. 

Trophy now remembers everything that happened last night. Everything. He looks down, wanting to disappear. Wanting to leave the room, to do anything to get out of this situation.

“...” knife looks at him. 

Trophy sighs shakely “...i am so fucking sorry.” he hides his head in his hands.

Knife frowns and scoots closer to trophy.

“Hey..look at me.” Knife says while taking Trophy hands away from his face, holding them in his.

Trophy’s heart skips a beat, his face a little bit flushed. His mind went blank.

“...please?” Knife slightly pleaded with him.

Trophy looked at knife, Knife’s eyes so… caring and understanding. Funny enough, the complete opposite of what he used to see.

Knife smiled softly, “You have nothing to be sorry about, nothing.”

“...not even?” Trophy asked, hoping that Knife would pick up on what he was trying to insinuate.

Knife slightly laughed, “Yeah. Even that…i dont blame you, though, it was just a drunk mistake. You were feeling a lot of feelings and shit.”

Trophy looked off to the side. “Yeah. Mistake.” he looked down at their hands.

They stayed like that for a while, holding each other's hands, yeah. It was cheesy. But it was the only thing grounding Trophy right now.

Trophy huffed and looked up at knife. “Why are you being so nice to me right now?” he asked. 

“Eh, think of it as a random act of kindness.” Knife looked at him, smirking.

Trophy looked at knife, then laughed, “dude, that shit doesn't work on me.”

“Hm, then why are you smiling right now?” Knife asked.

“Uhh, because that was dumb as fuck, and also shut up..” Trophy rolled his eyes and hit him with the pillow.

Knife laughed, “Hey- fucking dick!” Knife pushed trophy.

Trophy fell off the bed, tumbling to the soft floor. They both stayed silent, then they both laughed. They were both laughing. together.

Chapter Text

A few days later, Paper and Oj were in their shared office, doing usual hotel management stuff. Paper was doing this month's expense report, and Oj was going through emails.

As paper was typing something on the Report, he kept thinking about what he had walked into in the kitchen at the Halloween party, Knife and Trophy locked in a kiss. He knew very little of their dynamic, but he knew from others that those two don't like each other. 

He sighs, resting his hands on the keyboard and looking up, “Hey, Jay?” He calls for Oj.

Oj looks up from his computer, “Yeah, pay?”

“I know you don't like gossip, but...” Paper looks at him for the okay to continue.

“Ugh…fine.” Oj lets out a small sigh, huffing while taking a sip of his coffee.

Paper smiled softly. “Okay- so, a few days back at the Halloween party when you asked me to get some new cups for the drink table, i did. When I went into the kitchen, I saw that trophy was throwning up in the sink.” 

“Oh? Really. Was he sick or something?” Oj asked.

“No clue!” Paper shrugged, “But I went to tell his roommate, knife about it. So he left to take care of it or something.” he continued.

Oj nodded along to him talking.

“So, I thought nothing of it, taken care of, y’know?” Paper talked while typing something into the computer.

“Mhm?” oj hummed while taking a sip of his drink.

“But later, I had to go back into the kitchen for something. And I opened the door, and I saw Knife and trophy kissing.” Paper explained.

Oj nearly choked on his coffee, his eyes wide. “Uh. What?!” 

“Yeah! I know, right? I thought those two hated each other or something.” paper added.

“Yeah? They do?” Oj laughs. 

“Well, anything can happen at a party, I guess.” Paper shrugged while going back to his report.

Oj was very much shocked when he meant “to live in some resemblance of peace”, he didn't mean it like…that. But he doesn't judge; he just didn't expect Trophy to “swing” that way. Although, half of the hotel is gay. So it doesn't surprise him. At all.

Then Oj smirked, “Hey. Paper.” 

Paper sighed. He already knew where this was going. “OJ, no. We are not doing this again.” 

OJ frowned, “Oh- come on! That was between nickel and I.”

“Yeah, and you lost the bet. And you were salty about it for 4 weeks. You charged him rent out of spite?!” Paper rolled his eyes.

“Pay- please. This is a bet between you and me. It's just a silly bet.”  He leaned back in his chair.

Paper sighed. “Fine. What's the bet for?” 

“Okay, so.” Oj smirked, “I want to bet if they actually become a couple or not.”

“Is that all?” Paper looked at him, bluntly. 

“Well, yeah?” Oj shrugged, “Got anything else?”

“...how about we pick the one who we think would confess first, because I doubt they are gonna get together right off the bat.” Paper suggested.

“Hmm…smart move. Well, then I choose they don't get together, but if they do. Trophy would confess first.” Oj chooses his pick.

Paper sighed, “damnit, fine. I choose they do get together…and Knife confesses first. I wanted to bet trophy.” he frowned, but with no sadness behind it. More of a sulk.

Oj laughed, “Well, ya get what you get, hon.” 

Paper huffed, “Yeah, yeah. What do we do if one of us wins?”

“Hm, I guess who wins doesn't have to sit at the complaint desk, and who loses has to take it over for a…Month?” Oj looked at paper.

“A month?! Geez. And if you win the first part of the bet but not the other, you have to take over the other’s duties for a week?” paper suggested. 

“Alright. That sounds good.” Oj smiled. 

“Bet?” paper asked.

“Bet.” Oj laughed.

 And with that, they went back to their work. They liked to make bets sometimes about the residents at the hotel; bets were a common thing around the hotel. That and gossip.

Chapter Text

Trophy was in his and Knife’s shared bathroom. It's been a few weeks since the Halloween party and the following morning. He's been fine, believe it or not. Well, as fine as he could be. Again, seasonal depression is a bitch. But it could be worse. It's been worse.

But the worst of it this time was somewhat over with the help of none other than knife. The one person that Trophy has always hated most, but he also hates half the hotel so that's telling, but knife was there for him regardless.

 It was difficult the first few days, trying to help Trophy was like trying to help a bear out of a bear trap; knife wanted him to get help. So knife persisted; he even convinced Trophy to go see Clover for therapy. Even though trophy was very wary.

“Oh- what if she lets something I said slip?!” Trophy paced back and forth.

“...dude. She won't. She's under some confidentiality bulshit.” Knife sighed, looking at trophy pace. 

After a while of trophy mumbling and coming up with wild “what ifs,” knife had had enough of it.

Knife sighed, “Trophy. Listen.” Knife spun him around with his hands on Trophy's shoulders.

Trophy froze, his heart feeling like it was beating one million miles an hour. “Uh-huh, yeah?”

“I can assure you that all of the 'what ifs' you’re coming up with are not gonna happen. At all.” Knife looks at him.

“Well, yeah. Duh.” Trophy mutters out.

Knife huffs “Clover is a good therapist. Well, that is what nickel tells me anyway."

“...” Trophy sighed

“Please? I mean, I'm not trying to force you. But I think that’s the best step to get you out of this rut you're in.” Knife smiled softly at him.

Trophy looked at him blankly for a second and then broke out of his hold, turning around and crossing his arms.

“Ugh- fine. I will…geez,” he huffed, his face was a lil red. 

He and Knife haven't talked about anything between them, and Trophy wanted to keep it that way. As much as he wanted to talk about it, Trophy was scared too. Also knife thought it was just a “drunk mistake”, but Trophy was only semi-really drunk that night, so he was somewhat lucid. To be honest, was it a drunk mistake?

-----------------------

So now Trophy has to do therapy with ugh, Clover. He didn't know much about the season three Newbies, and doesn't care to. He's only interacted with two of them, and that didn't end well. So of course, he's gonna be wary of the rest of them.

Trophy rummaged through the bathroom closet, since Trophy has to go out of the room and be seen by other people, he needs to do something he's been neglecting, dyeing his hair. His hair looked very much like shit, his roots very prominent, and it just looked sad, like him.

 After a while, he found what he was looking for, the bleach and all of his hair dye things. He takes hair care very seriously. Sometimes, when he wants to.

He sets the basket of all of his hair products and bleach on the bathroom counter. Trophy looks up, looking at his hair in the bathroom mirror.

“Hey.”  Knife says, leaning on the bathroom door frame, looking at trophy.

Trophy jumps. startled, he sighs, “geez, learn to make yourself known, asshole.”

Knife laughs, “Well, just wanna keep you on your toes.”

knife walks more into the bathroom, leaning on the bathroom counter, “anyways. What are you doin?”

Trophy rolls his eyes, “I'm dyeing my hair, duh. It looks like shit.”

“Hm, it looks fine to me.” Knife shrugs, looking at trophy’s hair.

Trophy huffs, “Yeah, right. It looks horrible, you can see my fucking roots.” 

Trophy went on about how his hair was horrible and other shit about his appearance. Knife sighed and reached out and put his hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, it looks fine.” knife told him.

That shut Trophy right up, he looked at knife.

“It almost looks like brown highlights, in a way.” Knife smiled 

“The dirty blonde look on you almost looks cu- cool…. It's cool.” Knife looked off to the side.

Trophy looked at him and laughed, “Pff- yeah, sure. You're just being sarcastic.”

“Nah, I'm not.” Knife looks at Trophy again, “I like the dirty blond look, but I could never pull it off myself.” Knife says while crossing his arms.

“Oh. hm.” Trophy looks off to the side, not knowing what to say.

Knife stays there for a few minutes watching Trophy mixing the bleach and developer before putting it in his hair.

Knife sighs, “Alright. I gotta go.” he ruffles Trophy’s hair.

Trophy freezes; no one has ever done that to him. He could feel his face burning up.

Knife started walking out of the bathroom. “Yeah, I promised suitcase I would help her with something.”

“Mhm, yeah.” Trophy covered his face, trying to process what just happened.

“And I owe Nickel twenty bucks now.” Knife added.

Trophy looked at him, “Wait- what for?”

“Uhh, see ya later! Don't fry your hair.” Knife leaves the room quickly. 

Trophy was going to yell something out to him, but he just sighed instead.

“What the fuck?” he said while running his hand through his hair.

Why was knife being so…nice to him? I mean, sure Knife has been a huge help to Trophy these past few weeks. But that banter between them was…different?  He actually complimented Trophy; no one had ever done that to him.

Wait. Was Knife flirting with him? Trophy would be the last person to pick up something like that. But what he's seen in movies, that kinda seemed like flirting.

“Pff- surely not.” he huffs and looks at his hair again.

Although he has to agree with knife on one thing, the “dirty blonde” look does look good on him. But not this dirty. Maybe next time he needs to dye his hair, he will do more of a light dirty blonde look, but this time he's going with his usual look.

As he starts putting the solution in his hair, “yeah, he was totally messing with me.” he laughs.

Weird way of messing with someone, though.

Chapter Text

An hour or so later, Trophy was at his desk, waiting for his hair to be done processing; it usually takes around 30-40 minutes. Although he's impatient so he set a timer for 30 minutes.

To pass the time, Trophy decided to work on a project of his. His portfolio! Er- well, it's more like a big photo album of photos he took over the years. This photo album is the only thing that got him through being roommates with tissues. It's a big deal to him.

Trophy didn't share the fact that he's into photography; hell, he didn't want anyone to know that he even did it in the first place. He didn't really like to share his hobbies with others. Trophy’s interests were very personal to him.

While looking through all of his photos, there were the normal few, pictures of trees, flowers, landscape shots, and the occasional animal. But there were some more special photos. Photos of the other residents at the hotel. Pictures at parties mostly. He didn't like to take pictures of anyone ever since…what happened with knife.

As he flipped through the album, a folder slipped out. It was a small folder pouch, where he stores his Polaroids. Trophy set down the photo album and started looking through the photos in the folder instead.

It was more or less the same photos that he usually took, but with his Polaroid camera, which he hadn't used that thing in months, it was broken. As he looked through them, he got to the photo. the one he took of knife with the Dora doll. 

“...” Trophy sighed while looking at the photo. 

The photo was weathered, ripped, and had water damage. It was being held together by tape, one of the only pictures he's actually taken of someone and it was blackmail. He ran his thumb across the Polaroid; his mind was blank, but overthinking at the same time. 

He loves this photo and also hates it at the same time. Trophy loved it because it reminded him of his time on the second season, and he liked how knife looked in it. He looked scruffy and kinda hot, although blurry from being weathered.

 But he hated the history behind the photo. He hated how it was used for blackmail, not even good blackmail at that. It didn't even work. Trophy didn't like talking about that day, nor even thinking about it.

 It wasn't his best moment at all. He hyped up the reveal of this stupid photo, reveal knife as a “girly, doll-obsessed freak,” and had the outcome he didn't expect. With baseball basically scolding him, telling him about something to do with Idiotic Island, and about going insane.

To be completely honest, Trophy didn't listen to the whole spiel. He could have cared less. And he did! But he didn't want to be like that anymore. The jerk-jock, whatever! He hated himself for even blackmailing Knife in the first place. Such a crazy thing for him to think, Trophy. Trophy. Regretted something. Isn't that a first? He was honestly, truly, pathetic. At least to him.

The loud alarm of his timer broke him out of this small spiral. As he jumped from the sudden noise, he set down the photos and turned off the aggravating noise. Trophy sighed while getting up he looked down at the photos on his desk, scattered. 

“...fuck it. I'll pick it up later.” he shrugged and walked to the bathroom to wash off his hair.

He truly didn't have time to pick them up. He had a therapy appointment in an hour; better get ready.

Chapter Text

It was just another normal afternoon at Hotel Oj. Nothing of interest was happening today, besides PaintBrushes' art class in the living room. It was quite a nice day out, a nice late fall day. Perfect weather to take fall photos, such a nice day! But Trophy had things to take care of; photography could wait, unfortunately. 

Trophy walked up the stairs to the 3rd floor. Not to go to his room, no. His room was on the 2nd floor. To talk to a certain someone.

He had his first meeting with Clover today, and it went actually well. Believe it or not. Going in Trophy had his walls up, as usual. But within ten minutes in his session, they were talking about how he's scared to let people in and that he needs to take accountability for the stuff he's done.

He was honestly confused about how easy it was to get that out of him; he would have never admitted that ever! Not in a million years, or longer. Clover said something about “Luck”? Trophy didn't question it. He didn't care; at least his problems are out there. By the end of their conversation, Clover assigned him a task to do until their next meeting. 

“Apologise to at least one person this week.” She said while setting down her clipboard on the table that separated them. adorned with flowers, tissues, and random trinkets. 

Trophy sighed and looked off to the side, “Who?” he asked. 

“Oh…uhm, well.” Clover started thinking about what to say, “Who's the most recent person you did wrong?” she asked.

Trophy didn't say anything. That was a stupid question in hindsight. Clover sighed, “Okay, who's a person that you could easily apologize to? Is that better?” she asked, picking up her mug of tea.

He tried to rack his brain for someone, who has he had been a “jerk” to lately. Silver spoon? No, he doesn't care what he thinks. Paintbrush? God no. Trophy felt like he would probably get punched if he entered their vicinity. Cheesy? Ha, no. he fucking deserves it. That only left..ugh, why.

“I guess…Tissues?” he said, running a hand over his face, mentioning his old roommate.

This is great. He now has to go up and apologize to his old roommate. He honestly considered getting a face mask from soap. But that seemed mean, eh whatever. He gets sick, he gets sick.  

Trophy got to Tissue's room, which was Sort of far away from everyone else's rooms on this floor. He stood there for a bit. Debating whether or not if he actually wanted to do this. I mean, Clover didn't say he had to do this today. But knowing him, he wouldn't ever get around to doing this if he put it off. Better to rip off the band-aid.

He sighed and knocked on the door before he could back out of this. Trophy stood there for a bit as he could hear someone getting up, he ran a hand through his hair. Not for any reason, besides nerves? 

The door opened, showing tissues. He, as usual, looks like he's been through hell. He had on some light blue pajamas and pink slippers with a blanket over him. Before speaking, he blew his nose.

“Hello?” Tissues said weakly. Gripping the door handle to stabilize so he doesn't fall over.

“Yeah. Hi.” Trophy crossed his arms, “You look worse than usual,” he remarked.

Tissues coughed, “yeah, it's the fall allergies, it's horrible for my CondiShAWn.” he said while sniffling. 

“...Noted.” Trophy rolls his eyes. They stayed silent for a bit. “So, what do you need?” Tissues asked. 

“Oh. right.” Trophy sighed, “Uhm, I need to talk to you.” he looked at tissues. “Privately.”

As he looked at tissues noticed that he was spacing out. With a sigh, Trophy snapped his fingers in front of Tissue's face. Tissues jumped, startled, “Oh- right…come in then.”

Trophy walked into the room as tissues closed the door. The room was just like any other room in the hotel; each room is more or less the same room set up. There were 2 desks, 2 beds, and 2 dressers. But one side of the room was empty. Odd…wait- 

“Did they give you your own room?” Trophy asked him, tissues coughed again. “Oh, pff- yeah. They did.” Tissues grabbed the Kleenex box from one of the desks. “Soap said I'm a “health hazard” and just a gen-” Tissues stopped and sneezed. Trophy stepped back to avoid the snot, now wishing that he had gotten that face mask.

After tissues got that sneeze attack under control, he sat down on his bed, which was on the right side of the room, and Trophy sat down on the left one. Tissues was, dealing with his…Condition so trophy waited for him to be alright to talk.

After a while, tissues sighed “Alright. So you wanted to talk?” He looked at Trophy, well. Tried. 

“Oh! Right, right.” Trophy clasped his hands together and sighed softly, “I wanted to uh, come here to uhm…”  he looked down slightly; he couldn't say it. I mean, he can, but he just can't. “I want to say that im…im” he sighs again “iamsorry.” he quickly blurts out. It feels bitter on his tongue. Ew.

Tissues looks at him blankly. “What?” he blinks. Trophy frowns. “I said I'm sorry,” he says again, but the “sorry” is quiet.

Tissues sniffles “your what? I didn't hear you, gotta speak up. Double ear infections.” he explained. 

Trophy sighed yet again and pinched his nose bridge. One thing he didn't miss about rooming with tissues was this. Wait, that insinuates that he misses rooming with tissues. He didn't miss anything about this.

“I SAID I'M SORRY!” he yelled, standing up. Tissues jumped, startled by the sudden volume increase. “I-...sorry.” Trophy crossed his arms. 

“Uhhh…for what?” Tissues adjusted his blanket to cover his shoulder. As Trophy sat back down. He was caught off guard when he said that, “What do you mean “For what", for being a jackass to you?” 

“...oh, when?” Tissues asked. He was picking a loose thread on his blanket.

Trophy knew that tissues isn't…well, “all there” to say it nicely. But this is a new low, even for him. “Are you kidding…I can give you many times that I have been a dick to you.” Trophy looked at him.

------------------------

After many, many…so many examples of Trophy being a jackass to tissues later, “oh, and that one time I pushed you off the Glacier.” He also mentioned. Trophy looked back at tissues. He dozed off while Trophy was talking. “...Tissues??” he called out to him, rather loudly.

“Gah- hm? E-yah.” he rubbed his eye and blinked a few times.

“...did you hear any of that?” Trophy asks, deadpan. “Hm, yeah, most of it..so you're sorry or something?” Tissues asks while yawning.

“Yes. I am.” trophy looks down at his hands. “And no, this isn't a “trick” or a “joke”. It's real. Mostly.” 

They both stayed silent for a while. Tissues blankly looking down, Trophy was starting to regret this. He sighed, “Look, it's fine you don't accept it.” Tissues looks at him, “If you do fine! And we don't have to be friends or hell, even acquaintances.” Trophy looks to the side.

“I accept your apology.” Tissues says, shrugging. Trophy looks back at him, frankly shocked. “I- what? Why??” he asks. 

“Welll….you scare me, and I don't want to make you mad. So apology accepted.” Tissues shrugs again

“I-” That's the complete opposite thing he's trying to do here, but he will take it. “Fine, thank you.” he gets up. This was a headache to get through.

“Yeah. any ti-” Tissues started sneezing again. But this time, he's also coughing this time.

“...yeah. I'm just going to leave. See ya.” he waves to him and leaves, shutting the door. You could hear tissues still sneezing. God. He didn't miss this one bit. 

Trophy sighed, that went better than expected. Granted, he honestly thinks everything is doomed when he has a problem. He felt better, weirdly. Like his chest felt lighter.

He walked down the hallway. Maybe this whole “therapy” thing was actually helping? Nah. He's not fully sold yet. I mean, he did just apologize to Tissues. He would have gotten the same results with a fucking rock if he tried hard enough. 

Also, WHAT THE FUCK?! Tissues got his own room, with no roommate?? Trophy’s been asking for that since he got here…no fair. Eh, as he's said many times. The universe isn't on his side, not one bit. 

He walked down the stairs, going to the 2nd floor. He wonders if knife’s in the room. Probably not, he thinks. Most likely doing whatever knife does each day. 

He should probably pay attention to others' daily routines more to actually see where people are. Nah, one problem at a time. He will work on it later.