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When the next day came, Trophy was expecting Soap to show up at his room in the morning to talk. It never happened. He had even waited after Tissues left to see if she was just trying to avoid the sickly box, but still she never came. Even so, he didn't think too much of it, and left to do the same things he did every day.
Played some games, ate some food, went out for a walk with his camera, went through his exercise routine, and relaxed for the rest of the evening.
Soap never came and talked to him. On the few occasions Trophy and her were in the same room together, he'd look away and wait for her to come to him first. It never happened. It confused him. Had he made up their conversation last night in his head? Had she somehow already forgotten?
The day was almost over, and they hadn't spoken once. They were supposed to be newly made friends. It was about time he went and said something—if only just to confirm whether or not their conversation last night was real.
This sinking feeling interrupted his heart flow as he walked towards Soap’s room. He didn't know what it exactly was. Nervousness? Fear? Hope? It was some sort of anxiety, and he didn't like it. He’s never felt anxious before. With a crooked lip and a silent gulp, he knocked on the girl’s door.
The pink bottle showed her face. Instantly, her face lit up in a pleasantly surprised smile. “Oh, Trophy! There you are!”
Her greeting confused Trophy even more. She acted like she had been looking for him. Earlier that day, though, they made eye contact once. She couldn't have not known where he was. “Uh, yeah?” He looked to the side. “What happened today? I thought we agreed to talk.”
“Uhhhh..?” Behind Soap, Microphone peered behind her with confusion.
Soap snickered, rolling her eyes. “I told you I would only be your friend if you tried. Trying means you come to me first.”
Oh. His brows furrowed. “Well, that's pretty unfair.”
“Not really.” Soap rebutted, quickly moving on. “But, all that matters is that you're here now. Come in!” She enthusiastically invited him in.
As he stepped in awkwardly, Microphone still had a weird look on her face. “Uhhh, girl, what is going on here?” She looked at her cleanly friend. “When did you become friends with Trophy?”
“Just last night. Sorry for keeping it secret.” She muttered unseriously.
Mic gasped dramatically. “You.” She pointed at her friend with a lighthearted smile.
Soap giggled and walked to her bed, patting on the kempt sheets. “Trophy, you sit here.” He did as told, though very stiffly. This room smelled good—way better than his room. Tissues was to blame for that, and it wasn't a high bar, but still. It was astonishing how pleasant the room smelled. Soap grabbed a small notebook and pencil from a drawer, then came and sat down next to him. “Okay, so if I'm going to help you, I'm gonna need some answers from you.” She cleared her throat, her lip becoming more stern. “I need you to be honest with yourself. I don't want to hear about how you're perfect and everyone is against you.”
“Okay, I get it.” He had his arms crossed.
“No sass.” She put a finger up. “Only I get to do that.” He rolled his eyes. “So, what do you think you could do better?” She looked up at him.
His eyes looked at her chest, to avoid eye contact. Quickly, though, he returned to look at her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“You know, like..” She put a hand to her lip. “What are some things that you do that you think.. rub people the wrong way?”
He shrugged, arms still crossed. “I dunno.” He muttered quickly.
Soap’s lip curled and she looked to the side, disappointed. “Well, how about this as an example: unnecessary negativity.”
“Ooh, yeah.” Microphone quietly agreed.
Trophy glanced at the third wheel before looking back at Soap, who wrote down the words into the notebook. “I hear Cheesy doesn't really appreciate your constant heckling at his comedic performances.”
“I do it because they suck.” He replied plainly, unconvinced.
Soap shook her head. “Mm-mm-mm. You're proving my point. Ooh!” An idea popped into her head, and she wrote down the word “respect” into the notebook. “Respect.” She said as she finished.
“Are you making some sort of checklist?” He asked, scowling unintentionally.
“Yeah, we can go through them one by one to help teach you to be a kinder, more respectful person.”
“Tch.” He looked away.
“So, now that I helped get you started, are there any other things you can think of that we could put down?”
“Ehh..” He kept his eyes away from her as he tried to think.
After a few moments, Soap turned to her friend. “Mic, do you think you could help us?”
“Oh, me?” She paused. “Uhhh.. no, I'm just-.. gonna be here.”
She snickered. “Okay.”
Trophy didn't really know how to say what he was thinking, so instead he said, “Well, yesterday I had this.. interaction with Salt and Pepper.”
Soap looked up at him with wide eyes. “Go on.” She affirmed.
“They were really rude to me, so I was.. rude back? And, I dunno, usually other people would-..” He felt so awkward. Fuck this. “Y'know?”
He could hear Microphone snicker, amused. “So, like..” Soap took his attention away. “You want to apologize to them?”
“I mean.. I wouldn't exactly say that..”
“Too late, already writing that down!” She giggled mischievously. Even though Trophy was against the word “apologize” he didn't combat her, rather just turned away again.
“Jeez, are you sure you want to help this hopeless case?” Microphone commented slyly. “I bet he's allergic to the word apologize.”
“Shut up.” He feebly retorted.
“I said I would, so I will.” The bottle confidently responded. She stood up, closing the notebook. “Look, what we have is a good start!” She looked up at Trophy, which he took as his cue to step down from her bed. “But, that issue with your allergy must be fixed first and foremost.”
Huh? “What are you talking about?”
“Apologizing.” She stated matter-of-factly. “We can't have you be allergic to that if I'm going to help you.”
“Apologizing isn't impossible for me!” He shouted, though even that somehow lacked confidence.
“Come on, it's just a joke.” She slyly replied, walking to the door. “You gotta get used to being quiet about bad jokes if you're going to get on good terms with Cheesy.”
“Jesus.” She opened the door for him.
“In all seriousness, though, let's meet up again tomorrow morning! We’ll go talk to Salt and Pepper together.”
He sighed as he stepped out. He turned around and looked down at her. “Fine.”
“Remember to keep an open mind, Trophy.” She calmly reminded. “'I'm here to help you, but at the end of the day, it is you who must make a change in yourself.”
He snickered, a little smirk appearing on his face. “‘Kay, mom.”
“Title accepted.” She grinned, eyes closed. “Make sure you clean your room.” She closed the door.
“Heh.” Trophy turned away from the door, amused. This would be interesting, but.. at least it wouldn't be boring.