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Another day, another storm of coughing to wake Trophy up. He groaned in bed, stretching.
“Good morning, Trophy.” Tissues promptly greeted. “Sorry for waking you up.” He coughed again.
Trophy sighed deeply as he sat up, eyes still weary. He blinked slowly, as if in a daze. “Whatever.” He muttered innocuously. Tissues quickly left the room after.
-
The day passed smoothly. As per the deal they made yesterday, Trophy headed down to the first floor to help Soap clean. Oddly, he wasn't dreading the occasion like he thought he would. In fact, he even found himself thinking about and looking forward to it earlier on in the day.
Things were quiet in the hotel. He had told Tissues where he was going before leaving, so nobody would be looking for him. When he got to the kitchen—the place he had agreed to help her clean—Soap was already there. With her was a cart filled with cleaning supplies.
The lights were turned on. She smirked at him. “You're late.” She teased.
“No, you are here early.” He corrected, walking to her side.
“Should have gotten here earlier.”
“Sorry I'm not as excited as you are to do your boring hobby.” He rolled his eyes lightheartedly.
“Tch.” She snickered unseriously. “Go wash your hands.”
He swung his arms up. “Okay, okay, mom.” He went to the sink.
Soap giggled to herself as she got a head start on cleaning, wiping the counter in an unstructured manner. She hummed a little tune to herself.
After about half a minute, Trophy was finished. He came to her side. “So, what should I do?”
She stopped wiping the counter. “Help me clean the fridge.” She offered him a rag.
He took it. “Wouldn't it be more efficient to have me clean something else?” He raised his brows at her, lip curled.
She grinned, putting a finger up. “We are not going to force ourselves to go as fast as possible. We are going to be thorough!”
He shrugged. “Whatever.” He dunked the rag into the bucket of soapy water she had.
Soap went to the fridge and opened it. Inside were various items—items and ingredients used each morning as a breakfast offer for all the occupants of the hotel.
“Okay, help me take all these out.” She was quick to work, taking the yogurt cups out and setting them on the counter. Trophy quietly aided her, following in her footsteps. Each of them took turns leaning into the fridge to remove something and then placing it on the counter.
When Trophy took a carton of eggs out, he noticed the bottom was sticky and immediately recoiled, shifting his hand to grab the side of it instead. “What the hell?” He slimmed his eyes, leaning back in to see why the carton was so sticky. Inside, there was a dried out substance staining the shelf where the carton had been. “Gross.” He commented, stepping back.
“What is it?” Soap patiently stood behind him, curious.
He faced her. “There's this gross stain in there.”
“Oh, yeah.” Soap lightheartedly rolled her eyes. “It was probably Paper again. He usually preps the breakfast food and can be a little clumsy sometimes..”
Disregarding what exactly the stain was, Trophy asked: “Don't you clean the place every day? How did it already dry? It felt like glue.”
“I clean a room every day. Not necessarily this one.”
“Oh.” He set the carton down as Soap bent in to grab the next item. “So you, like, cycle between every room?”
“Basically.” She cheerfully affirmed, taking a bag of oranges out.
“Huh.” He weaved past her and grabbed a bottle of apple juice.
A few minutes passed. The two cleared out the fridge. Soap stood in front of the fridge, Trophy behind her, looking over her shoulder. Both had a wet rag in hand.
“Okay, I'm gonna get the main part of the fridge.” She informed. “You clean the side.”
She was giving him the easier task. “Alright.”
The pair got to work, Soap getting on her knees to scrub the lowest part of the fridge first, while Trophy remained standing tall, wiping away a few stains on the side shelves. After a few moments, Trophy asked, “So, who's the messiest person in the hotel? I'm curious.” Just to get some conversation going. “I mean, I've gotta imagine some people must be a pain in the ass to clean up after.” He snickered to himself.
“Well, Tissues is, of course.” She grunted, reaching her arm far into the fridge. “But others like Yin-Yang, or Lightbulb, or Cherries can cause an issue. It really depends on the day.” She explained matter-of-factly.
“Have I ever caused you trouble?” He asked jokingly, expecting an obvious “no” answer.
“You don't make huge messes, but,” She sat herself up straight to look at him, smirking. “I notice that you have a bit of a littering issue.”
Trophy couldn't tell if she was actually annoyed with him or not, and his lip fell, uncertain of how to respond. “Uhhh..” He averted his eyes.
She heartily laughed. “Don't worry about it..! Hahahaha!” She snickered. “Sorry, your face was just so funny.”
“Well..” He crossed his arms, brows furrowed. He muttered: “Sorry, I guess.”
“Don't worry about it.” She stood up, elbowing him lightly. “It's not a big deal—just be more conscientious.”
“I'll try.” He side eyed her as she went to the bucket to dunk her rag in.
A moment passed.
“Speaking of,” Soap began neutrally. “Did you talk to Tissues?”
“About the thing?” He asked. She promptly confirmed his question. “Yeah, I did.”
“How did it go?” Soap got back on her knees, cleaning the next shelf.
“Good, I think.” He answered vaguely. “It was kinda a short lived thing. I just kinda apologized and.. that was it.”
“Does he forgive you?”
Trophy could feel the rag losing its wetness. “Yeah. I think so.”
“Well that's not very confident.” She commented teasingly.
He sighed. “Sorry—doing this is hard.” He muttered in a more vulnerable tone than he had intended.
Hearing the gentle frustration caused Soap to soften her tone. “Don't worry. Of course it's hard.” She huffed, leaning up straight to look at him. “Changing for the better is never an easy thing for anyone.”
He hummed, eyelids low. He focused on scrubbing away a tough stain. “I guess that's comforting.” He muttered.
He didn't sound very comforted to Soap. “I’m just happy you're trying.” She continued, returning her eyes back to the task at hand. “Remember that I'm always here to help you.”
“You don't have to.” He finally got the stain out. “I'm not gonna force you to-..” He shook his head. “Babysit me.”
She didn't like hearing that phrase used again. “I'm not helping you because you're some giant problem, or because of some- motherly instinct.” It was her turn to show a bit of frustration. She wormed her way back to look him in the eyes again. “I'm helping you because you're my friend.”
Trophy glanced at her. “It doesn't really feel that way sometimes.” He averted his eyes again.
Soap blinked, eyes narrow. “..Is this your way of telling me you don't want to do this anymore?”
“No—Soap.”
“It's perfectly fine if it is.” She continued before he could continue speaking.
“I want to do this. You made me realize I wanna change the way people look at me. You inspired me.” He turned away, walking to the bucket and dunking his rag in. In reality, it was an excuse to avoid looking her in the eyes. “It does feel like you're holding my hand the entire time, though.” He admitted. He took a deep breath, grabbing his rag and turning back to face her. “I don't need your help the whole time.”
“Well-” Soap felt gagged for words. “That's completely fine.” Her lip twisted into a frown, but she couldn't place why.
“Look—,” His brows became more determined, sturdy. “I don't want to sound ungrateful. You’ve really helped me take this first step.” He looked down at her. “I doubt I will be able to keep this up without some help from you.”
She kept her focus on him. “What are you trying to say?”
“I'm gonna keep asking for your help, but I don't view you as a mentor or mother figure. You're- y'know.” He flushed, unfamiliar with this kind of situation. “My friend.”
“Ah.” Soap managed to smile, feeling relief. She looked at the floor. “That's.. good.” She beamed.
He cleared his throat. “But, uh,” He smirked. “You do act like a total mom sometimes.”
She laughed. “I can't help it!”
He chuckled through his teeth. “You’re the mom of the hotel.”
The pair continued to laugh with each other.
Once it died down, Trophy spoke up. “Sorry—things got a little weird there for a second.”
“No, it's not weird at all!” Soap assured. “I’m glad you told me that.”
“Let's just get back to cleaning.”
The two did exactly that.
“...”
“...”
“Hey, Trophy?”
“Yeah?”
“I'm always willing to lend you a hand, whatever it may be. As your friend.”
“Hm.” He smiled. “Thanks, Soap.”