Work Text:
Sometimes Trophy wonders if MePhone made him unlovable on purpose.
He pretends like he doesn’t think about it often, because why would he? Why would the Trophy Horseplay, greatest award of all time, think such a pathetic thing about himself?
Truthfully, he’s lying to himself. He has no friends; anyone who has tried has been deemed evil and shoved to the side. It’s gotten to the point where nobody even tries to talk to him anymore; in fact, they avoid him. He’s like a person repellent, and it’s really embarrassing.
Trophy sticks to telling himself it’s because people can’t handle him in all his glory to save his dignity and his ego.
Trophy also wonders if Knife exists solely to rub it in his face how superior he is. It’s egotistical to think Knife exists just to ruin his life, but being egotistical is Trophy’s strong suit.
He can see it in everything; in the way everyone gravitates to Knife’s arms, how he seems to stick out in a crowd - and not because he’s tall - and the way people don’t have to force their laughs when he makes a joke. It’s an insult on him personally.
Knife is sitting on the couch like he always does when Trophy finds him, doing whatever it is he does with Pickle all the time - doesn’t he ever talk to anyone else? What a loser.
Trophy makes it his personal mission to let Knife know his existence aggravates him. He grunts and elbows Knife a little when he walks by, looking back to see if he reacts.
Luckily, he does.
“What the hell is your problem?” Knife furrows his brow, tone unkind; stark to the tone he was using with Pickle. Trophy’s chest aches a little.
“I don’t have a problem.” Trophy very obviously lies, the feeling of Knife staring at him so heavy he thinks it might burn a hole through his bowl. “Don’t play passive aggressive with me. ”
The award raises an eyebrow, clutching his Dr. Fizz just a little tighter. “I’m not playing anything, Knife.” He feigns innocence. He can see Knife’s jaw clench.
“I’m sick of your shit.” The silverware suddenly snaps, pulling a smile from Trophy. “You’ve been insufferable for the last, like, two months. Do you have anything better to do than harass me?”
“Oh, please,” Trophy nearly laughs. “You’re delusional. You want my attention so bad, you’re trying to spin this story where I’m just so obsessed with you. That’s really sad, Knife.”
He thinks it’s hilarious how angry Knife is getting. Knife does not think it’s hilarious. The jerk lands a tough hit on Trophy’s jaw, making him stumble back a little. Some of the soda spills from the can in his hands and seeps into the carpet.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Trophy near shouts, bringing his free hand up to his aching cheek. He doesn’t have much time to fight back before Knife’s shoved him to the floor. His Dr. Fizz now lays abandoned, spilling out onto the carpet to make a stain OJ is definitely gonna yell at him for later.
The jock kicks at the jerk’s ankles, throwing the latter off his balance. He wobbles once, twice, but stays upright in the end. If this isn’t a sign that Knife is better than him, he doesn’t know what is.
Trophy regains himself, lunging into Knife’s legs instead. The jerk goes down with a grunt, the metal of his blade making a rough sound as he hits the floor.
Knife gains a white knuckles grip on Trophy’s handles, pulling them so hard Trophy things he might be trying to rip them off.
Trophy is a sore loser, and will do anything he can to avoid it - with this comes playing dirty.
He sinks his teeth into Knife’s arm, biting so hard it makes his jaw hurt. The jerk shrieks and punches him in the eye, kicking and shoving him until Trophy’s loses his firm latch on Knife’s arm.
“Are you insane?!” Knife shouts, holding his bleeding arm in the hand that isn’t trembling. The taste of blood on his tongue makes Trophy gag a little, spitting it out onto the carpet - hopefully that doesn’t stain, or he can add it to the list of things OJ will tell him off for.
Thinking he is victorious, Trophy lets his guard down. Although Knife is wounded, he wont stop. He places a nasty hit on Trophy’s nose, a horrid crack ringing out.
The jock doesn’t realize he screams because his vision has whited out and his ears ring.
When he comes back down to Earth, OJ is running down the hall and pushing through the doors. “What the hell is going on in here!?” Pickle stands off to the side along with a few others who have gathered because of the commotion.
Soap is holding Knife back while OJ storms over, the rage behind his eyes so visible Trophy is almost scared. Almost.
“What on god’s green Earth are you doing, Trophy?! Are you actually kidding me? What do you not understand about not provoking the hotel residence? This is the third time this month, Trophy!” blah blah blah im oj whatever