Chapter Text
The moonlight shimmered across Trophy’s golden necklace, casting a gentle glow upon the camera in his hands. He raised the lens to his eye and snapped a gorgeous photo of the night sky. The stars gleamed upon the dark green spruce trees, lighting up the forest just enough for Trophy to visualize his photo. The photo was a picture of one of clover’s butterflies, becoming a silhouette in front of the moon’s glorious beams of light. The camera’s screen illuminated his brown eyes and tan skin, which also allowed him to see the time. Trophy noted that it was almost midnight now, so he groaned and clipped the camera around his neck, following his path back to the hotel.
The man walked for maybe thirty minutes, which allowed him to catch a breath of calm air, which was rare for him. Trophy never really got time to himself; whether it was because of Cheesy or Tissues or even OJ coming to yell at him for fighting Knife in the middle of the hotel’s lobby, in front of everyone.
That happened quite a lot because the two hated each other's guts, which everyone was aware of. Ever since Test Tube made that god damn recovery center, Knife and Trophy couldn’t seem to get away from each other. They were always fighting or making comments, but Trophy had to admit that he initiated it a lot, just to get a reaction.
Knife was easy to.. “ragebait”, as people say. Or, well, he used to. Till Suitcase came in and taught him that “random act of kindness” thing. Trophy gagged at the thought. Since when did the jerk become a softie like that? Trophy ground his teeth together and rolled his eyes. What a stupid idea! He grunted to himself, quickening his pace towards the hotel to stop himself from getting any angrier.
He stepped up to the doors and swung them open. Walking inside and approaching the stairs, he was stopped by a familiar, grating voice.
“Up late again, Troph?”
WHAT COULD HE WANT?! Trophy grunted to himself, running a smooth hand through his golden strands to attempt at soothing himself. He was too tired to get mad any more.
“You’re the one to talk.” He replies, continuing to face away from Knife but turning just enough to see the man’s expression. Knife had silvery grey hair, with piercings littering his face. Some on his lips, ears, even two on his eyebrows. Knife, in response to Trophy’s words, just shrugs and takes a swig of something. Trophy turns around from curiosity, staring at the drink in a small, white mug.
“..What is that?”
He asks.
“Oh, this? Just some tea. YOUR. tea.” Knife’s sleepy smile turned into a sly, cocky smirk. Trophy growled and lunged towards the man on the couch.
His hands wrapped around the other’s throat, closing around his neck as his claws (nails) dug into the flesh. Knife’s hands gripped Trophy’s wrists, yanking him off.
Knife was perpetually stronger than Trophy. Physically and mentally. Knife had burly limbs, covered in scars and faded stick-and-poke tattoos from his teenage years.
Ever since Trophy knew him, Knife fit his Jerk role wonderfully. But recently, he started to improve on how he treated people. Sometimes, Trophy thought about following in the man’s footsteps.
“Gave up already, huh?”
Knife snickered, snapping Trophy back into the present argument. He hissed under his breath and yanked away from Knife, stumbling back towards the stairs and leaving in an angry fashion before Knife could say anything else.
He walks to his room, swinging the door open. He stared at his sleeping, sick, and exhausted roommate who was wheezing in his sleep. For a moment, he felt a little bad for Tissues. The poor thing could hardly breat— What was he thinking? Why is he thinking this?! He scowled and collapsed in bed, wincing from pain after he realized he laid flat on the camera. Setting down his camera gently, as if it were a precious artifact, He covered himself in his thick sheets, stared at the wall, and tried to drown out Tissues’ snoring.
While he was trying to sleep, he felt the inevitable thoughts of Knife creep into his mind. Knife certainly was a strong man. He was kind to everyone but kept a sharp, playful edge. Trophy hated his guts. Knife was annoying, boring, and always had something to say! The old knife wouldn’t have let Trophy go. He would tie him up and roast him over a fire for looking at him wrong.
But Knife was different now, and Trophy had to live with that.
He grunted and shut his eyes, falling asleep best he could.
He walked outside to see the lobby bustling with excitement from all the tenants. Yin, Yang, and Tissues were sitting on one couch. Knife, Pickle, and Bomby were all playing a video game on the other couch, and he also saw Mic, Taco, Soap, and Box all hanging around the kitchen.
He thought for a moment, before walking over to Mic’s group. “What’s going on? Why’s everyone out here?” He peered around. Almost the whole hotel was active. “Oh, right, you weren’t here. OJ assigned us new roommates. You won't believe it but; YOU’RE WITH KNIFE! HAH!” Mic responded, cackling.