Chapter Text
It was late, and Trophy couldn’t sleep. His eyes were glued to the taunting orange cream ceiling, adorned with glow-in-the-dark stars that he had purchased when he first moved into Hotel OJ. The only noises in his dorm room were the faint music in his airpods... He could only really make out the lyrics "Little Andy, soft in your newborn skin. Only one, little Andy, will you return again?" And, of course, Tissue's shallow breathing and quiet snoring from his bed. Trophy rolled over to look at the time, 2:45 A.M. in bright, red numbers. He groaned and rubbed his eyes, trying to push down the exhaustion he felt. The award threw on grey sweatpants and a red letterman jacket, the same one he wore everywhere to try to hide his feminine chest. As he quietly made his way downstairs and into the kitchen, he felt another presence there. Trophy felt slightly uneasy, letting out a shaky sigh as he opened the fridge. The bright, white fluorescent lights almost blinded him. He snatched a Dr Fizz and swiftly closed the fridge door. He clicked the tab open and took a swing. His nose scrunched up. “Cheap beer..” He thought, he’d at least think that OJ would have some money to purchase actual good drinks. His eyes darted around the dim kitchen, trying to spot anyone that might be there. “Tsk…” Trophy groaned as he took a step. A breath, a hand. The jock felt his entire body stiffen. No… Not again. Trophy’s face quickly heated up, his throat felt dry. His eyes began to water. He turned his head to look behind him. It was no other than… Knife. The trophy felt relief, relief that it wasn’t who he had thought. But he also felt anger, fear… Love. Dammit! This goddamn jerk had him smitten! Trophy’s lip was trembling, he looked like a kicked dog. "Asshole..." Trophy spat out, his voice shaking more than he would have liked. Knife had felt his stomach churn with guilt, he’d recognize those puppy eyes anywhere. His grip loosened, falling to the other’s tan, slightly coursed hand. “Hey.. Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ‘ya like that.” Knife let out a soft chuckle. Trophy’s hand was tight and shaky against Knives. His eyebrows furrowed. “You could’ve said something, you know… Idiot.” Trophy looked away, trying to hide his pink, flushed cheeks. “..What are you doing up this late anyway, huh?” Trophy tried to sound nonchalant, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve. “..Couldn’t sleep. I’m assumin’ that’s why you’re up too.” This wasn’t the first time they’ve ran into each other. Trophy stayed quiet, not even bothering to look at Knife. His hand was clenched around the Dr Fizz can so hard that he might crumple it. His other hand was clasped around Knife’s slightly larger, calloused and scarred hand pretty damn tightly. Knife reached his arm out and gently put it on Troph’s cheek, then to his chin, making him look into his eyes. “What’s wrong?” Knife’s tone had shifted, a softer, more concerned voice. Trophy hated to admit it, but he IMMEDIATELY melted. Knife’s dark brown eyes, his scruffy silver beard, his silver hair… Silver piercings… He was swooning. Trophy felt his heart pounding in his chest… He really DID love Knife. The award was swallowed heavily… “I-.. Um.. Oh my god..” Knife chuckled, rubbing his thumb on the other’s chin. “Okay.. I can’t.. Ugh! I can’t think when you’re so goddamn hot–!” The trophy sputtered without thinking. He immediately let go of Knife’s hand, clasping his hand over his own mouth. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Knife’s eyebrows shot up in slight surprise, he leaned in slightly, only to the dismay of Trophy. He had dropped his can of Dr Fizz, spilling it on the white, tile floors. “No.. I can’t– We can’t– They’ll see! That’s so.. gay!“ Trophy whisper-shouted at Knife, his hands trembling violently. Knife’s hands clenched, he looked.. Hurt, confused. His eyebrows furrowed. “What about what we have, Troph..?” He barked out, taking a step forward. “Why do you suddenly care about what other people think, huh? Where’d that cocky ego go?” His eyes had anger and desperation in them, an aching for Trophy he couldn’t ignore or just “forget” about. Trophy attempted to deny it, but when Knife got like this, he felt nothing but fear. “Shut up! You’re the one who doesn’t let anyone in!” Trophy barked back, clenching his trembling hands into fists. He began to tug and yank on his horns, squeezing his eyes shut. He felt… too many things. It made him feel dizzy. Here he was, arguing with his rival, his sworn enemy, his best friend, his... lover. When Knife got too close, Trophy swung. He missed, probably due to his shaky hands and blurry vision. He hadn't even realized he had been crying. Knife had caught his wrist, his grip firm but not enough to hurt. He pulled the slightly smaller jock into his arms. Knife wanted to drop his arms and take Trophy's arms, walk him to the shore. Trophy was known for fighting, rarely being seen as "vulnerable". But with Knife, he was different. He was softer, a little bit less rough around his edges. Trophy sobbed in Knife's arms, staining his faded band t-shirt. "I'm sorry, Knife.. I.. I just.. I can't get over him, I can still feel his hands, it's like he-" Knife pressed a kiss to the blonde's hair, shushing him. Knife was rubbing his hands along his back, eventually reaching his tail. Trophy let out something between a shudder and a sob. "...Please don't use this as blackmail.." Trophy mumbled, not knowing what he'd do if anyone else found out about them. ESPECIALLY Fan... "I wouldn't do that." Knife teasingly whispered as his face was pressed into Trophy's neck. "Shut up.." Trophy muttered, but lacking the venom it had previously. "Can we uh... Go up to your room..?" The goat questioned sheepishly. Knife hummed in agreement, grabbing Trophy's hand as they walked up. The elevator was busted... Again. They walked up, Trophy's hooves clicking against the concrete stairs. They got the 2nd floor, and Knife opened the door. 'He leaves it unlocked...?' Trophy thought to himself. He stepped inside, the fairy lights dimly illuminating the room. Microphone wasn't there, luckily... Not that Trophy had any issue with her, but he didn't want any witnesses. He watched as Knife kicked off his cat slippers and plopped down into his bed. Trophy sauntered over, taking off his jacket. Knife was the only person he felt comfortable enough around to really take off his jacket. Aside from... Tissues and Cheesy. He curled up next to the Canis latrans (scientific name for coyote!) and his tail began to wag. Trophy wrapped a muscled arm around Knife. "..'m sorry." He mumbled. Knife looked down at him. "Hey, it's.. Okay. We both got out of hand." Knife awkwardly comforted. With the lack of response, Knife rose an eyebrow. Then he noticed that Trophy fell asleep. Knife chuckled lightly and pulled the blanket up a bit higher, falling asleep soon after.