Inspiration was something so fleeting. Microphone was well aware of that. As she stared at the blank piece of paper on her desk, her heart sank a little. She had promised Soap she'd try and get into writing, something her friend had suggested after reading her past assignments.

Soap meant a lot to Microphone, and neglecting this project made her feel like she was neglecting her friend. She picked up her pencil, pressing it to the first line of the paper. She racked her brain for something to come to mind, but for the first time in a while, her imagination grew silent. She tapped the side of her lip with the eraser end, closing her eyes.

Since her elimination and... the whole thing with Taco, her mind had been all over the place. Every insignificant thought would somehow lead back to the woman she thought she could trust, that she did trust. Taco, despite her pomposity, was a genuine friend to Microphone, someone she thought she could trust. Her only other friend of that magnitude was Soap, someone who she missed dearly back then.

Soap was here now however, and Microphone wasn't taking her presence for granted anymore. She lifted her pencil with new motivation.

"Hi Microphone!"

The curly haired girl involuntarily shrieked as she swung her pencil at the intruder.

"Cheesy?"

The boy stood pressed against her room's door, dramatically heaving for breath. The pencil laid dormant by the doorframe.

"Huff, the one and lonely!"

Microphone breathily snickered as the boy waltzed over, leaning over the back of her desk chair.

"It's good to see you and all, but what are you doing here?"

Cheesy tried to look at what Mic was doing, his lack of height and her hair preventing him from doing so.

"I was gonna come here to annoy ya, but you look busy. I can head out if-"

"Wait."

Microphone got up from her swivel chair. Cheesy's lingering weight caused it to spin around and tip over. He clumsily got up from the carpet after falling with the chair and watched Microphone pick up her pencil.

"You gonna throw that at me again? Not your sharpest idea but, I'll let you get to the point."

Microphone groaned as Cheesy chuckled quietly. She sat down on her bed while her guest took the desk chair.

"I'm trying to write a story, and I was hoping you could provide me with some... inspiration?"

Cheesy stared blankly at her, a guilty feeling making itself known to him.

"Uh, I've actually been pretty uninspired myself these days! I needa write a comedy show for next week but, nothing's really been coming to me in terms of content, ya know?"

Cheesy used his hands to punctuate his words, a habit he had gained to make him more attention grabbing. The life of a performer was hard for Cheesy to keep up with. His persona on and off stage was relatively the same but it was stressful. Cheesy had stage fright since he was a kid. It was a well known fact considering how jittery he'd get on stage, but once he got into the swing of things, he felt unstoppable up there. However, he knew he wouldn't be feeling as great if he didn't have anything planned for his show. Cheesy tilted his head curiously, placing a finger to his chin in thought.

"Where do you normally get your inspiration from?"

"Everywhere."

Microphone facepalmed at the response, a serene breeze from her window fluttering the paper on the desk.

"Oh, I must've forgotten to close that."

Cheesy watched intently as Microphone made her way over to the desk and reached for the window above it. She paused as she noticed someone outside.

"Is that Trophy?"

Mic nodded at Cheesy's question, the latter moving to look out of the window with her.

"Cheesy?"

"Yeah?"

"I have a really stupid idea."

-

Ever since his elimination, Trophy never grew close to anyone in the hotel. He was the show's bad guy, someone the viewers could openly hate. Apparently, that idea had spread to the hotel too. After the whole blackmailing incident, no one really liked Trophy. He was the guy who would turn his back on you and betray you every chance he'd get.

'It couldn't be further from the truth,' Trophy thought.

Sure, he was a pretty hateful guy, but he knew he had improved as a person. The main issue was that no one wanted to acknowledge it. It was easier to pretend he was a heartless monster, rather than acknowledging the fact that he was a real person who made real mistakes. He sighed, getting onto one knee to readjust his angle on the petunias Paper had so attentively cared for. He had an infatuation with plant life. The gentle greens and yellows were never harsh on the eyes, contrasting the bright walls of Hotel OJ. Don't get him wrong, he was happy to be able to stay in the hotel, but getting out every once in a while felt almost necessary to him.

"Hey Trophy!"

Trophy flinched at the voice, his camera losing focus on the flowers after five minutes of adjusting. The voice's source made itself known as Cheesy crouched down beside Trophy.

"Whatcha' up to?"

Trophy clicked the camera's lens cap on before looking at Cheesy. The boy's usually tame hair was frizzy and his smile was wider than ever.

"I was gonna take some photos, twerp."

Trophy was always hesitant about sharing his hobbies with others. He didn't want to get made fun of for enjoying some of the simpler things in life. Everyone in the hotel knew he took photos, but no one dared to ask him about it, until now.

"Ooh! That's so cool! Can I see?"

Cheesy peaked over Trophy's shoulder, the action causing the latter to tense up.

"Yeah but, uh, back up a little will ya?"

Cheesy seemed slightly upset by this request, but realising Trophy's visible discomfort, he waddled back. Trophy slipped a small album out of his satchel. The cover was a rustic red with stitches lining the edges.

"Woah," Cheesy remarked as he flipped through the pages.

Each photo was taken with care and effort, allowing it to look absolutely spectacular as a result. Cheesy turned over to Trophy, wanting to talk but refraining as he noticed the photographer's newfound concentration. The lens cap laid on the grass. He was attempting to take a photo of a butterfly that was perched on the petunias, his posture steady as he did so. Cheesy was impressed to say the least. It was clear that Trophy knew what he was doing when it came to this. After a click, Trophy relaxed as the photo began to print out. Cheesy recalled his previous intention.

"These are amazing Trophy! You could totally be a winner in photography!"

Cheesy slapped his knee before handing Trophy his album back with a grin.

"Thanks I guess."

Trophy caught sight of the golden hue of the sun, the time nearing sunset.

"Look," he urged, directing Cheesy's attention to the sun.

"Woah," Cheesy sounded like a broken record at this point, infatuated with everything and anything.

Moving a bit further back, Trophy crouched to get a photo, slightly irritated when Cheesy got in the way.

"Could you move a bit?"

"Oh! Sorry!"

As Cheesy turned around, Trophy took note of how the light bounced on his face in every perfect way, his freckles glowing under the orange hue, like stars in the night sky.

"Actually, wait."

Cheesy tilted his head slightly in confusion, putting a finger to his chin in thought.

"Stay just like that."

Trophy backed up a bit more before crouching down.

"Smile."

Cheesy grinned with glee. Trophy, his soon to be best friend, was taking a photo of him! As a soft click resonated in the still air, Trophy patiently waited for the photo to be produced. As it began to print, Cheesy skipped over, on the tips of his toes as his friend (at least from his perspective) flapped the photo around.

"Hey, calm down! Bouncing around won't make it show faster, dummy."

No anger was in Trophy's voice, just pure endearment. How could it not be present? He found himself quite interested by the shorter boy's strange antics. A gentle breeze flowed through the air, ruffling the two's hair. Trophy stopped flapping the photo and smiled in an almost unnoticeable manner as he viewed it. Cheesy pulled down on the jock's arm, snatching the photo from his hands.

"Wowie! This is the coolest photo I've ever seen, let alone one I was the subject of! I wasn't even in my cheesy best!"

Trophy snickered good-naturedly at Cheesy's pathetic British accent for the last sentence, snatching back the photo with a soft smile.

"I'm glad you think that. I think this is one of the best photos I've taken in a long while."

"So then, why don't we take more, together?"

Trophy looked up at Cheesy's request, the latter standing with his arms open, seemingly awaiting a hug.

"Uh, sorry," Trophy looked away shyly, something very unlike him, "I don't really like hugs."

Cheesy brought down his arms, putting a finger to his chin, an action Trophy found quite cute.

"Okay! How about a handshake?"

Trophy smiled gratefully as he nodded, taking Cheesy's soft, undamaged hand into his own slender and calloused one.

"Sounds like a cool idea. You're really photogenic."

Cheesy flicked his wrist bashfully, a prominent red filling his face.

"Whatever you say champ, I wouldn't wanna be a bad sport after all!"

Cheesy slapped his knee with his free hand, something Trophy chuckled softly at.

-

Ever since his elimination, Trophy was convinced he would never grow close to anyone in the hotel. Trophy also would've never seen himself braiding Cheesy's hair the same way he once braided his sister's, especially after only two weeks of being friends with him, but he wasn't complaining. The two had put on some bad movies so Cheesy could poke fun at them, but after Cheesy let down his hair to get more comfortable, Trophy couldn't take his eyes off of it. Realising this, Cheesy provided Trophy a chance to play with his strawberry blonde curls, an offer that Trophy couldn't resist. Subconsciously he began braiding it, which was something he was surprisingly good at. Cheesy took note of that.

"So how did that one make you feel?"

"Hmm, what?"

Trophy was almost inaudible, all his focus placed on perfecting the braids.

"The movie, Trophs."

Trophy looked up as the credits began to roll.

"I thought we were watching Mean Girls?"

"We were, like, three movies ago!"

Trophy looked perplexed, only just realising the moon in his window and the abundance of braids in Cheesy's hair.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I lost track of time."

Trophy nervously gripped his satchel strap.

"It's okay! They all had awful writing anyways."

Trophy ran his hands through Cheesy's braided locks, the bumpy texture easing his nerves. Cheesy's kind words made him feel funny, a whimsical flavour of joy, which was an emotion he wouldn't mind getting used to.

"If you... say so. Do you wanna watch Heathers?"

"Do I?!"