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Cheesy wasn’t really certain about how he felt about Trophy all that much, maybe it was because of his egotistical personality, how it contrasted with his “bashfulness” when he wasn’t on the stage. (Because, he wouldn’t lie, it was very much a front when he was up there, for it felt a little more freeing to joke.) And no no, he was definitely not one of those “Shy internet boys”, it was more a lingering anxiety of not knowing what to say or do. And for some pitiful and stupid reason that his own mind couldn’t grasp, he only felt that way around Trophy. Maybe it was because of how much of an ass he could be, or how he was very very forward with feelings yet so distant. Trophy was definitely not a people person, he was certain, because any attempt at getting closer, at maybe become friends? Acquaintances? Was practically futile. He had made many many attempts before, but alas, it ended up deep down in the pits of a deep dark trench. But needless to say, Cheesy was a very very stubborn man.
He first attempted to chip away at Trophy’s exterior by talking to him. Every time he was greeted with “Go away,” or “I don’t want to be friends, idiot,” (Which was repeated at least a thousand times per day any single time Cheesy merely glanced at Trophy)
He had managed to get the responses to change, no longer were they too repetitive, but they were still harsh, for the most part. He was a little proud of that, and even more encouraged to continue trying to become friends.
It took weeks to get Trophy to stop threatening him if he stayed within a radius of five feet from him.
It took even longer for him to even have a civil conversation.
Trophy wasn’t the kindest, but after a little while (Cheesy was lying, it took absolutely forever) they eased into a simple schedule. Cheesy would (probably) pester him every morning when he went on his rants when Trophy felt kind enough to stop and listen, and in return, Trophy would sometimes, on a very rare occasion, either invite him on a little walk where they would take pictures, or go on his own little ramble talking about the small things of the world. Cheesy kept a little "diary" in his brain of all the little things that Cheesy found interesting about his newly made friend (he hoped), like how he was really interested in bugs, or those shiny stones (that, when Cheesy tried to present to Trophy he would only get a chortle in response and was told he had picked up a piece of pavement, much to his dismay.)
It had taken 4 months, and Trophy had allowed him to look through his camera. Cheesy watched when Trophy showed him his collection of photographics. He seemed a little embarrassed as he did, and Cheesy noticed how his fingers were clasped so gently over the grip, like if he used any little amount of strength more than he was now that the camera would shatter. He watched as he fumbled slightly with the dial (from what he remembered, he wasn’t good with camera part names) and would glance over at him, probably concerned about his opinions on the photos. Cheesy hadn’t thought much of it then, he had thought Trophy was just showing him some cool pretty flowers and butterflies and other things, but now it seemed it was a little more than that. Trophy was not that person, at least, he thought. Maybe it was because they were friends now? No.. Trophy was friends with the Cherries from what he had seen, but he never let anyone hold his camera or look at his photos for very long. Never had Trophy asked for someone’s opinion on his photography, or anything really, he usually just excused himself of any interaction with anyone in the hotel by shoving them (physically or not) away. Maybe Cheesy was a little more than happy at this realization that the other had begun to trust him, even if it was by just a little bit.
The next day Cheesy had managed to wake up begrudgingly early, he slipped into the community kitchen to get a glass of water but stumbled upon Trophy, who was preparing for his morning run. Was it really all that early he wondered? He walked up behind him, peeking over his shoulder as best as he could. (Trophy was, of course, taller than him by a mile so he struggled just a little bit) The next thing he knew was that he was nearly knocked flat onto the ground as Trophy shrieked. Stunned, he stared up at him dizzily as his friend then panicked, which was a very not so Trophy thing that Trophy was currently doing, which was weird, but what was weirder was how Cheesy ended up on the floor. Trophy offered an awkward hand, spewing some sort of apology that Cheesy could not fully understand. Did he get a concussion from that fall? He accepted it and he was quickly pulled to his feet, with nothing to really support his weight he stumbled into Trophy. (Sure, the counter was there, but his friend, despite just attacking him, seemed a little more reliable.)
“Are you… good?” Trophy asked, his cheeks tinted a darker color than usual as Cheesy leaned into him for support. Maybe Cheesy was delusional now.
“Probably, my back sure doesn’t feel very gouda” Cheesy managed a joke, despite both his head and back now killing him. Maybe falling on his ass, and then his head, wasn’t such a good feeling. Maybe.
“Sorry, you kinda scared the living shit out of me? I didn’t really mean to flip out on you.” Trophy attempted to apologize, but Cheesy simply chuckled as he stopped leaning on his friend. (Maybe Trophy’s touch lingered a little longer as Cheesy moved away, and maybe Cheesy wanted to hold onto him for a longer, but neither mentioned anything of it.)
“Don’t worry about it!” Cheesy grinned, though his back feeling like it had snapped in half like a twig stated otherwise.
Trophy merely stared at him, and went back to making his protein shake. Maybe he snuck a few glances back at Cheesy as he watched him.
“Um.” Cheesy hummed, not really sure what to do.
“Why are you awake at this hour? You’re usually passed the hell out when I get back from my jog, and hell that takes forever.” Trophy asked, clicking the button on the blender and turning it off as he pulled the pitcher out, pouring his drink.
“I don't know, might’ve had a dream or something, I can’t remember.” Cheesy trailed off as they stood there in relative silence, Trophy leaning against the counter and keeping his gaze fixed on him.
“You could come with me if ya can’t sleep.” Trophy offered, shrugging.
“Really?” Cheesy looked up at him, blinking.
“Yeah.” Trophy looked over at him nonchalantly.
“That would be grate!” Cheesy grinned, “Except… I can’t really run? My back hurts like hell right now.”
“We can just walk? I guess.”
“Oh, ok then, uhm, when do we leave?”
“I guess we could now? If you’d like.”
Cheesy merely nodded, following after Trophy as he tossed his cup into the sink, causing a rather loud clicking sound as it collided with the metal.
Trophy had grabbed his wrist sometime after they exited the door, dragging him along to a worn path heading into the forest. Cheesy tried his best to keep pace, but he found himself stumbling and of course, slowing Trophy down. He would just hope he wasn’t too angry at him for disrupting him and breaking up his daily routine. Luckily, it seemed like he didn’t care much, since they fell side by side, walking at a relatively moderate pace on the trail.
It was nice, he noted, as the early sunlight flickered through the tree-line and illuminated the morning dew that was sprinkled across the foliage.
Cheesy, subconsciously or not, had locked their hands together. It was nice, he thought.
Trophy led him to a small cliff, sitting close to the edge.
"How romantic," Cheesy giggled, sitting next to him in the slightly wet grass.
Trophy, however, flustered, fumbling with the hem of his shirt with his free hand. They fell into silence. "Sorry um." Cheesy paused as Trophy looked over at him, looking unusually anxious.
"I hate you, you know." it was barely a whisper, but Cheesy perked up, startled. "What?" he asked, eyes widening and mouth slightly agape.
Trophy turned and looked at him, seemingly upset and embarrassed, "I hate you. I hate that you managed to worm your way into my life like this. I hate that you are constantly on my mind. I hate everything about you." he cried. Cheesy was stunned as he continued to rant. Trophy's grip on his hand tightened "I swore to myself I wouldn't like you, that I wouldn't be your friend." he began again, making rather uncomfortable eye-contact with Cheesy, who shifted away slightly. "Why?" was all Trophy would ask, staring at him.
"I.. I don't understand? What do you mean by all of this? Do you not want to be friends anymore or..?" Cheesy tried his best to sound stable as he asked that last question, just moments ago both of them were ok, was the joke really that upsetting?
"No." Trophy's eyebrows scrunched up, "I hate-, no sorry, hated you. Sorry this is confusing." Trophy groaned, explaining nothing and confusing Cheesy more. "I love you. I think. You make me feel dizzy, and happy, and angry all at once and I don't know..," Trophy finally admitted, "And it's frustrating. Because I don't... didn't? Like you. I don't even know at this point."
"Oh." Was all Cheesy could muster.
"I don't understand why you were so persistent to be my friend, or why you were so nice to me, I was a total ass and still am. I'm not supposed to love you. I shouldn't." Trophy tries, "You make me feel like I can actually be a decent person, or at least try to be one, but even then you should hate me. I'll still be horrible. I can't be a good friend, nor can I love you." the tears finally spill, and he can't speak, all he can do is sniffle and sob.
Cheesy pulls him into his arms, and does his best to comfort him. He has never seen Trophy cry. It's so unlike him and he panics.
"I think I love you too," he says as he holds his friend in his arms. "I think I have since I wanted to be your friend, and I was just a little too stupid to realize." he confesses.
Trophy practically melts as Cheesy rubs his back comfortingly. "You're sure?" Trophy asks, muffled by Cheesy's shirt. Cheesy nods, and hopes its a convincing enough response. Apparently it is, because Trophy gives a small smile before wrapping his arms around him.
The rest of that day was spent lying around in each other's arms, figuring out what to do with their newly established relationship in relative comfort.