GET OVER HER! // PEPPERMIC FIC

PROJECT: I LOVE YOU!

    So this is what it's come to. Me waiting like a miserable dog at Microphone's door, her paper in my hand. The paper crinkled as I squeezed onto it, nervous that this might've been a prank too. Even so, it wouldn't be my fault for believing it. Every person in this hotel knows I care deeply for Salt, so I would do anything to protect her name. As I stand by this door though, I have to wonder, what part of this is protecting her name? This would only damage mine. The letter was targeted to me, not Salt. So, why? Why am I standing at this door, with curiosity beating throughout my body? Why am I shaking with wonder, hoping Microphone will open that door?

    "Gosh," I mutter to myself, trying to pull it together. "This is so not fetch."

   To be honest, even trying to comfort myself feels useless. I only adopted this valley girl way of speaking because I've always wanted Salt to notice me. From the start, I've always copied and followed after whatever Salty's done, and now I'm left with a hollow husk of a "person", who's so desperate she's waited her entire life for some straight girl to notice her. I truly have no character to me.

    The door slowly opened, and through the crack, Microphone peeked down at me. She gasped and shut the door, sounds of hurried scrambling coming from the other side. My slight interest of what the electronic was doing in her hotel room quickly died away, as she swung the door open soon after, revealing a pathetic little pipe in her mouth accompanied with a detective's hat.

    "You've come to join my quest! Our time is limited, Pepper from Inanimate Insanity-"

    "You say that like it's my full name."

    "-but we will find the culprit! Are you up for the test?!" Microphone giggled and took off her hat, a look of sincerity in her eyes now. "Honestly though, I didn't mean to come off as aggressive towards you. I hope I can make it up to you with this."

   "Whatever," I mumbled. "Look, I didn't come here to get over Salty Salt, and I don't feel sad, as your stupid note reads. Reading that literally made my eyes roll back into my head. I only came for the fake Salt thing. I want to teach that bozo brain a lesson."

    "I do not think the term 'bozo brain' fits your vocabulary. Sounds a bit off," Microphone hummed, her face scrunched up as she pondered.

    "I didn't come here to have what I say get nitpicked at either! Knives, I just want to find out who wrote that thing."

    "Well, I'll confess. I don't know exactly who wrote it, but I'm sure we can figure it out together."

    "Great, more time with Microphone. I'm, like, so excited."

    "Whatever," Microphone grumbled, turning away from me. "How about we start getting people's signatures tomorrow? We can say it's to raise money for the hotel so we can finally get those elevators installed, and we'll be able to decipher everyone's handwriting to tell who wrote the letter."

    "I guess it'll work. Who's bringing what?"

    "Don't worry, I'll bring everything. I've already put you through enough hassle," Mic said with a smile. "Just meet me here again when it turns noon. Testy sleeps surprisingly late, and something tells me I don't want to anger a crazy scientist."

    "Something tells me calling a crazy scientist 'Testy' might make her more crazy."

    "Whatever, that's, like, not even like, your concern, like," Mic snarked back, returning to her hotel room. As she shut the door, I huffed, returning to mine. Although interacting with Microphone makes me irritated, I feel slightly glad I'm closer to finding out who's messing with me.

   The clock finally turned 12:00pm. Usually, when walking out the door, I'd greet some of the acquaintances I see, but I don't have time for such meaningless rituals. I rushed past the confused faces of Bomb, Painty, and even Salt, sitting myself in front of Microphone's door. No one's going to stop me from finding out this mystery. I turned back to take another glance at Salt, and she looked right back at me, her eyes shimmering with wonder. She started approaching me, but froze as the door clicked open, the frustratedly tired Test Tube coming out, already in a seemingly bad mood. She caught sight of Salt and I, glaring and muttering something under her breath. Another thing about Salt is she doesn't take too kindly to Test Tube, for whatever reason. I brace myself for whatever the salt shaker's about to say.