GET OVER HER! // PEPPERMIC FIC

PARALLELS

   I.L.U. has been a massive success! Microphone and I actually make an incredibly great team. We've already got OJ's approval, and he was the first person to take a note card. The color he chose was orange, which I remember because it was awfully stereotypical. Trophy showed soon after, extremely frustrated that orange had already been taken.

   "The fuck you mean it's been taken already?! Man, did Cheesy take it?" I remember the trophy complaining.

   "Ay, I thought you guys would've come at the same time," Microphone snickered. At the time I couldn't help but roll my eyes. She's the only person in this hotel who's adamant on Cheesy and Trophy being a couple for whatever reason.

    "I'm not on that gay shit, Mic. Even if I was, I'd keep it on the down low," the trophy retorted.

    "So you are gay?"

    "Like, as a hypothetical. I'm not on that homophobic shit either," Trophy grumbled, embarrassed he got himself this far into the conversation.

    "You're a bit better than last season," Mic laughed. Trophy gently laughed along with her and finally took a note card. The color was purple.

   While I could go on thinking over how all the note-takers interacted for the millionth time, it is rather nice to just sit here, drifting away, my thoughts full of nothingness.

   Except they aren't full of nothingness, because Salt is writing her note RIGHT NOW! For whatever reason, she's been hunched over, writing on that red note card forever. I've gone and had a whole day, and from the moment I woke up, to when the sun is setting, that girl is still trying to figure out something to write. She looks like a miserable ball of anxiety and stress waiting to blow up at any moment.

   "Hey, Salt, you've been working on that all day. Don't you think you should, like, give it a timeout? You're enough of a hard worker as is."

   "Ohh, yeah, no," Salt nervously chuckled, her composure breaking down. "Hahaha, I just, like, need to find the right words!"

   "Salty Salt, there's no need-"

   "Please, Pepper, if you want to, like, help me out, just go somewhere else for tonight. It'll help me get a clear mind, I promise."

   "Oh, alright. I'll see you tomorrow then."

   "Wait," Salt said, bringing me to a halt. "Before you go."

   The salt shaker slowly got up out of her chair and approached me, pulling me into an urgent hug. I gasp, startled by the sudden gesture, but it's to be expected. It's Salt, after all. I hugged her back gently, but I wasn't prepared for what happened next. She let out soft sobs, tears rolling down her face and onto my back. I had no idea what to do but to shush her and tell her it was going to be alright. She sniffled, pulling out of the hug and wiping her tears away. She stood there for a moment, staring at me. Then, she weakly smiled and told me she loved me, returning to her chair and writing. I left the room, as requested.

   I'm sure that some time in the future, I'll kick myself senseless for not "shooting my shot" in the moment. Yes, I'm sure I could've held her hand and told her I loved her dearly as well, and maybe Salt would've fell right back into my arms, a bawling mess, telling me she's always loved me, and she's always wanted me by her side wherever she went, and that she honestly wanted me to stay and help write her letter.

   But the more it happens, the more I realize that it's just a fantasy.

   I look back at the door, soft crying still heard on the other side. As her friend, I was going to go sleep somewhere else. That's what she wants me to do, right? I puttered over to Microphone's door, giving it a knock to be let in. Mic quickly welcomed me into the room without question. She settled herself on the floor silently, as I climbed onto her bed.