Just another miserable morning...
Balloon sat up in his bed with a hefty groan; typical of him. He then looked to the alarm on his bedside table, it read: 9:47 am. Breakfast was almost over, which meant fewer people in the kitchen. He took a deep breath as he stood, now on his way to the aforementioned kitchen. On his way, Balloon thought about the letters he decided he'd write last night. He was thinking about what he'd say to each recipient, especially Nickel. Though, his letter towards Nickel would of course mention season 1, it was mainly about season 2. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the kitchen.. time flies. As expected, the few that remained in the kitchen/lobby lowered their voices and began whispering to each other, shamelessly pointing and somewhat staring at Balloon as he picked up his plate. Despite him being used to it by now, it still very much hurt. Apart from the chatter, Balloon also noticed that Trophy wasn't here yet. The two would coincidentally end up crossing paths since they both opt to pick up their food around less people, but judging by the lack of an extra plate, Balloon assumed he must've gotten it early this time. After a second of standing around, Balloon turned to make his way back to his room.
Unfortunately, he failed to acknowledge Salt's presence behind him, and bumped into her almost as soon as he turned around. His food was now all over the floor, and somewhat on Salt's shirt. "Ugh! Like, seriously!?" She shoved Balloon a step back. "Gross, now I have to change." She crossed her arms and glared at her 'assiliant'. "I- I'm sorry! I didn't see-" "Stop staring at me and pick up your shit!" Salt was quick to interrupt, meanwhile Pepper was fetching her some paper towels. Balloon gulped, then hesitantly knelt down to pick up his mess. It was awfully humiliating to kneel before Salt like this, especially given how threatening she can be.. At least, to Balloon. He was about halfway done until he felt a foot against his shoulder, and before he knew it, he was laid across the floor. Salt started laughing, and of course, so did Pepper and a few witnesses. Balloon could feel the tears pooling beneath his eyes, but he dared not crying in front of these two, for it'd only make things worse. "How pathetic of a man can you be? Honestly I'm like, tired of this depressing victim complex." Salt started, then, Pepper chimed in. "Just run back to your room and starve; it's not like you should be eating that much anyway." Balloon struggled a bit to stand, fearing he'd be knocked over again. Thankfully, he wasn't, and once he was on his feet again, he sped walked for the elevator.
As soon as the elevator doors shut, the flood gates had opened, and heavy tears trailed down Balloons reddened cheeks. He lifted his hands to his face in embarrassment, now praying there wouldn't be anyone waiting on the next floor. Balloon took a deep breath and wiped his face, hoping it wouldn't be obvious he was crying, but of course, he didn't have much time to recover before the doors opened. Balloons eyes met Trophy's, of all people. Trophy never really said anything when it was just the two of them, but he'd talk about him around others in order to avoid being targeted by those snakes they call Salt and Pepper. Trophy stepped aside, avoiding eye contact as Balloon continued on to his room.
It felt like forever for those doors to shut again. Trophy began nervously fiddling with his camera after pressing the floor button. Luckily for him though, it was clear Balloon had been crying, so he now had something to get him out of whatever shit he may receive upon entering the hotel lobby, but he still wasn't ready to hear said shit. Even worse, he had his camera on hand. His photography hobby was nothing new to his fellow residents, but it wasn't often they'd see him with his camera. When they did, they'd, of course, make fun of him and call him names. Despite his hobby bringing him comfort, he was beginning to feel like the effort to get there wasn't all worth it. Though, this seemed to change once he actually gets to take his pictures. The ding of the elevator brought him back to reality, and the doors shifted apart. With a deep breath, Trophy prepared himself; he gripped his camera and kept his gaze fixed on the carpet beneath him.
Halfway through the hallway, a familiar voice met his ears. "Picture boy! Off to like, stare at some flowers?" Salt snickered, followed by Pepper. Trophy scoffed. "At least I wasn't whining in the elevator like some sissy, what'd y'all do to that airhead this time?" Trophy forced a chuckle, well disguised. "Ugh, he threw food all over me so I kicked him while he was down. Not surprised he started crying." Salt crossed her arms, accompanied by a scowl. Trophy took the opportunity to hurry up and leave before on of them decided to return the topic to himself; right before Trophy shut the front door, Salt spoke up once more. "By the way, Trophy." He stopped, but didn't turn around. "Don't think your like, above Balloon. You're just as little as he is." Her words instantly pierced his skull and seeped into Trophy's mind, forcing a shaky sigh out of him. He grit his teeth, then shut the door.
Finally, mother nature. It seems at this point she's the only one Trophy can talk to.. Something he himself would find embarrassing as well. It was comforting to consider he was talking to someone else other than himself, despite knowing it was just an excuse to save himself the self pity. Quickly, he shook these thoughts away, and made his way around the hotel. He came across a familiar path behind the building, one he treaded often. It led deep into the forest, exhibiting some of what Trophy believes to be the most stunning sights on this god forsaken island. As much as he hates this chunk of land, it had its perks. Trophy excitedly made his way down the path, ready to photograph whatever he may have missed the previous hundred times.
Meanwhile, Balloon watched from his window. It was out of no particular interest in Trophy, merely boredom. This wasn't the first time he'd seen Trophy walk down that path, or anyone for that matter. He even planned on taking it himself; he just never got around to it. Maybe he should sometime tomorrow. His focus shifted to the clock on his nightstand; 3:00 pm. "Guess I should start writing those essays." Balloon mumbled to himself. Was this really a good idea? Only one way to find out..
The sunlight poured through each crack between the blinds upon Balloons window, mercilessly shining down on his previously rested eyes. This ultimately forced him up, despite him attempting to bare the blinding light. As soon as he sat up, he remembered the letters he'd stuffed under the recipients doors last night. Time to view the results.. Balloon reluctantly stepped out of bed after checking the time; it was 9:17 am, so most people should still be downstairs. He threw on a random white T-shirt and made his way to breakfast, coming up with various scenarios on the way; most were bad. Once he was there, all eyes were on him. People were grouped around others to read the letters, all laughing, of course. It felt like his heart stopped; his chest tightened at the sight. Right before he was about to leave, Nickel spoke up. "Well, look who it is! The poet himself!" A couple of others chuckled. Balloon slowly turned around, clearly distressed. "I-" "Save it." Balloon was quickly interrupted by Nickel. "What is it with you and this desperate attempt for sympathy? Sorry you were an asshole that tried to manipulate everyone- sorry, is still trying to manipulate everyone." Nickel sneered. "Yeah.. We're not falling for this victim complex of yours." Pickle followed, crossing his arms. Balloon was about to speak up until Trophy brushed past him on his way to the kitchen. "Move it, airhead." A few acknowledged his presence, but others, like Knife, were still fixed on said airhead. "Honestly, you should just give up; I think I can speak for everyone when I say I'd rather you just go back to being the same old Balloon. This pity party of your's is just.. hard to watch." Hearing this did not settle well with Trophy. He didn't usually stand up for Balloon, but this affected him too, in a way. "Same old Balloon? Says the loud and proud jerk! You should just go back to being the same old murderer Knife then, hypocrite." Unlike Balloon, Trophy would tend to talk back more often, but of course, this would only dig his grave deeper. Did he care? At this point, why should he? "That's rich coming from you." Knife's words cut through the thickening atmosphere. Trophy scowled. "Takes one to know one then." The two stared each other down for a while before Knife decided to 'be the bigger man' and drop it before things escalated. This only pissed Trophy off more, but he decided persistence was pointless; it'd only make him look immature now anyway, so all he did was grumble and stomp off toward the elevator. "Serves him right." Knife scoffed once Trophy was out of sight. While most were focused on the rivals, Balloon took the opportunity to turn and scurry back to his room. It was times like these he was especially grateful to not have a roommate to come back to, since it was clear everyone here would continue to hate him.
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The prologue is done 😭🙏
Any tips are greatly appreciated, ignore any unnecessary apostrophes that was the one thing I was too lazy to fix 😔
1658 words 👅
This might take a while to update since the story isn't 100% planned out, I had jus come up w this a while ago
