Work Text:
It should’ve been an ordinary, boring office day like any other. Walking inside the lobby to see the usual buzz of people proved such a lie to Protag at the time. The receptionist was on the phone and, as always, shooed him off when he caught only a glimpse of them.
There was a meeting scheduled for the early hours of the morning. However, the office was always crowded no matter the time of day. Everyone became desensitized to the absurd hours they must abide by, for they are mere guinea pigs in this capitalist hell. Aside from the CEOs, perhaps, the people here (regardless of their role) are far from normal.
After a minute of pushing and shoving, “Sorry” and “Excuse me”s, Protag had finally made it to the elevators that aligned the far wall. Everyday, he forces himself to stomach his trauma with elevators, and take one to his destination. There hasn’t been any strange “hiccups” ever since the incident with his job interview, but sweat still collects along Protag’s brow and his chest tightens along with every beat of his heart as he stands under the fluorescent, flickering lights while he ascends higher.
The only odd thing is that he’s usually alone, or with one or two other people. All the other elevators are full to the brim with employees, but once he hops on, not a soul can be found by his side. Protag is grateful for the peacefulness at times, despite being somewhat scared of it. These circumstances are a reminder of his loneliness— or, his first experience ever being on one of the elevators here.
Although, the most annoying part of it all, are the memories of him coming back to Protag each time.
That man was once a curse, then a blessing, and now a curse once more. His eyes betray his mind when they’re in the same room together. They immediately look for him, and once his irises land on the man, Protag finds himself caught in a trance. Poignant memories and pleasures that he once indulged in come flooding back to him— until they lock eyes, and he forces himself to snap out of it.
He repeats to himself to not look for the man, because there is nothing left to salvage. Yet, it’s hard not to be selfish when he’s been living for others all this time. Except now, he lives for nobody. Only the short leash of something muddled between hope and lies and broken promises has kept him going this far. It is a question of how long he can keep dragging on before that leash breaks and sets him free.
The chatter of passersby drowns out when the metal doors in front of him finally open to reveal an all too familiar scene. One where so many things have taken place, yet no one but him can remember such monstrosities that is ineffable to the sane, human mind.
Biting his tongue, he steps on in a hurry to get this over with. Quickly, he presses the button to the appointed floor, and stands still. He waits to see if anybody else will get on, and to no surprise, everyone else continues to walk by. Protag breathes in once the elevator doors begin to close. This will be just like any other office day.
“Hold the door!”
Until he hears a chafing voice.
The shiny toe of a shoe blocks the doors from closing right at the last second. In response, they slide open again, and before Protag stands the last person he ever wants to see again.
His Coworker.
The blonde has his ever-charismatic, annoying grin that quickly disappears once his two brain cells rub together and recognize who is in the elevator with him. In a panic, he briefly examines all the other elevators within the room, and sees that they’re all packed to the point that they could very well be exceeding the weight limit.
His head turns back to his ex, who meets his defeated gaze with a somber expression. Coworker squeezes his eyes shut and trudges in with a sigh. He doesn’t dare to look over, or even move after he selects a button. They just stood there in awkward silence, as tension built between the two in the stagnant, humid air.
Things begin to feel concerning when the elevator hasn’t made much progress on getting them to their desired location. It doesn't feel as though they left the ground at all. In fact, they can still hear snippets of chatter from beyond the confinement of the metal doors.
Protag glimpses back at Coworker as he checks his watch, and from a distance he is able to read the current time. It is only a few minutes before his meeting starts. Protag’s mind swirls with confusion; his eyes bouncing off each wall of the elevator as if the answer he was searching for would be entrapped between yellow walls. The sounds of Coworker’s tapping foot grows louder, and the strain between them becomes so unbearable that he can no longer wait for Protag to make the first move. So, he speaks.
“I think the elevator broke down.”
His voice is so unexpectedly monotone and dead, that it makes the reality of this situation finally dawn on Protag. The stress then kicks in.
Not only is this elevator most likely out of order, but he is trapped in this claustrophobic space with his ex of all people. Protag is definitely going to end up being late for his meeting (which, he will for sure hear an ear full about it from his boss)— and, the worst thing of all is he could be reliving the interview scenario. It’s easy to assume that since he’s already gone through this before, he would know what to do.
Protag put his fists against his forehead. He needs to be the rational one— he’s always been the rational one. For God's sake, he died multiple, tragic deaths that he still gets nightmares about, yet he can’t bear to be in the same room alone with his past lover? It was so pathetic; he was still trying to process why this was happening to him a second time.
His colleague fake coughed, trying to regain the attention of the other. “Jeez, you can’t even hide how much you wanna get away from me.”
Protag stared blankly at him for a minute, and when his effort for conversation seemed to be futile, Coworker could only sigh. “Don’t bother, then. I guess I have to do all the work…”
The intern scoffed at him, crossing his arms. It was obvious Coworker was saying that for the sake of being dramatic— at least he can somewhat act, otherwise he’d be wholly and completely insignificant. “Oh yeah, sorry this situation doesn’t have building blocks involved. Isn’t that the only thing you’re best at?”
Coworker rolled his eyes, “Whatever. Just let me make a call and we’ll be out of here in no time.”
Absolute panic hit Protag; crashing down on him akin to a tidal wave. Adrenaline coursed through his veins at the thought of watching his colleague (Ex? Former love of his life?) get killed. Not for the first time, but again. Further proving such a repetitive cycle; these neverending nightmares won’t ever stop, nor will he ever wake up.
At least he could make an effort.
“Wait!”
Just as Coworker’s finger raised to press the button, he stopped entirely and looked back at the intern with a bitter expression. “What?”
“That won’t help.”
The other blinked at him. “Um, they have a ‘Call for Help’ button for a reason. You should know shaking and crying won’t exactly help us either. Stop trying to keep up the whole newbie shtick, it’s not cute anymore and I won’t buy it now.”
“I got us out last time, I can do it again!”
“Might I remind you that all of the buttons don’t work? It’s not just the floor nine button this time. The elevator won’t move at all.” Coworker turned back to the pad of buttons and pressed every single one to prove a point. The elevator still refused to budge. “See? I pressed them all, waited a minute, and they still aren’t here. You just get sadder and sadder every year…”
Protag crossed his arms, “I’m surprised you actually did something for once, considering how everybody has to drag around your deadweight.”
“Then I wonder what the past year has even been to you.”
Spite stirred in the intern’s gut like a nauseating cocktail; begging to be free and to hurt whatever was closest. Protag’s sensibility left him, and he let his emotions get the best of him, but when did anybody ever listen to him? This could be just the same as any other situation where his words are heard, albeit never truly acknowledged.
So he doesn’t even give a second thought to what he’s about to say, before it erupts from his mouth as a means of defense. “Something heavy and useless that’s finally been lifted off my back.”
Coworker stopped for a moment. It looked as if the blonde was digesting his words, yet he still couldn’t stomach the truth. Protag’s voice echoed and rang like a pitiful cacophony, until they both gained enough courage to look each other in the eyes again. All was silent then, but not at all tranquil.
His colleague’s eyes were not filled with fear or anger— in fact, not with any sort of recognition. His eyes were devoid of familiarity and Protag could almost see himself staring back. Every memory they made together has become worthless, because now his colleague looked at him as if he were a stranger.
At least things are better off that way.
“I can’t believe you.” He whispered harshly— his tone entirely laced with venom and edge. “And to think this is the same person I fell in love with.”
Such vulgarity to his remark was only a mask to hide a vulnerable part of himself. For a moment, Protag could hear, or maybe even see, a pained expression from Coworker. It made whatever words the intern had on his tongue dry out. Now, the elevator feels unbearably warm, and all sound has drowned out— except for a buzz from the intercom.
His colleague pressed the Help button without further consideration about the warning.
The intern froze up in shock. His eyes darted between the intercom and Coworker as they began to talk back and forth. Their words fell flat to his ears though, as his mind couldn’t even process what was happening. Protag’s hands began to quiver and he watched the elevator doors with intent, before a voice broke him out of his shock.
“Hello?!”
Protag’s eyes snapped towards Coworker. He hadn’t lost his head, yet.
“We’re going to be leaving in an hour,” Coworker stated coldly, “So don’t worry about having to stay with me for long.”
“An hour?! Is it not thirty seconds?” Protag gawked, confused and concerned.
“What’s gotten into you? It takes a while to fix these things. Thirty seconds is absurdly quick. An hour is the fastest and the most reasonable.”
This may not be playing out the same as before, but Protag still refuses to trust this situation entirely. He backs up into the far wall, and slumps down to his knees.
Not another word was exchanged between the two. It continued in a tense, hushed quiet for what felt like an eternity. They already said all that needed to be said— yet why did it still not feel like enough?
Protag picked at his nails, before pinching at the skin, then moving on to pull at the knuckles. It was a way to insert himself back into an universe that rejected him; grounding him once more, so he can be reassured that this is all real. But, he couldn’t decide if it actually did make him feel any better. The illusion of suffering is just as insulting, yet less punishing. At least if this was all fake, Protag would know he’s not shackled to the redundancy of an abandoned world with nothing left for him.
He had something, someone, that made this humanity slightly comfortable. Nevertheless, there is no permanency of happiness to a world that lacks of kept promises, while upholding ugly lies with even uglier truths. At times, he tries to convince himself that despite everything, Protag has made it this far. He hasn’t lost himself.
Now, he’s not even sure of that. This company has him restrained, until death do they part.
“Did you mean it?”
Protag almost didn’t hear him at first. “What?”
“I mean—“ His colleague’s cracking voice was weak; a complete 180 from his usual booming, braggadocious way of speaking. “Did I… really drag you down like that?”
He stammered for a moment as he tried to come up with some sort of explanation or excuse. It would’ve been best to ignore him the first time, but Coworker is ever so persistent. Protag knows that perfectly well. Almost too well. “I did enjoy it.” Protag mumbled, avoiding any sort of eye contact. This is going to be rough. “I- it was nice while it lasted. At least, some of it. I don’t know why we hurt each other.”
He could feel himself being speculated. His words were too quasi; while they were true, they weren’t wholly sincere. Protag wasn’t sure what he would even hide, or what to even tell his former lover. Although, this partial falsity has to be written all over him if Coworker is having him cower in the corner; like an intimidated subject being interrogated thoroughly and restlessly.
“…You have your reasons. I have mine.” The blonde concluded after another prolonged quietude. He scratched feverishly at the skin under his watch. They were both nervous, yet neither of them had any power over each other. The two prey continue to circle each other as they wait for the other to pounce, attack, or do anything— because both of them are too scared to make the first move. Unaware that neither of them are predators, but their inflictions upon each other may as well consider them as such.
This has gotten nowhere.
“You made me happy for a bit, if that means anything. I wish it could’ve worked out better.” Protag attempted to ease into the conversation a little more. These agonizing minutes that are too close to centuries may have forced them to talk to each other, but there is no point in reconciling. At the very least, they could communicate what they regret, instead of furthering the damage of what has already been hurt.
Coworker fails to see this, though. He continues to dwell on the past, despite how unhealthy it is. “It could still work out! You just don’t trust me.”
“Some things just can’t be repaired and that’s fine. There’s plenty of other women, and men, out there who are so much better. We can both do better.” Protag stands up, his voice growing louder and more confident, but it still is absent of any hope. “We don’t deserve this.”
“I still want you, not them.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“When have you ever?”
“You had so many chances to prove that and only now do you want to fix what’s already been done and over with!” The intern fumed, growing agitated with Coworker’s nagging questions and comments. “Things are already hard enough for me. I can’t take this. We will only destroy one another more.”
The blonde shook his head stubbornly in denial, “I don’t care. If this is love, then I want it. I want you to hurt me so we can work on building each other back up.”
The way he was talking about this brought tears to Protag’s eyes. He’s so desperate he doesn’t care if he gets out of this relationship dead or alive. It’s shown how toxic they’ve become, yet also how lonely it is for both of them. Coworker would rather romanticize the grotesque and taboo of their relationship rather than move on. Perhaps it is the belief that maybe there isn’t anyone out there for them. That if they stay together, and continue to break each other apart, it’s better than to sulk in insignificance alone.
Protag refuses for them to live on like that. It seems as though they are at a crossroads where nothing will get better. However, the intern would rather his past lover remember him as his erstwhile muse, than remember him as another God that left him ravaged with nothing and no one else to turn to.
“This isn’t right in any way. Please don’t do this to yourself.” He cupped Coworker’s cheek, while a tear rolled down his face. “If you love me, don’t do this to me.”
Coworker placed his own hand over his, “Can I at least try again?”
This was a horrible idea. Protag knew he couldn’t give in, yet this felt like the finalist of goodbyes. He truly never wanted to see Coworker again after this, which is why he cursed himself for also wanting this. It’s easy to convince yourself that damage being done by a loved one is less hurtful, until they do harm you, and you realize that you would have bled the same if it were anybody else.
“Okay.” He exhaled in a shaky breath. “Just know there’s no chance I’ll take you back.”
The kiss felt the same as a dagger to the heart. Except, with a murder, there at least comes a motive, and there’s no passion or explanation that goes along with this. It is pathetic, vacant of emotion, and it is a desperate plea. For broken hope, for abandonment, and for “please love me once more.”
Love, as gentle as it is, can be rough and violent. The loyalty in it all is misleading, yet some only want love for what they get out of it, and not for the person. The mythologization of what it is and isn’t changes with each individual. There isn’t any doubt that it can be hard, but when you truly care for someone, it is as simple as anything.
Whatever they are, it isn’t simple, and they do not want the complexities that come with it. No disclosure will leave them happy with the mark of madness they have left on each other. This is the opposite of love; this is indifference, selfishness, and cruelty. Egomania has taken over them, and now they don’t even know what they want, or what they will even get out of this.
Loud static made them pull away from each other quickly, and they realized it came from the intercom. After a second of buzzing, the same voice from earlier spoke. “The elevator is now restored, thank you for your patience.”
At last, the big metal doors keeping them bounded to this room finally opened. Coworker looked back at Protag, to see if there was any sort of emotion on his face.
He wished there was, because all he is met with is a blank slate of his ex. Someone who has lost all identity, and any sign of life is drained from him. All that remains is memories.
Protag wasn’t even looking at him.
“I told you, I can’t do this.” He uttered quietly. Despite the sadness that has captured his face, he seemed scarily calm. Protag wiped away any tears that were stranded, and he is now, without a doubt, entirely broken. “This has been fun for you, I think. I need to go now.”
“Wait—!”
But it is too late. Protag got off the elevator, and was gone in an instant. Coworker couldn’t even remember why he even got on this elevator.
His body relaxed, feeling some relief that the moment is over, but at the same time he doesn’t want it to be. He wants Protag here, and not anywhere either. They weren’t made for each other, yet were intertwined all the same. What is disguised as love is ugly, broken, and has so much potential to be something worse. This is the perception of affection to man made terrors.
This is nature.