Chapter Text
“...Am I dead?”
“no!! wait, actually…”
Any comment from Poob that might confirm you are, in fact, dead drowns out when you bury your face further into their couch’s cushions. It’s your fault, really. You ask them the question, knowing they’ll answer honestly, but every time you think you’re ready to hear it, you panic at the last second.
Finding out the truth piques your morbid curiosity, but at the same time, it makes you sick thinking about what could’ve happened to you after you entered the elevator. It doesn’t help that you have even *more* questions that you probably don’t want the answers to. Are there other floors like this one? Are you and Poob the only ones here? Did you die, or are you just in some weird limbo?
Did your manager know this would happen but chose not to warn you?
You feel Poob pat the top of your head.
“i’m done!” You hear them say, voice muffled.
Taking much more time than needed, you lift your head and sit up on the couch. Poob is sitting on the opposite end, with their legs crossed and arms propping up their head. They’re watching you intently as if waiting for you to speak first.
You avoid their staring and instead focus on the two tantalizing cake slices on the coffee table across from you. It's a yellow cake with a whipped blue frosting covered in rainbow sprinkles.
Huh. Some pretty absurd things have occurred lately, but materializing cake is new! It’s not like you’re complaining, though.
You decide to go with the more rational explanation for the cake’s sudden emergence: while you were distracted with silly thoughts of mortality, Poob must have baked it for you. It’s not often you receive cake when undergoing a crisis, but it’s nice that they went through the trouble to make it for you.
You’re practically salivating just looking at it. When was the last time you ate anyway? You’ll have to remember to pick up something on the way out. There’s a nice restaurant near your office, but the prices are always so-
Oh, right. Nevermind.
“you can have it if you want,” Poob says, apparently reading your mind. “i made the whole thing for you anyway!! i’m not a big fan of cake.”
You feel bad taking such a large slice without doing anything in return, but with the way things are going, you don’t even *know* if you’ll ever have cake again after this point. This could be your only chance.
You mumble a ‘thank you’ and set the plate on your lap, diving the fork into the cake. You place it in your mouth, sighing once the dessert hits your tongue. Maybe it’s the gnawing hunger you feel or that you haven’t had cake since your birthday, but this is the best thing you’ve eaten in a while. It’s the perfect ratio of frosting to cake, and it’s even your favorite flavor. You’re not going to question how Poob figured that out.
You try to be as polite as possible despite your hunger, sawing tiny pieces of cake off and covering your mouth while you eat. But soon enough, the tiny pieces turn into forkfuls. Eventually, there’s nothing but smeared remnants of cake on your plate. Looking down at the sugary carnage you left behind makes your face warm with embarrassment.
Poob laughs. “well, i’m glad you liked it!! my other friends aren’t huge fans of my baking…”
You don’t believe that for a second. You’d kill a man for dessert like this if it came down to it. You’d literally ride that elevator a million times *just* for the promise of getting to eat their cake again.
You nod in response, figuring your enthusiasm would be a little too intense.
There’s a comfortable silence, the muffled party music from their room being the only thing you hear.
“why did you ask if you’re dead?” Poob finally says.
“I dunno,” Your words are barely passable as a reply, slurred from the cake in your mouth and your unwillingness to talk. “Feels like I am.”
“well, is there anything i can do to help?? i don’t like seeing you sad…”
You wordlessly shake your head, idly playing with the prongs on your fork. Poob taps their chin, making an exaggerated ‘hmm’ sound as they think.
“Really, Poob, don’t worry about-”
“hold on, i know just the thing to make you feel better!!” They suddenly leap from the couch and bound into their room. The door shuts behind them, and once again, you’re left alone with your thoughts.
~
You find yourself lingering in the elevator again, pressing the buttons in hopes that one of them, any of them, will send you right back to your office where you belong.
Nothing happens, unsurprisingly. Poob told you several times the elevator doesn’t work like that; the buttons are only for show. It just goes ‘wherever it wants to go’ regardless of what the rider wants.
‘Wherever it wants to go.’.
The way Poob talked about the elevator made it seem alive. Sentient.
You shudder at the thought. A living elevator isn't something you want to think about for long.
You peek out of the cabin and hear Poob moving around in the room to your left. The door is slightly open.
You don’t know much about them besides their baking skills and…interesting relationship with interior design. They’re the only friendly face you’ve seen here, and you’re most likely staying with them for a while anyway. Maybe now is a good time to get to know them.
You lean out of the elevator to amplify your voice better.
“Do you usually go around exploding party poppers in random stranger's faces?” You ask.
The noise in their room stops as if they're thinking, and then it resumes.
“oh no, not at all! that's a pretty serious hazard, you know!”
Clearly.
“today’s my friend pest’s birthday,” Poob continues, occasionally poking their head out of the door. “and i’ve been waiting to surprise them in my apartment! but whenever i heard the elevator stop, i got too excited and accidentally set them off thinking it was him!”
You look down at the carpet leading to the elevator, which is covered in confetti. You smile at the thought of POOB repeatedly exploding party poppers every time the elevator shows up. It’s admirable how much they care about their friend--even if they *did* almost blind you.
“but i’m getting pretty tired of waiting, so i’m gonna bring the party to them instead!! i hope i can find him this time…”
You watch in bemusement as Poob exits their room, effortlessly carrying a large cake. It’s twice their size, with red and black piped frosting decorating the edges. There’s a cute doodle of Poob on the front, alongside some kind of creature with black mandibles and a red hat. They’re both smiling with little hearts surrounding them. That must be their friend.
Poob sets the cake down next to you. You resist the urge to ask for a slice.
“You made that?” Your question was more rhetorical than anything. You knew better than to question their baking skills.
“mmm-hmm! and all we need to do is deliver it to pest!!”
You freeze. “We?”
Poob nods excitedly. “yep!! i can’t wait for you two to meet!! i spent all month planning this party--it’s gonna be legendary!!!”
A party? Not even two hours into this mess, and Poob expects you to attend a party?
Hell, you don’t even *know* if its been two hours! If your sense of time is *this* skewed, you don’t think your social skills will hold up either. A polite laugh at an awful joke will only get you so far.
“Poob, I don't think this is a good idea. I mean, what if I ruin your friend’s birthday by talking about death or something?” you say, leaning against the elevator’s wall. “I think I’m going to stay here. I hope you have fun, though.”
Poob doesn’t look the slightest bit disappointed. Instead, they have this determined look on their face, the kind that’s itching to give you an ‘inspirational’ pep talk. You cringe, awaiting the speech that is sure to come.
“look,” they begin, “i know you’re going through a lot right now, and some silly party won’t help much, but it’d be *really* nice if you came with me!”
You prepare to turn them down, but they continue.
“pest…doesn’t have many friends, y’know? and even if they don’t show it, i know he’ll appreciate you being there!! you won’t ruin anything, i promise!” Poob extends their hand. “and maybe i’ll give you a slice of cake or two if you say yes!”
You give the cake in question a once-over. Upon closer inspection, the frosting is flaking, and the cake is crumbling apart. Poob must’ve been waiting for their friend longer than you thought. You look up at them, their smile never faltering despite your hesitation. You don’t have much of a choice, do you?
You sigh in defeat and take their hand. “Alright, I’ll go. It’s not like I have anything better to do.”
Poob’s smile grows impossibly large, and they pull you into a hug. “thanks a bunch, friend!! i promise, it’ll be super worth it!!” Before you can awkwardly reciprocate, they release you and quickly hoist the cake into their arms. They gesture towards the elevator.
“come on!!!”
You stare blankly at their apartment one more time.
It’s going to be a long way down.