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There can’t be much worse than being trapped in an elevator…
Pierre would bet someone who likes dangling in a lift anywhere between the ground and the 30th floor is a psychopath... It makes his younger teammate’s amused smile all the more unsettling. The psychopath’s eyes glint and he bounces on his heels, drawing the lift into a steady shake.
“Stop! Yuki— I swear to God!” Pierre shrieks, scrunching his eyes shut, knees bending and arms stretching out to find as much stillness and balance as he can.
Yuki laughs at the awkward stick-man pose Pierre has adopted. “It’s safe, Pierre. Look—” His voice is uneasy, but steadily bright as he jumps.
Pierre sees nothing, but crumbles around the metal railing when Yuki’s landing kneads a hard mechanical creak out of the elevator. Admittedly, Yuki wasn’t planning to slam a heavy load on the wires they’re suspended by and he regrets that Pierre is curling in on himself like a pillbug… The Japanese driver’s eyebrows crease his forehead into flat lines, his stomach is lurching around like a helmet in a crashing car. Pierre is too busy hunching over and gripping onto the metal rails to catching sight of the younger’s distorting expression.
There’s only one more possible solution.
Yuki immediately messes with all the buttons, slamming a messy symphony over the unresponsive controls.
“Hey— Stop that!” Pierre steps over to drag Yuki’s hands away, the lift shaking under his weak knees. He freezes, delicately unlatching his fingers from the younger’s wrist, “Please…”
There’s something about Pierre’s cold hand and terrified grey eyes that saps all of Yuki’s brazen ambition… His teeth grimace, “Sorry— What should we do?”
Pierre pats down his pockets, “I’ll call— You just stay still — please.”
Yuki nods and eases into a sit, pulling his knees close to his chest.
“I didn’t bring mine—” It’s so unbelievable that Yuki laughs, handing over his. Admittedly, they had just been walking down the street to the convenience store, but Pierre is practically superglued to his device, so he looks a little sheepish as he holds it up for signal. No matter where Pierre stretches his arm around the decorated box, there is no reception… Damn the thick metal and concrete of high-class hotels! There’s a call button on the lift, but nothing happens when Pierre presses it, or double-taps it, or holds it down…
“At least we’re together—” Yuki assures, chin flat on his knees, pouting.
The lights fail with a swoomph. It takes only a few seconds for a pathetic glow of emergency lighting to illuminate the top of their prison. Pierre can only make out Yuki’s silouhette as a looming demon from the pits of hell… It takes the last rational cord of his brain to sink against the wall and shuffle closer so his teammate’s soft features can comfort his unease.
Pierre flicks the younger’s phone flashlight on and lays it on the floor, lighting the space with piercing white light.
Someone will surely notice the lift stuck, and so long as they stay still, they’ll be fine… Yuki’s right, at least they’re together. The emergency lights must only have about 10 minutes of life because now, bar Yuki’s phone, the lift is pitch black. It’s this creeping darkness that remind Pierre he’s in only a flimsy team shirt and shorts… He crosses his arms to retain as much warmth as he can, as it turns out, low body-fat makes you a target.
“You’re cold?” Pierre lies and denies this. There has been no word from outside, and his bones are starting to chill… He can hear Yuki rustling around, white light catching on the lower planes of his face, “Wear this one—” Yuki chucks his jacket at Pierre, sleeves smacking against the numb skin of his arms…
“Aren’t you cold— you need to wear this—”
Yuki huffs, “My guns don’t need it.”
Pierre’s laughter tears from his chest before he shields his mouth, sensing the elevator jolt in time with his chest. He mumbles a thanks and pulls the clothing on, cautiously pulling the zip up, sleeves cutting too short…
“It’s dark…”
No shit. Yuki wants to say… It must have been 15 minutes since they sat — his phone confirms this. “You know what you do in the dark?”
Pierre’s mind jumps to a sordid dream he had one time…
“You kiss.” The younger’s voice is flat, serious…
“Aye— Nah nah nah, Stop joking. We could die—”
Yuki shrugs with his palms up like a cartoon, eyes wide, “You should do it before you die—“ His lips press into a playful pout, “kidding.”
“Come here—” Pierre holds out an arm, hand curved to cradle the back of a neck.
Yuki leans away, “You’re kidding…?”
“Turn off the light and get over here—” Pierre’s voice has dropped to a whisper, as if the security feed might hear… The curious part of the Japanese boy wonders how close he can get to laying his lips over Pierre’s handsome jaw… “slowly!”
Yuki plunges them into darkness, the emergency lighting having fizzled out into barely the reflection of a flow. The younger leans onto his palms and crawls the few centimetres between them…
Pierre’s hand tentatively finds a perch under Yuki’s broad jaw, sensing the anticipatiory shake in the younger driver’s bones. Yuki is placid like an obedient puppy, waiting with eyes closed until Pierre does something… call it a joke and laugh or just kiss him…
Their lips meet softly, the aim slightly poor in their gloomy prison. The stubble of Pierre’s cheek teases against Yuki’s lower lip, but that’s it. That’s all it is. A peck…
Yuki enthusiastically pressing back in and locking their open mouths into something a bit more raunchy isn’t what Pierre expects. It’s not unwelcome either, he finds himself trying to suck the waxy balm off the younger’s mouth, hands curved in Yuki’s unkempt hair.
The younger’s hands are a touch braver, frozen fingertips immediately prodding around Pierre’s waistband — cheeky. He breathes across Pierre’s cheek, clearly smirking, “ If we don’t die we can go to my room?”
Pierre likes the sound of the proposition, his own eager mouth is invisible until the main lights flash on, the lift whirring back to functioning. It travels smoothly to the ground floor, the pair having barely the time to jump to their feet and brush their clothes to a more casual appearance before their managers and a few members of hotel staff are suffocating them with questions and concern. Pierre not-so-subtly shoves his hands into his pockets to hide how short Yuki’s jacket sits around his arms as t hey both claim the incident is no big deal. The hotel extends complimentary access to the bar as a further apology and neither boy would turn that down…
Their managers insist on riding the lift with them to their rooms, and eventually they say goodnight, splitting into their rooms separated by 10 metres of gaudy hotel carpet.
It only takes a minute before there’s a knock on Yuki’s door…