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“That’s right, Clyde, you stupid asshole! I won, so that means you have to give me $20.” Eric smugly said, with his hands on his hips.
Long story short; Clyde, Eric, Craig, Tweek, Tolkien, and Kenny had one of their game nights again. The only reason Eric is even invited is that Kenny insists, much to the other’s dismay. Tonight was a game of poker, which soon turned into Eric calling Clyde gay. Clyde, of course, took the insult as an excuse to fat shame Eric, and it nearly ended in a fistfight. Craig tried his best to de-escalate the situation, and Tweek almost fainted from the stress. Tolkien was mostly worried about the noise pollution since it was his apartment.
Eventually, everyone calmed down, and it resulted in Eric betting Clyde $20 that he was better at poker than him. 30 minutes later, with countless cheating accusations coming Eric’s way, he won in the end.
The boys were sitting on the floor, cards spread out on the purple carpet, all looking up at Eric standing up laughing to himself. Clyde had his arms crossed, not looking happy about losing to a fat asshole like Eric fucking Eric. It wasn’t a matter of who was truly better at a game of poker, but rather principle.
Kenny was the second to stand up, flashing his gap-toothed grin as he gave Eric a high-five.
“Alright, guys, go home. It’s late.” Tolkien said abruptly, being the third to stand up. Tweek was resting his head on Craig’s shoulder and groaned when Craig slightly moved to get up.
Clyde reached into his coat pockets, took out his wallet, and landed on the only bill in there. He whispered a ‘goddamn it’ before waving the $20 in Eric’s direction without bothering to look at it, just in case President Jackson himself was laughing at him too. “Ha, you poor bitch, Clyde!” Eric snickered even more, snatching the bill and stuffing it into the pocket of his jeans.
“Come on, Cartman,” Kenny said, tugging on Eric’s shirt. Kenny opened the door and looked back at Tolkien. “Same time next week?” he asked. Tolkien rolled his eyes and nodded, being too occupied with getting the cards back in the box. Eric tried his best to hold his laughter while walking out, but Kenny hit his arm and Eric quickly became quiet.
"Dick," Eric whispered, wincing as he clutched his sore arm with his free hand. The hallway was enveloped in darkness, with only a few feeble lights clinging to the ceiling. Some struggled to emit any light at all, while others flickered weakly, casting a dim, yellowish glow.
“What time is it?” Eric asked, following behind Kenny to the stairwell. “It’s like 2 in the morning,” Kenny responded. Eric sighed and caught up with him, having to do a small run. He looked a small bit down to look at him as they reached the end of the hallway. The elevator and the door to the staircase. It wasn't rocket science to know which one Eric was going to go down with.
Eric pressed the button to call down the elevator, which earned a small giggle from Kenny. Eric opened his mouth to yell at him and stop fat-shaming him, but realized it was a school night for everyone there. It was a college dorm. “You going to mine tonight?” Kenny asked. He took out the car keys from his pocket, playing with them in his hand.
“Nah, too tired for anal,” Eric replied nonchalantly.
“Fucking gay ass,” Kenny snorted, which earned a stifled chuckle from Eric. “Bye-bye, Kinny . Don't think about me too much.”
Kenny grinned and opened the large plain door, flipping Eric off before walking into the staircase. Suddenly, an eerie silence filled Eric’s eardrums, but it wasn't long before the elevator dinged and began opening in front of him.
Eric stepped inside the small elevator. He pressed the first-floor button and leaned against the wall, looking up at the fluorescent lights before him.
He heard the doors start to close until suddenly, a pale freckled hand popped out in the middle to stop the doors from closing. Heavy breaths could be heard from the outside, and the doors opened up slowly. Eric just reminded himself to mind his own business and try his best to not make a snarky comment.
Until he saw who the fuck was on the other side.
“Oh my fucking God, not you!” Kyle groaned. Eric rolled his eyes. “Get inside, Broflovski. I’ve got places to be,” he said, ushering with his hand to come inside the enclosed space. “Like you have anywhere to go, fatass,” Kyle murmured under his breath, going inside anyway despite the hesitation. “I heard that,” Eric snapped, turning his head to look at him.
“I forgot you lived here,” Eric said, looking him up and down. He was in a white tank top and jeans, and surprisingly, he was also without his hat. It was rare to see him without that stupid ushanka he always wore on top of his wild, red curls—or, as Eric recently started calling it, his Jewfro .
The door shut closed, and they could both feel the elevator start moving down. Kyle crossed his arms, furrowing his brows. “If I knew you were here, I'd take the fucking stairs.” Kyle began arguing. “You're still fucking mad at me? I didn't even start the damn fire, that was Butters, dude!” Eric said, his eyes fixed on him, looking for any sign of reaction.
“I. Don’t. Care. It was still your fucking idea, and my landlord increased my fucking rent—”
Before his brain could process anything, darkness overcame in his vision. He could barely make out Kyle in front of him. The elevator wasn’t moving anymore, and it was quiet. Too quiet. Eric was terrified.
“Not again!” Kyle moaned and walked over to the panel, clicking the red emergency button that was only felt by touch.
The button beeped and a bored male started speaking on the other side.
“Hello, what’s the problem?” the voice spoke. “Yeah, uh, we’re stuck in an elevator. Send us help. Thanks.” Kyle said, irritated but still trying to be friendly. Could this rich college building not afford to build better elevators or something?
The male voice spoke again, this time preceded by an audible groan. “Again? I’ll contact the fire department right away. They should be there in about 30 minutes.”
Eric couldn’t see it, but he felt Kyle tense up. “30 minutes?!” Kyle shrieked. Eric chuckled slightly, which was more an attempt to try his best to calm down rather than genuine amusement. He’s never been stuck in an elevator before—like he’d imagine many others haven’t either.
“Fine, thanks. Bye.” Kyle said.
The call ended with the sound of a phone being slammed down. Kyle moved around and sat down in the corner, sighing and resting his head on the back of the wall.
“Does this happen a lot?” Eric broke the silence. His voice was shaky and breathy. He leaned back onto the wall after regaining his composure. He was close to a panic attack, and he needed someone to talk to calm him down. Even if that someone was, well... Kyle , who did the opposite most of the time.
Kyle huffed in response. “Third time this week.”
It was scary not being able to see anything, he could only faintly make out the figure of Kyle if he squinted and his eyesight started imagining weird dark shapes. He closed his eyes. He knew he shouldn’t be scared, especially not when a pussy like Kyle is in here with him and completely unbothered.
But then he felt a pang in his chest.
“Fuck...” Eric breathed out, clutching at his chest. He was desperate to feel a presence of life within himself, but also scared to know he was living. Scared that he has a heart, a pulse, a brain—knowing they could just suddenly stop working. His knees started shaking, and his heart was fluttering. It was a full-on panic attack.
Kyle didn’t want to acknowledge Eric was in the same vicinity as him, but he noticed as his breath quickened. He noticed the shakiness in his voice from earlier but deduced it to him being scared. As much as he loathed him, he felt a bit bad. He must be really scared.
Eric kept feeling around for his heartbeat underneath his shirt, and when he couldn’t find one, he panicked even more. He took his hand away from underneath his shirt and used his other hand to scan for a pulse in his wrist. This was so embarrassing, but he was glad Kyle couldn’t see him. He wasn’t even sure if Kyle could even notice how tense he was right now, or the rapid movement of his legs ever-so-slightly shaking the elevator. He wasn’t sure if he could hear his ragged and quick inhales and exhales.
Kyle had enough. He knew this was probably some master plan for attention. He didn’t want to entertain his antics, but the quiet atmosphere amplified Cartman’s breathing and his shaking made the entire elevator move. Kyle smiled to himself, debating on whether or not to make a fat joke but ultimately decided against it.
“What’s wrong now, fatass?” Kyle asked, leaning his head backward so it was touching the wall of the elevator. He could hear Cartman slump down and sit down at the opposite end of the small elevator.
“Leave me the fuck alone, Jew.” Cartman snapped. This was humiliating enough without Kyle being there, and in a way, he made the panic attack worse. He didn’t want Kyle to see him like this, see him as a victim, someone to feel sorry for.
Badum-badum-badum...
His heart was pounding in his chest and Eric started stressing even more, thinking this was going to lead to a heart attack. Or a stroke. Or a brain aneurysm. Or some unidentified illness only he has that leads to sudden death.
His left arm was going numb, and his fingers, mostly his pinky finger, went cold... too cold. It was so fucking terrifying. Was he really going to die like this? Trapped in an elevator with his mortal enemy who couldn’t give a fuck about whether or not he was okay? Who wouldn’t talk to him ever again if given the chance to escape South Park?
Thoughts were racing through his head a hundred miles an hour. To Eric, this seemed like hours to him, but in reality only a few seconds had passed.
“Are you okay?” Kyle asked, this time with concern in his voice.
Eric didn’t respond. He wanted to, his mouth was open but no sound would come out. All he could focus on was his heart speeding up, aching, panging, fluttering, hurting. He’s been through a panic attack many, many times before but it never gets any better. Plus, Eric’s ego would hurt just a little too much if he went to a psychiatrist.
But Goddamn is he regretting not going to a doctor now.
“Cartman,” Kyle whispered. What now?!
“W-what?” Eric muttered. His arms were shaking and his legs felt like jello. He was simultaneously warm and cold, and his heart kept fluttering in periods. Never a consistent ache.
“Dude, you’re shaking the entire elevator,” Kyle said softly. His voice was now full of concern and pity, knowing Cartman wouldn’t pull this weak shit on him. Especially not in private. In public he would doubt him and this whole act, but not here. Not when it’s just the two of them.
“N-no shit, Jew,” Cartman stammered. He wasn’t sure if his sentence was even coherent.
Badum-badum-badum-badum. His heart rate increased, and he felt a cold sweat dribble down his temple. The flutter in his chest came to a stop for a brief moment but returned, coming in imperfect waves. Except these didn’t feel like waves, this was a tsunami.
“Eric.”
Kyle’s voice echoed in his head, repeating itself over and over like a broken record. His voice sounds so familiar but so strange at the same time. Another wave of chest murmurs began and he couldn’t take it anymore. This was beyond uncomfortable. He wanted out. Wanted to be back home, in his bed, reading a comic book or watching Terrance and Philip. Not stuck here in a small box with Kyle fucking Broflovski.
He felt the elevator move slightly, adding to his stress. What if it falls and we die? What if a fire starts suddenly? What if Kyle had some inflammable cologne on and Eric’s lighter just so happened to ignite? What if the fire department never came? What if they were stuck here forever?
Eric looked down, opening his eyes for a minute but still seeing nothing. Ugly shapes of darkness clouded his visions and it didn’t provide him any comfort so he closed his eyes again, trying his best to relax this time.
Eric felt a hand on his clothed shoulder, lightly stroking it. He didn’t have the strength to protest against him, in case his heart would give out due to the sudden movement.
Kyle sat down comfortably next to Eric.
“Dude, you’re okay,” he whispered lowly. Eric started shaking more and more, and finally, he let it all out.
Tears started pouring from his eyes, and loud whimpers were the only thing that could exit his mouth.
He was so fucking tired of this. Exhausted from anxiety constantly ruining his life, making him question every pain and ache in his body, every decision he made in his life. Every single time, all reduced to one conclusion: ‘you will die’.
Kyle was silent. He wasn’t sure how to react. Was he meant to comfort him, leave him alone, or get away from him? Why was Eric so fucking confusing, hostile one second, and a crying mess the next?
“You f-fucking Jew... get away fr-from me!” Eric whimpered, but it was barely understandable due to the loud sniffles and cries that replaced words.
Kyle knew right then what to do.
He wrapped an arm around Eric, holding him tightly. Kyle put a cold hand on the top of Eric’s head and held it close to his chest. Eric could smell cheap deodorant on him and felt every rigged edge on his body. He focused on every detail that Kyle had—every bone and every bump.
Kyle’s smell was distracting him from his slowing heart rate. He still felt pangs and flutters, but it was so much bearable now. Kyle was here, he had him in his arms, he couldn’t die now. They were both safe. He was safe.
Intrusive thoughts entered his mind, telling him this wasn’t real and that this was all a gimmick to distract him from his death that would occur any minute now. But for the first time since this all started, he could finally tell himself that this isn’t real, it’s all in your head.
Eric gradually calmed down, and cries turned into soft sobs.
“Lay down,” Kyle said, petting his head. He let go of his hold on Eric. He shifted his body so he was lying down and put his head in Kyle’s lap, facing the ceiling.
Kyle’s hand returned to Eric’s head, gently stroking his hair. The soothing and consistent motion soothed him so well. He closed his eyes once again, relishing this moment.
Badum... Badum... Badum...
His chest was still aching and panging in phases but his heart rate slowed down noticeably. He couldn’t hear it anymore in the silence of the elevator, instead relying on the artery in his neck that pulsated in his head that was pressed against Kyle's firm thigh.
They stayed like this for several minutes, not saying a single word. Occasionally a quiet sob would come from Eric and Kyle would ‘shh’ him and tell him he’s okay.
The darkness was comforting to Eric. He felt like everything was so peaceful. So silent compared to the constant buzz of the real world. His head was still in Kyle’s lap, muzzling against his thigh and breathing in a controlled rhythm.
A loud bang outside broke them apart. Eric sat up straight and wiped his tears, while Kyle put his knees closer to his chest. A few shushed masculine voices were talking to each other outside, and within seconds light entered the small elevator in a string.
Eric could see the dust particles in the air in the small string of light and squinted his eyes. Just when he was starting to appreciate the dark.
“You boys okay in there?” A voice from outside asked them. Kyle cleared his throat and answered with a gritty “Yeah”.
The doors extended far out and Kyle looked the other way quickly, covering his eyes as fast as he could. Eric squinted his eyes and yawned, looking up at the two firefighters in front of them.
“Hope you didn’t wait too long for us, it’s a bit late now,” the taller, darker man out of the two said, tossing large pliers to his side. “Want a ride home or you boys okay?” the same man asked again, offering a hand inside the elevator to help them get up.
The second firefighter offered his hand out as well and Eric took it, hoisting himself up. Kyle took the other man’s hand and got up, scrubbing his knees from dust that was on the elevator floor. Eric instinctually did the same and walked out from the small box to the lit hallway.
“Took you assholes long enough, damn,” Eric said, trying his best to get back to his normal, snarky self. “We’ll get home by ourselves.” he added. Kyle glared at him.
Kyle wanted to tell them to ignore him and say thanks but he was still getting accustomed to the bright light. The firefighters smiled without their eyes and turned around and the taller man grabbed the pliers from the ground. When Kyle’s vision returned to normal, they were both gone.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?! We could’ve gotten a ride home, you fat fuck!” Kyle whisper-yelled, being aware that people were indeed sleeping at this time.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Eric said nonchalantly while wiping snot away from his nose and sniffling, satisfied that his nose was no longer full. “Dick,” Kyle said, walking over to the staircase door.
Eric followed him to the door, and they both went downstairs without saying anything.
Down at the lobby, Eric pulled out a box of cigarettes and pulled one carefully, positioning it between his lips. They walked out to the cold and Eric leaned against the stone wall next to the door. Kyle looked at him with a questionable look and then looked down.
“Thanks,” Eric said, scavenging his pockets for a lighter. “Yeah...” Kyle said, turning his back to Eric, staring out to the dark street that was just barely illuminated by a few streetlights. “See you, Broflovski.” finally, he took a long drag and puffed out a big cloud of tobacco smoke.
Kyle grimaced a little at the smell but smiled. “You too, Cartman.”
And then he was on his way.
Eric looked down and smiled, taking another drag of his cigarette.