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glass-trash-bab · 2 days ago

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I've missed writing Henrik and Chase, and this idea just popped into my head!

Words: 4, 449 TW: Claustrophobia (fear of small spaces), panic attacks, mention of torture and isolation, graphic injury descriptions, vomit Summary: Henrik and Chase get stuck in a rickety old elevator, and Henrik is brought back to his time trapped in a cold locker. Chase does his best to soothe him despite his own anxieties.

Chase's life was a perpetual Catch-22 situation.

The moments that led up to this one were a continuous line of bad luck, each knocking into the next like dominoes.

He had needed a new pair of work jeans after accidentally tearing through his current pair in a very unfortunate place. Henrik, in turn, needed new white button-up shirts after a stray black sock had snuck itself into the washing machine. Rather than ordering online, they decided to make a morning of it and headed into the city in hopes of some window shopping.

It had unfortunately slipped both of their minds that it was the middle of Summer. Not only was the sun out, but so were parents seeking to entertain their bored children and shop for back-to-school supplies. As such, the streets were far more populated – far more noisy – than either of them could expect.

The tarps of market stalls painted the shadows in various colourful hues, but crammed passers-by and browsers onto the same pavement. Wisps of steam scented like street food and sugar tinted the air in which they breathed, but too much of it made them feel ill. They couldn't walk ten paces without shopping bags knocking into their sides or impatient pedestrians scuffing their shoulders for walking too slowly. If they were lucky, they would at least hear a mumbled "s'cuse me" or "sorry". Chase suspected the heat made the public less friendly, as they seldom experienced said luck.

With the sun so bright and the various shops drowned in the sound of children's tantrums and buzzing chatter, their energy was a rapidly depleting battery with no charger in sight.

Within one hour, their optimistic hope to window shop and grab lunch was watered down to just obtaining their required items and leaving as quickly as possible.

Henrik's joints started to ache, and Chase noticed he couldn't seem to communicate anything more than a distant hum or nod, so they agreed to call it there.

"We'll order some lunch at home. If you order it in the car, it'll basically be there when we get back." Chase suggested, to which Henrik nodded in relief.

With one bag in hand, their final obstacle presented itself. All they had to do was walk to the car, which Chase had unfortunately parked on the sixth story of the nearest multi-storey.

He had foolishly suggested the elevator in hopes of saving his poor boyfriend's knees. Though Henrik was as hesitant about the contraptions as he always was, he conceded by the time they stood at the base of twelve flights of stairs.

Henrik had refused to go near the things ever since he was rescued from that mortuary. That cold locker.

Regardless of the suffocating metal walls, he found the ones in car parks particularly repulsive.

In any other situation, Henrik would have opted for the hell of those concrete stairs in a heartbeat. But whether it was a glimpse of strength or some desperate need to get away from the noise and the pain, he stupidly opted for the only other option.

"It'll only take a minute, sweetheart," Chase had tried to reassure him.

The doors slid open, revealing a box illuminated by a dirty yellow light. Graffiti tagged every surface, and dirt occupied the corners of the floor, alongside a waft of old urine.

Chase expected nothing less, honestly.

He watched as Henrik hurriedly pushed himself into the very corner of the grimy elevator and grasped the handlebars without his usual care for germs. The doctor gulped down the saliva in his mouth and clenched his eyes shut.

It would only take a few seconds. A few seconds in this hell, and they would be back in the safety of their car.

The air grew significantly hotter as the rickety doors squeaked shut, and they felt a jolt through their stomachs as it began to rise.

Chase put a hand on Henrik's arm in hopes of keeping him grounded, watching the numbers slowly ascend with unbroken focus.

Henrik tried not to breathe, tried not to look.

The elevator rattled slightly, but it was fine.

He was fine.

We're almost there. We're almost there. We're—

There was a jolt strong enough to make Chase stagger slightly, followed by the sound of metal scraping before the elevator ground to a halt.

Chase stared at the dot matrix screen. The dots of rising arrows appeared in a line, then disappeared, then appeared again; over and over.

The number didn't ascend any further than 5.

For a moment, there was silence.

Chase waited, hoping, praying for something to change.

Nothing.

Henrik kept his eyes closed, every moment widening the nauseating pit in his stomach. Any moment now, Chase would give him the okay, and he could open his eyes and walk out.

Perhaps the doors were quiet this time. Perhaps his heartbeat hammering in his ears drowned out the sound of them opening. Any moment now, and Chase would take his arm and guide him out.

He was fine.

Instead, he felt Chase carefully lean over him, and heard the sound of a metal button being pushed.

Click.

A pause.

Click, click, click, click.

Henrik squeezed the handlebars.

"...Shit." Chase muttered.

"What?" Henrik asked too quickly.

"I- I think we're stuck,"

"What!?"

Chase let out a laugh, something he typically did when faced with any predicament.

Of course this happened.

Today of all days, now of all moments. When they were both exhausted, and Henrik was already on the verge of a meltdown.

Chase was certain the universe was determined to show him the middle finger at any given opportunity.

"Did you press the buttons?" Henrik questioned hastily with a trembling exhale.

"I'm pressing 'em and nothing's happening," Chase replied as he did precisely that. The number above didn't move, and the elevator remained utterly still, warranting another strained laugh and some attempt at a joke. "Should I try jumping?"

"No! Don't jump!" Henrik blurted out immediately. "Are you crazy?!"

"I'm not gonna! I'm just kidding!"

"It's not funny!"

He dared to open his eyes, some part of him hoping that Chase was playing a trick on him. That fleeting hope almost expected to see the doors wide open, only to feel that pit in his stomach drop even deeper into his gut.

Henrik laid eyes upon six metallic walls, dirty and closed in, with Chase craning over the buttons. Each of them had lit up now, but the elevator did not move.

"H-Hang on, I'll press the alarm."

"Oh Gott..." Henrik's breath hitched as his hands released the handlebars to grasp his curly hair. "Oh Gott, oh Gott."

"It's gonna be fine, sweetheart, don't worry," Chase said as he pressed his finger into the button with the faded depiction of a bell, which let out a long buzz like an apartment intercom. He held it there until the speaker spat and a tinny voice came murmuring through, boredly asking what the problem was. "Yeah, hi – uh, the elevator's gotten stuck or something... just two of us... I dunno, man, I think we're jammed between the fifth and sixth floor?"

Chase had to lean up close to the intercom to hear and speak, answering any question as his foot impatiently rapped at the filthy floor. His finger frantically tapped away at his thigh, and he nodded along almost in hopes it might force his brain to sponge up every word.

Henrik began to pace. If he were to hold his arms out to his sides, his palms would press against the vandalised walls.

A memory flashed in his head. Dark. Cold. So cold.

When his arms reached out back then, shaking and broken, his crooked fingers pressed against a metal ceiling only a few inches higher than his nose.

"Let me out!" He had called out over and over to the sound of gleeful laughter.

Chase laughed now as he pulled his hat off his head and brushed his hair back. It was the nervous kind—a forced replacement for sobbing.

The person on the other side of the speaker sighed as if they were in the middle of something life-changing, and their emergency had interrupted it. Chase didn't appreciate their tone, nor the condescending manner in which they referred to him as "sir" whenever the slightest glimpse of distress stumbled into his voice. Nevertheless, he agreed to everything with excessive nods and hums of acknowledgement, despite his foot rapping even harder into the floor. What else was he supposed to do? Degrade the person who supposedly had the means to free them?

That would only encourage them to have conveniently misplaced the telephone number for the maintenance company.

"What did they say?" Henrik asked, wringing his hands so hard it was like he was trying to strangle his knuckles. His shoulders had sharpened from the tension in his posture, and he looked sickly beneath the dull yellow light.

"Yeah, um, they said to try and stay calm and don't jump or try to open the doors 'n stuff—" Chase took a deep breath as he placed his hat back atop his head "—and they said the maintenance guys will try and get here within two hours."

"Two hours?!" Henrik echoed in alarm, any semblance of composure instantly cracking open into distress. "They expect us to sit in here for two hours?!"

"I-I know, sweetheart—"

"I can't do this again!" Henrik pulled his hands through his hair and over his face, gasping in the warm, foul-smelling air. "I can't do this again, I can't—!"

"I know—"

Chase took his shoulders in his hands, in hopes of not only grounding his lover, but himself, as well. Perhaps holding him might quell their trembling. His heart began to pound in his chest, faced with the prospect of time like a brick wall he could not hope to climb.

The grey walls, though they gleamed, reminded him of wall plaster. A box with a bed and a desk, a door he could not open, and a man in a lab coat.

He remembered being left in there for so long that all he could smell was his own sweat, and it disgusted him.

"— but it's okay, Hen, we're fine." Chase continued, reassuring himself just as much as him. "It's literally only some stupid old elevator. It's not falling, we're gonna be fine."

Henrik grabbed hold of him, as though this elevator was moments away from collapsing. His scarred, slender hands grasped his arms, cold palms against too-warm skin. His head sank to his shoulder, and his breath hitched as he held back a sob.

Chase stared at the scrawled graffiti and the inappropriate drawings scratched into the metal. The "FUCK U" scraped in with a pocket knife seemed a fitting sentiment, like the elevator itself was trying to rub salt on the wound.

Minutes passed. The arrows continued to ascend, but the number never rose from 5.

Henrik squeezed his arms. Chase could feel his glasses press against his collarbone as he forced his head closer to him. He was used to being held this way; he didn't mind it. In times like these, he felt so detached from his body that it was as though his very bones were floating away from him. The way the doctor held him squashed him back together again, as pliable in his hands as clay.

Yet he continued to spiral beyond what a simple hug could remedy, and Chase instantly found himself yearning to be held so tightly again.

He let go, opting to pace the confines of the metal box like a caged tiger. His brow gleamed with anxiety-ridden sweat.

Soon, his restless shifting gave way to punched-out sighs, then incoherent cries of accelerating distress.

Minute by minute, the air grew thicker from panic. Every attempt to console it garnered less and less attention. The temperature grew hotter, and Chase couldn't tell if it was his mind convincing him that it was or the elevator itself getting warmer. It was probably both.

He pressed the alarm button three more times and received the same bored answers with increasing impatience.

"The maintenance team are on their way, just try to remain calm."

He tried his phone in hopes the emergency services might be more responsive, but the elevator and the car park rendered the service to next to nothing. The most he could send out was an emergency SMS, which he wasn't sure even made it beyond the metal walls.

Henrik only spiralled further.

No matter what he did to soothe his boyfriend's distress, those inarticulate cries soon shaped themselves into words in both English and German.

"I can't, I can't, I can't..."

Chase wasn't sure how long they had been in there.

"Not again..."

It felt like an eternity.

"I want to go home..."

Knowing their luck, Chase could check his phone and likely see that only a minute had passed. He did not even dare try, more focused on Henrik. Too afraid to face that possibility.

"Hen, we're okay—"

Henrik tensed suddenly, his murmuring suddenly mutating into a frustrated cry through his teeth.

He practically collapsed against the elevator buttons, a violently shaking hand pressing into the alarm button, which let out another loud buzz.

"Lass mich raus!" He practically shrieked into the speaker, spit and tears trickling down his pale face. "Let me out!"

The speaker spat.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to calm down. The maintenance team is on their way."

It spat again, cutting out.

"Sweetheart—" Chase tried to cut in.

"Fuck you!" Henrik slammed his fist into the buttons, yet nothing happened. He heaved in a breath, his lungs burning from panic and the stench of old urine. "Fuck you, do you hear me!? Get us out!"

When the alarm button rang out to no response, the doctor collapsed to his knees, crumpling against the sordid walls like he did back in the mortuary.

"I can't do this again!" He knocked his fists against his head before they suddenly clasped over his face. With nowhere else to go, that anger fell toward Chase. "Why did you make us do this?!"

"I didn't know this would happen—!"

"We should have taken the stairs!" He suddenly exclaimed, his hands crossing over his body to clasp his jacket sleeves. His eyes looked enormous behind the thick lenses of his glasses, wide and wild. "We would have been back in the car by now!"

"Henrik, you gotta calm down!"

"No!" Henrik shot back, choking on a sob as he tried to speak. "D-Do they just expect us to stay in here like sitting ducks?!"

"Y-Yeah, I guess!" Chase replied with a rueful, terrified laugh, because there was nothing else he could say.

Henrik tugged at his silvery hair, stray strands of curly hair caught between his fingers.

"Stop laughing!" He cried. "You're the one who got us into this; this is your fault!"

While his words were sharp, Chase had learned not to take them to heart, no matter how they tried. He knew better than most the venom one could spit in moments such as these, and Henrik had been on the receiving end of plenty of his in the past.

He knew Henrik never meant it.

Just like how Henrik knew he never meant a word of his, either.

So he stepped forward, even as his legs quivered beneath him, even when he wanted nothing more than to cry.

He knelt, reaching out and grasping Henrik's fists, no matter how he fought.

"H-Hey. Hen, listen to me." He spoke clearly, gently squeezing his knuckles in his palms in recognition. "We're okay. You're okay."

Henrik whimpered, his lip quivering as he averted his head. Strings of saliva caught between his lips as he opened his mouth to breathe.

"You're not back in that morgue, you're just in some dumb old elevator," Chase continued, his voice softening as Henrik tried to listen to him.

You're not back in that holding cell, you're just in some dumb old elevator, he told himself.

"This sucks literal ass, b-but we're gonna get out soon and we're gonna go home, okay?"

You're gonna go home.

"We just gotta stick this out, right?" Chase kept hold of his hands until they stopped pulling against him, and only then did he loosen his grip. Henrik nodded slowly. "It's– it's okay, I'm here."

It's okay, he's here.

"I mean, it's not like I can g- go anywhere, anyways..." Chase tried to joke, and it at least got Henrik to crack the faintest smile.

Chase did not know the full extent of what Henrik went through – he never spoke about it –but he could understand well enough. He knew enough every time Henrik shot up in the middle of the night, shrieking and clasping at his head. He knew enough whenever he caught glimpses of his bare body, littered in scars with bones ever so slightly bent from where they'd healed into malunions. He knew enough the day he did not listen to Jackie and ran down to that mortuary to see him cowering in the corner.

For Henrik, his mind swarmed.

He could still remember just how dark it was. So, so cold.

He remembered how those freezing metal walls reverberated his screams, mimicking him until his ears rang.

After days and days and days, unable to move, unable to free himself, he remembered the same filth, the same scents. How his trapped muscles spasmed, how his wounds in his back reopened like roses as he tried to struggle.

"Let me out, please let me out." His weaker voice had begged, to which the glitch only laughed and laughed and laughed.

Back then, he was alone.

Yet now, when he leaned forward, his sodden face pressed into a soft t-shirt and a rounded shoulder. If he breathed in, he could replace those foul scents with the faded traces of shampoo and cologne.

Henrik crumpled against Chase, his long arms squeezing him too tightly as he let himself weep.

His stomach was churning now, and the graffiti on the walls smeared in his vision.

Chase closed his eyes, exhaling as his hold pushed his mind and body back into one.

A moment passed.

"I-Is it a dumb question if I ask you how you're doing?" Chase then asked softly.

"I f-feel sick..." Henrik murmured with a hiccup, "I ff- fucking hate this..."

"Yeah..." Chase let out another rueful laugh.

No further update followed through the speaker, so they attempted to anchor themselves. To the present moment, to the imaginary image of anywhere but an elevator, it did not matter.

They did not dare to check the time, for fear that only a minute had passed.

A thud broke them out of their haze, enough to make Chase flinch violently as the entire elevator jolted.

"Shit-!" He exclaimed, his eyes darting up toward the ceiling where the dirty light flickered. It was his turn for his breath to catch in his lungs, fear finally piercing through him.

Henrik could not speak, but he tightened his grip.

For a brief moment, there was nothing.

A thought darted into Chase's head, wildly imagining it as a wasted life-or-death moment before the elevator would enter freefall.

Dread burrowed deep in his chest, and he waited for it to rise into his throat as the elevator toppled.

Yet nothing happened.

Instead, there was a creak, then a squeak of metal as the emergency shaft opened.

The pair caught a glimpse of a red hood, a blue mask.

"Chase! Henrik!" Jackie knelt down, craning through the hatch to catch a glimpse of them. "Are you two okay?! I got your message!"

"Jackie!" Chase exclaimed as the pair of them scrambled up onto their feet. "H-Holy shit!"

"Don't worry, I'm gonna get you out!" Jackie's eyes were wide, examining both of them for any sign of injuries.

Both of them recognised the look in his eye, that sense of alarm that was born the day he finally found Henrik in that morgue.

"You're stuck between floors, so I'm gonna lift you up onto the next one, okay?" He reached a hand down toward them. "Don't worry, you're okay – I'm not gonna let anything happen to you!"

Chase ushered Henrik forward without a second thought, "you first, Hen, it's okay."

He crouched down to give him a leg up, hoisting him up to meet Jackie, who easily pulled him through. Chase watched with bated breath as the hero lifted Henrik onto the next floor, where practically angelic sunlight beamed through.

Then, Jackie crouched down again, this time lower to reach him. "C'mon, Chase, it's alright!" He offered his hand down. Over his shoulder, he could see the silhouette of Henrik peering down into the shaft.

Chase followed suit, but of course, both the universe and the elevator had to give him one last "fuck you".

Chase jumped up once to try and catch Jackie's hand, but being far shorter than Henrik without the same leg-up to boost him, he missed. The elevator jolted as his Converse shoes struck the dirty floor, and sparks flew as metal scraped against metal in a horrendous shriek.

"Fuck!"

Jackie snatched a glance towards the cables before he reached down again, this time craning down so far he was practically dangling upside-down. Yet when he looked back, there was no panic on his face like there was on Chase's.

"It's okay!" He called out, his hand outstretched as the light from the floor above began to rise out of reach. "Just grab my hand, I've got you!"

"I can't-!"

Chase staggered as the elevator gave another heave, and the light flickered.

"Chase, c'mon!"

"Chase!" Henrik's voice echoed from above, rippling across the dark walls.

Chase's heart leapt into his throat just as his feet left the floor. He surely would have missed if not for Jackie lurching forward and snatching him by the arm.

Then, he completely lost track of what happened next.

He was hoisted up like he weighed nothing because, to Jackie, he did. Next thing he knew, he was pulled against him with one strong arm around his back while the other reached to his utility belt.

There was another scrape. The roof of the elevator crackled, then sputtered downward with a mechanical scream. Sparks caught his vision. A click, and something whirled, gleaming against the sunlight above.

Warm air brushed through his tousled hair, almost knocking his hat off his head, and he clasped it back on his head. The elevator beneath his feet disappeared. There was a thunderous, echoing crash, then, no sooner had the floor disappeared, concrete replaced it.

Sunlight blinded his vision as he stumbled, and, just like that, he was back on stable ground.

Chase doubled over to heave in a deep breath, his head spinning from the shock and oxygen. "Holy shit! Holy fuck!" He spun around, turning back toward Jackie as he fixed his grappling hook back onto his belt, and leapt to hug him. "Thank you!"

"Woah! Careful, you're gonna knock me down!" Jackie laughed faintly, but his eyes were darting across the pair of them to ensure they were not injured. He coaxed the pair of them away from the edge, where they caught a glance of the shattered elevator at the bottom of the shaft.

"What the fuck even happened?! How did you get here before the maintenance guys?!" Chase questioned frantically as he pulled away from his arms.

His blood buzzed in his veins, the adrenaline harsh and overwhelming.

"I don't know exactly, but looked like there was an issue with the cables. I think they got stuck or jammed or something. Whatever it is, it's a bit more than a simple fix now." Jackie explained with another glance behind him before looking toward them again. "I had your alert flag up on my system! It's lucky I got here in time – when I've dealt with trapped elevators, the maintenance guys are usually some kind of third-party that take a bit longer to come out than emergency services!"

From his eyes, they both looked dishevelled. They were red in the face and covered in sweat from the trapped heat, both trembling from their legs to their hands and soaked in tears. Chase looked like a glass bottle moments from shattering, whereas Henrik already looked thoroughly broken.

In fact, the moment the three of them had finished embracing, an oddly despondent expression washed over Henrik. Without warning, he staggered over to a bin in the corner of the hallway, and promptly vomited.

As Chase rubbed Henrik's back through the last of his retching, he realised something.

"Shit! I left the stuff we bought in the elevator!" He exclaimed, to which Henrik groaned.

"You want me to go down and see if it's still there?" Jackie suggested, lingering close as he offered Henrik some water from a bottle on his belt that was readily accepted.

Chase huffed and shook his head, dismissing it immediately. "Nah, fuck it, we can order it online."

Neither of them had any intention of doing anything besides going home, throwing their dirtied clothes in the laundry, and shutting out the rest of the world.

Jackie continued to tend to them long after they were rescued, questioning if they could get home, if they needed anything, or if they were hurt. Worry encapsulated his expression, one they could not quell, but only redirect.

The only thing that managed to do so was the pair of mechanics, laxly trudging up the stairs, chatting amongst one another as though it were just another round of maintenance.

With the promise to get home safe and to text him when they arrived, Henrik and Chase left Jackie to speak to the mechanics and explain what had happened.

When the mechanics tried to chase after them, Jackie stopped them with a too-bright smile on his face and politely requested they leave the pair alone.

Thankfully, they did so.

Meanwhile, Henrik remained slumped against Chase's arms as they made their way back to the car. He was awkwardly positioned on account of how tall he was, but any attempt Chase made to shift his hold was met with stubborn reluctance.

As they walked across the bustling car park, finally in sight of Chase's car, Henrik murmured.

"I'm sorry for the things I said back there..." he pressed his head closer to Chase's, his voice hoarse and exhausted, "I didn't mean any of it..."

Chase only turned his head, pressing a gentle kiss into his silver-streaked curls. "It's okay, sweetheart, I know you didn't..."

This one was fun to write! I always love writing Chase and Henrik, they're so sweet to me. <3

I hope this was okay and it isn't too messy, but I apologise if there are any mistakes, I will fix them if I see them!

If you're confused about what exactly Henrik is referring to in his lore, I'll recommend this story I wrote a while back!

Nine Months (Part One)

Nine Months (Part Two)

Thank you so much for reading! :)

Reblogs appreciated! /np

#WAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWA #THEYRE SO FUCKED UP #GUH #i love themmmm #they care about eachother so big 🥺

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