This is a one-shot. As in, it will not be updated. Or continued.
This is also all human. Which means that the characters are mostly OOC.
See you at the bottom...
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Jonathon
Dammit, why did I have to be late today, of all days?
I walked quickly past the doorman, ignoring his polite 'Good morning'. Oh, yes. It was most definitely a good morning. I just might be getting fired for being late. Valentine Morgenstern, the uptight bastard, was so punctual, he threw a hissy fit one time when one of his clients was two minutes late to one of their meetings.
I growled in frusteration, raking a hand through my neatly combed, and gelled hair. It wouldn't last long. My hair was so curly, even the best of hair gel products fail to keep my hair straight.
"Shit," I muttered. The stairs would be way too long. Twenty stories. He'd kick my ass outta the window, and I'd be sweating from running up all those stairs...
Elevator it is, then.
I sighed, and jogged over to the tiny, fancy schmancy elevator that was incredibly slow, but was a hell of a lot more convient than those damn stairs.
Since it was only nine in the morning, the elevator was bare, except for a short, tiny, pixie-like girl who looked to be about two years younger than I was, listening to her iPod, her hands shoved in the pockets of her Star Wars hoodie. Her red hair was in two braids, making her look younger than I thought at first, her bright green eyes glazed over, as if she was in another world.
I ignored her.
Walking into the tiny, sleek space, I jabbed the 20 button, not bothering to ask her what floor she wanted to go to. My job was more important than some random girl that I didn't even know.
I sighed, and stood perfectly still in the corner opposite of her, back straight, my briefcase held in front of my knees. My eyes stared hungrily at the red numbers as they slowly began counting up.
2...3...4...
7...8...9...
12...13...14...
17...18...19...
One more.
The elevator suddenly lurched, and the elfin girl next to me let out a small squeal, and threw her hands up protectively in her face as she fell forward, the lights flickering.
I swore, and fell before catching myself with the brass handles, dropping my briefcase. Thankfully, none of my papers fell out, because the lights kept flickering, until they finally shut off. I would never have been able to find them.
The elevator screeched to a halt. The red light said 19, before it too went black.
I straightened, still grasping the handle tightly. Jesus. For a second there, I thought the elevator was going to drop.
Then the reality of it hit me: I was trapped in a dead elevator. In the dark. On the way to a meeting that determined whether I'd be keeping my job or not.
Perfect. Just frickin' perfect.
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Clary
Oh, my God.
Maroon 5's soothing croons weren't enough to keep my panic at bay.
I'm trapped in an elevator.
I'm trapped in an elevator.
I could die.
It's so dark.
Other than that cold, (Hot, but pissy looking) dude that was on the other side of the tiny elevator, I was alone.
I'm going to die alone.
Where were my pills-?
In the car. I mentally slapped myself. My pills were supposed to calm me, supposed to calm me down during my panic attacks. And I was claustrophobic. I should've just said screw it and taken the stairs, instead of worrying about how mad Dad was going to be at how late I would've been.
But no, I had to take the elevator.
I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to keep it as soft as possible, in case tall, blonde, and brooding heard me and thought there was something wrong with me.
I stayed seated on the floor, trying to concentrate on 'She Will Be Loved', instead of the fact that I was in a tight, small, dark place...
Well, damn. So much for meditating.
I huffed, and opened my eyes, though it didn't make a difference. It was still dark.
I hate elevators.
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Jonathon
That chick was seriously starting to freak me out.
After my eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness, I could make out her profile; Indian-Style on the floor, rocking back and forth, slightly.
I sighed. Great. Not only was I stuck in here, but I was stuck with a freak.
"Kid," I snapped out. She made a whimpering noise, but otherwise didn't say anything. "Chill, alright? I'll call someone and get us out of here. Stop freaking out."
She ignored me.
"Be that way," I muttered, and flipped my cell out. Whoever ran this crappy elevator was going to be getting an earful, that I was certain. Not only could this be costing me my job, but my reputation would be burnt, being seen with this weirdo...
No connection.
You have GOT to be kidding me.
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We were stuck in here.
Nobody would answer the elevator phone, and I couldn't get any connection.
At least the little creep had finally shut up, and was instead sitting frozen in the opposite corner.
I blinked as I heard the faint tunes coming from her earbuds. Maroon 5. I hadn't listened to them in forever, ever since a girl I'd taken home one night told me they were a dorky band, and had left before I could "get any".
After that, I'd pretty much given up on them.
I smiled a little. At least I had something to listen to for the time being...
My eyes closed, and I listened as Sunday Morning came on.
Things were a little less weird, for a couple of minutes. Then, the little werido let out a small, gasping sound.
Then she began screaming bloody murder.
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Clary
I'd just begun to calm down, until I'd made the mistake of opening my eyes.
The walls were drawing in...They were closing in on me...They were trying to suffocate me...
I let out a wild scream, scratching at the darkness in front of me, and began thrashing and flailing my arms around. Fear and panic clawed at my chest, gripping my throat...
Arms wrapped around me, and my breath caught.
I wasn't used to being touched. Dad was scared of me; And thought I was mentally unstable. I guess he thought he'd catch my 'disease' if he did touch me. My mother was distant, so the only contact I ever have comes from my husky, Luke.
I was pulled against a rock hard chest, and my earbuds were pulled out of my ears.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" The man hissed in my ear. "Why are you screaming like that?"
I sniffled, and turned my head so that my face was pressed into his chest. He quickly pushed my head off, but didn't push me out of the circle of his arms. "Stop that. What the hell is your problem?"
"You say 'hell' a lot," I told him.
The walls weren't closing in, anymore. He was like a shield against them, or something.
I glanced up at him, but I couldn't see his face. "I'm scared," I admitted.
"Of the dark?"
"No. I'm claustraphobic."
He was quiet. Then: "Why the hell did you get on the elevator if you're claustrophobic?"
I didn't realize it, but I'd relaxed since he'd first grabbed me. Weird. He wasn't exactly the type of guy I'd pictured myself being comfortable around..."I was in a hurry. My dad doesn't like it when I'm late."
"Your dad's my boss. Are you Clarissa?"
"It's Clary." I didn't bother hiding the annoyance in my voice.
"Clary. I'm Jonathon."
I wrinkled my nose. "You don't look like a Jonathon."
I felt him shrug. "My stepmom called me Jace, but-"
"Nice to meet you, Jace. Though I hate elevators."
He chuckled. "Nice to meet you, too."
I laid my face back into his chest. This time, he didn't push me away.
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Jace
Clary's head rested on my chest, each of us had an earbud, listening to the melancholy tunes.
She was a sweet girl. Seventeen-years-old to my nineteen. If I hadn't made the connection of her red hair and the redhead on Valentine's office desk, or the familiarity of their impatience, I wouldn't have been able to tell the startling difference between the father and daughter.
She was laidback, aside from-What she said-her occasional panic attack, drank too much coffee, and like to draw and watch reruns of Star Wars.
Clary had also insisted on calling me by my nickname, and snarked that Jonathon made me sound like some perverted creep that killed people. I told her she watched too many horror films.
We were quiet after that.
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Clary began to pant, gasping for breath as she clutched at her chest.
"Clary? What's wrong?" She'd calmed down a little from her mini-attack earlier, and I'd thought she'd gotten over that. Apparently not.
She shook her head. "It's-choking me-so dark-so small-Oh, my God-"
I turned her around. "Clary," I whispered. "Clary. I need you to calm down, alright? Calm down for me. You're fine. I've got you."
She shook her head, letting out small, shallow sobs. "I'm so sorry," she managed to get out. "I don't know why I'm like this. I'm not-Right. Who's scared of elevators?" Her breathing quickened at the word, and her nails dug deeper into my biceps. "I-am such a screw-up-I can't-"
"Shh." I pulled her onto my lap, tugging lightly at one of her braids, feeling guilty as I remembered how disgusted I'd been when I'd first saw her. Now, though, if I caught any other person staring at her with scorn, I'd pound their faces in. "I've got you, Clary. You're fine. You're perfect..."
She nodded, taking some more, deep, shuddering breaths.
I kissed her temple, lightly. "You alright?" I asked, after a couple of seconds of silence.
Clary nodded. "Sorry for freaking out on you like that," She whispered in a timid voice. "There's something wrong with me-"
"Shut up."
She stiffened. "What?"
I shook my head. "Just shut up. There is nothing wrong with you, Clary. You're scared of elevators? I'm scared of rats."
"Everyone hates rats."
I rolled my eyes. "I'm trying to make a point."
Clary shrugged. "Sorry."
I laid my head on her shoulder. God, this was so surreal. I'd just met her less than two hours ago, and already I felt like she was another part of me, that I'd been missing forever, but never realized I needed.
"Jace?"
I grinned against her shoulder; For some reason, hearing her call me by the name nobody but my family called me sent pleasurable tingles through my body. "Yeah?"
"Have you heard that song, 'Sex In The Elevator'?"
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I stifled my laugh into her sweater. "It's 'Love In The Elevator', Clary."
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"Oh."
I poked her ribs. "I've heard it, before."
"Cool. Did you like it?"
"Sure. Why do you bring this up?"
Clary was quiet. Then: "Do you want to go out to eat, whenever we get out of this elevator?"
I blinked. "Are you asking me out?" I asked stupidly.
She huffed. "Yes, I am. Now don't make this anymore awkward than this has to be, and I won't throw up on you."
"Sounds like a fair deal." I smiled. "I'd love to go on a date with you."
Clary relaxed. "Thank you," she said, sounding relieved. "I thought I was going to pass out."
"You probably should've breathed while asking me," I told her.
She made a snarky comment, but I didn't hear her. I couldn't believe how excited I was getting over a girl I barely knew, asking me out. Yet I was more excited than the time I'd gotten a cat for Christmas.
Now all we needed was to get out of here...
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Valentine, a caring father he was, realized after about two hours that his daughter and assistant had yet to show up. After ordering a search of the building, they realized that we were still stuck in the elevator. Morons.
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The meeting ended up being boring and a waste of time.
I couldn't believe I'd been looking forward to it all this week.
I was sitting at the large conference table, my pen tapping against the wooden armrest of the chair, and my eye was twitching. Clary was standing outside of the office room, watching me through the glass window, a smile on her face. Tease.
I gave her a small smile, to which she responded with a much bigger smile and wave, which cause me to grin even harder. She was just adorable...
I glanced at the clock. Ten more minutes, then the meeting would be over...And we'd finally be able to go on that date I'd been looking forward to since she'd asked me out.
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I practically ran out of there, and hugged Clary as soon as I was out. "Thank God that's over," I whispered in her hair. "That meeting was so boring."
She giggled. "Ready to go, then?"
"Hell yes."
We walked out, hand in hand, humming the tune to 'Love In The Elevator'.
Down the stairs, this time.
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-End.
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