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As they stood in front of the entrance to their third apartment of the day, Roger couldn’t help but frown at his reflection in the glass doors.
“I look awful,” he sighed.
Brian pressed the doorbell, glancing over at him. “You are fine, drama queen,” he said with a shrug, but Roger didn’t answer. Instead, he kept fussing with his hair, trying to make it presentable even though it was a losing battle. Brian hadn’t even bothered; looking good wasn’t high on his priority list right now. When the intercom crackled and the door unlocked with a soft click Brian held them open with a grin. “Ladies first,” he quipped.
Roger shot him a glare, elbowing him in the ribs as he passed. Once inside, he headed straight for the stairs.
“Where are you going?”
“I always take the stairs,” Roger replied with a shrug.
“Yeah, at home where we live on the second floor, but this place is on the sixth,” Brian pulled the elevator door open, waiting for Roger to join him, “Come on, you can get your workout some other time.”
Roger hesitated, glancing at the elevator warily, but eventually sighed and stepped inside.
Inside, Brian leaned wearily against the wall. “I hope this one’s at least half decent.”
Roger, standing next to him, stared at the door, watching the floor numbers pass by and replied with a quiet “Mm-hmm.” Brian understood. He’d have rather been in bed, too. The gray and gloomy weather had taken its toll on both of them, but they didn’t have time to waste.
What happened was kind of unexpected. After two years in the same apartment, the landlord would kick them out. By some miracle, they managed to negotiate three weeks to vacate. So, they were apartment-hunting at the last minute. With their limited student budget, they didn't have much of a choice. And cheap apartments usually matched their price.
The first apartment they saw that day had smashed furniture and doors that couldn’t even close properly. The landlord swore he’d replace the furniture before they moved in, but Roger and Brian agreed that if he hadn’t bothered to fix it before their visit, he likely wouldn’t do it later. Not to mention Brian was pretty sure he saw a rat scurrying around.
The second place was a damp, cold hole. The windows didn’t seal, the heating barely worked, and with winter approaching, it was clear they couldn’t live there. They weren’t picky—they were willing to sleep on a mattress on the floor if it meant saving money—but the place had to be at least livable.
When the elevator reached the sixth floor, Roger exhaled sharply. “Let’s hope the windows seal in this one.“
They were greeted by a sturdy man in a shirt and tiny glasses who, with a wide smile, began showing them around the apartment. Brian scrutinized everything—cracked walls, leaky windows, faulty heating, rats, insects, mold. But as they walked through the tiny apartment, he couldn’t find anything.
“Am I crazy, or is this place not that bad?” he whispered to Roger. Sure, the apartment was small. It felt like someone had found a bit of leftover space between two other apartments and crammed in one more. For two guys, it was almost too cramped, but it was cheap, furnished, and they could definitely survive in it. Roger didn’t reply, and he didn’t look very excited either.
The landlord’s phone rang just as they reached the bathroom.
“Sorry, this is important. I have to take it. Feel free to have a look around, I’ll be right back,” he said, stepping out with a pack of cigarettes in hand. Sure, he wouldn’t be back anytime soon.
Roger stepped into the bathroom and looked around the cramped space. “It’s tiny. Everything here is tiny.” He said, his voice flat. Brian followed him in, and they could barely stand side by side in the small bathroom.
“It’s small, but we can make it work.” Brian argued. Roger, now sitting on the edge of the bathtub, didn’t look convinced. He shook his head.
“We’ve got another viewing tomorrow. Let’s wait until then. This whole situation is ridiculous. We never should’ve had to go through this.”
Brian sighed, feeling the weight of Roger’s frustration. “We’ll figure it out. Anyway, we should do one final test.” He shut the bathroom door behind them with a click, leaning against it.
Roger stood up instantly, his eyes narrowing. “What are you doing?”
Brian smirked. “I’m just testing if the door closes properly. You know, checking the essentials.”
Roger groaned and tried to push past him. “I’m not in the mood for this, Brian.”
“Relax, I’m just seeing if it locks,” Brian said, fiddling with the lock. Before Roger could react, Brian clicked the lock into place and gave the handle a pull.
Roger’s breath hitched as the door remained firmly shut. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Brian glanced down at his hand. The handle had come off entirely, leaving him holding a useless piece of metal. “Well… that’s not good.”
Roger grabbed it from him. “Give it to me!” He jammed the handle back into the door, but as he did, the other half of the handle fell to the floor on the other side with a metallic clink.
“Perfect,” Roger muttered under his breath, leaning his forehead against the door in defeat.
Brian laughed. “I guess that’s a fail for the ‘final test,’ huh? I just hope the guy isn’t planning to smoke the whole pack,” Brian joked, but Roger wasn’t amused.
“You think this is funny?”
Brian raised his eyebrows. “Actually, it’s a tragedy. I was hoping we could take this place, but if the handles are falling off…”
Roger rolled his eyes and tried to put the handle back in place.
“Maybe if you hadn’t smoked under the neighbors’ windows, we wouldn’t have been kicked out,” Brian joked, but Roger shot him a glare. Moody as always.
“Oh, right, because your two-in-the-morning guitar solos had nothing to do with it, huh?”
That one hit its mark. Brian winced but tried to play it off. “ I’m not the one banging on the drums. Pretty loud instrument, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“I don’t bang on them, I play them, thank you very much.“ Roger snapped, “And I do it during the day, not when everyone’s trying to sleep. Unlike you, with your midnight guitar sessions just because you can’t deal with your stupid insomnia.”
Brian felt the sting of Roger’s words like a slap. His jaw clenched. Roger knew how much music meant to him—how it was the only thing that helped him when his mind wouldn’t settle. And yet, here he was, throwing it in his face.
“You’re kidding, right?” Brian said, his voice hardening.
Roger rolled his eyes and tried to fix the handle again, but Brian turned him around. “I get that you’re tired, but that doesn’t mean you can say stuff like that.”
“Like what?” Roger’s face turned an unhealthy shade of green under the dim bathroom light. “The truth? Do you really think no one hears you? I wouldn’t be surprised if you woke up the neighbors every time. At least I'm always awake. Just because you can’t sleep doesn’t mean you get to wake everyone else.”
Brian stared at him in disbelief. He knew that when Roger was tired and stressed, he could turn into a real jerk, but this? This was hitting below the belt.
“So why don’t you find someone else to live with?” Brian snapped.
Roger continued to glare at him. “I have to live with someone,” he muttered, then turned toward the door, looking like he wanted to rip it off its hinges. “Where the hell is that guy?”
As if on cue, the landlord’s voice called out from behind the door. “Boys? Hello? Oh… are you in there?” There was a knock, followed by the sound of the landlord picking up the fallen handle from the floor.
“Yeah, we’re stuck in here!” Roger shouted back.
“I’m really sorry. This happens sometimes. Uh... do you have the other handle in there? We’ll have to put them back in at the same time.”
Roger grabbed the handle and counted, “One, two, three!”
Together, they managed to unlock the door. Roger practically bolted out of the bathroom, like the fresh air outside was his first breath in hours.
“I really am sorry. I’ve had it fixed a thousand times. I don’t understand why this keeps happening.”
“It’s alright,” Brian said, hoping Roger would chime in. But Roger seemed only interested in putting as much distance between himself and the bathroom as possible, like it was cursed.
“So, how do you like the apartment?” the landlord asked, adjusting his glasses on his nose.
“It’s nice,” Brian said slowly, glancing at Roger, who still hadn’t said a word. “But... can we let you know tomorrow?”
“Of course. The next interested viewers aren’t coming for another three days, so you’ve got time. Once again, I’m really sorry about that door,” he said, leading them out.
Brian assured him that it was no big deal and that they would be in touch. The rest of the walk was silent. Brian refused to speak to Roger until he apologized. Roger looked exhausted but didn’t say a word. Brian knew Roger’s stubbornness better than anyone, having experienced it firsthand many times, but this still hurt.
Music had always been Brian’s escape, his way of coping with nights when his mind wouldn’t let him rest. He knew it wasn’t healthy but his guitar was like therapy for him, something that calmed the storm in his head. And Roger knew that. He knew it, and still, he’d had the nerve to say all of this was Brian’s fault.
That night, when Brian couldn’t sleep, he picked up his guitar, mentally apologized to the neighbors, and deliberately played loud enough to wake Roger. Whether he succeeded, he didn’t know, since Roger didn’t say a word.
Roger felt awful. Rain pounded against the windows, and lightning flashed across the sky, followed by the low rumble of thunder. The weather perfectly mirrored his mood. He tried, he really really tried to start a conversation with Brian but it was pointless—Brian refused to even look at him. When they stepped outside, talking wasn’t even an option anymore. The rain was so heavy and loud that Roger couldn’t even hear his own thoughts.
The worst part was that Roger knew it was all his fault. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t think of any apology that wouldn’t reveal his secret. So, he said nothing.
The next apartment was nice, but they barely spoke, leaving Roger to guess what Brian thought of it. The bathroom even had a window, which he appreciated. And the door handles didn’t fall off, which he appreciated even more. Unfortunately, it was on the fifth floor. And it had an elevator. Oh God, how he hated elevators.
Still, he didn’t protest when they stepped inside after the viewing. He stared at the numbers on the elevator door, watching them disappear one by one. They were halfway down when the light above them flickered ominously, as if saying goodbye, and suddenly, the floor shifted beneath their feet. The elevator stopped. Roger’s eyes locked on the number 3, which hadn’t fully disappeared. His hands started to sweat. He pushed against the door, but they were stuck between floors.
“Great,” Brian muttered, pressing the buttons on the control panel. The elevator didn’t respond. The whole building was silent. Roger wanted to say something, but the words caught in his throat. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, his gaze fixed on Brian’s fingers as they continued to press the buttons over and over again.
“We’re officially stuck,” Brian sighed.
Roger’s stomach churned. No, no, no. Panic started rising inside him, just like when Brian was holding that broken door handle the day before. He had barely managed to keep it together in that tiny bathroom.
“Try ringing the alarm?” he suggested, his voice sounding unnaturally high-pitched.
Brian pressed the alarm button below the panel. Nothing happened.
“Maybe the power’s out because of the storm. If this building doesn’t have a backup generator, we cloud be stuck here for a while.”
Roger wanted to ask how long, because he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on, but Brian barely noticed him and continued, “I can’t say exactly how long. If half the city’s out, we could be here for hours. If it’s just the building, maybe an hour. Maybe. I'm just guessing.”
Roger swallowed hard. His breathing quickened, his heart pounding so loudly it echoed in his ears. Desperately, he tried to calm himself, to take slow, deep breaths. He needed to calm down. Right now. It’s just an elevator. It’s just an elevator...
But his mind clearly didn’t think it was just an elevator. It felt like the walls were closing in on him, squeezing the air out of his lungs. He wanted to tear his hair out while Brian, oblivious to Roger’s panic, kept talking.
“I’ve heard of people being stuck in elevators for hours before they were rescued. I hope that’s not us, though. I really just want to get home—”
“Can you shut up?” Roger’s voice came out in a shaky, desperate whisper. Each word from Brian felt like it was scraping his nerves raw. He needed silence. He needed space.
“You’re kidding me, right?” Brian spat, his voice dripping with venom. “So now even my voice bothers you?!” He exploded so suddenly that Roger had to fight the urge to press himself against the back of the elevator. He yanked his hands out of his pockets and wrapped his arms around himself, his fingers digging into his jacket until his knuckles turned white.
“No, I didn’t mean—”
“I don’t get it. If I annoy you so much, why don’t you just find someone else to live with?“
Roger stared at him, wide-eyed and terrified. His heart was racing, his breathing shallow. All he wanted was to curl up in the corner of the elevator and make himself as small as possible. He didn’t have the strength to fight back.
“I can put up with a lot, but you’ve crossed the line here. That really hurt, Roger,” Brian said, staring at him so intensely that Roger felt like it was burning a hole through his skull.
Somehow, Roger managed to choke out a few words. “I’m sorry, Bri, but... not now, please.”
“What do you mean, ‘not now’? When do you want to talk about it?”
Roger felt like his head was about to explode. He didn’t want Brian to think that, but he couldn’t come up with the right words. Brian’s accusations were slicing into his mind like a saw.
“We’re trying to find an apartment together,” Brian continued, “but if you don’t want to live with me, just say so.”
Roger shook his head. This was just too much. “Geez, I want to live with you, it’s just…“ His voice cracked as he clutched his jacket over his heart, which was pounding so hard he thought he might pass out any second. “I just can’t right now.”
Roger met Brian’s eyes for the briefest moment, and that was all it took. His eyes filled with tears, threatening to spill over. There was so much he wanted to say—so much he needed to apologize for—but he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t focus on anything except how badly his hands were trembling, how much he wanted to tear down the walls around him, how desperately he needed to get out of this tiny space. But there was nowhere to go. And that terrified him more than anything.
Brian, suddenly uncertain, looked at him more closely. His expression softened, and all the anger drained from him. “Roger, what... what’s going on?”
Roger shook his head, unable to speak. He could feel his legs giving out beneath him, so he slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor.
Brian crouched beside him, his face filled with concern. “Rog, I don’t understand… What’s wrong?”
Roger wanted to answer. He really did but all he could feel was the rising sob in his throat. Everything around him felt suffocating. It was like they were trapped in a vacuum, the walls pressing in, the air too thick to breathe.
Hot tears started streaming down his cheeks, and all he could do was rest his elbows on his knees and bury his face in his hands. He could feel Brian sitting next to him, staring at him in shock. He hated it. He hated this entire situation.
“I can’t do this,” he whispered into his hands.
“Did I really yell at you that much?” Brian asked, confused. “We’ve yelled at each other way more before. I didn’t mean to-“
Roger shook his head sharply. “That’s not… it.”
“Then what is it? It’s just an elevator, Rog. We’ll be out soon.”
Soon? Brian thought that a few hours was "soon"?! Yesterday, Roger had almost collapsed in that bathroom, and that had only been a few minutes. How is he supposed to handle a few hours?!
“Rog?”
Roger didn’t look at him, but he recognized that tone in Brian’s voice. Brian always used it when he figured something out. Roger squeezed his eyes shut tighter until he saw colored spots dancing behind his eyelids.
“Are you… are you claustrophobic?”
Roger didn’t answer, but the weight on his chest grew heavier, his lungs shrinking until he had to pull his hands away from his face just to get some air.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“It’s stupid,“ Roger muttered, his voice barely audible.
Brian just shook his head. “Oh my God, Roger. You should’ve told me. I’ve only made things worse.”
Roger felt a fresh wave of guilt hit him. Great. Now Brian thought this was all his fault, and he still hadn’t even apologized. He was a terrible friend.
“You need to breathe,” Brian’s voice came through the haze, but it sounded far away, like he was underwater. Roger’s head felt heavy, weighed down as if it was filled with rocks and water, bouncing inside his skull. Everything felt distant, foggy.
He felt movement beside him, and then Brian sat down directly in front of him, gently holding Roger’s head in his hands. Roger looked up at him.
“You have to breathe, okay? Try to copy me. Deep and slow.”
Roger just shook his head. “I... I can’t.“ He couldn’t imagine how he could take a deep breath when it felt like the very air around him was disappearing, like there was no room left in the elevator for oxygen.
Brian let go of his head and grabbed his hands, squeezing them tightly.
“Yes, you can,” Brian interrupted, his voice steady and calm, though inside he was anything but. “Look at me, Rog. I’m right here. Just follow my breath, okay? In... and out.”
Roger tried, but his lungs refused to cooperate. His vision blurred, dark spots dancing in front of his eyes. “I can’t... I can’t do it.”
“You can. Just focus on me. Forget the elevator. Forget everything else. It’s just you and me. In... and out. Come on.”
Roger was crushing Brian’s hands, gripping them with far more force than he realized, but Brian didn’t flinch.
Roger’s breaths were shaky, but he started to mimic Brian’s rhythm, drawing in a small, trembling breath, then letting it out. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something.
“That’s it,” Brian encouraged, nodding slowly. “You’re doing great. Just keep going. In... and out. One more time.”
Roger’s chest hitched as he followed Brian’s lead, his breathing gradually slowing down. He could feel his heart pounding less violently in his ears, the pressure in his chest easing just slightly. “There you go. Keep going.”
Roger focused only on the sound of Brian’s breathing, following the pattern, feeling his chest gradually loosen as the panic began to go away. His mind was still spinning, but at least he could breathe again. When he finally felt like he could manage on his own, he wiped his face on his sleeve, embarrassed by the tears.
“Better?” Brian asked, still studying his face with concern.
Roger shrugged, then let out a small hiccup. “A little.”
Brian nodded. “What do you need me to do? How can I help?”
Roger shrugged again. He didn’t know. He had never dealt with his phobia with anyone before. It was always something he’d tried to hide, to push down. “I feel sick.”
“You need to stop thinking about it.”
“Wow, what a doctor’s advice.”
“Let’s play a game, then. How about… word chain?”
Roger shook his head. “I don’t want to.”
“Oh, come on.”
“I’m seriously going to throw up.”
“Guitar.”
Roger looked up at him. “What?”
“Word chain. My word is ‘guitar.’ Your turn.”
“I don’t want to,” Roger shook his head again, but Brian nudged him. “Come on. Guitar.”
Roger shrugged. “Such a basic word,” he muttered, then looked at Brian’s shirt. “Red.”
“Red? Seriously? And I am the one with basic words? Drum.”
Roger chuckled, “Music.”
“Car.”
“Raccoon.”
Brin shot Roger a sideways glance. “Raccoon? Really?”
Roger grinned. “They’re cute! Your turn.”
“Fine. Uh... napkin.”
“Nachos.”
Brian laughed. “We’re just hungry now, aren’t we? Salsa.”
“Avocado.”
“Oven.”
Roger smiled. “You’re making dinner happen. Ninja warrior.”
“Hey, that’s cheating! Relax.”
“I don’t know any words that start with ‘X!”
“Then, I guess I win,” Brian smiled.
Roger shook his head, but there was a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re such a jerk.”
Brian laughed, his voice light, the tension finally breaking. “Maybe, but my brilliant plan worked, didn’t it?”
Roger blinked, surprised. His hands were shaking less, and the nausea that had gripped his stomach earlier seemed to be fading.
“So, better?” Brian asked again. Roger nodded. Then Brian stood up and tried ringing the alarm again. Still nothing. “It’ll be alright,” Brian said, this time sitting next to him and wrapping an arm around Roger’s shoulders. At the very least, they’re working on restoring the power. That’s all this elevator needs to get moving. We’re not the only ones who need it, so it shouldn’t take much longer.”
After a moment of silence, Brian laughed softly. “So that’s why you always took the stairs at our place. And why you never locked yourself in the bathroom.”
Roger shrugged and muttered, “I had it under control.”
Brian raised an eyebrow. “That’s why you were so uncomfortable in that apartment yesterday, isn’t it? This isn’t something you can just control, and it’s definitely not something you should be ashamed of.”
“It’s stupid,” Roger shook his head.
“You’re the one being stupid,” Brian chuckled softly. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”
“I know.”
Brian pulled him a little closer. “You really scared me,” he admitted quietly.
“I’m sorry.”
Brian rubbed Roger’s back. “You’re an idiot,“ he repeated, though he didn’t mean it unkindly. After a while of just sitting together, with Brian carefully watching for any change in Roger’s breathing, he finally leaned back a bit to look him in the eyes. His pupils weren’t as dilated with fear anymore, and while his eyes were still glassy, he no longer looked as terrified.
“I’m sorry,” Roger murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was such a jerk back there... I didn’t mean half of what I said. I just—” he paused, struggling with the words. “I was losing it, and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.“
Brian patted him on the shoulder. “It just really hurt.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I do want to live with you.”
“I want to live with you too,” Brian said. Roger rested his head on his shoulder.
“And I don’t mind your playing. Half the time, it doesn’t even wake me up.“
They sat in silence for a moment longer.
“Brian?” Roger suddenly spoke.
“Hm?”
“Thanks,” he said softly.
Brian just smiled. “You don’t have to thank me.”
It took another hour for the technicians to get the elevator working again. During that time, Brian helped Roger stay calm, distracting him with word games and talking about the apartments they had visited. Roger, though acting like a shadow of his usual self, tried his hardest to stay composed. Even so, Brian couldn’t help but notice that Roger’s usual larger-than-life personality had drained away. He tried to make himself smaller, as if that could somehow make the elevator bigger.
When the elevator finally started moving again, they both sighed in relief. As soon as the doors opened, Roger practically bolted out, as if the fresh air outside could somehow save him.
The next day, they decided on the apartment where Roger could take the stairs, the bathroom had a window, and the neighbors were deaf enough not to hear Brian’s late-night guitar playing.