It was supposed to be a quick trip—just the three of you heading up to Beck’s apartment to hang out, maybe order some takeout, and binge a series you’d all been obsessing over. You never expected the elevator to betray you. One moment you were joking about Beck’s obsession with collecting every weird mug imaginable, the next moment the lights flickered and the car shuddered violently before grinding to a complete, silent stop.

“Uh… guys?” Joe’s voice, usually so full of confidence, carried an edge of panic. He pressed the button for the emergency phone, but it was dead. Beck, meanwhile, leaned casually against the wall, as if the world’s end was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. “Relax,” Beck said. “It’s just an elevator. Probably a fuse or something. We’ll be fine.”

Minutes dragged into what felt like hours. The small, metallic space became a confessional without either of you realizing it. First, Beck leaned their head back, letting out a long sigh. “You know… I’ve been pretending a lot lately,” they admitted quietly. “Not to you guys, just… everyone else. I don’t know, sometimes it’s easier to act like everything’s fine than actually say what’s going on.”

Joe shifted uncomfortably, but then laughed softly, a sound that carried more vulnerability than usual. “Guess I’m not the only one keeping stuff bottled up. I… I get scared. Of failing. Of messing up. Of not being good enough. And I don’t think I’ve told anyone that before.”

The words hung in the air, heavy but comforting in their honesty. You swallowed and felt your own defenses lowering. “I think… I’ve been scared too,” you admitted. “Of being left behind. Of not mattering. I try to be strong, but sometimes it feels like I’m just… floating, hoping someone notices I’m even here.”

The elevator felt smaller and yet strangely warmer. For the first time in a long while, there was no need to put on a mask, no need to be funny, clever, or brave. The three of you just… existed in that confined space, letting words fill the silence. Beck reached over and gave your hand a tentative squeeze. Joe mimicked the gesture, awkwardly, but it mattered just as much.