Garfield hated elevators.
He hated the way they hummed too fucking loud, the way the air felt trapped, the way the numbers lit up like they were counting down to his death instead of going up. He was jammed against the mirrored wall, arms crossed tight, knee bouncing so hard the floor probably felt personally attacked.
“This is bullshit,” Garfield muttered. “I hate this. I hate metal boxes. I hate gravity. I hate whoever decided buildings should go up.”
Rachel stood next to him, calm in that terrifying, emotionally-locked-down way she had, shadows pooled low at her boots like obedient guard dogs. Her gem glowed faint and steady, like a heartbeat she was pretending not to notice.
“Relax,” Dick said from the other side of the elevator, hands on his hips like this was a fun fucking field trip. “It’s a standard industrial lift. Totally safe.”
Garfield shot him a glare. “You say that like you don’t heal fast. If this thing drops, I’m screaming the entire way down and blaming you with my last breath.”
Kory smiled brightly because of course she did. “If it malfunctions, I will simply hold it.”
“That does not fucking help,” Garfield snapped. “That makes it worse. Now I’m imagining the part where it malfunctions and we all die screaming while you’re like, ‘Do not worry!’”
Rachel didn’t look at him, but her shadow brushed his wrist anyway, grounding without calling attention to it. “You’re spiraling.”
“I have goddamn reasons,” Garfield muttered.
The elevator dinged.
Garfield froze. “…Wait.”
The doors slid open smoothly. Perfectly. No death. No free fall. No screaming.
“…It worked,” Garfield said suspiciously. “I don’t trust that.”
Rachel stepped out immediately. Didn’t pause. Didn’t look back.
“I’m going to my room,” she said calmly. “Goodnight.”
And just like that, she was gone, shadows following her down the hall like the door was swallowing her whole.
Garfield watched her disappear, chest doing something uncomfortable and illegal.
The second her door shut—
“NOW,” Dick said loudly.
Garfield blinked. “What.”
Jason grabbed him by the collar of his jacket. “Don’t fight it.”
“I AM FIGHTING IT,” Garfield yelped as he was physically dragged down the hallway. “WHERE ARE WE GOING. WHY ARE YOU TOUCHING ME.”
They dumped him onto the couch in the common room like a hostage.
Tim pulled up a chair. Kory floated nearby. Dick crossed his arms. Jason leaned against the wall smirking like this was his favorite fucking hobby.
Garfield looked around, panicking. “Oh my god. This is an intervention. This is about Rachel.”
Kory clapped her hands. “Yes!”
“She is not my damn girlfriend,” Garfield said immediately. “And can we please stop saying her name like it’s a curse.”
Dick pointed at him. “Question one. Do you like her.”
“No.”
Jason snorted. “Bullshit.”
Garfield’s breathing sped up. “I panic around everyone. That doesn’t mean anything.”
Tim adjusted his glasses. “You panic more around her.”
“Because I care what she thinks,” Garfield snapped—then froze. “…Fuck.”
Dick grinned. “There it is.”
Garfield rubbed his face. “I hate you all so much.”
Kory floated closer, glowing softly. “Do you wish to tell her how you feel.”
“No,” Garfield said instantly. “Absolutely not. I would rather chew glass and fall down the stairs.”
Jason crossed his arms. “You scared she won’t feel the same.”
Garfield swallowed. Hard. “She’s not my damn girlfriend.”
Dick crouched in front of him. “Nobody’s saying she is.”
“YOU’RE ALL IMPLYING IT,” Garfield snapped. “And can we stop before she hears and I die of embarrassment.”
Tim leaned forward. “You calm down when she touches your arm.”
Garfield pointed at him. “WHY DO YOU KNOW THAT.”
“Data,” Tim said calmly.
Garfield groaned and slid down into the couch cushions. “This is fucked. I’m fucked. My heart is fucked.”
Kory smiled gently. “Love is frightening.”
“Everything is frightening,” Garfield shot back. “Elevators. Buildings. Emotions. Rachel Roth.”
Jason smirked. “You said her name.”
“SHUT UP.”
Dick straightened. “We’re not forcing you to confess.”
“Yes you are,” Garfield said