#cleithrophobia

Oscar and Lando walked down the corridor towards the elevators, media day outfits on and backpacks on their shoulders. Stopping in front of them, he turned to his boyfriend as he pressed the downward button.

“Want me to take your bag?”

Lando kissed his cheek with a sweet smile, clutching his backpack strap so it didn’t fall off his shoulder. “I’m good, thanks, babe. See you downstairs.”

“See you in a minute.” He gave the omega’s hip a quick squeeze before watching as Lando walked further along the corridor, heading for the stairs. With a quick salute, he disappeared through the door.

Lando didn’t have many rituals, or at least, he wouldn’t call eating the same things every race weekend a ritual, but one thing he could never do was take the elevator down from his hotel room.

He’d told Oscar, very early on in his rookie season, how he’d gotten stuck in elevators twice during his first two years in F1. The first time was with a bunch of other drivers, including Carlos and George, so he wasn’t on his own. It hadn’t been a fun experience for him, but it was bearable, having plenty of distractions and cuddles.

But the second time, he’d been all alone with his thoughts. He hadn’t handled it very well and was panicked enough to trigger a stress heat that had lasted over 96 hours, almost landing him in the hospital. He’d been unable to use elevators going downwards ever since. At first, he hadn’t been able to use them at all, but with extensive therapy and Jon’s help, he could at least use them to go upwards now, following numerous episodes of cramps after race days.

Oscar had asked if he wanted company using the stairs before, but Lando hated himself enough over his phobia and didn’t want attention drawn to it, as it would make him panic and spiral more. Oscar always held him close on the rides up to their rooms, be it at a race weekend or up to their apartments back home.

The doors pinged and opened, and he stepped in. There was already a brunette woman in there, around ten years older than him, whom he politely nodded and smiled at. She wasn’t wearing any official gear that he could see, meaning she probably wasn’t part of the Formula 1 network, and she gave no inkling of recognising him.

“Ground floor?” she asked, her baby pink nail polished finger hovering over the button.

“Please,” he replied, standing against the far side to give her some respectable space.

The doors pinged shut, and the elevator moved, causing the telltale swoop of his stomach. It was a smooth and silent ride down the nine floors, which is why he was taken by surprise when it jolted and banged, coming to a sudden stop, sending him careening into the mirrored wall. He shrugged off his backpack for better stability.

The woman screeched, and Oscar caught her as she came barrelling towards him, his quick reflexes saving both himself and her from injury. Her clutch bag bounced across the floor.

“Thanks!” she breathed as his chest cushioned her from the wall. She took one look at him and backed up, but she was very shaky, and he caught her again as her knees buckled. “Oh shit, I’m- I’m s-sorry.”

“It’s okay. Maybe you should sit down.” He helped her carefully sit against the opposite wall, her breath coming out in gasps, clearly distressed. “Are you okay?”

She shook her head. “I’m not – not good with s-small spaces. Feeling trapped.”

Ah shit. He wasn’t sure how long they’d be stuck and felt a whole new wave of empathy for Lando as well as the poor woman. He reached out and pressed the alarm button, then pulled his phone out of his pocket.

No service.

He looked back down at her. “You’re not alone, I’m here, and we’ll get out of here soon.”

She nodded, her breathing still too fast. “Thanks. I wish I believed you.”

“What’s your name?” He sat down against the opposite wall to give her some space again.

“Cassie.”

“Hi Cassie, I’m Oscar. Can you try to take some deep breaths? In through your nose and out through your mouth.”

She tried, she really tried, but she couldn’t get very deep. She was sweating and wincing in pain. Then she started whining. The noise exited her mouth, and her eyes widened like saucers as she looked right at him.

“Oh, fuck, no no no no no!” She was holding her stomach, and Oscar could smell her, sweet vanilla, citrus apricots, and bitter almonds, like the cake his mum loved.

Fuck. She was going into heat.

Well, that complicated things.

“Cassie, hey, look at me. You need to try and stay calm, okay? I know what’s happening right now, and I don’t want to stress you out more.”

“Stay away from me!” she cried, and Oscar held up his hands.

“It’s okay. I’ll stay right over here. I have an omega of my own, his name is Lando, and he’s waiting for me downstairs. We’re not mated yet, but we’re planning on it real soon. I’m not a danger to you.”

Cassie had lowered herself to lie down, curling up into the fetal position on the cold, metal floor, sniffing and weeping. Oscar slowly reached for his backpack, opening it and rummaging around inside. He had some snacks and drinks inside that were Lando’s, as well as a spare hoodie. He leaned over to place the items before her.

“These are my omega’s. His favourite chocolate and juice pouches. The hoodie is his as well, so it shouldn’t smell like me. And there’s a packet of tissues.”

She peeked her face up at him, her brows furrowed, like she was confused that Oscar was trying to be nice.

Well, Oscar was an unknown alpha intruding in her space, unable to leave, whilst she was suffering a stress-induced heat.

Muttering out a quick thanks, she accepted the offerings, immediately diving into the hoodie with a chirp and opening one of the Capri Sun pouches. She sat herself up against the wall. She seemed a lot calmer already; her breathing was at least.

His head was hurting, and he dove back into the bag to retrieve one of Lando’s spare t-shirts, which he buried his face into to help distract him from Cassie’s scent. He was oranges with streaks of ginger and petrichor, and he found himself relaxing more too.

Their metal cage was unsettling, and he couldn’t help but see the irony in his taking the elevator because he didn’t have anything to be scared of, and Lando taking the stairs because of the same scenario happening to him before. And now this.

His stomach dropped as he looked back over at Cassie, thinking of how Lando had had to suffer like this completely alone.

Then his stomach jolted again, and he noticed Lando’s t-shirt had a wet patch from where he’d nosed at it. Bringing up a hand to his forehead, he felt the beads of sweat forming there. That, the mounting pressure behind his eyes, and his stomach upset…

Oh no.

Fuck.

“What’s wrong?” Cassie asked, and Oscar was confused how she didn’t smell him, before he remembered he had his scent blockers on as he was headed for the paddock.

“I think I’m going into a sympathy rut. I do have scent blockers on,” he breathed, before scrambling back to his feet so he could slam the alarm button again and again. They needed to get out of here ASAP. He wasn't on suppressants because he was due a rut over the next fortnight.

Cassie whined, swearing, and huddled into the furthest corner, reaching for her clutch bag. “I have pepper spray in here if you get too close!”

“Great,” he said dryly, giving up on the alarm button and sitting himself back down with his things. Cassie had her phone out before seemingly noticing the No Service and giving up, placing it down on the floor beside her legs.

Oscar opened his own phone, gutted he couldn’t call Lando to hear his voice.

Well…

He opened the photos app and scrolled down to his videos, selecting one from last night. Lando had been retelling his latest Quadrant venture, squawking with laughter and gesticulating wildly as he did impressions of his teammates. Once he finished, he went on a mini rant about Max’s gaming techniques on Tarkov and how he was never gonna graduate, not that Oscar knew what that meant. It was just a silly three-minute slice of life video that had him smiling, helping to keep him calm.

“Is that your omega?” Cassie asked, snivelling.

Oscar nodded, flipping to his lockscreen so he could show her. It was a photo of Lando with his widest smile, one of Oscar’s favourites. “His name is Lando. We work together; we’re Formula 1 drivers.”

“Is that like motorbikes?”

He shook his head. “Nope, cars. Although Lando is a huge fan of MotoGP – that’s the motorbikes. He almost started racing there but quickly found he prefers driving four wheels.”

“Adrenaline junkie?”

Oscar couldn’t help but laugh. “Kind of, yeah. It’s part of the sport.”

“You love him?” Cassie asked, and he could see her relieved smile. He couldn’t blame her for being scared, trapped in a confined space, which was already stressing her out, with an unknown alpha, nonetheless.

He smiled back. “Yeah, I do. He’s chaotic and stubborn, a bit like a Jack Russell, but he’s also kind and selfless, always thinking of others.”

Cassie hugged her knees. “Given how you’ve helped me, and you don’t even know me, I bet he’s well taken care of. His scent is really comforting. It reminds me of home.”

“England?” he asked. He’d clocked her accent earlier on, something a bit more northern.

“Yeah, I’m here on a solo holiday. I had a bad break-up recently and just needed to clear my head. So much for that. I’ll be spending the rest of it in my hotel room with the door barricaded. I wasn’t due a heat for another couple of months. I’m supposed to be flying home in three days. And now I’m stuck in a lift! Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

She started panicking again, looking around the metal box and remembering where they were. Oscar hoped help would be there soon. They were both suffering, sweating and cramping, and his headache was getting worse. He took a few sips from his water bottle.

“Hey, Cassie, in through the nose, out through the mouth,” he gently reminded, demonstrating for her and waiting for her to copy. “Good, keep going. You’re doing great.”

“I thought you said help was coming!” she whined, and her Battenburg cake scent got stronger. So much so, Oscar had to bury his face back into Lando’s t-shirt and force his muscles to tense.

His symptoms worsened, shivering through sudden chills and whimpering as his cramps got stronger. He was hard in his jeans, and he gripped his knees as hard as he could to his chest. He wished he had spare jeans or shorts to offer her. Kim had his paddock suitcase.

He was replaying the video of Lando in his ear when there was banging and vibrations from the doors.

Oh thank Christ.

The doors shimmied open slightly, and Cassie was on her knees at the gap. “Please, help!”

“Miss, please get back from the doors. How many of you are in there?”

“Two!” she cried. “But we’re in trouble, please help!”

Oscar shuffled forward, and Cassie automatically fled back to her corner, hugging her knees again. They were clearly stuck between floors as they were higher than the firefighters he could see through the gap. They had all of their gear on, oxygen masks and everything, and Oscar figured the smell of an omega going into heat would, of course, have been caught through the ventilation.

“Are you hurt?” one of them called out, and Oscar grimaced.

“Just uncomfortable. I don’t know if you figured it out already, but Cassie’s going into a stress heat, and it’s triggered a sympathy rut for me. Do you have a blanket we can give her? We need to get her somewhere safe.”

“Oscar?” he heard Lando’s worried voice, and his alpha rumbled. A blanket was passed through the opening, and he handed it to Cassie, who wrapped it around her middle with a whispered thanks.

“Lando, you need to tell the team. I can’t be in the paddock today.”

“We’ll figure that out later. We have to help her.”

Oscar could hear his voice after that, but it was quieter, and dipping his head through the gap, he saw Lando talking to one of the hotel workers, who was wearing a face mask.

They were in a Hilton, one of McLaren’s partners. They could absolutely pull some strings and get Cassie the best care they could manage.

The firefighters made quick work of extracting them both, helping Cassie down onto a gurney where she curled up beneath the blanket. Oscar shoved his bag against the wall and tried to stop Lando from approaching him.

“Don’t. I don’t wanna trigger you too.”

“Osc, I’m not just leaving you to ride this out alone. They’ve got specially sealed honeymoon suites here designed for heats and ruts. We’ll move into one and get her in another. She’ll be safe and looked after.”

Oscar winced as more cramps took over his body, and Lando reached out to brush back his hair from his sweaty forehead.

“Thanks, Oscar,” Cassie said quietly from the gurney, then she turned to Lando. “He’s a real k-keeper, this one. I might have to look into Formula 1 and s-see what it’s all about.”

Lando blushed and ducked his head. “Yeah, he’s truly the best in a crisis. We’re McLaren by the way, if you need a team to support.”

Oscar snorted.

“I’ll remember that,” she said with a smile.

As she was wheeled away, Oscar let Lando hug him, tucking his face against his neck. He felt his body relax somewhat, with heat pooling once again in his groin at having his omega there.

“Next time, I am taking the stairs,” he mumbled.

Lando wheezed.

~

But even now, you could still feel his hands ripping through your clothes, shredding them and leaving you in your most vulnerable state. You could feel his fangs tearing through the soft, delicate flesh of your body, the wet sound of his mouth slurping up your blood in between his loud proclamations of hate. Your voice was gone from all of the screaming, and crying, and begging for mercy, and you weren’t sure how often you passed out only to wake up again in the throes of your torture. 

He had left no part of you untouched, unviolated, and you haven’t seen him since. 

At some point, you had woken up to find him gone, and although it was impossible to tell how long you’d been here, it had to have been at least a few days. You were forced to lie there, starving and weak in a pool of your own blood and waste, as you fought with yourself to maintain your sanity. There was something inside of you, some weak desire to escape from the hell you’ve been subjected to, that was keeping you alive.  

It was quiet, but eventually you heard the scratching of his legs against the dirt walls of the tunnel. He stopped when he reached the bottom, no doubt confused by the darkness of the den. You couldn’t bear to look at your injuries anymore, and over the course of a few excruciating hours you were able to roll over and turn the lantern off. 

“This,” he said, as you heard him approach, “was supposed to stay on!” 

The lights flickered on and you saw your captor’s irritated face, which quickly turned to surprise. It would’ve been almost comical, if you had the heart to laugh. The two of you looked each other over, him, holding the corpse of a goat by its broken neck, and you, looking like a prey animal that had met a much slower end. As he took you in, his confusion turned to an obvious disgust, and the embarrassment and shame you felt at your current state overtook you. 

“...” 

“They’re infected.” You were quick to explain. “The wounds, they’ve, uh... they’re festering. They need to be treated.” 

It was awful and seeing them again was nothing short of nightmarish. There had been nothing here to clean them when they were fresh, and you wouldn’t have had the strength to do so anyway. In your solitude, you slowly watched as the area around the lacerations swelled and reddened, while a thick, foul-smelling pus leaked out of them. They burned and the redness spread around your body, along with the fever that’s been plaguing you ever since. Your skin glistened with sweat as you watched your skin begin to yellow, and then blacken, shriveling away to reveal the deep-seated fascia and layers of fat underneath. You laid there in agony as your condition worsened, all the while remembering your readings about the necrotizing properties of spider venom.  

You were rotting away, from the outside in. 

“Please...” you begged, your voice so weak and pathetic sounding that it only embarrassed you further. “Please, let me go. I just have to... have to treat it. I have to go to a hospital.” 

He remained unimpressed. “Do you really think that will work on me?” 

“I’m serious!” You begged. “I’ll do anything... I’ll come back the second that I can. But I can’t put it off any longer...!”  He eyed your injuries again, observing old blood stains on the webs underneath you. The smell was nauseating, and perhaps that was what made him compromise. 

“I’ll get you water-” 

“No! Water would not do anything at this point, not this far along.“ The only thing that could save you now was a clean environment, with plenty of antibiotics, steroids, skin grafts. 

“Please,” you tried again, “I swear to you that I will come back. I’ll die if I don’t!” 

“You’ll die?!” He scoffed. “What do you think I do every day? How do you think I feel, knowing that you’re here, wanting to be close to you, but then remembering all of the shit that you did to me?! What I suffer, [Y/N], is a fate worse than death, and all of it is because of you.” 

He leaned closer and held up the dead goat. 

“This-” he said, shaking it in front of your eyes, “is what I’m supposed to be. An apex predator, one that listens to no one, especially not a useless human like yourself!” 

And with that, he tore into its flesh. He maintained eye contact with you as you watched the meat of its body break down and liquify. You imagined yourself in the later stages of your necrosis, with your internal organs falling apart the same exact way.  

You didn’t have it in you to be sick anymore. You were too numb. As you watched Mars devour his meal, you realized that this was the exact fate that you deserved. For all of the things that you’ve done to the people you claimed to care about. For Laura, Stan, and Shadow, whose deaths you had caused. You could never be allowed to make a full recovery, physically or mentally, because you have not earned it. 

You sighed, closed your eyes, and waited for nature to take its course. 

--- 

Mars stared down at your unconscious form. You hadn’t been responsive for a few days, and he had lost the last of his patience. He knew, in his heart, that you were being dramatic, that your injuries THAT HE INFLICTED UPON YOU were not nearly as bad as you claimed. He even cleaned your wounds for you, scrubbing them down using water from a nearby pond YOU’D TOLD HIM WATER WAS NOT ENOUGH TO HEAL YOU and the scraps of your old shirt. 

He’s done everything he could NO HE HASN’T but you still refused to wake up. 

“Hey.” He barked out. Silence. 

“HEY.” This time he kicked you. Again, silence. 

He knelt, taking one of your hands in his. He briefly glanced over the withered, blackened fingertips and yellowed, peeling nails, before biting into your cold palm. Blood gushed from the puncture, and he waited intently for you to wake up screaming, but he was still met with silence. 

He stood and dropped your hand, which fell listlessly to the ground, and licked your blood from his lips. It was off, somehow, extremely sour and not at all as warm and sweet as it used to be. 

His hands raked through his hair as he thought to himself. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what a rotten carcass looked like, he had seen them many times out in the woods. But you weren’t dead. You couldn’t be. 

Slowly, he approached you again, and even slower, he lowered his ear to the marred flesh above your heart, ignoring the bit of yellow puss that rubbed off onto his cheek. 

A heartbeat. He could barely feel it, much less hear it, but it was still there. He looked again at your disfigured face, at the deep cuts in the muscles that so closely resembled the raw meat that you used to bring to him. 

He wasn’t stupid. He knew what a creature in its final moments looked like. 

--- 

You had no way of feeling your naked body being wrapped in a dirty threadbare blanket, or the night’s cool air on your face. You couldn’t feel the way it rocked back and forth as it was carried through the forest. You couldn’t feel it being propped up against the wooden balusters of a front porch, either. 

You could, however, hear a voice pulling you back from the darkness that you had been lost in. 

“Alright, you’ve won.” It said. It kept tugging on the fabric around you. Adjusting it. 

“I’ll take your previous deal.” 

When a star is about to die, it receives one final burst of energy before it diminishes completely. Why that was the first thought you had as you mustered up the strength to open your eyes... you could not tell. 

Your vision was blurry, and in your left eye it was almost entirely gone. You didn’t have a way to see how milky and deteriorated it had become. But somehow, you were able to make out a few pairs of red eyes staring at you, and a wide, thin mouth which revealed black fangs when it spoke next. 

“Go, then, to your little human hospital and sort all of this out. And then afterwards – immediately afterwards – you'll come home again. Don’t... don’t you di-” 

His voice caught in his throat, then he huffed in annoyance. 

“Don’t you try to screw me over, okay? I’ll know if you try to get out of this one...!” 

He stood up then, seemingly miles above you, and gave one final warning: 

“Go there and come right back, [Y/N]. Just like you promised.” 

Your eyes began to defocus as you heard him bang loudly on the front door and run away, into the pitch-black forest behind you. The door opened, and you heard the woman’s voice change as she processed the macabre scene before her. 

“Hello? What is...? Oh... oh my God! Kids! Brandon, Kayla, get in your rooms! Get in them, right now! Charlie, I – Charlie, call 911! You- hey... are you alive? ...Listen, we’re going to get you help! We’re calling an ambulance! Just... just stay awake, alright? Just don’t fall asleep...!” 

You held on to her words as much as you could. Deep down, you still felt the animalistic urge to continue living. No, a part of you still wanted to believe that you could get through to the other side of this, as little as you may deserve it. But as your eyelids pulled themselves closed, and as you felt your conciousness begin to slip, you weren’t so sure that you had the strength to hold on anymore...