#t8s

♡ . ` ~

Before meeting her in the game, you had seen her a couple of times around; you worked in the same place. Her tough and reserved, yet genuinely altruistic attitude had always caught your attention. You never had the courage to approach her, using the excuse of being too immersed in your own problems.

She also used to stare but never made a move.

You weren’t surprised to see her there, in the 'show'; it only saddened you to think about the situations that had brought her to that point. You understood it in people like yourself, too selfish to care about someone they didn’t know. But even from her disadvantaged position, she found ways to help those in need.

How sad that life had brought her here anyway. You wondered if it had somehow contributed, recalling the times she endured suffering in exchange for helping someone else. You also remembered how you had been about to end your life before the notifications started coming in.

Had she been about to do the same?

From the moment you chose the number eight and followed the instructions on the platform, you knew that even though it seemed like you couldn’t die, the explicit mention that everything would end if you did meant rough days were ahead.

Who would give money without expecting anything in return?

Despite your distrust, you decided to join because it was much more hopeful than what you had almost done just hours ago.

She seemed surprised by your presence.

She let you approach her silently before starting to trust you. Despite the attraction she also felt, trust was more important.

When everyone grouped up to divide shifts for climbing the stairs, you got assigned two consecutive days of climbing followed by two days of rest, to make it fair for everyone.

Of course, she would do this.

You thought when she volunteered to go up and down the stairs so first floor could rest. That day, you were also doing your part, so you simply shared your food with her, as she didn’t want 1st Floor to stop eating because of her.

The next time, if you hadn’t been too exhausted, you would have volunteered first so she wouldn’t have to. Still, later, when you saw her red-faced and working for the fourth consecutive day, you did it and insisted that she rest.

“No, let me. You’ve been working for two days.” She protested.

“You’ve worked three. I can rest tomorrow.” Reluctantly, she agreed.

When it was time to vote, you went to the corner where she was hiding.

“I think I’ll vote for ninenth. What about you?” she asked.

“Some will probably vote for third floor. I’m undecided between ninenth or abstaining,” you said, pausing and making eye contact with her. “Anyway, I’ve never sent my trash to one, and I’m not starting now.”

She nodded in agreement. What was the point? Why couldn’t everyone just take care of their own trash?

Later, you met with 1f and decided to support by voting against the top floor.

Days passed, trying to extend your time here, and during breaks, you spent time together.

By the end of the night, your thoughts were filled with her.

When will she make the next move? Should I? What if she thinks I’m just being kind?

“Can I trust you?” Everyone was in their rooms resting, and you were beside her on the swings in the park.

The days of hunger imposed by the unbearable person from the top floor had ended after 3rd and 4rth Floor apologized, just before everyone gathered to decide what to do next.

“Why do you ask?” you responded, part of you offended by the question.

“This peace won’t last forever.”

“I know. I’ve been thinking about what will happen when simple games and dramas are no longer enough.” Both of you fell silent. “I’ll stand by your side,” you said, wondering if you hadn’t made it clear enough before.

Her face lit up, and you wished you could be closer.

“Great, because I also want to stand by yours.” Compared to how you only exchanged glances without words before, you were grateful to trust her and especially to have her trust in you, knowing she also needed reassurance since she was usually the one providing it.

Later that day, during the King game, it was 8's Floor turn, with a promising challenge—until 2nd Floor raised her hand.

She had to kiss someone, but that someone wasn’t going to be you. She immediately looked at you expectantly, and you were already watching her. Her eyes reflected… disappointment? When you didn’t raise your hand, Floor 3 did instead.

Your heart almost stopped, and a knot formed in your stomach, almost worse than the pain from days without eating.

You relaxed briefly when she refused. But then, she had to fight Sixth Floor. How you hated him. You were sure she would beat him like the other day, but you didn’t want her to get hurt.

The fight started in her favor, and you enjoyed watching her throw him to the ground, waiting for him to recover a bit before immobilizing him again. Still, you were worried because the fight would last long; his pride wouldn’t let him give up easily.

Your brief happiness at seeing her land another hit faded when she showed a moment of weakness, and it clicked.

Of course, she still hadn’t recovered from hitting the tiles a few days ago. Damn it. You knew this rivalry wouldn’t lead to anything good (though you admired her bravery in facing 6th Floor, who always tried to stay ahead of everyone).

A moment later, he hit her hard enough to keep her from getting up, pressing on her still-delicate hand with brutal force. The following seconds were torture to watch, tormenting you further as no one could separate him from her, and she refused to give up. When the fight ended, you wanted to tear that idiot to pieces, and your heart broke at the sight of her bloodied face.

Fifth Floor and you took her to her room while Floor fourth asked the elevator for supplies to treat her. After leaving her there, you rushed to your room, bought medicine to ease her pain, and sent it to her floor along with a bandage for her hand. You went back down, where Floor 5 finished treating her. You helped bandage her hand.

When Floors fifth and fourth left, her eyes were filled with tears, her face temporarily disfigured. She squeezed your hand as if afraid you’d leave too.

“Please don’t go”

“I wasn’t planning to. I’d rather stay here. You always worry about others; it’s time someone worries about you"

You pulled her close to comfort her, wrapping your arms around her. She leaned into you, resting her head on your shoulder as she brought her arms to your waist.

You ran a hand through her hair, gently caressing her head, trying to help her find peace.

“You should’ve kissed him,” you said.

“I don’t regret not doing it.” She pulled back slightly to look into your eyes. “He’s not the one I want to kiss.”

Your heart raced as the tension grew. You kept eye contact before she brought your face closer to hers, finally joining your lips in a slow kiss. You followed her immediately but carefully, afraid of hurting her.

You wondered how many minutes the clock would add at that moment, disgusted for a moment at the thought of men watching, but forgetting about it soon, when her eager grew as she kissed you more fervently, holding your waist tighter and pulling you as close as possible until you both separated, breaths heavy as you tried to catch them.

“Now that the violence has started, there’s no going back,” you said, and she nodded. "You can trust me,” you answered the question she had asked hours ago.