Irl DreamSMP oneshots

Locked in (Crimeboys)

This oneshot may contain inappropriate language. If a warning needs to be added please let me know
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Side Note — This is written in third person. I was writing the outline of this oneshot and got a bit too carried away in my writing. I've decided that this oneshot sounds much better in third person. I don't normally write in third person, so I hope this does well. Feedback is always accepted.
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Warnings — Claustrophobia
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Content Creators — Tommyinnit and Wilbur Soot
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It's only half an hour past midnight and Tommy's finished his late-night stream. As soon as he finishes all he wants to do it go home, as most do. He gathers the things he needs to bring with him; his phone, wallet, ect. Though, he feels as if he's forgetting something... well even if he did, he can just get it later.

With everything pushed into his pockets, he leaves his office and makes sure to switch the light off after him. He doesn't worry to lock the door as it tends to auto-lock. He pulls down on the handle and pulls the door towards him just to check. It's locked.

Before he leaves, he wonders across the room to Elodie's office. He peers in through the window just to make sure she hasn't stayed back overworking again. It has only happened once before; he came back late one night to grab something from his office when he saw that the light was still on in her office. He went in to check on her, she was editing one of the new videos Tommy had recorded not too long ago. She had her right hand wrapped around a coffee mug and the other was wiping the sleep from her eyes. Tommy convinced her to go home, telling her to take a break tomorrow and rest, that he's got it covered. Thankfully, she's gone home already.

Tommy goes to open the door so he can switch the light off, but the door's locked. He'll just remind her to turn the light off before she leaves tomorrow. He takes a quick look around the hangout area to make sure nothing of importance is left here overnight. Nothing.

Relieved to just go home and sleep because he can barely stay up past eleven, he tiredly walks towards the exit door and flicks the last of the lights off.

Home sweet hom-

Huh. He tries the handle again. And again. And again. Again. What the fuck.

He flicks the lights back on and tries the handle again. Why isn't it- oh, God he's tired. It's locked. Of course.

Tommy reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. Must be in the other pocket. He pulls out his wallet. Uh. He reaches for around his neck, in case he just forgot he's wearing a lanyard with his keys dangling from it. No no there either. Where is it then? He surely- shit. The office.

Tommy sprints to his office and looks through the window as best he can without the light. He can just make out the silhouette of his keys lying simply on his desk. He reaches for the door handle and begins pulling the door over and over again, hoping that, just maybe, it'll unlock.

Tommy starts panicking. He can't get out. He's locked in. He's stuck here. How long will he be stuck here? Until morning? This can't be happening.

His hands become clammy and he finds he can't breathe. He hurriedly throws his wallet and phone out of his pockets and to the carpeted floor. He slides down the window and brings his legs to his chest. He squints his eyes closed firmly, trying to remember every breathing exercise he's ever learnt.

In one.. two.. three.. four..
Out one.. two.. three.. four..

He repeats this until he feels like he's in control of his breathing, at least a bit. He notices he's trembling; he watches as his hands shake uncontrollably and winces as he feels sweat building on his forehead, damping the hair that hangs low in his face.