Elevator romance exhibits in museum

II.

So they sat. And sat. Not close, only feet touching.  Sneakers, actually. Soft humming could be heard from bellw, but no help came, no one called for them and mobile devices lost their signal on the other side of the elevator doors. They sat. And sat. In silence that spoke of could be, could be, it sang the lyrics to music of their still beating hearts.
"You were my first crush, my first daydream. My first inspiration, my first forever. With you I learned what imagination can do and what sanity faces when quarrels with it." She said and the song turned into sad lullaby.
"My dear", he tried, but it did not sound like he was tasting the words, more like he already knew what flavor they were. "You speak so tragically beautiful."
"Because my world is a painting of colors that are sent in chaos by storm it was left on. Blues and greys, purples and blacks; they are in waves crushing shores of my soul and poor heart, spreading the chaos."
He rolled up his sleeve. "I tried couple of years ago. They found me. All I remember is that it hurt like hell, dear Y/N. Failure hurts the most."
His eyes were wet. His tears were nowhere. Neither of these two sad people had any tears left.
"Isn't this world hell? What can be worse than living in it?" She was calm, her voice was raising. But he didn't take notice.
"If I save one person from pain I had to go through, it will be more than worth staying."
"Why would you want to save me?" The air was becoming too thick to push down throat into lungs. Choked with fog. Two statues frozen in their pain. Made to stand in Museum of ruined and forgotten. Spoken of only when dead.
"Because it is the hardest to save those similar to us. They remind us of ourselves and all the battles we are struggling to win. They remind us how shitty we are feeling and how are we going to end if we don't do something for ourselves. Most of all they remind us how there is no one out there trying to do the same we are trying for others, for us." The words settled on her conscious. Words don't judge. People who use them do.
"Do you have your phone with you?" He touched her feet with his. Deep in the pocket, she fished for the device and slid it across the floor to his hands.
Not a moment passed, air for a bit denser, he crawled to her side, for the first time since they have been stuck in elevator's peculiar steadiness, and handed her back her phone.
"Here. Call me, if you ever feel like doing it. I will answer you. It doesn't matter is it a day or night. If I sleep I will wake up and answer you. I promise." He was soft and his edges were friendly. His smile was sincere and for a while she forgot about the girl that doesn't love her and doesn't want to keep the conversation going.
"What did you name yourself?" She asked as he called himself from her mobile, creating new contact for her, his new friend. 
He urged her to look herself. He wasn't in B section. But under P, attached to Prince, gleaming under name of Caspian.