The door slammed shut with a sharp thud, followed by the clean click of the lock.

Silence.

Then—

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me” you muttered, grabbing the knob and twisting it hard.

Nothing.

Behind you, Tord let out a dry breath “Perfect” he said “Just perfect”

You turned—only to realize too late how little space there actually was, the closet was narrow. Shelves pressing in above, boxes digging into your shoulder and Tord—right behind you, close enough that when you shifted, your back brushed his chest.

You stilled, then tried to step forward, there wasn’t room.

“Move” you muttered.

“Where?” Tord shot back. “Through the door?”

You clicked your tongue, trying to lean away—only pressing further back into him, outside, muffled voices—then laughter.

“Oh, that’s hilarious” you called, knocking against the door.

“You two need to work things out!” Edd said, far too cheerful.

“Yeah, we’re not opening it” Matt added. “Figure it out”

A pause—then Tom, blunt as ever “They’re right, gou both suck at talking, stay in there.”

“Are you serious?” you snapped.

“Completely” Tom replied. “Not dealing with your shit again”

“Open the fucking door!” Tord said, sharper now.

“Nope" Footsteps shifted, voices fading until only the quiet remained.

You exhaled, letting your head fall back against the wood for a second “This is ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” Tord muttered, he shifted and it made everything worse.

Your back pressed fully into him now, his chest firm behind you; one of his hands came up beside your shoulder, bracing against the wall—caging you in without really meaning to.

You felt it, the warmth, the closeness, too clear to ignore.

“They really think this is going to fix anything?” he said, voice lower now, closer—almost brushing your ear.

“Apparently" Your voice came out quieter.

You tried to adjust again, but there was nowhere to go, your hip brushed his, your shoulders pinned, your breathing just slightly out of sync with his.

Every small movement dragged against him.

“How long do you think they’ll leave us here?” you asked.

“Knowing them?” Tord replied. “Long enough to be annoying.”

You huffed softly “I hate this.”

A pause, then, right behind you—“Hate being stuck with me?”

You shifted, your back sliding against his chest without meaning to “I hate being trapped,” you said.

A quiet exhale near your ear “Convenient.”

“Accurate.”

Silence stretched, closer, thicker—Outside, faint voices again—“I give it ten minutes” Tom muttered.

“They’ll figure it out,” Matt said.

Edd laughed softly. “Or at least stop yelling.”

Inside, Tord adjusted slightly, his arm brushing along yours—then settling lower, near your side again just to keep his balance, his fingers barely grazed your waist.

You stilled, he didn’t move them right away.

“You’re not even trying to move anymore” he murmured.

“There’s nowhere to move” you replied.

“Right” But neither of you tried.

Your hand shifted back slightly, brushing his forearm, it lingered a second too long to be accidental, neither of you pointed it out, your breathing felt louder now.

His too.

“…They’re not opening that door anytime soon,” he said quietly.

“No,” you answered.

Another pause... Then— “You still hate this?”

You hesitated “…I hate the situation”

Not him, not exactly, a faint hum against your ear “Good enough”

You leaned your head back again, just slightly—close enough that you could feel the edge of him there, the heat of his presence.

Then you straightened, but not far “…We’re not talking about this after” you muttered.

“Obviously,” Tord said.

A beat, then, lower— “Would ruin the image.”

You almost scoffed, instead, you stayed where you were; back pressed to his chest, his hand still resting lightly at your side.

Too close, too aware and at some point—neither of you made a real effort to fix it anymore.