The pulsing beat of the music reverberated through the air, mingling with laughter and the clinking of glasses. It was supposed to be a night of liberation, a break from the mundane, but the moment you stepped into the party, the atmosphere shifted.

There he was—Woojin. The mere sight of him sent a jolt through your senses. You tried to avert your gaze, fixating on anything but his presence. It wasn’t unexpected to see him there; after all, parties like this drew students from all corners of campus. Yet, seeing his face dredged up memories best left buried.

Woojin was a puzzle you had once tried to solve—a mix of attraction, undefined boundaries, and the occasional thrill. Were you a couple? Friends with benefits? The end had been as murky as the beginning, a mutual agreement to fade into the background of each other's lives.

In a futile attempt to distract yourself, you joined a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven. The circle was absurdly large, and you reassured yourself there was no chance fate would pair you with him in such a crowded room.

Yet, fate, with its twisted sense of humor, had other plans. The bottle spun, teasing fate, and when it halted, its neck pointed straight at you and Woojin. Laughter erupted from the circle, encouraging you both into the confined space of the closet.

Inside, the air felt charged with unresolved tension. You glanced at Woojin; his smile was tight, a facade you saw right through. He leaned away from you, his body language guarded, respectful. The silence stretched, suffocatingly thick, until he finally broke it.

"Hey," his voice was tentative. "how have you been doing?"