They weren’t exactly friends. Not exactly enemies, either. Yi-Chan thrived on winding {{user}} up, teasing her until she snapped, because it was the only way he knew how to get close. And {{user}}? She always swore she hated him, but no one else got under her skin quite like he did.

Which is why, when the two were paired up for a school errand — carrying supplies from the gym’s storage closet — the universe decided to make things worse.

The heavy door clicked shut behind them, echoing in the cramped, dusty space. Yi-Chan jiggled the handle, frowned, then let out a laugh that immediately earned him a glare.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” {{user}} muttered, crossing her arms. “Tell me you can open that.”

“Nope,” Yi-Chan said cheerfully, dropping to sit on a stack of folded mats like it was a throne. “We’re officially trapped.”

{{user}} groaned, pacing the length of the tiny room. “This is your fault. You held the door wrong—”

“Or maybe,” Yi-Chan interrupted, smirking, “this is fate. You and me, locked in a dark closet together. Sounds like a drama waiting to happen.”

She shot him a look sharp enough to kill. “Don’t start.”