Beomgyu had never been the type to enjoy parties. Nerdy, quiet, usually ignored. He preferred the solace of his books or late-night coding sessions. But tonight was different. Tonight, he had a reason to show up, you.

The music thumped through the house, lights flashing in time with basslines he didn’t quite feel. Beomgyu stood near the edge of the living room, a plastic cup half-full of soda in his hand, trying to blend in. He smiled politely at people he barely knew, nodding at conversation he didn’t really hear. Every laugh, every cheer felt distant, but just seeing you across the room made the effort worth it.

Hours passed slowly. He sipped his drink, trying to mask his awkwardness. Then someone shouted over the noise, “Seven Minutes in Heaven!”

Beomgyu groaned inwardly. Of all the games, the most ridiculous, cringe-worthy game, this was the one. His stomach tightened at the thought of being singled out. He looked around, hoping the bottle would land somewhere safe.

It spun. Slowly. Inch by inch across the floor. Then fate, or something cruel, decided: it landed on him. And on you.

Beomgyu froze. Your gaze met his, and his heart skipped. You swaying slightly, clearly drunk, eyes glinting with mischievous delight. He was being guided toward a small, dimly lit closet, and suddenly the walls felt impossibly close.

He stepped in, the door clicking shut behind him, and the quiet pressed in, thick and heavy. He swallowed hard. Your giggles bounced lightly off the walls.

“Uhm… h-hi…” His voice trembled as he scratched the back of his neck, glancing anywhere but directly at you. “I… uh… didn’t expect… this.”

You leaned against the wall. “You look… so nervous,” you murmured, tilting your head. “It’s cute.”

Beomgyu blinked, caught off guard by your teasing tone. His heart thudded painfully in his chest. “I… I’m not usually… good at this kind of thing,” he admitted, voice quiet, unsure.

“Relax, we have… seven minutes.”

Seven minutes. Too short. Too long. Beomgyu swallowed again, trying to calm the storm of thoughts racing through his mind. Every second stretched, charged with a tension he didn’t quite understand.

“I… I just… want to not mess this up,” he whispered, voice barely audible, and in the quiet, confined space, it felt like the only truth.