HAEUN. 

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     Mornings used to be my favourite part of the day.

     Before the sun got too high, before the hallways filled with noise, before the weight of expectations settled onto my shoulders. It was the only time the school belonged to me—when the broadcasting room was still quiet, the mic was still cool beneath my fingertips, and my voice was the only one that mattered.

     Now, mornings are unbearable.

     Because now, I sit at my desk like everyone else, staring down at an open textbook while someone else reads my lines, using my mic, in my space. And even though I keep my head down, pretending to scribble notes, I feel it. The weight of the glances, the way people shift in their seats when my name is mentioned.

     It's almost just as bad during the lunch breaks.

     It's been a few days, but the school hasn't forgotten.

     I don't think they ever will.

     The broadcast hums through the speakers, clear and steady. The new announcer doesn't stumble over any words, doesn't trip over consonants. They're good. Good enough that no one would ever think about replacing them.

     I press my lips into a thin line and force my attention to the numbers on my page. Calculus is straightforward. At least numbers don't whisper behind my back.

     A soft nudge to my arm pulls me out of my thoughts.

     "You okay?" Liz whispers.

     I blink, startled, before giving her a small nod. "Yeah. Just... zoning out."

     She gives me a look that says she knows I'm lying but doesn't press. "You wanna get rice cakes after school? My treat."

     "She's bribing you," Rei chimes in from my other side, resting her chin on her palm. "And I fully support it."

     "I'm not bribing her," Liz argues, then tilts her head. "Okay, maybe a little. But only because she deserves it."

     I sigh, lips twitching. "I'm fine, really."

     Rei hums. "Sure, sure. But just saying, if you ever wanna get revenge, we could totally take down the new announcer. Liz and I can corner them in the cafeteria and—"

     "Rei," I deadpan.

     "Kidding," she singsongs. "Mostly."

     Liz shakes her head, exasperated but amused. "You could just ask for your role back, you know."

     I don't answer right away. The truth is, I have thought about it. A lot. But after everything? It's not that simple.

     Before I can come up with a response, the final bell rings.

     And that's when I remember—I might not have to do the morning and afternoon announcements anymore, but I still have to deal with him.

     Because today is another "team-building activity" with Park Sunghoon.

     I close my eyes and exhale slowly. It's just one month.

     How bad could it be?

───‧★ ˎˊ˗

     Very bad. Very, very bad.

     When the itinerary said, "organising the kitchen's storage closet", I expected something just as big as the P.E closet.

     Apparently not.

     Because this damned closet is smaller than my bathroom.

     The manager claps his hands together. "So, you two will be organising the storage room's inventory!"

     I blink, unsure if I've heard him right.

     Sunghoon exhales. "You mean... counting food? In... there?"

     "Yes! Just go through the list and check if we're running low on anything." The manager grins. "Shouldn't take too long."

     I stare at him, blinking in disbelief.

     Counting food. With Sunghoon. In a cramped storage room.

     Maybe I should fake a stomach ache. Or an allergic reaction. I could collapse dramatically and—

     "Great," Sunghoon says lazily, already stepping forward. "Let's get this over with."

     I inhale sharply. No escape now.

     The manager pulls open the door, revealing a tiny, narrow space, packed to the brim with shelves of supplies. The air is thick with the scent of flour and dried spices.

     Sunghoon glances inside, unimpressed. "Cosy."

     I scowl. "Just hurry up."

     He steps in first, scanning the shelves. I follow, gripping my clipboard. The moment I shut the door behind me, I realize just how tight the space really is.

     The shelves barely leave any room to stand. I press my back against one shelf while Sunghoon leans against the one in front of me—and even then, we're still ridiculously close.

     Before I can make a comment, I hear a loud click and then... nothing. I glance at the door, frowning. I reach for the handle, trying to twist it, but it doesn't budge.

     "What the—?" I mutter under my breath, yanking on the door again. "No, no, no. Please, don't do this to me."

     Sunghoon looks over, eyebrow raised. "Door's jammed?"

     "Screw this." I pull harder. "What does it look like to you, Einstein?!"

     "Great. Just great." He mutters something under his breath and then leans against the shelf beside him, arms crossed. "I guess we're stuck here."

     I narrow my eyes. "What a smart observation."

     Sunghoon shrugs nonchalantly. "Not my fault you can't handle tight spaces, Hammie."

     I scowl, trying not to let his teasing get to me. The room feels even smaller now, and the air is heavy, the scent of flour and spices mixing in a way that makes my head feel a little dizzy.

     I clear my throat. "Let's just get this done, alright?"

     He hums in agreement, but I can feel the weight of his gaze on me as I flip through the inventory list. It's hard to ignore the way his eyes flicker between the clipboard and me, like he's waiting for something. I focus harder, trying to block him out.

     "Five-kilogram bags of rice," I say, trying to distract myself.

     Sunghoon turns to the shelves, scanning the rows. He reaches up, fingers brushing a bag near the back, and in doing so—his shoulder nearly bumps mine.

     I freeze.

     He notices.

     I know he notices, because the second his hand drops, he tilts his head with a knowing smirk.

     "What?" I snap, voice rising slightly.

     "You flinched."

     "No, I didn't."

     "Did too." His voice is smooth, teasing. "You scared, Hammie?"

     I bristle. "Don't be ridiculous."

     Sunghoon leans in slightly—just enough to close the already minuscule distance between us. "Then why are you acting so tense?"

     I clench my jaw. He's doing this on purpose. I know it.

     "I'm not tense," I say stiffly, willing my hands to stop shaking.

     His eyes glint. "No?"

     He takes another step forward.

     Instinct kicks in—I move back.

     My back hits the shelf. Something shifts behind me.

     A bag of flour tilts forward—

     I barely have time to register it before Sunghoon moves. His hands grasp my arms—sharp, firm, and pulling me against his chest in an instant.

     My breath catches in my throat.

     For a moment, I just feel the heat of his body against mine. The firmness of his chest—muscles pressed solid against me that it's almost overwhelming. I can feel the strength in his grip as his hands wrap around my arms, pulling me closer. His fingers splay across my lower back, just above where my spine curves. The other hand is tight around my upper arm, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he holds me there.

     His abdomen tenses against my hand. His heart is thrumming against my ear. Why is his heart always beating so quickly?

     Pressed so firmly against me, his body is impossibly solid—his chest rising and falling beneath his uniform. I can't help but notice it all—the hard, sculpted lines of his body, the way his body moves under his shirt, and the strength in his arms. 

     My head is spinning. I'm going to throw up. I think.

     The bag of flour sends up a cloud of white dust beside me. I hear the loud thud of it hitting the floor, but I barely register it. My mind is elsewhere.

     His voice is low, right near my ear, almost a whisper.

     "Careful," he murmurs, and I swear I can feel his breath tickle the side of my neck.

     I don't move. I don't breathe. Everything around us disappears, leaving only the frantic thudding of my heartbeat—and his.

     Sunghoon exhales, tilting his head just enough that his face is mere inches from mine. I can feel the heat radiating from him, his nose nearly brushing my temple, his breath warm against my cheek.

     "Haeun." He speaks softly, almost tenderly. Actually, this is the gentlest I've ever heard him speak, and I'm almost one hundred percent sure I'm dreaming.

     I don't answer. I don't look up, don't do anything.

     "Haeun." He says again, his voice just as quiet, a faint trace of something different in it now. So different, I hate it.

     I hate him.

     I snap back to reality, jerking away from his grip. My back slams into the shelf behind me. Sunghoon doesn't react, just watches me with an unreadable expression in his eyes.

     A slow smirk tugs at his lips.

     "What's wrong?" His voice is too calm, too smug. "Flustered?"

     "I—" I scowl, cheeks burning. "I hate you."

     His smirk widens. "Mm. Sure."

     I turn away immediately, pretending to check the clipboard. My hands are shaking too much to focus.

     Sunghoon exhales a laugh, the sound low and infuriatingly amused.

     I can feel his eyes on me, even though I refuse to look at him.

     We still have a full inventory list to get through.

     And a locked storage closet to get out of.

     How lovely.

───‧★ ˎˊ˗

     We finished what feels like ages ago. 

     The inventory's done, the shelves are in order, and yet we're still here. Stuck. In this cramped little storage room, with no sign of anyone coming to rescue us.

     It's infuriating.

     Being so close to Park Sunghoon in a space this tight is slowly driving me insane. Every time he shifts, I feel it—the subtle movement that makes my heart skip a beat. The air between us is too thick, like there's barely any room left for either of us to breathe.

     I want to die.

     The silence stretches on, but it's not comfortable. No, it's heavy, thick with the tension simmering just beneath the surface. I keep stealing glances at the door, willing it to open, but of course, it doesn't.

     I can't take it anymore.

     "What do you think the chances are that anyone's going to find us?" I ask, trying to sound casual, but my voice comes out a little too sharp.

     Sunghoon shrugs, unfazed. "Eventually."

     "Eventually?" I repeat, incredulous. 

     His lips twitch into a smirk. "What do you want me to do about it? It's not like I can magic the door open. Nor is it my fault."

     "So you're saying it's my fault?" I scoff. 

     Sunghoon doesn't move, but the smirk on his face deepens, like he's enjoying the banter. "Maybe you're just mad because you're stuck with me."

     I stiffen. "Oh, please. Don't flatter yourself."

     A glint of amusement dances in his eyes. Without a word, he steps closer. Just enough to close the already narrow space between us, but not quite touching—yet. His body is so close I can feel the shift of his weight, the barely audible rustle of his clothes, the heat radiating off him. He leans forward just slightly, his face coming dangerously close to mine.

     I hold my breath.

     And then, out of nowhere, Sunghoon places his hand on the shelf opposite him. The movement is quick, casual, like he's just adjusting himself, but for some reason, my brain short circuits.

     The proximity makes my chest tighten, my body instinctively stiffening. His hand rests just a little too close, like it's blocking any escape route I could have had.

     But I don't get the chance to even process that thought before he casually reaches forward, grabbing a jar from the shelf above us.

     It's a jar of spices.

     A jar of goddamn spices.

     My heart lurches in my chest, my breath catching in my throat, completely misreading the situation. I stare, wide-eyed, as he examines the jar for a moment, completely unaware of how close he is.

     I can feel the warmth from his body radiating just inches away from me, my mind racing as I try to convince myself that he didn't do this on purpose. That he's just grabbing a random jar, like any normal person would do.

     But then my gaze shifts down, and I notice how his muscles flex as he extends his arm. My eyes flick to his biceps, and I can see his arm tensing as he holds the jar, completely unbothered. 

     Annoying. He's so annoying.

     I snap my attention away, mortified at how flustered I've become over something so simple. 

     Get it together, Haeun.

     Sunghoon's voice breaks through the haze in my mind. "You're staring again."

     I glance up at him, heart pounding in my ears. "I wasn't staring."

     "Mm-hmm." He raises an eyebrow, leaning back slightly, but that smirk is still there, playing at the corners of his lips. "Sure."

     I open my mouth to argue, but the words get stuck. I hate that he's so damn confident about everything. It only makes it worse.

     Before I can say anything else, he slides the jar back onto the shelf with a soft thud, and I can't quite shake the feeling that the air around us has shifted. He stands there, casually leaning against the shelf.

     He leans forward.

     I take a step back, trying to create some distance, but my back collides with the shelf behind me. I wince, irritated with myself for getting so flustered.

     "What's your problem?" I snap.

     He doesn't respond right away, and for a second, I think maybe we're done with this tension. But then he tilts his head slightly, like he's weighing something in his mind.

     "You really don't like being this close to me, do you?" Sunghoon's voice is low, almost too soft, but the words hit me like a punch. 

     I freeze. "What?"

     His smirk is back, only this time, it's sharper. He steps closer again, if that's even possible, this time pushing right into my personal space. I can feel his presence all around me. The heat from his body is undeniable, making my pulse race as his chest brushes lightly against mine.

     "You're tense again," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why?"

     I swallow hard, my throat dry. "I—"

     He leans in even further, backing me into the shelf until my body's pressed against it. His breath is warm against my skin, his face inches from mine, and I'm trapped, pinned in place by his proximity.

     My heart slams in my chest, and I'm certain he can feel it. I can't move. I don't want to move.

     "You're not going to answer?" His tone is a little more challenging now, a little more teasing, but there's something else there too—a strange softness in the way he's looking at me.

     I open my mouth to say something, but my words fail me. All I can hear is the pounding of my heart, my body reacting to the closeness in ways I don't understand.

     Sunghoon's hand gently presses against the shelf beside me, the movement slow, deliberate, but I feel the weight of it, like he's trapping me in place again. 

     "Still don't like me, huh?" His voice is lower now.

     Before I know what I'm doing, my fist flies out, instinctively, and lands right in his stomach. The punch isn't hard, but it's enough to knock the wind out of him.

    "Oh my—" Sunghoon staggers back, eyes wide in surprise, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. "What the hell, Haeun?!"

     I don't wait for him to recover. I shove past him, my cheeks flushed with embarrassment and adrenaline. The door is right there. It's my only escape.

     Please open. Please open. Please open.

     It does. Thank God, it really opens.

     I dash into the kitchen and then out into the hallway, leaving Sunghoon standing there, bewildered and most likely pissed the hell off. 

     I don't care. I just need some space. Some air. 

     Anything that's not him. 

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tension teeheehee.... 

wordcount; 2716 
edited; ✘ 

thank you for reading, 
nana<3