If there was one thing both of them noticed the next morning—
It was that their friends were being suspiciously normal.
Too normal.
The girl narrowed her eyes at Friend #3 during morning break.
"Why are you smiling like that?"
"I'm not," Friend #3 replied instantly.
"You are."
"I'm just happy."
"Why?"
Friend #3 shrugged. "It's a nice day."
The girl blinked slowly. "It's raining."
Friend #3 froze.
"…Emotionally nice?"
The girl crossed her arms.
Something was off.
Friend #6 was unusually quiet. Friend #1 kept checking her phone. Friend #5 and Friend #2 exchanged looks every five seconds.
It felt like being surrounded by actors who forgot their script.
"You're planning something," the girl said flatly.
Six faces turned toward her in exaggerated confusion.
"Planning?" Friend #4 asked sweetly.
"Yes."
"For what?"
"I don't know," she snapped. "That's the problem."
Friend #6 leaned forward. "Relax."
That made her even more suspicious.
Across campus, the boy was having the exact same experience.
His friends were pretending to argue about homework.
Pretending to stretch.
Pretending to exist casually.
He stared at them.
"What."
One of them blinked. "What what?"
"You're weird."
"Define weird."
"You're whispering."
"We always whisper."
"You just texted someone and smiled."
"It was a meme."
He narrowed his eyes. "Show me."
"No."
Suspicious.
Very suspicious.
He ran a hand through his hair. "If this is about last week—"
"It's not," they said too quickly.
He stared at them.
"…It is."
They avoided eye contact.
That confirmed everything.
He exhaled sharply. "Don't."
"Don't what?" one asked innocently.
"Don't do anything stupid."
They smiled.
Too calmly.
By last period, the rain had slowed into a soft drizzle.
The hallways were quieter than usual.
It was the perfect setting.
Friend #3 tapped the girl's shoulder gently.
"Hey, can you do me a favor?"
The girl didn't even look up from her notebook.
"No."
Friend #3 blinked. "You don't even know what it is."
"It's suspicious."
"It's not."
"Yes, it is."
Friend #5 leaned in. "We need the old art boards from the storeroom for tomorrow's display."
The girl paused.
"The storeroom?" she repeated slowly.
"Yes."
"Why me?"
"Because you're responsible."
"That sounds fake."
"It's not," Friend #6 insisted.
She looked at all of them.
Too innocent.
Too coordinated.
Her suspicion alarm was screaming.
But…
It was just the storeroom.
What could possibly—
No.
They wouldn't.
…Would they?
"You're not sending him too, right?" she asked carefully.
All six looked confused.
"Why would we?" Friend #2 asked sweetly.
The girl narrowed her eyes.
But eventually sighed.
"Fine."
Friend #3 smiled brightly. "You're the best."
"That's what people say before betrayal," she muttered, grabbing her bag.
Ten minutes later—
On the other side of campus—
One of the boys casually nudged him.
"Hey, can you grab the extra basketball cones from the storeroom?"
He froze.
"…Why me?"
"Because you're tall."
"That doesn't answer the question."
"Because you know where it is."
"That also doesn't answer the question."
His friend shrugged. "Coach asked."
He squinted. "Coach did not ask."
There was a pause.
"…He implied."
"He didn't."
The boys exchanged glances.
"Just go."
He stared at them.
Then sighed.
"If this is a setup—"
"It's not."
He didn't believe them.
But he went anyway.
The girl reached the storeroom first.
It was dim.
Dusty.
Stacks of unused chairs and boxes lining the walls.
She stepped inside slowly.
"Hello?" she called softly.
No answer.
She exhaled.
"You're overthinking," she muttered to herself.
She walked toward the shelves where the art boards were stored.
Her heartbeat felt strangely loud.
Probably just nerves.
Definitely just nerves.
She bent down to grab the boards—
The door creaked open behind her.
Her heart stopped.
She straightened slowly.
Turned.
And there he was.
Standing in the doorway.
Just as frozen as she was.
They stared at each other.
"…You too?" he asked carefully.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"Art boards?"
He held up a confused hand. "Basketball cones?"
Silence.
Understanding hit at the exact same time.
"Oh no," she whispered.
He sighed softly.
"They did."
She stepped toward the door.
But before she could reach it—
It shut.
Firmly.
The sound echoed.
A second later—
Click.
The unmistakable sound of a lock.
They both stared at the door.
Then at each other.
Then back at the door.
"You've got to be kidding me," he muttered.
She rushed forward, grabbing the handle.
It didn't budge.
"Guys!" she called, knocking. "This isn't funny!"
Muffled laughter came from outside.
Then Friend #6's voice.
"Very funny, actually!"
The boy ran a hand over his face.
"I told them not to do anything stupid."
One of his friends called from outside, "We heard that!"
The girl turned red. "Open the door!"
"Nope!" Friend #1 replied cheerfully.
"You can't just lock us in here!" she protested.
"Oh, we can," Friend #3 said.
The boy crossed his arms. "What do you want?"
There was a pause outside.
Then the tallest of the boys spoke.
"Simple rule."
The girl froze.
The boy sighed. "I don't like the sound of that."
Friend #6 declared loudly, "No confession—"
Friend #2 continued dramatically, "No freedom."
Silence.
Inside the storeroom—
The air shifted.
"What?" the girl whispered.
The boy blinked slowly. "You're joking."
"Nope," came the cheerful reply.
"You're insane," he muttered.
"We know!" someone shouted proudly.
The girl pressed her forehead against the door. "We're not confessing anything!"
"Then enjoy bonding time!" Friend #5 called.
Footsteps began retreating.
"Wait—!" she shouted.
Silence.
Complete silence.
They both stood there for a long moment.
Listening.
Nothing.
No whispers.
No giggles.
No footsteps.
Just rain tapping lightly against distant windows.
The girl slowly stepped back from the door.
"They won't actually leave us here," she said quietly.
He hesitated.
"…They might."
She looked at him.
He looked at her.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
Dust particles floating lazily in the dim light from the tiny high window.
The shelves.
The boxes.
The closeness.
She swallowed.
"This is your fault," she said weakly.
He blinked. "My fault?"
"You told them."
"You told them first."
"That's not the point!"
He stared at her.
Then, unexpectedly—
He laughed softly.
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't teasing.
It was nervous.
She blinked.
"You're laughing?"
"This is insane," he said quietly.
She crossed her arms.
Her heart was racing again.
Not from panic.
From proximity.
He was standing closer than he realized.
Or maybe he did realize.
Neither moved away.
The silence stretched.
Thick.
Charged.
He cleared his throat. "So."
"So," she echoed.
They both glanced at the locked door again.
Then back at each other.
Neither speaking.
Because now—
There was nowhere to run.
No hallway to escape down.
No crowd to hide in.
Just the two of them.
And the unspoken thing between them.
The rain outside softened further.
The storeroom felt still.
She shifted her weight nervously.
"…This is awkward."
"Very," he agreed.
Another pause.
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"They won't open it."
She nodded slowly.
"Not unless…"
"Yeah."
Silence again.
The rule echoed in both their minds.
No confession.
No freedom.
Her pulse quickened.
His gaze dropped briefly to the floor.
Then back to her.
The tension was different now.
Not chaotic.
Not accidental.
Intentional.
Heavy.
She took a small breath.
"…We don't have to say anything," she said softly.
He looked at her.
And for the first time since they'd been locked in—
There was no teasing.
No panic.
Just honesty hovering between them.
"I know," he said quietly.
The room felt impossibly small.
The distance between them impossibly loud.
And outside—
Somewhere down the hallway—
Two groups of friends sat on the floor, grinning at each other.
Waiting.
Inside the storeroom—
Silence.
Just the sound of their breathing.
And the awareness that neither of their worlds would stay the same after this.