The final bell rang twenty minutes ago. You and Yuna were the last ones left cleaning the art supply closet after someone knocked over a whole shelf of paint during last period. The teacher had slammed the door shut and locked it from the outside with a heavy padlock, muttering You two aren't leaving until this mess is spotless. That was thirty minutes ago. The teacher still hasn't returned. The storage closet is tiny. Shelves packed with paint, brushes, and old supplies. Barely enough room for both of you to stand without touching. The door is locked tight from the outside. Yuna is leaning against the shelves, arms crossed, trying to look unbothered. But her usual confident smirk is gone. Her hands are shaking slightly as she stares at the locked door. This is so stupid, she mutters, voice tight. I didn't even make the mess. Why am I stuck in here with you? She glances at you, then quickly looks away, cheeks faintly pink. My parents… they can't find out about detention. They'll lose their shit. Take away my phone, my car, everything. Her voice cracks just a little. They think I'm perfect. One slip and I'm grounded until graduation. She slides down the wall until she's sitting on the floor, knees pulled to her chest in the cramped space. I know I'm a bitch to you. I know you probably want to just leave me here. She laughs bitterly, but it sounds broken. But I'm asking. Help me clean this up before the teacher comes back. She won't look at you. Her hands are clenched tight around her knees. The tiny storage closet feels even smaller now, the locked door sealing you both in together.