Lucien hated doing favors.
He was in his third year of university. Out of five. Responsible enough to be trusted. Responsible enough to be sent across campus carrying archive boxes.
—Lucien, could you take these to the storage room?
Of course.
He balanced two dusty boxes against his chest and walked down the hallway. The storage room door was heavy metal, fitted with a strong automatic closing bar that made it shut completely if no one held it open.
He pushed it open with his shoulder.
Inside, someone else was already there.
A tall guy with dark hair stood near one of the shelves, organizing stacks of old folders. His movements were calm, precise.
They almost collided.
—Sorry, —Lucien muttered as he stepped inside.
The dark-haired guy simply moved aside to give him space.
Lucien walked further in and set the boxes down on a metal table.
Behind them, the door remained slightly open.
Out in the hallway, a professor walked past. He slowed when he noticed the storage room door ajar. Probably assuming someone had forgotten to close it properly, he reached out casually and pushed it shut.
The automatic bar clicked into place.
The latch locked.
Inside, neither Lucien nor the other guy noticed immediately.
Lucien brushed dust off his hands.
Then—
A metallic click echoed through the room.
Both of them turned toward the door.
Lucien frowned.
—Did you close that? —Lucien asked.
—No, —the dark-haired guy replied.
Lucien walked to the door and grabbed the handle. He twisted it once.
Nothing.
He tried again, harder.
Still nothing.
The other guy stepped forward and tested it himself. He pushed firmly against the door.
It didn't move.
—It's locked, —Lucien said flatly.
—The automatic latch must have engaged, —the dark-haired guy explained calmly. —If someone shut it fully from outside, it locks.
Lucien stared at him.
—So someone closed it? —Lucien asked.
—Probably. The door was open. Someone walking by might've assumed it was left that way by mistake, —the guy said.
Lucien hit the door with his palm.
—Hey! Is anyone there? —Lucien called out.
Footsteps passed faintly in the hallway.
They didn't stop.
Lucien let out a sharp breath.
—You've got to be kidding me.
The dark-haired guy leaned lightly against one of the shelves.
—Someone will open it eventually, —he said.
Lucien turned toward him.
—You're really calm about this, —Lucien said.
—I really don't like being trapped, —the dark-haired guy replied evenly.
Lucien blinked.
—Then why do you look fine? —Lucien asked.
—Because reacting too fast won't unlock the door, —the guy explained.
Lucien crossed his arms.
—I'm not panicking.
—You're clenching your jaw, —the dark-haired guy pointed out.
Lucien immediately relaxed it.
—Stop analyzing me.
—You're standing two feet away from me in a locked room. It's hard not to notice things, —the guy said.
Lucien grabbed a broom from the corner.
—We could try forcing it, —Lucien suggested.
—It's reinforced steel, —the guy replied.
—So?
—So you'll break the handle before you break the lock.
Lucien lowered the broom slowly.
—You're annoyingly logical, —Lucien muttered.
—You're impulsive, —the dark-haired guy responded.
They stared at each other for a moment.
—What year are you? —Lucien asked.
—Third year, —the guy answered.
—Same.
Different departments. Same year. Somehow never crossed paths before.
Lucien leaned back against the locked door.
—If we're stuck here for hours, I'm blaming you, —Lucien said.
—That doesn't make sense, —the guy replied calmly.
—I don't care.
The corner of the dark-haired guy's mouth lifted slightly.
Lucien noticed.
—Did you just smile? —Lucien asked.
—No, —the guy said.
—You did.
A small pause.
—I'm Adrián, —the dark-haired guy said finally.
Lucien hesitated before answering.
—I'm Lucien.
Adrián nodded once.
The silence that followed felt different now.
Still awkward.
But less hostile.
Outside, distant voices echoed in the hallway.
Inside, the air felt warmer.
_________________________________________
Lucien tried the handle again
And again.
And again.
He twisted it so many times his palm started to sting. He pushed with his shoulder. He pulled with both hands. He even kicked the lower part of the door once out of pure irritation.
Nothing.
The metal didn't even tremble in sympathy.
Adrián stood a few feet away, watching.
Not amused.
Not mocking.
Just observing.
Lucien stepped back, exhaled sharply, and dragged a hand down his face.
—This is ridiculous, —Lucien muttered.
Adrián crossed his arms loosely.
—You've tried the same thing five times.—Adrian said tilting his head
—Maybe the sixth time works.
—That's not how locks function.
Lucien glared at him.
—You're not helping.
Adrián tilted again his head slightly.
—I'm preventing property damage.
Lucien tried the handle one more time out of spite.
Still locked.
He let go dramatically and turned around.
—Okay. Fine. Hypothetically speaking… —Lucien began, pacing once across the small room— what if we force it?
Adrián raised an eyebrow.
—With what?
Lucien gestured vaguely at the shelves.
—I don't know. A metal bar? The edge of the table? We push together?
—It's reinforced steel, —Adrián repeated calmly.
—You've said that already.
—Because it's still true.
Lucien let out a frustrated noise.
—So what, we just stand here?
—We wait.
—You really love that word.
Adrián shrugged slightly.
—It works most of the time.
Lucien stared at the door for another few seconds, as if willing it to feel guilty and unlock itself.
When it didn't, he finally gave up.
He walked to one of the heavier archive boxes stacked near the wall and dropped down onto it with a tired sigh.
The cardboard creaked but held.
—If I had known I was going to get locked in a room with a stranger from another department, —Lucien said, rubbing his temples, —I would've brought water.
Adrián glanced at him.
—You didn't know.
—That's not the point.
Lucien pulled his phone out of his hoodie pocket.
—I have my phone. Great. Amazing. Wonderful. —He held it up sarcastically. —Do you know what that does for me right now?
Adrián didn't answer.
Lucien checked the screen.
No signal.
He turned slightly, raising the phone higher.
Still nothing.
—Why is there no signal in here? —Lucien demanded.
—It's a storage room surrounded by concrete, —Adrián replied.
Lucien squinted at him.
—You always have an explanation for everything?
—Usually.
Lucien huffed.
—I could literally call someone. I could fix this. But no. No data. No signal. This place is a black hole
He opened a random game on his phone and started tapping aggressively.
Adrián watched quietly.
—What class do you have next? —Adrián asked after a moment.
Lucien groaned dramatically.
—Statistics
—You don't sound excited.
—I'm already barely tolerated in that class, —Lucien said. —If I'm late again, they're going to dock points. Another sanction. Another email. Another "please be responsible, Lucien."
Adrián leaned back against the wall.
—You're late often?
Lucien shot him a look.
—I have… timing issues.
—That's a diplomatic way to say irresponsible.—Adrián explained
Lucien gasped softly.
—I am not irresponsible.
Adrián didn't respond.
Lucien narrowed his eyes.
—Okay, maybe slightly. But that's not the point. The point is I'm trying. And now I'm locked in a room.
He dropped his head back slightly.
—I swear if I lose points because of this, I'm suing the door.
Adrián's lips twitched.
Lucien noticed immediately.
—You're laughing at me.
—I'm not.
—You are.
—I'm observing.
—That's worse.
Lucien went back to tapping his phone, shoulders slumped.
—This is so unfair. I don't even skip class. I just… arrive creatively.
Adrián almost smiled again.
—You complain a lot.
Lucien looked up.
—I'm processing.
—Verbally.
—Yes.
A short silence followed.
Lucien's game character lost.
He groaned again.
—Unbelievable. Even this isn't going my way.
Adrián pushed off the wall and stepped closer.
—You stress yourself out before anything actually happens.
Lucien frowned.
—Excuse me?
—You're already imagining the email. The sanctions. The consequences. We've been locked in here for, what, ten minutes?
Lucien blinked
—It's been ten minutes?
—Approximately.
Lucien stared at the ceiling.
—It feels like an hour.
Adrián studied him carefully.
—You don't like losing control of situations.
Lucien hesitated.
—No one does.
—Some people tolerate it better.
Lucien looked at him more closely now.
—And you're one of those people?
Adrián's expression shifted slightly.
—I prefer control. But if I don't have it, I don't waste energy fighting reality.
Lucien squinted.
—You talk like a philosophy podcast.
Adrián almost laughed.
—And you talk like everything is personally attacking you.
Lucien clutched his chest dramatically.
—Because it is.
Adrián shook his head lightly.
—You're not weak, though.
Lucien froze slightly.
—What?
—You're loud about your stress. But you're not fragile.
Lucien stared at him.
—You've known me for fifteen minutes.
—Long enough to notice you don't shut down. You push back.
Lucien looked away first this time.
—Don't analyze me.
—You started it.
Lucien let out a quieter sigh now.
—Fine. Whatever. We wait.
He shifted slightly on the box, adjusting his position.
—But if I die of dehydration in here, I'm haunting you.
Adrián looked at him calmly.
—I don't believe in ghosts.
Lucien narrowed his eyes slightly.
—With that tone? I'm definitely haunting you first
Adrián didn't react. He simply adjusted his position against the wall, arms still crossed, posture maddeningly composed.
—You said you would haunt me anyway.
—Yes, but now it's personal.
A faint flicker of amusement crossed Adrián's face. Barely there. The kind of expression you'd miss if you blinked.
—You won't die of dehydration in thirty minutes, Lucien.
Lucien pointed at him accusingly.
—You don't know my body. I'm delicate.
—You're dramatic.
—I'm expressive.
—You're loud.
Lucien gasped softly, clutching his chest as if struck.
—I cannot believe I'm trapped in here with someone so emotionally unavailable.
Adrián tilted his head.
—You're the one threatening postmortem harassment.
Lucien leaned back against the shelf again, staring up at the dim ceiling light.
—If I survive this, I'm telling everyone you let me suffer.
—I did nothing to you.
—Exactly.
Silence settled between them for a moment. Not uncomfortable. Just thick with dust and the faint hum of the building around them.
Lucien glanced at him again, more curious now than irritated
—You really don't get anxious? At all?
Adrián took a second before answering.
—I do. I just don't perform it.
Lucien blinked.
—Perform it?
—You narrate yours.
Lucien opened his mouth to argue… then paused.
—I do not narrate it.
Adrián gave him a look.
Lucien hesitated, then muttered, —Okay, maybe a little.
A corner of Adrián's mouth lifted again.
Lucien noticed.
—You smiled.
—I didn't.
—You did.
—You're dehydrated. Hallucinating already.
Lucien squinted at him, then huffed a laugh despite himself.
—If I'm hallucinating, at least my brain picked someone tall.
Adrián blinked once.
—That's your criteria?
—Obviously
Another quiet beat passed. The tension in the room had thinned. Not gone, but softer.
Lucien looked at his phone again. No signal. No miracle.
He sighed, less theatrically this time.
After almost an hour of being trapped in that suffocating storage room, the handle finally turned.
The door opened, and a professor stood there holding several boxes. He froze when he saw them inside.
—…What are you two doing here?
Lucien didn't hesitate.
—We've been locked in here for almost an hour.
The professor blinked, confused.
—Locked?
—I saw the door open earlier and assumed the room was empty —he admitted slowly—. I closed it.
Lucien let out a disbelieving breath.
—Well, it wasn't empty.
Adrián stepped out first the moment there was space. He didn't argue. Didn't complain. He simply adjusted his backpack and left without another word. He didn't have class at that hour anyway, so he wasn't racing against attendance. Within seconds, he was already halfway down the hallway.
Lucien, on the other hand, felt the weight of the clock pressing against his ribs.
—I'm an hour late to class —he said tightly.
That changed the professor's expression immediately.
—Which class?
Lucien told him.
—Come with me —the professor said—. I'll explain what happened.
Lucien nodded and hurried beside him through the halls. Every step felt heavy with the thought of deductions, warnings, another mark against him.
When they reached the classroom, the professor knocked and stepped in first.
—Sorry for interrupting —he told the lecturer—. This student was accidentally locked in a storage room. That's why he's late. It was my mistake.
The classroom went quiet.
Lucien stood in the doorway, aware of the stares.
—Locked inside? —the lecturer repeated.
—Yes —the professor confirmed—. He wasn't at fault.
There was a brief pause. Then the lecturer gave a small nod.
—The attendance deduction will be removed. Take your seat.
The tight knot in Lucien's chest finally loosened.
—Thank you, sir.
He walked to his seat, exhaustion settling in now that the adrenaline had somewhere to go.
An hour trapped. An hour late. But at least the penalty was gone.
And Adrián?
He had already disappeared down the corridor the moment the door opened.