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Okay so—the plan was actually very simple: hide inside the closet until Lara comes back from the bathroom, and then jumpscare her.
It was supposed to be as simple as that. A silly and innocent prank.
But then Yoonchae showed up. And Megan didn’t think, at all—she just reacted, instinctively. She latched onto Yoonchae’s sleeve and dragged her inside the closet with her. And now, here they are: stuck together in a confined space that’s definitely not big enough to accommodate two bodies.
There’s barely any room to move, and it’s kinda dark, and Megan is acutely aware that this was really not her brightest idea. There’s a joke in here somewhere, about her and closets, but she can’t really focus on that right now, not with Yoonchae’s face so dangerously close to her own. Megan can hear her breathe. Hell, she can feel Yoonchae breathe, tiny puffs of warm air, tickling Megan’s mouth. It’s distracting. It’s hard to avoid looking at her eyes, her lips—it's hard to not think about certain things that Megan definitely shouldn't be thinking about.
She tries to calm the rattle of her heart inside her ribcage just in case Yoonchae can somehow hear it.
“We’re going to prank Lara,” she whispers, “when she comes back from the bathroom, we jump out and scare her.”
“Oh.” In the shadowed dimness of the closet, Yoonchae’s black pupils are almost cat-like, gleaming with a hint of mischief. “Okay.”
Now they wait.
A minute passes. Then two. Three. Four. Five. Megan bites back a groan. What’s taking Lara so long?
The air inside the closet is stuffy and she’s starting to feel antsy. There’s something digging between her shoulder blades; a plastic hanger, maybe. She’s not sure. She tries to shift a little, change her position without making too much noise, and without touching Yoonchae in places that Megan shouldn’t touch but, fuck, it’s nearly impossible.
“Megan.” Her name leaves Yoonchae's mouth in a breathless rush, a pant. “Stop moving.”
“Sorry. I was just—there's something digging in my back a little and it bugs me.”
She tries, again, to shift in a way that might create any additional space, but it’s useless.
Yoonchae grabs her hips. "Stop."
Her heart does. It stutters to a stop like an engine out of gas. The touch is unexpected so it's honestly a miracle that Megan didn't flinch away in surprise and stumble out of the closet. Instead, she stays perfectly still. Even when Yoonchae slips a hand around her waist, and splays her palm against Megan's lower back. It trails up, up, up, between her shoulder blades, and—oh. This is kind of hot. Fuck. She can’t handle Yoonchae like this, under this close cover of darkness that seems so quiet and so loud all at once. So close that Megan can smell her hair, and her skin. It's too much. The nearness of their bodies is fogging her head. She feels a little dizzy.
“Here?” Yoonchae asks, and she's close enough now that she's practically whispering in Megan's ear.
“There. Yeah..." Her breath stutters. "Right there. You got it.” Megan feels a shiver go up her spine when Yoonchae drags her hand back. "Thanks...”
Yoonchae must've felt it, too—the shiver. Because there’s an odd look in her eyes when she draws back and looks at Megan. She parts her lips, like she might say something, but she doesn't. She looks away. She stays quiet. And then: “I think Lara fell. In the toilet.”
The deadpan delivery of that comment almost makes Megan burst into laughter. It doesn't help that the corner of Yoonchae's mouth twitches, like she’s trying not to laugh, too. Megan can't help it. A chuckle escapes her mouth, then the next thing she knows, she's leaning forward, resting her head against Yoonchae’s shoulder, nestling her mouth in the crook of Yoonchae's neck, trying to muffle the sounds of her laughter. It's only when she finally calms down, that she realizes the position they are in.
She can feel Yoonchae's neck beneath her lips, the softness of her skin. “You smell nice.”
The comment just rolls out of her mouth, completely out of her control, and Megan cringes. Why the fuck did she just say that?!
It's the truth, though. Yoonchae smells nice—like strawberries, and fresh linen, and maybe something else, something that’s just uniquely her own.
“Thank you…” She hears Yoonchae mumble, fiddling with the jade bracelet on Megan’s wrist, kind of like a cat would with a toy it finds fascinating.
Megan wonders if Yoonchae finds her fascinating.
Something tightens in her chest at that thought. It’s easier in the light, Megan thinks, to pretend it doesn’t rattle her when Yoonchae touches her. It’s easier in front of an audience, to drape herself over Yoonchae like this, to try and steal a kiss or two, to shamelessly crave her attention and chase after her affection. But here, in the near-dark, Yoonchae doesn't pull away, and Megan has to work a little harder to deny the truth. The swell of longing is overwhelming here, in the contextless dark.
Megan can feel Yoonchae's pulse, frenzied on her lips as she presses them there, in the junction of Yoonchae's neck. She can feel Yoonchae breathe—a surprised inhale that expands her chest into Megan’s.
“Unnie,” she whispers, a tremor in her voice. It’s like a wave, almost. Soft, crashing over a shore.
Megan pulls away, just enough to see Yoonchae's face again—eyes dark, skin flushed. So pretty.
There’s a familiar ache in the pit of her stomach, a rush of want surging through her. A pull she can hardly resist, with Yoonchae standing so close that Megan can feel her warmth spilling out into the tiny space between them. She can feel a tremor starting in her fingers, that’s how badly she wants to—but she can't. She shouldn't. She knows she shouldn't. She's not supposed to feel this way for one of her groupmates, especially not their maknae.
But she can't help it. It's Yoonchae.
She swallows and drops her gaze to Yoonchae's mouth. Her lips. Maybe just this once, Megan can dare to cross the line. Maybe just this once. Here, in this stupid closet, where it feels like it's just her and Yoonchae, tucked away in the farthest corner of the galaxy. No one will know. What happens here can stay here. In this moment.
Megan eases in and Yoonchae stays perfectly still for her. “Tell me to stop,” she whispers against Yoonchae's mouth. “If you tell me to stop, I will.”
She lets those words sink in and all that remains is their heavy breathing filling the space between them in the seconds of slight hesitation before Yoonchae grabs her hips. Her fingers tangle in the material of Megan's shirt.
Then the door opens.
They startle apart, stumbling out of the closet at the same time.
“Interesting.” Lara has a hand on her hip, smirking down at them like she hit the jackpot.
When they get up and start speaking, it’s all at once, their voices overlapping:
“It's a prank—”
“It’s not what it looks like—”
Lara lifts an eyebrow. “Really? Because it looks like you two just came out of the closet."
She bursts into laughter, and Megan rolls her eyes. “That's so original. You're hilarious.”
Maybe the sarcasm would have more bite if she wasn't blushing like an idiot.
When she risks a glance at Yoonchae, Megan can see that she's blushing too.
Lara starts to sing: “Be who you areeeeee for your priiiiiiide~”
Megan groans. Lara is never going to let them live this down.