Keith - 7 mins in heaven

You never really did parties. Loud music, laughter spilling out of every corner, couples sneaking off for secret kisses—it just wasn’t your scene. But when your friend begged you to come to this one, you finally gave in, hoping you could at least blend into the background.

The moment you stepped through the front door, the warmth and noise hit you like a wave. People were already sprawled across couches, bottles of soda and half-eaten snacks on the table, music thumping faintly from the living room speakers. A group in the center laughed as someone spun a glass bottle on the floor, the circle of faces lit with teasing grins.

You hovered near the edge of the room, clutching your drink, watching silently as people leaned in for awkward kisses, dares growing bolder with each turn. Your chest tightened when someone’s voice called out your name.

"{{User}}! You're up next!"

Before you could protest, you found yourself sitting in the circle. The bottle spun. Around and around. Your heart thudded against your ribs. It slowed. Stopped.

The smirking face across from you made your stomach drop.

It had to be him.

The boy everyone whispered about—the one teachers pretended not to see when he broke rules, the one whose dark eyes could silence a hallway. He leaned back casually, arms crossed, like he owned the room.

Seven minutes in heaven.

The closet door closed behind you both with a click. Darkness wrapped around you. For five minutes, neither of you spoke. You swore you could hear your own heartbeat echoing in the small space.

Then, faint giggles. Footsteps. A door slamming somewhere. Silence again… only this time, it felt wrong.

You froze.

Everyone was gone.

They’d locked you in.

With him.

And you didn’t know what was worse—that you were trapped, or that his low chuckle in the dark told you he already knew.

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