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The elevator doors slide shut with a soft chime, and Yuuta exhales, adjusting his grip on the grocery bag in his arms. It’s late—just past midnight—and the apartment building is quiet, save for the hum of the elevator and the soft rustling of plastic from his bag. He leans against the wall, exhausted but relieved to finally be heading home.
He works from home, which means most of his days are spent in sweatpants, staring at his laptop, and forgetting what human interaction feels like. But tonight, Rika had dragged him out, insisting he needed a break.
“It’s just karaoke,” she had said, looping her arm through his. “Come on, Yuuta, you can’t keep hiding in your apartment forever.”
He hadn’t put up much of a fight—Rika rarely took no for an answer, after all. The night had been fun, if a little draining. A few hours of loud singing, bad tambourine playing, a few drinks, and teasing from his friends later, Yuuta had left feeling lighter. He even stopped by the convenience store on the way home, grabbing some groceries to last him through the weekend.
Now, at just past midnight, he’s more than ready for bed.
However, just before the doors fully close, a hand slips through the gap.
A young man steps inside, nodding slightly in greeting. He’s wearing an oversized sweater, the sleeves pulled past his knuckles, and his silver-white hair is short and spiky, a little unkempt. Earbuds dangle around his neck, the faint sound of music filtering around them.
Yuuta shifts to give him space, feeling suddenly aware of how small the elevator feels with another person inside.
The doors shut again. The elevator hums as it begins its ascent.
Then, with a sudden jolt, it stops.
The overhead lights flicker before stabilizing, and silence stretches between them.
Yuuta blinks. “Uh… that’s not good.”
The other man exhales through his nose, reaching toward the panel to press a few buttons. Nothing happens. He pushes a few more buttons harder, then pulls his phone out of his pocket to check the time. He tries the emergency button next.
After a brief pause, a voice crackles through the speaker, informing them that maintenance has been alerted, but that it might take a while.
Yuuta sighs, adjusting his stance. “Great.”
The boy nods in agreement before casually sliding down the wall to sit on the floor, like getting stuck in an elevator is just another part of his night. He tugs his sweater sleeves over his hands, movements unhurried, then leans his head back against the metal wall with an easy sort of comfort.
‘He’s so cool,’ Yuuta thinks. So effortlessly relaxed, that Yuuta can’t help but wonder—what would it be like to not be anxious about everything? To just exist the way this stranger does, as if little hiccups in his day don’t rattle him?
Yuuta hesitates, then carefully props his grocery bag against the wall before following the boy’s lead, sliding down to sit across from him. The wall is cold through his shirt, but the blond looks so at ease that Yuuta figures he might as well try to be, too. He’s not sure what to say—if he should say anything at all—but the silence between them feels oddly expectant, like he’s waiting for something to fill it.
Or is that just his anxiety talking, again?
Strangers, stuck in an elevator together—there’s got to be some kind of small talk protocol for this, right?
Yuuta shifts slightly, and he must have made a noise, because the boy tilts his head, sharp eyes flicking toward him, studying him with quiet curiosity. He doesn’t look impatient or expectant, just observant—like he’s perfectly fine sitting here in silence but wouldn’t mind if Yuuta spoke, either.
Yuuta clears his throat. “Uh… I’m Yuuta.”
A pause. Then, the boy lifts a hand in greeting. He points to himself. “Toge.”
Yuuta nods. “Nice to meet you, Toge. I guess we’re going to be stuck together for a while.”
Toge smiles—just a small curve of his lips—and reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone. He types something quickly before turning the screen toward Yuuta.
‘So you live here?’
Yuuta nods. “Yeah, I just moved in a few months ago. Haven’t really met many people yet.” He gestures at the grocery bag. “Just got back from a late-night snack run, and ready for a night of...” staying up late because sleep is hard to get, these days, he trails off, pressing his lips together.
Toge doesn’t linger on Yuuta’s unfinished sentence, nor does he pry—thankfully polite enough to let it go.
Still, amusement flickers in his eyes as he tilts his head slightly, subtly peering toward the grocery bag, playing along with the moment. Then, with a few quick taps on his phone, he turns the screen toward Yuuta.
‘Good choices?’
Yuuta grins, thankful for the reprieve from his thoughts, reaching into the bag. “See for yourself.”
He rummages past the instant ramen and the bag of chips before pulling out a pack of strawberry Pocky, holding it up like it’s some kind of prize. “Not the healthiest,” he admits with a small chuckle, “but solid comfort food.”
Toge’s eyes flick to the box, interest sparking instantly. He just shifts a little closer as Yuuta opens the package, then plucks two pieces between his fingers with a casual ease.
Yuuta expects him to eat them right away, but instead, Toge pauses just long enough to give him a small, thankful smile—one that’s warm, easygoing, genuinely pleased.
And with Toge so close, is when Yuuta notices it.
The glint of silver when Toge parts his lips.
A tongue ring.
The sight of it shouldn’t throw him off—shouldn’t make something tighten in his stomach, shouldn’t make his brain stutter the way it does—but it absolutely does.
Yuuta gulps.
Toge doesn’t notice. Or maybe he does, but he doesn’t say anything about it—just pops a Pocky stick into his mouth like it’s nothing, biting down with a quiet crunch.
Yuuta, meanwhile, is still stuck on the mental image of that silver barbell catching on his teeth, the way it must feel against the roof of his mouth—
Okay. Okay. He needs to think about literally anything else right now.
He clears his throat and takes a bite of his own Pocky, focusing way too hard on the taste of artificial strawberry.
Time passes, though Yuuta isn’t sure how much. With his phone absentmindedly left in his apartment when he was dragged away, it’s hard to keep track when the only indication of movement is the occasional flicker of the overhead light. But in that time, he learns a lot about the boy he’s stuck with.
Toge lives on the floor below him. One floor. Yuuta has probably passed him in the halls before without realizing. Maybe they’ve stood in the lobby at the same time, waiting for the elevator together, and yet it took an elevator malfunction for them to actually meet.
Toge works nights at a local konbini while finishing his programming degree, hoping for an entry level position somewhere in video game development. ‘It’s a long shot, but it’s something I’m really passionate about.’
Yuuta nods as he listens, watching the way Toge’s fingers move over his phone screen, the way his lips twitch at the corners when he types. The way his silver tongue ring catches the dim light when he licks his lips.
"I'm terrible at video games," Yuuta admits sheepishly when Toge mentions his career goals. He’s bad at most things, honestly, but video games are definitely also on that list.
"But I enjoy having let’s plays on, in the background while I work."
Toge’s eyes flick up, a slow kind of interest settling there, something that makes Yuuta’s stomach tighten before he even knows why. Then, with deliberate ease, he types something else.
‘Maybe you can watch me game sometime.’
Yuuta blinks. His brain short-circuits a little.
Toge’s flirting with him.
At least, Yuuta thinks that he’s flirting. He could be completely wrong—he isn’t good at judging people’s attraction, especially toward him. But the way Toge looks up at him through long, thick lashes, something playful but undeniably inviting in his expression, Yuuta thinks he might actually be right this time.
He swallows, hard. Gulps, really.
"Yeah, sure?" he replies, his voice embarrassingly higher-pitched than usual. He clears his throat and tries again. "I mean, yeah, sure. That would be fun. Erm—what kind of games do you play?"
Toge tilts his head just slightly, amused, before continuing.
‘All kinds, but lately I’ve been in an indie horror game kick.’
Oh.
Yuuta scares easily.
It must show on his face, because Toge’s fingers are already moving again, typing fast.
‘I can hold your hand if you get scared?’
Yuuta stares at the words for a full three seconds, his brain refusing to process.
That’s—he couldn’t do that. Not while playing. Yuuta knows that, logically, but still—his face lights up in a deep, burning blush as he stutters out something unintelligible.
Toge doesn’t press, but his smirk says enough.
Yuuta doesn’t understand why this pretty spicy boy is being so forward with him. Why he’s teasing him, offering things like hand-holding and gaming invitations, like Yuuta is someone worth charming.
He’s practically shared that he has nothing to offer, and yet, here Toge is.
He knows they aren’t stuck in this elevator forever, right?
He’s about to offer more pocky to Toge when the elevator makes a sudden noise—a low, mechanical groan followed by a shift beneath them. It’s not much, just a slight creak of metal against metal, but it’s enough to make Yuuta’s stomach drop.
His fingers tighten around the Pocky box as a nervous shiver creeps down his spine. It’s late. The building is quiet. They’re already stuck. And even though the sound is probably nothing, just the elevator settling or something equally mundane, the walls suddenly feel a little too close.
His eyes dart toward Toge instinctively, and before anything can be said—before Toge can ask—Yuuta blurts, "It’s fine!" too quickly, too forced.
Toge blinks at him, not saying anything, but before he knows it, Toge is moving.
He scoots closer, his oversized sleeves pulled down to his wrists as he unwinds the earbuds from around his neck. Without a word, he holds them out to Yuuta.
Yuuta looks at him, unsure, but Toge’s expression remains calm. He doesn’t seem bothered, doesn’t seem like he’s offering the music just to shut Yuuta up or smooth over his nervousness. Instead, he smiles softly, like he genuinely wants to help.
The elevator hums around them, still and quiet. Yuuta exhales, reaching up to take one of the earbuds.
"Thanks," he mutters, his voice quieter now.
Toge hums in response, already putting the other earbud in. Yuuta follows suit, and within seconds, the soft, steady melody fills his ears. The tension in his shoulders doesn’t completely fade, but the shift in atmosphere makes it easier to breathe.
Yuuta exhales a small laugh. The elevator is still stuck, the walls are still close, but somehow, with Toge next to him, it doesn’t feel quite so overwhelming.
The music kicks up without warning, blasting in Yuuta’s ears. The soft instrumentals from before are gone, replaced by something upbeat and rhythmic, a song in a language he doesn’t recognize. It’s catchy, though—something with a driving beat, layered vocals, and a melody that makes his foot tap against the floor before he even realizes it.
Despite the sudden shift in sound, despite the way it drowns out the quiet of the elevator, Yuuta finds himself babbling to fill the space.
“I got dragged out to karaoke,” he starts, voice louder than necessary to compensate for the music. He barely even registers how much louder he is—his mouth just moves. “I’m not very good, but this sounds like something some of the others would've enjoyed singing along to.”
Toge glances at him, a glint of amusement in his eyes, but Yuuta just… keeps going.
“Rika was the one who made me go. She said I was turning into a recluse, which is—it’s kind of unfair, right?” He waves a hand, still gripping the Pocky stick. “I mean, it’s not like I’m as bad as Megumi. I swear, that guy only leaves his apartment when he’s legally required to. And, okay, maybe I work from home and don’t go out much, but I do things! I buy groceries! I’m literally in an elevator right now! And stuck, mind you, because of Rika’s ‘going outside’ idea.”
Toge’s shoulders shake with silent laughter.
But Yuuta? Still not shutting up.
“Rika said if I didn’t start socializing more, she’d get my cousin Satoru involved, which—trust me, no one wants that.” He lets out a breath, shaking his head. “The guy has too much free time. If he knew I was stuck in an elevator, he’d probably break in through the ceiling just to make fun of me.”
Toge tilts his head, eyes flicking up toward the ceiling thoughtfully—like he’s genuinely considering whether someone could do that.
That’s when Yuuta registers the reality of the situation.
He’s wedged between the elevator wall and Toge. Pretty stranger Toge, whose hair is short and spiky, but soft-looking, like it would feel nice between his fingers. Toge, who is sitting so close that Yuuta can feel his warmth, who is still watching him with quiet amusement.
God. Prime nervous territory.
Yuuta shoves another piece of Pocky into his mouth just to keep himself from saying anything else, cheeks burning.
Toge, still smiling, nudges Yuuta’s knee with his own.
It’s small. Barely a movement. But it’s enough to say, ‘Keep going.’
And Yuuta, hopelessly flustered, finds himself laughing, cheeks warm, as the music pounds in his ears and his heart does the same in his chest.
The next sound is louder than anything the elevator has made so far.
Metal against metal. A sharp clang, followed by the scrape of something being forced where it doesn’t quite want to go.
Yuuta startles, shoulders going rigid—but Toge doesn’t pull away. If anything, he presses in closer, shoulder and side fitting against Yuuta’s as if to keep him steady and secure in the tight space.
“Hello? You guys still in there?” a voice calls from the other side of the door.
Yuuta jolts upright. “Yeah! Yeah, we’re here!”
“Alright, stand back.”
There’s a pause. Then the unmistakable wedge of a crowbar forces its way between the elevator doors. The metal groans under the pressure, bending just enough to create a thin gap. A second later, another worker joins in, and together they pry the doors open wider—inch by stubborn inch—until two hands can grip the edges and pull them apart the rest of the way.
Cool hallway air rushes in.
Yuuta exhales like he’s been holding his breath the entire time.
“Careful stepping out,” one of the workers says. “There’s a bit of a gap.”
Yuuta nods quickly, already scrambling to gather himself. He grabs his grocery bag from where it’s propped against the wall, standing a little too fast. “Thank you—really, thank you so much.”
He bows, deep and earnest—so much so that the bag tilts dangerously in his grasp.
An apple slips free.
“Oh—!”
Yuuta fumbles, heart jumping into his throat, but manages to snatch it mid-drop just before it hits the ground. He straightens, flustered, clutching it like a small victory. “Sorry—! Thank you,” he repeats, bowing again, just a little less dramatically this time.
The workers wave it off with easy smiles. “No problem. Happens all the time.”
Toge steps out after him, quieter, offering a small nod of his own.
Then—
A light touch at Yuuta’s arm.
Yuuta turns.
Toge’s hand rests briefly against his lower arm, just enough to get his attention. He tilts his head toward the stairwell, visible just down the hall.
Yuuta blinks. “Oh—yeah. Right.”
The elevator is still out of commission, after all.
They start walking.
Now that they’re out, Toge’s phone buzzes to life in his pocket—signal restored—but he barely pays it any attention.
Notification after notification.
Toge glances down at it once. Then again.
And… ignores them. Completely.
Yuuta tries not to stare.
His brain, unfortunately, has other ideas.
Is it a girlfriend?
…Or a boyfriend?
Or maybe it’s just work?
Or maybe—
Yuuta swallows.
Maybe it’s nothing important. Maybe Toge just… doesn’t mind ignoring it right now.
Maybe he’s… enjoying this.
With him.
Yuuta’s cheeks warm at the thought, and he quickly looks away, focusing on the stairs in front of them.
The stairwell is quiet.
Just the echo of their footsteps, the faint hum of the building, the soft rhythm of their breathing as they climb.
Every now and then, their shoulders brush. Once, their hands nearly do.
Yuuta feels every single almost-touch like it’s been etched into his skin.
They reach the next landing. Then the next.
Until finally—
Toge slows.
They’ve reached his floor.
Yuuta realizes it a second too late, almost walking past him before stopping awkwardly. “Oh—this is you, right?”
Toge nods.
He turns like he’s about to leave—like this is where it ends—but then he pauses. Hesitates.
And turns back.
His phone is already in his hand. A few quick taps.
He holds it up.
Do you want me to walk you to your door?
Yuuta’s brain promptly melts.
His face heats instantly. “No, it’s okay,” he says, a little too fast, waving a hand. “The scary part is over, this isn’t one of your games! Not that I was scared! I— I was so fine, actually—”
He’s cringing as he hears himself, but keeps going anyway.
Toge steps closer.
Yuuta cuts off mid-ramble.
A warm hand settles gently on his bicep.
Toge gives it a small, reassuring squeeze—clearly meant to soothe, to steady—and then, with a soft smile—
“Goodnight, Yuuta.”
Out loud.
Yuuta freezes.
Because—
Toge speaks.
His voice is low, a little rough around the edges, like he doesn’t use it often—but it’s warm.
And it sends a tingle spreading out from where his hand still rests on Yuuta’s arm.
Yuuta swallows. “G—goodnight,” he manages, voice quieter now.
Toge’s hand slips away.
And just like that—
He turns, heading down the hall, disappearing toward his apartment.
Yuuta stands there for a moment longer than he should.
Staring.
Processing.
God.
That boy is so cool.
So easy. So charming. So—
Yuuta presses a hand to his face, trying to will away the heat.
Then, finally, he turns and continues up the stairs.
Yuuta doesn’t remember the last few steps up to his floor.
He does remember fumbling with his keys. Dropping them once. Almost dropping them again.
He lets himself in, locks the door behind him, and stands there for a second in the quiet.
Then he remembers the apple nearly making a run for it and huffs a small laugh.
He puts the groceries away on autopilot. Ramen in the cabinet. Chips on the counter. Pocky tucked beside the kettle. Apples in the fruit bowl.
Now, he should go to bed. He knows he should.
Instead—
Yuuta drifts toward his desk and drops into his chair, the screen of his computer flickering to life with a soft hum. His fingers hover over the keyboard for half a second before moving.
He opens the site where he usually watches streamers play games while he works, clicks into the search bar, and hesitates.
Toge had mentioned his handle once, briefly, somewhere between different moments of Yuuta embarrassing himself.
Yuuta types carefully.
kombu.cha
Dozens of videos appear.
And there he is.
Toge.
Subscribe.