fansign ᝰ enhypen ✓ (poc reader)

my-log: locked in

"Y/N?? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Julie peaks her head inside of the dark storage closet I'm emerged in. I respond with a heavy sigh, and wobble out into the hallway with two cardboard boxes stacked on my arms. They're blocking my view, so I can't even see her until she leans to the side to look at me with one raised eyebrows.

"I'm carrying these props to Room 6. I think it's for another boy group filming."

"Oh? Which one?"

"I don't remember...Some woman just asked if I could bring these to her and I mindlessly said yes...I wish she had told me how many boxes there would be." I have to admit, I had spaced out when the staff was talking to me, so I agreed to doing her a favor without really knowing what it was.

"How many boxes have you brought to her?"

"...This is my 4th round. So...about 8."

"Oh my god, y/n! Your arms must hurt!!" Julie empathizes with me, but starts to walk away and sips the coffee in her hand.

"W...Where are you going?"

"I'm gonna go do TXT's hair! Ciao!!" She waves and struts down the hall.

"..." I don't know who or what TXT is, but I was under the impression that she was going to help me. So I was a bit offended when she simply said Au revoir.

My arms start to feel a bit a numb, so I walk back into the closet and and set the boxes down. I straighten my back and step back into the hall to get some air, when I hear footsteps approaching me.

"Oh, I haven't seen you all day."

I turn and see a young boy with a straight expression greet me. He's wearing an army green sweater and black pants with a sliver chain connecting the pocket to the belt loop. Again, his eyes look exhausted but his voice sounds awake. His hair looks wet, a few short strands hanging over his black irises.

"Oh, hi Niki."

"What are you doing?" He brushed past me and peers into the storage room.

"I'm bringing boxes to this woman for a set. I think they're props."

"To Room 6?"

I whip my head to him with shock. "How did you know?"

"She asked me to bring some supplies to her as well."

"I must've been taking too long that she asked someone else." I sigh, walking back into the storage closet and bending down to pick up the two stacked boxes I had placed down from earlier.

Niki walks in as well, and I hear him tap his foot against something near the door. "No, it's just because she said someone was bringing her the wrong prop boxes. I was actually headed to a different storage room to bring her the correct ones."

"Huh? So I brought 8 boxes of the wrong props and she didn't say anything?" I turn over my shoulder sadly, but the sadness fades. "THE DOOR!—"

Niki had apparently kicked the door stop out from underneath the door, which was holding it open. The door slowly shut behind him, leaving us in darkness with only a sliver of light shining in from the small vent above it.

He turns around cluelessly. "...It's okay. We can just open it again." He says, placing his hand on the knob.

"The woman warned me to keep the door opened or we'll get locked in from the inside—"

Niki jiggles the knob...

and it pops right off.

We stare at it silently. He turns to me with the handle in his grasp, blinking.

Suddenly we're banging on the door and yelling. "HELP!!" He's laughing as he cries for assistance. He's finding humor in this stressful situation to cope, and it's obvious.

We do this for about 5 minutes straight, but realize it's useless. We were in a deserted part of the building. Hardly any employees came where we were.

"Do you have your phone on you?" I ask, sliding down the wall and crossing my legs.

"I lost it somewhere. How about you?"

"It's charging in the break room."

We both let out long exhales. Niki sits against the wall diagonal from me with his legs out in front of him, letting his hands fall in his lap. I notice that he's a bit pale in the face, and his skin is glistening. Is he...

"This isn't good...Not good at all..." He whispers to himself, grinning out of panic.

Yep. He's claustrophobic. He's fidgeting a lot, his knee bouncing up and down against the floor, him cracking his knuckles, biting his lip.

The room itself is average, but it's packed with so many boxes and supplies that our space is reduced by 90 percent. I can understand why he'd find this place tight.

I move to sit on my knees and start to dig for something to write on. Niki doesn't have the energy to ask what I'm doing, but his eyes follow me the entire time. I find some left over cardboard on the ground and pull out a pen from my pocket that I keep handy. I write a message on it as legibly as I can, though I'm not sure if it is because it's so dark.

OPEN THE DOOR! WE'RE LOCKED INSIDE!!
- niki and staff

I slide it under the door and pray for the best. This way we don't have to lose our voices and use our oxygen screaming for help.

I lean back against the wall, and Niki has moved to curl up into a ball. He's sort of rocking back and forth, and keeping to himself. He's not very anxious, but he's definitely not comfortable.

I stand up again and begin rearranging boxes. If I can make space, then that should make him less stressed. I pick up some smaller boxes and throw them aimlessly on top other stacks. I do this for about 10 minutes, and the room starts to feel like a puzzle—trying to figure out where to move things and where to leave them to make room but not make towers of cardboard fall on top of us.

Niki looks up, but only the top half of his face is visible, as he looks through his arms. He gently grabs my ankle, and I quickly stop what I'm doing. "...Y/n."

I look down, and he's sitting in a human ball. He still looks nervous and pale. "What is it?"

"...Sit down...I'm alright now...Just relax."

"But—"

"You must be hot moving around...Am I right?"

He wasn't wrong. I decide to sit a few feet in front of him to maintain distance so he can feel a little more free. He slicks his hair backs and sits up straight, sighing slowly to focus on his breathing. "...If this room were any smaller, I'd have passed out." He chuckles lightly.

I don't respond or react. I think I'm too worried about him to try to say anything.

He looks down at me. His eyes rapidly trace me up and down, then he says,

"Let's play 21 questions."