Grading Chemistry (GenMui)

Locked In

As Genya shut the door of the storage closet behind him, he squinted into the dim light, intending only to grab some art supplies. But his plans were abruptly halted when he spotted a familiar figure, leaning casually against a shelf, holding a box of paints.

“Oh! Mr. Tokito,” he exclaimed, surprise widening his eyes. “Didn’t expect anyone else to be in here.” His voice came out louder than he intended, the small space amplifying it and making him feel almost exposed.

Muichiro turned at the sound, his expression blank for a split second before a soft smile crept onto his lips, like sunlight slipping through thick clouds. “Looks like we had the same idea.” His voice, quiet and steady, held an ease that only seemed to deepen Genya’s sudden sense of self-consciousness.

Before they could exchange another word, the faint sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hall, growing louder until a group of kids barreled past, one of them brushing against the door with enough force to slam it shut. Genya instinctively reached for the handle, jiggling it, but the latch didn’t budge. He pressed down harder, then let out a quiet sigh, turning to Muichiro with a sheepish expression.

“Uh… I think we’re locked in."

Muichiro simply shrugged, unbothered, and shifted his stance against the shelf, the box of paints still balanced neatly in his grip. “Guess we’ll have to wait it out until someone notices.”

Genya swallowed, glancing around at the shelves stacked with every imaginable kind of classroom tool—bottles of glue, tubs of glitter, stacks of construction paper—but no matter where he looked, the narrow space kept bringing his attention back to Muichiro, who stood close enough that Genya could almost feel his presence pressing against him.

“So…” Genya cleared his throat, desperate for a distraction, something to diffuse the tension that seemed to hang between them, like an invisible thread stretched tight. “What are the paints for?”

Muichiro glanced down at the box in his hands, a tiny, almost playful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “We’re painting animal masks in class. Figured the kids would enjoy something creative for once.” His eyes flicked back up, a hint of amusement in his gaze, as if he somehow knew exactly how rattled Genya felt.

Genya chuckled, trying to ease himself into the conversation, though his voice betrayed him with a slight tremor. “Yeah, that sounds way better than worksheets. They’re lucky.”

“Exactly,” Muichiro replied with a light laugh that softened the sharp edges of the silence. His gaze lingered on Genya a moment longer, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way that made Genya’s pulse quicken. “What about you? Why are you here?”

“Uh, just… some crayons for my class,” Genya replied, suddenly feeling the weight of his own box, his fingers clumsy against the cardboard. He held it up as if it might serve as a shield. “They’re on this big coloring kick right now, so I thought I’d keep them busy.”

Muichiro’s chuckle was barely a murmur, yet in the quiet of the closet, it was warm and inviting, an echo that filled the space.

For a while, they stood in silence, the only sounds coming from the distant hum of chatter in the hallway and the steady rhythm of their breaths. Every shift, every subtle movement they made seemed to amplify in the confined space, their arms brushing now and then in accidental contact, each touch sending a pulse of heat that Genya couldn’t ignore.

Finally, Muichiro’s voice broke through the quiet. “Genya… do I make you nervous?”

The question seemed to slip out so naturally from Muichiro, yet it sent Genya’s thoughts spiraling. His fingers tightened around the box of crayons, and he almost dropped it in his haste to respond, though his words caught in his throat.

“N-No!” He awkwardly sputtered. “I mean—” He cleared his throat, his voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe… a little.”

Muichiro’s expression softened, something almost vulnerable flickering across his face as he took a step closer. Genya couldn’t look away, couldn’t even think about breaking eye contact.

“Why?” Muichiro asked, his tone gentle, almost curious, yet there was a depth to his question, as if he were searching for something hidden in Genya’s response.

Genya’s heart raced, his thoughts darting in a dozen directions, none of them helpful. It would have been so much easier to brush it off, to joke or deflect, but the way Muichiro looked at him made it impossible to lie, to pretend there wasn’t something drawing him in.

“Guess it’s just… you,” he murmured, barely able to meet Muichiro’s eyes as he spoke. “You’re… hard to ignore.”

For a moment, he feared he’d said too much, exposed more than he intended, but then he saw a faint blush color Muichiro’s cheeks. The sight was so rare that it left Genya with a flutter of hope sparking within him. Muichiro didn’t look away. Instead, he leaned in ever so slightly, his calm gaze unwavering.

“Maybe I feel the same way,” Muichiro replied, his voice a mere whisper.

They stood there, close enough to feel the faint warmth of each other’s breath, the quiet stretching out, lingering in the narrow space until it was almost unbearable. Genya’s mind raced with all the things he wanted to say, the confessions he’d held back, but in that moment, all he could do was reach out, letting his fingers brush against Muichiro’s hand. The touch was soft, yet it sent a spark through him, igniting something he’d been too afraid to acknowledge.

Muichiro’s eyes widened, his hand stilling under Genya’s touch, and for a second, Genya thought he’d made a mistake. But Muichiro didn’t pull away; instead, he seemed to lean into it. His gaze softened, and for a moment, it felt as if the world outside had faded, leaving only the two of them suspended in that fragile, silent moment.

Then, a quiet knock sounded from the other side of the door, shattering the silence. They both flinched, stepping back as the door creaked open and the janitor’s head poked through. “Oh, thought I heard voices! Need some help getting out?”

Genya hastily pulled his hand back, his face flushed, and nodded, his voice coming out a bit too loud. “Yeah, thanks!” he said, trying to steady himself, though his heart still pounded.

They walked out together, the unspoken tension between them lingering, echoing like an unfinished sentence. As they returned to their classrooms, Genya found himself glancing back, his thoughts consumed by that brief, electric touch and the look in Muichiro’s eyes—a silent promise that left him wondering what might happen the next time they found themselves alone.