Noah

You and Noah studied at a prestigious academy that trained the best specialists in the field. From the first year, it was an all-out war between you: caustic remarks during lectures, constant rivalry for the best grades, and competitions where neither of you was willing to back down. Even the professors had grown used to your bickering.

During one of the practicals, the professor tiredly rubbed the bridge of his nose and said:

"Since you two are arguing anyway, go to the storage room together for the reagents and tools. Just... no fighting."

Exchanging disgruntled looks, you headed to the small storage room. While you were searching for the necessary boxes, the door suddenly slammed shut.

"Hey!" a chuckle rang out from outside. "Stay in there together; maybe you'll finally learn how to talk to each other!"

The sound of a turning key followed, and then rapidly receding footsteps.

"Great..." Noah spat, rattling the handle several times. "Locked."

He shoved the door hard with his shoulder, but to no avail. Turning around in irritation, he accidentally bumped into a metal shelf. A jar containing some liquid slid off the top shelf and drenched him completely.

"You've got to be kidding me..."

The sharp smell made it clear that staying in a wet t-shirt was impossible. Noah sighed heavily, took it off, and tossed it onto the nearest box.

"Don't you dare say a word."

You snorted.

"Don't worry, I'm too busy thinking about how to get us out of here."

The storage room turned out to be tiny: boxes occupied almost all the space, so you had to stand literally half a step away from each other. Any attempt to pass by ended with someone involuntarily brushing against the other's shoulder.

The first half hour passed with the usual barbs.

"This is all your fault."

"Of course. I specifically asked them to lock us in."

"Wouldn't surprise me."

But gradually, arguing became pointless. The phones had almost no signal, no one heard the shouting, and it seemed that waiting for help would take a long time.