Heavy door pushed open by a hand, the figure of a woman with a coffee and a handbag squeezing through it. Her straight blonde hair blew from the morning breeze before the glass door closed, muting the sounds of the traffic from outside and the voice of the man who sold cookies and hot tea in front of the tall building. Her heels clinked against the floor, echoing in the hallway as she walked to the elevator and when she stood in front of it, a delicate fingers pressed to call it. The elegant woman smelling of lavender clutched the strap of her handbag, taking a deep breath until the doors of the elevator opened with their signature sound.

"Aw , here we go again."

It was no secret Sana (the elegant blonde) was afraid of elevators. Or any small space in general. She couldn't recall when her claustrophobia developed, she swore she could remember her eight year old self hiding in the huge cabinets of her grandma's kitchen, where she would put her many pots in and only take them out when cleaning around —so almost every week— ,but at some point it just appeared and no matter how much she wrecked her brain she could never actually remember when. It might've been the day of the incident in her freshman year, when her friends thought it was funny to press the emergency stop button in the elevator, trapping them and a five year old inside until she cried (both the five year old and Sana). Either way, her claustrophobia was there and it hit pretty hard. 

Sana bit her lip as she stepped inside, eyes closing for just a second as she pushed the button to the 20th floor. It was a torture, she couldn't even look whenever pushing the button. The thought of being in the elevator for more than a couple of seconds had her legs shaking and sweat dripping down her forehead and she couldn't have her makeup ruined from the sweat, so she just kept them shut until the doors closed. At this point —already a year into her new job at the firm— she didn't even know why she had to get to the 20th floor every morning. It's not like her office was there, no. It was her boss that wanted her around for a while before dismissing her half an hour before lunch break. Usually she asked for coffee and then made Sana pick up calls, talk to her about cases that Sana wasn't in charge of, and generally keep her from the many work she had to do. That's where Sana was going now, fingers tapping on the paper cup full of Yoo Jeongyeon's black coffee. No sugar, no milk. Nothing. Bitter. Just like her.

Don't get Sana wrong! She doesn't hate her boss, no, but sometimes she is just annoying. She gets tiring. There aren't exactly words to describe her and usually whenever Sana tells her friends about this they laugh, albeit the elegant blonde can't help but to find Yoo Jeongyeon desperate. Desperate for many things which include; friends or someone to talk to, an actual secretary —her other secretary, Momo, sits on her all day and eats snacks— and maybe a partner. That last part, especially, Sana could not take her mind off of. Gossip was going around a while back, once she had joined the firm, that Yoo had just broken up with the firm's sponsor. The woman who basically hired Sana, Im Nayeon. 

Now, there's a lot of tea Sana avoids spilling as she doesn't know all the details, but everyone in the firm know it was a bad breakup that left their boss broken. It looked like they were going serious, there were even rings on their fingers, and when Nayeon left, everyone thought it would be the end of the firm. That she would take it down. Fire everyone. She had the power, the biggest. The money. Yet Nayeon didn't. She remained professional and watched her ex fall apart right before her eyes. That's why, Sana concluded, her boss was so y. Why she always had an attitude, nerves. She could sense her ual frustration from miles away.

But that didn't matter at the moment, not when Sana forced herself to open her eyes. She had to look on which floor she was, it felt like she was in the elevator for ages. Once she did, she couldn't help but to dart her gaze towards the second figure in the elevator. Sana wasn't exactly sure if that girl was there from the moment she got in or just stepped inside later. Though it struck her, how the girl was sitting down, pencil between her fingers and a large notepad resting on her lap.

She looked familiar, straight brown hair that prettily felt over her shoulders and down her back. It was long and it looked healthy. Her bangs were usually messy —although today she had taken care of them— and falling in her eyes. That's why she blinked so much. Sana remembers seeing that girl almost every day for the past year, every time in this elevator. Whenever she came and left for work, the brunette was just sitting there, bottom lip in between her teeth as she scribbled on her note pad.

"Hi—" Sana's voice was definitely not supposed to come out the way it did —like a dolphin with a sore throat — but couldn't help herself when the elevator squeaked and shook.

The inhuman sound from the back of Sana's throat made the brunette look up. Her eyes were squinted and her head tilted, many questions probably in mind. She kinda looked like the confused Nick Young meme. Sana swore she could see the question marks.

And at that moment, only embarrassment, along with a tad bit of fear from the screeching elevator, could take over Sana. Her face turned bright red, the reddest red you have ever seen. So red that the poor brunette thought she would explode. Her ragged breathing kinda matched with the sound of a ticking bomb. Sana was a bomb. A bomb not as deadly, unless you don't like rainbows and unicorns. Because even if she looked serious (most of the time), Sana's internal world consisted of pink, fairies, and huge stuffed animals.

"Are you alright?" the brunette's voice sounded, the movements on her paper halting.

Was Sana okay? Well, there wasn't exactly an answer to this. If okay means about to have a heart attack by both fear and arousal then.. yes. Because Sana could literally feel her heart pounding inside her chest every time the brunette locked eyes with her. It was like getting caught cheating on test, but only the trill part. Thrill turned Sana on. Weird? Sure. I thought you already knew Sana was weird.

" yes." it slipped, the words just slipped. The (not actually) elegant woman had moaned. Sana had just moaned to a stranger inside an elevator on a Monday morning with her boss waiting to hit on her. How can one top that?

Right. No one can.

And neither did Sana, that's why she decided to be less iconic (= an embarrassment) for the time being and take in all the silent judging the girl with the hoodie did. The definently not elegant woman decided to just look at the brunette as she tried to find the words to speak.

"Do you, uh," she swallowed hard "Need water or something?"

The girl in the hoodie awkwardly scratched the back of her head and waited for Sana to reply — who was in her own world, lost in deep thought that ranged from the girl's beauty to what she's going to have for dinner— as she let her pencil rest behind her ear.

Holy water was what Sana needed and she would've spoken her mind if the elevator