#listlessgrey

Imagine your OTP stuck in an elevator after they’ve had a fight. 

"E-Eh." Yasaburou stuttered a forceful sigh, knitted brows beginning to throb at the intensity of his frown. He could only stare forward with a dull and vexed expression, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he pretended they were trapped there -- if he didn't falsify their placement as lack of freedom, he felt like he would hit something. At times like this, she was so damn irritating -- And she was the sole one in their relationship that could be right. God only knew how apparent she made that to him.

He would steal quick glances toward her every now and then before promptly and forcefully setting his vision forward once more. After a moment or so of his sight returned on a chromesque wall, Yasaburou would huff through his nostrils and arch a single brow in apparent irritation. And god only knew truly how apparent he made that to her.

"Will you please stop that incessant grumbling?" Ayame requested coldly, crossing her arms as she peered to her annoyance of a partner. She kept her tone strict and her stare just so, intentionally wishing to radiate her distaste with their situation enough to travel across the few feet between the two. "You're making this endless wait worse with all those silent and unnecessary complaints." There was limited room to keep away from each other. Had they been in a different situation, they would have parted ways to cool down from their fight. However, an elevator suspended eighty feet off the ground wasn't the ideal location for such matters. They found themselves stuck there for a good forty minutes so far with no end in sight. Well, that was true so long as they kept the mutual agreement not to end each other. However, given the rising tension in that small levitating room, that agreement seemed to be slipping.

"If that is what you wish, princess." He sneered, raising a brow dominantly before stealing a glance to his phone. Fifty minutes had gone by now, prompting an almost defeated silence from the elder of the two. Fate would allow them to fight an such an occasion as this, in such a location as well. On any normal circumstance, Yasaburou would have found this delay amusing. After all, they were heading up to the hotel room where all her games were located - -begging to be played. While he wasn't necessarily fond of being in a small, metal box for an elongated period of time, at least he wasn't suffering alone. Surely her thoughts were a collection of her annoyance with him and longing to continue where she left off in her most recent purchase.

Now it was her turn to grumble as Yasaburou began to hum the theme song to the newest edition to her game collection, the irritation illuminating like an all holy light. He could feel a glare burning holes through his very soul, the itching want and pure need to continue from her save point merely intensified as the theme song continued to rattle through whimsically toned humming. At this point, he cracked a genuine grin.

Aa. She was at her breaking point.

"Yasaburou-san," she spoke calmly, arms crossed in a prompt manner and sight straightforward. He devilish glance turned curious at her response, to which he responded with questioning humph. "No physical contact for a week."

"Y- What-- Fine." He uttered, brows furrowed from a horribly backfired plan. Taking off his jacket, the young male laid it as straight as possible between the two of them before taking a seat in the corner of the elevator, arms and legs both crossed. Snapping a quick glance to behind, Yasa slit his vision before starting two sets of games. "Don't cross that line. This is my side of the elevator." Ah, like an eleven year old. It truly was a sight to see. Ayame's response was a scrunching disapproval to her features, halfly from pure disbelief that he could truly act this young.

"Yasaburou-san, you're an educational worker. Please behave like one." - "Humph."

The silent game ensued, which was the first of two. The second was far more evil on his part, especially after previously trying to get on her rough side. From Ayame's side of the elevator, she heard a faint ding! and almost fully muted music. Where was it coming from -- his phone? While she hated to admit it -- and she never would have -- she was slightly interested in what he was doing on 'his half' of the minimally sized room. It was when she heard the same theme song yet again that she was taken aback, eyes wide and hand forward. "T-That's--"

Heh.

It was indeed. A sliver of a cunning grin appeared on his lower visage as he began playing an emulated version of her new game, placed on his phone as an 8-bit version that a buddy of his created. Same play value, different graphics, and same effect it had on the avid gamer on the opposite side of the elevator, who could only let out faint signs of disbelief in his actions through stuttering speech.

"E-Eh, will you two please stop fighting?" Naoki sent a hushed query to each side of the escalating argument, a hand placed on the back of his head sheepishly. He felt a bit awkward talking to either of them, feeling that the tension between the two weighted the maximum capacity on the elevator entirely causing this situation. Of course this was false, but no other valid reason came to mind other than user error. "Really, you're both making this worse."

"Shup up, Naoki!" Both parties snapped at their third person before shooting a glance at each other, returning to their own business at each end of the elevator immediately afterward. 

3 Missed Calls: Aya-chan 

Squinting at his brightly lit phone, the blond looked over the notifications bar over what he missed for the past three hours. The young man downed no less than three beers (no more than seven), and was bordering the line of incoherent. However, he was a practice at conversation, finding it with a normal difficulty to speak without slurs or a fluctuation in tone. As the forth call rang through his mobile device, Yasaburou hit the "ignore" key and opened his phone to send a text.

It could be because of the Tumblr thing. It’s been wacky.

I’m surprised Naked isn’t on there.

Is this the wrong number? Kikumi thought to herself after multiple attempts of trying to unlock her apartment. Is it possible that they gave me the wrong key? Or perhaps this is the wrong building? No no. She tried twice more before halting and scanning the three-digit number written on a scrap of paper. It was the correct apartment number, so again, she tried, and she was relentless. Completely impossible when it came to giving up, she kept at it and believed that prevailing was the only option; no matter if it took hours. Thankfully, it didn't. An inaudible click was the sound of her success, and she jumped for joy as the key pivoted sideways. "Yes, yes, yes!" She said while entering the apartment. Her heels clacked against the tile, the apartment was roughly the size of her old room and she couldn't help but relish its petite interior.