gi !

Professor Kim clears her throat at the front, a tablet in one hand, pointer in the other.

“Good morning, everyone! Welcome to the Social Psychology of Humor module. This semester, you’ll be participating in a hands-on experiment: testing how humor affects attraction and social bonding. And yes, you will be graded.”

You take out your notebook, ready for the usual dry lecture, when Professor Kim continues.

“Here’s how it works. Each of you will be paired up. One student is the ‘Performer’—you’ll deliver a brief stand-up set. The other student is the ‘Observer’—you’ll record audience reactions, laughter levels, engagement, and anything you think might influence attraction. Every laugh, every smile, every eyebrow raise is data. Keep it objective… as much as possible.”

Your stomach twists when you hear the next part:

“Now, your pairs. Let’s see… Ah! Y/N, you’ll be paired with Seokmin.”

Your head snaps up. Seokmin? DK? The same Seokmin whose reputation precedes him—effortlessly charming, funny, and borderline infuriating in his energy.

Vernon, seated a few rows back, grins at you knowingly. He’s your friend—and DK’s friend too, the kind of person who exists to mediate chaos and tease mercilessly.

VERNON: Well… this is going to be fun.

YOU: Fun, yes. But also extremely scientific.

VERNON: Uh huh. Sure. That’s what they all say.

—

Professor Kim continues, writing the assignment expectations on the board:

Performer: 3–5 minute stand-up set, must include at least three self-deprecating jokes.

Observer: Record objective measures: laughter duration, smile intensity, eye contact, and general engagement.

Submission: Post-experiment report including transcripts, observations, and personal reflections (optional—but recommended).

“Remember, the point isn’t just who’s funny—it’s how humor influences attraction. Take notes carefully.”

You glance at Seokmin, who’s casually leaning against the side wall, hoodie oversized, grin teasing. He catches your gaze and winks, as if he already knows this is going to be… complicated.

Vernon messages you, again.

VERNON: “See? Already flirting. And it hasn’t even started.”

YOU: “It’s called observational bias.”

—

[Video Transcript – Lecture Hall 3B, 09:03 AM]

Observer: Y/N | Performer: Seokmin (DK) – Stand-up Subject

[0:00] DK walks on stage, sneakers squeaking, oversized hoodie flopping with every step. Audience murmurs. [0:05] DK: “Good morning, class! Or as I like to call it… socially awkward humans in their natural habitat.” [0:08] Y/N: laughs into notebook, scribbles “note: excessive charm detected” [0:12] DK glances at you mid-joke. Eyebrow raise. Smirk.

You freeze mid-scribble, too aware of the way he’s watching you. It’s supposed to be objective observation—reaction levels, eye contact, mirroring—but all your carefully honed professionalism collapses when DK winks at you like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

Vernon, now seated a next to you, nudges your shoulder.

“You’re writing more about him than the experiment.” He whispers with a grin you could see with your eyes closed. You still however, give a mortified half-smile. 

“It’s called qualitative data analysis.”

“Sure. If by ‘qualitative’ you mean swooning.”

DK continues.

[0:20] DK: “So, I was thinking—why did the social psychologist cross the road? To measure the chicken’s attraction to humor, obviously.” [0:24] Y/N: snorts laughter into notebook

You immediately scribble a footnote: “Note: uncontrollable laughter – possible variable: personal bias toward humor source.”

DK pauses mid-joke and tilts his head toward you.

“Y/N, you’re laughing way too early. Is this… part of your scientific protocol?”

You flush. You weren’t expecting to be named. You clear your throat. “Uh, yes, very professional.”

Vernon groans loudly next you. “Oh my god, she’s officially doomed.”

—

[Case File – DK’s Observational Notes]

Subject: Y/N Observations:

Laughter onset occurs ~3 seconds before joke punchline.

Eye contact is unusually prolonged; subject appears flustered when caught.

Scribbles notes obsessively; suspect personal bias.

Hypothesis: Subject may be more interested in performer than performance. Recommended action: Increase joke directivity to target subject.

—

After class, you retreat to the corner of the lab, balancing your clipboard and laptop. Vernon plops next to you, dramatically sighing.

“So… how does it feel to be scientifically ruined by Seokmin?”

“Vernon, I am not ruined.”

“Sure. Your notebook is literally filled with hearts and doodles disguised as ‘reaction codes.’”

You glare at him, but secretly, you’re grateful. Having someone else make jokes about your predicament is easier than confronting how DK makes you feel.

—

[Video Transcript – Lab Cleanup]

Observer: Y/N | Performer: Seokmin (DK)

[0:00] DK lingers near the lab projector. Hands on hips, grin wide. [0:02] DK: “Y/N, I noticed your laughter metric was… particularly generous today.” [0:04] Y/N: “Professional observation. Strictly objective.” [0:06] DK leans over the projector, close enough to smell the coffee on your desk. “Hmm. Objective, sure… but your cheeks are suspiciously red.” [0:09] Y/N: makes note: cheek redness – independent variable: DK proximity.

Vernon snorts from the doorway. “Do you two need a warning sign or something?”

DK smirks, ignoring Vernon. He nudges your notebook with his finger.

“You’re supposed to be grading audience reactions, not mine.”

You scribble furiously, pretending to record “objective laughter metrics” while your brain screams: He’s right here. Why am I laughing this hard?

—

[Email Case File – Professor]

Subject: Stand-up Set Analysis Dear DK and Y/N, Today’s experiment confirmed a very important principle: humor is amplified when someone you find… interesting is watching. The data is impeccable—but I will be monitoring further to ensure it’s not contaminated by personal interest. Regards,Professor Kim

—

You reread the email, cheeks heating, then glance at Vernon, who grins.

“Yep. You’re doomed. And officially declared the variable of interest.”

You groan, but inside, there’s a little thrill. DK is too much, and somehow, it’s the beginning of something dangerously fun.

—

The lab is buzzing with anticipation. Today’s the first real experiment: Seokmin’s full stand-up set, and you are the official observer. You clutch your notebook like a lifeline, silently promising yourself that professional composure will hold… even though your heart is already doing somersaults.

Vernon leans against the doorway, arms crossed, grinning. “Reminder: you’re not allowed to fall in love on the clock,” he murmurs.

You huff a laugh. “Very funny.”

“He’s wearing that hoodie like it’s a weapon,” Vernon adds, smirking. “You’re doomed.”

Seokmin steps to the front, stretching exaggeratedly, sneakers squeaking across the floor. He scans the room dramatically before locking eyes on you. “Ah, my favorite observer. Ready to judge my impeccable comedic genius?”

Your cheeks heat, and you make a mental note to hide your reaction behind the notebook.

He cues the projector, and the slides illuminate his stage. “Welcome, humans of varying social competency levels. I, DK, shall attempt to make you laugh… scientifically.”

You scribble frantically, trying to record audience reactions. The numbers blur as you catch yourself laughing before the punchlines even land. He pauses mid-joke and cocks his head at you. “Y/N, are you measuring my comedy… or my effect on you?”

You cough, smothering a laugh behind your notebook. The class erupts around you, but your attention is entirely on him. Your pen dances across the page, attempting to remain professional, while your heart betrays every objective measure you’re supposed to be collecting.

Across the room, Vernon shakes his head with an exaggerated groan.

“Just try to stay alive through this,” he mutters.

Seokmin’s grin widens. He gestures pointedly at you, as if turning you into a living experiment. “Ah! A data point has come alive. Reaction: instant blushing.”

You immediately scribble a note: Variable compromised: observer interest is off the charts.

He keeps shifting the jokes subtly, weaving them around your reactions. Things that shouldn’t be funny make you laugh. Things that are genuinely funny make you laugh too much. He knows exactly how to push buttons, and you are powerless to resist.

Later, during a break, you notice your notes are almost unreadable—sketches of smiling faces, hearts disguised as data charts, scribbles where numbers should be. And yet, you can’t stop. You’ve become part of his experiment without meaning to.

Seokmin walks over to you, hands casually tucked in his hoodie pockets. “Careful with those notes,” he murmurs, leaning close enough that you can smell the faint scent of coffee and mint. “I might steal them for… scientific purposes.”

You frown, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips. Behind you, Vernon bursts into laughter, unable to keep quiet.

“She’s officially your human lab rat now,” he says, shaking his head.

Seokmin crouches slightly, lowering his voice so only you can hear. “Or maybe I’m yours. Depends on which data set you’re analyzing.”

You nearly drop your notebook, your cheeks heating further, while Vernon snorts loudly, drawing attention. Seokmin smirks triumphantly and waves a hand dismissively. “Ignore him. He’s irrelevant to the experiment.”

—

[Email Case File – DK to Y/N]

Subject: Data Contamination? Y/N, I noticed today’s observations might be slightly biased… in my favor. Just a hypothesis. Best, DK

—

You reread the email, cheeks flaming, then glance at Vernon, who shrugs with a teasing grin. “Yep. There it is. He’s flirting with your experimental integrity.”

You groan, but secretly, the thrill makes you doodle another heart disguised as a bar graph.

By the end of the day, the first set is complete, and your notebook is a chaotic blend of scientific notes and personal fascination. You’re supposed to be objective. But you know, already, that objectivity has left the room entirely—and that’s the beginning of something dangerously fun.

—

The lab feels smaller after everyone has left. The fluorescent lights hum quietly, and only the projector glows faintly, looping the footage from Seokmin’s first full set. You’re sitting cross-legged on a chair, laptop balanced precariously on your knees, notebook open and half-doodled. Vernon leans casually against the doorframe, watching you with that knowing smirk that never fails to make you tense.

“Still measuring your heart rate?” he asks.

You huff a laugh. “I’m observing professional data. Obviously.”

He raises an eyebrow, unconvinced, and leans a little closer. “Uh-huh. Professional. Sure.”

At the front of the room, Seokmin crouches down, fiddling with the projector. His hoodie sways as he bends, and you can’t help noticing how… effortlessly he dominates the space. Every movement seems deliberate, almost performative, even when he isn’t on stage.

“Y/N,” he says suddenly, voice low and teasing. “You’re supposed to be grading audience reactions, not mine.”

You blink. “I—Of course. Strictly objective.”

“Mm-hmm,” he hums, smirking. He gestures at your notebook, tilting his head. “But you laughed at my jokes before the punchlines. That’s… concerning.”

You flush, flipping a page quickly to cover the notes you’ve scribbled—half observational, half doodles of him. “It’s just… anticipation.”

“Anticipation,” he repeats, clearly unconvinced. He leans over the projector, close enough that your shoulders brush. You try not to notice.

Vernon snorts from behind, arms crossed. “Careful. At this rate, she’ll start measuring flirtation intensity as a legitimate variable.”

You groan. “I am not doing that.”

Seokmin tilts his head toward you, one brow raised. “Are you sure? Because your pen keeps drifting, and your cheeks are… red.”

You nearly drop your pen. “I—I was just…”

He laughs softly, a sound that makes your stomach flip, and moves back slightly, giving you just enough space to breathe but not enough to escape the tension. “Keep recording,” he says, half teasing, half commanding.

You scribble furiously, trying to maintain focus. But your notes are compromised: your charts are chaotic, your lines blurred by laughter, hearts sneaking into bar graphs, and illegible arrows pointing toward him.

“Why are your notes so messy?” Seokmin asks innocently.

“Because they’re scientific,” you snap, then immediately cover your mouth.

“Scientific,” he echoes, smirking, clearly enjoying your flustered state.

The projector loops a clip of his set, and you can’t stop watching. Even the smallest gestures—the way he pauses mid-punchline, the tilt of his head, the glint in his eyes when he catches yours—feel like they’re aimed directly at you. Your fingers twitch toward the keyboard, typing notes that are no longer about audience reactions but about him.

Vernon sighs dramatically from the corner. “You’re screwed. Do you realize that? Completely compromised as a professional observer.”

“I am not,” you insist, though your voice is weaker than usual.

Seokmin crouches again to adjust the projector, then glances back at you. “You know, if this experiment is about how humor affects attraction… I think we might already have some data.”

You blink, heart racing. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying,” he says, smirk widening, “the observer seems… affected. It’s scientifically interesting.”

You groan, burying your face in your notebook. Vernon laughs so loudly that you’re sure the neighbors can hear.

Seokmin crouches lower, lowering his voice so only you can hear. “Or maybe,” he murmurs, “I’m affected too. Depends on how you measure it.”

Your chest tightens, and you feel the notebook trembling in your hands. Vernon clears his throat, oblivious to the chemistry crackling between you two. “Yep. Definitely doomed. All lab rats accounted for.”

—

[Video Transcript – Lab Review, 10:15 AM]

[0:00] Seokmin rewinds a joke clip. Pauses dramatically. [0:03] DK: “Notice here, the observer’s laugh—three seconds too early. Suggests either anticipation or… something more personal.” [0:06] Y/N: scribbles frantic notes, tries to remain objective [0:08] DK leans closer to the screen, hand brushing yours accidentally. [0:09] Y/N: notices heart rate spike, scribbles illegible data

—

The clip loops again, this time showing the part where you actually trip over your pen and laugh mid-punchline. He grins at you, clearly pleased.

“You’re cute when you’re taking notes,” he says softly, almost offhand.

You groan, hiding your face in your hands. Vernon whistles from the doorway. “Ohhh, there it is. Direct observation confirmed.”

Seokmin shrugs innocently, but the teasing glint in his eyes betrays him.

You can’t help but laugh, despite yourself. The lab feels like a stage, and the two of you are performing a comedy that only you can understand. Every glance, every brush of his hand, every smirk directed at you is another data point you never expected to measure.

And somehow, in the middle of all this chaos, you realize that the experiment is no longer about the audience.

It’s about him.

—

The day of the midterm set arrives faster than you expected. The lab is packed with students, some eager, some skeptical, but none of them matter because all your attention is on Seokmin. He’s pacing in the back, hoodie swaying, sneakers squeaking in perfect rhythm with his dramatic stretches. There’s a glint in his eyes that makes your stomach knot—like he knows this experiment isn’t going to go according to protocol.

You clutch your notebook as if it could protect you from the chaos that is about to unfold. Vernon leans against the wall, arms crossed, smirking. “Just remember,” he says, “professionalism is optional when DK’s in the room.”

You ignore him, but you can’t help stealing a glance at Seokmin. He’s grinning, clearly aware that you’re doing it.

—

[Video Transcript – Midterm Set, 09:58 AM]

Observer: Y/N | Performer: Seokmin (DK)

[0:00] DK steps onto the stage, the projector glowing behind him. [0:02] DK: “Welcome to the midterm experiment. Today, I will attempt humor on a larger scale, scientifically measuring every laugh and blush.” [0:05] Y/N: scribbles notes frantically, already feeling flustered [0:08] DK pauses mid-sentence, eyes locking with yours. “Ah, my favorite data point. Still blushing, I see.” [0:11] Y/N: pen slips, almost drops notebook, laughs into sleeve

Your notes are hopeless. Columns meant for audience reactions are now filled with hearts, arrows pointing toward Seokmin, and illegible scribbles marked “variable: DK effect.” He notices immediately, and a triumphant smirk crosses his face.

[0:15] DK: “Observation compromised, huh? Interesting. I think the observer might be the dependent variable here.”

The class laughs, but you barely notice because every word is aimed directly at you. Vernon’s face in the back of the room is a mixture of amusement and helplessness. He starts tapping notes into his phone, likely documenting your complete loss of composure.

VERNON: She’s completely doomed. 10/10 compromised. Send help.

—

DK’s midterm set is longer than the first, and he’s clearly escalating for your attention. Inside jokes, subtle gestures, even puns that only you understand—every joke lands harder than it should. You try to measure audience engagement, but your hands shake, your pen stutters, and every laugh feels louder than it should.

When he leans slightly closer to the projector, gesturing dramatically with his hands, your heart stutters. You scribble: Independent variable: DK leaning. Heart rate: off the charts.

The worst—and best—moment comes when DK improvises a joke that hits you directly:

DK: “Ever notice how some observers take notes so seriously… they forget to breathe? Someone here might be guilty…”

You freeze. The room goes quiet for a split second. Then, without thinking, you laugh. Loudly. Heart-racing, unable to stop. He grins, satisfied. Vernon groans audibly.

VERNON: She’s laughing again. I’ve lost count. SOS.

—

After the set, the class claps, but you barely hear it. Seokmin walks over to you, brushing past your chair, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his hoodie.

“Careful,” he murmurs, almost conspiratorially. “Your notes are… very revealing.”

You bite your lip and look down at the chaotic page: arrows, hearts, illegible numbers. “It’s still objective,” you lie, though the blush creeping up your neck says otherwise.

He crouches slightly to meet your eye level. “Objective, huh? Because it looks more like… affection metrics to me.”

Your notebook slips again, and he catches it with a wink. “We’ll call this a collaborative experiment.”

Vernon, from across the room, laughs so loudly that half the lab turns around. “Yep. Definitely doomed. All lab rats accounted for.”

Seokmin grins at you, clearly ignoring Vernon, and your heart beats faster. He leans just enough closer that your shoulder brushes his. “Next set,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing, “I might need more precise data… directly from the observer.”

You can barely form a coherent response. “I… I’ll try to remain professional,” you manage.

“Good,” he says, smirking. “Try.”

And just like that, you know professional composure has left the room entirely.

—

[Case File – DK’s Private Notes, Midterm]

Subject: Y/N Observations:

Observer completely compromised. Laughter occurs before, during, and after jokes.

Cheeks red for the majority of set.

Physical proximity correlates directly with blush intensity.

Recommendation: Targeted humor and personal attention recommended for further data collection.

—

By the end of the day, your notebook is a disaster zone: numbers, graphs, doodles, hearts, and illegible notes about DK’s every glance. The experiment is supposed to measure humor and attraction, but in reality, it’s measuring you—your reaction, your flustered fascination, your unwillingness to stay objective.

Vernon watches with a smirk, and Seokmin… well, he’s clearly enjoying every second.

And somehow, despite all the chaos, you’re already looking forward to the next set.

—

The lab is quiet, the hum of the fluorescent lights the only sound as you settle at your desk, laptop open, notebook at the ready. You’ve been reviewing the footage of Seokmin’s midterm set for what feels like the hundredth time, pretending it’s strictly for analysis, but every laugh, every glance, every subtle gesture makes your chest tighten in ways your scientific notes aren’t supposed to record.

Your inbox pings. You glance down to see a new email from Seokmin. You bite back a groan—your heart races before you even open it.

—

[Email Case File – DK to Y/N]

Subject: Confidential Observations Y/N, Today’s data suggests your responses are… fascinating. Your laughter occurs consistently before punchlines, which may indicate anticipation… or personal interest. I’ve included a timestamped video clip for further analysis. Consider this strictly professional… unless you’d like to discuss findings privately. DK

—

You reread it, your cheeks heating, and type a reply almost reflexively:

Y/N (reply): DK, I assure you, any bias is strictly objective. Though I will admit, your timing may be influencing my measurements… purely as a variable. Y/N

Seconds later, your laptop pings again. Another email.

DK: Acknowledged. Noted. But I might need to repeat the experiment… under controlled, more direct conditions. DK

You groan, leaning back in your chair, notebook sliding to the floor. Vernon, who has been hovering somewhere near the lab door, snorts.

“Ohhhhhh. That escalated quickly. You’re officially his lab rat. Good luck.”

You groan again, but secretly, there’s a thrill in knowing this is only between you and him. The rest of the class is irrelevant; the experiment is just the two of you now.

—

Later, you meet him by the projector to review clips. He rewinds the video to a joke you laughed at far too hard.

“Notice here,” he murmurs, pointing at the screen, “the observer laughs three seconds too early. Suggests anticipation, maybe… personal interest.”

You glance at him sharply. “I’m recording objective data, not… interest metrics.”

“Objective,” he repeats, smirking. “That’s convenient, because it looks like… something else entirely.”

You groan, burying your face in your notebook. Your notes are hopeless: arrows pointing to him, illegible charts, tiny hearts disguised as statistical markers.

Seokmin crouches slightly, lowering his voice so only you can hear. “Honestly… your reactions are the best part of this experiment.”

You lift your head, eyes wide. “I—That’s… you can’t write that in the report.”

“I didn’t,” he says softly, but his grin betrays him. “Just… observational commentary for my own records.”

—

[Video Transcript – Private Lab Review, 2:03 PM]

[0:00] DK rewinds a joke clip. Pauses dramatically. [0:03] DK: “Here. Observer smiles before punchline. Reaction recorded. Data looks… revealing.” [0:06] Y/N: scribbles frantic notes, tries to remain objective [0:08] DK leans closer, hand brushing yours accidentally. [0:09] Y/N: heart rate spikes, pen trembles on page

The brush of his hand feels like an electric shock, and you’re suddenly acutely aware of every tiny movement between the two of you. Vernon’s soft whistle from the doorway nearly makes you drop your notebook.

“Direct observation confirmed,” he says with a grin.

Seokmin ignores him, crouching closer. “Or maybe I’m just… as affected as you are. Depends on the metric.”

—

The next email from him arrives while you’re scribbling your “official notes”:

DK: Subject: Follow-Up Y/N, If you want to maintain scientific rigor, please consider this a reminder: continued exposure to me may further compromise your observations. Optional: coffee meeting for “field note review.” DK

You blink at the screen. Your cheeks burn, and Vernon, leaning over your shoulder, nudges you.

“Field note review? Uh… yeah. That’s not professional anymore.”

You groan, knowing Vernon is right, but also knowing there’s no way you’re going to say no.

—

That evening, as you leave the lab, Seokmin calls softly from behind you: “Don’t forget to bring your notes tomorrow. I might have… further observations to discuss.”

You freeze, then manage a weak smile. “I’ll bring them… for science.”

He grins, walking a step closer. “Good. I think the experiment is getting… interesting.”

And somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize that “interesting” is the understatement of the semester.

—

The lab is packed tighter than ever. Every chair is taken, every laptop open, and you’re frantically reviewing your notes one last time, trying to prepare for the “final experiment” that Seokmin promised would be the most challenging yet.

He’s standing at the front, hoodie pushed back slightly, projecting confidence with every step. His grin makes your chest tighten. Vernon, leaning against the back wall, gives you a dramatic thumbs-up. “Brace yourself. This is it.”

You swallow, flipping open your notebook to the chaos of doodles, hearts disguised as charts, and scribbled notes about DK’s every glance. This is supposed to be about humor and attraction, but by now, it’s clear the experiment is all about the two of you.

Seokmin cues the projector and steps onto the stage. “Final experiment,” he says loudly. “Humor at maximum exposure. Observer attention required.”

You bite your lip, holding the pen like a lifeline.

—

[Video Transcript – Final Set]

Observer: Y/N | Performer: Seokmin (DK)

[0:00] DK paces the stage, every movement exaggerated. [0:02] DK: “Welcome to the culmination of our semester-long study. Today, we measure humor, attraction, and… observer susceptibility.” [0:05] Y/N: scribbles notes frantically, already flustered [0:08] DK pauses mid-joke, eyes locking on yours. “Ah, my favorite data point… you’re still blushing.” [0:11] Y/N: pen trembles, heart races, illegible notes scatter across page

He launches into a set that’s longer, bolder, and more personal than before. Inside jokes, subtle jabs, puns that only you understand—everything is aimed at making you react. You try to maintain professional distance, but every joke lands like it was written exclusively for you.

At one point, he leans over the projector, brushing your shoulder with his hand. The small contact makes your chest skip a beat. You scribble a frantic note: Independent variable: DK proximity. Heart rate off charts.

Vernon, unable to resist, whispers to someone behind him, “She’s officially lost all objectivity. All systems compromised.”

—

After the set, Seokmin walks over, projecting casual confidence but clearly savoring your flustered state. “So,” he murmurs, voice low, “what do the data say?”

You try to respond, notebook clutched like armor. “Scientific… results… inconclusive,” you manage, voice shaky.

He grins, crouching slightly. “Or maybe,” he murmurs, “they’re conclusive… just not about humor.”

Your pen slips, nearly falling, and he catches it with a wink. “We’ll call this… a joint observation.”

Vernon whistles, shaking his head. “Yep. Complete chaos. Confirmed.”

—

[Email Case File – DK to Y/N, Post-Final Set]

Subject: Experiment Conclusion Y/N, The final data are in. Observer completely compromised.Suggestion: a one-on-one debrief… preferably over coffee. Or something more… experimental. Regards, DK

—

The lab is quiet now, the semester winding down. You sit with your notebook, reviewing the final compiled data—the chaos of doodles, hearts, and arrows pointing at Seokmin. Officially, your report is “complete,” but unofficially, every page screams him.

Vernon pops his head in, grinning. “Well, all experiments are officially over. How’s your… relationship with DK?”

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “We’re not—this is professional…”

Vernon snorts. “Professional? Yeah, sure. And the cats will do my taxes.”

Seokmin appears at your side, hands in his hoodie pockets, watching you with that infuriatingly charming grin. “So,” he says softly, “the experiment… did it convince you?”

You blink. “Convince me… of what?”

“Of us,” he says simply, crouching slightly so you meet his eyes. “All the measurements, all the notes… they’ve been leading here. To this moment.”

Your heart races, mind spinning. You open your mouth, then close it, overwhelmed.

He leans in slowly. “So, Y/N… what do you say? Want to see the results… together?”

You can’t stop yourself. You nod, barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

And then it happens. The kiss is soft, tentative at first, but full of all the tension and humor and chaos of the semester. Vernon, from the doorway, pretends to clear his throat.

“Confirmed: experiment successful. Heart rates elevated. Chaos level: max.”

You laugh, blushing, resting your forehead against Seokmin’s. He grins, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. “I’d call this… a perfect study outcome.”

“Control group unnecessary. Y/N already convinced.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t stop smiling. The semester may be over, the lab cleared, but somehow… the experiment isn’t done. Not by a long shot.