Chapter Text
Observation 9:"Love isn’t something you plan or analyze. It just exists, in different ways, and all you can do is let it find you—and accept it fully."
Till and Ivan are still in the hospital, caught up in each other, kissing like they’re trying to make up for all the lost time—slow, careful, like neither of them wants to rush something that finally feels real. Till’s hand rests at Ivan’s waist, thumb brushing lightly in quiet reassurance, and Ivan leans into him without hesitation, breath soft against his.
They’re so absorbed in each other that they don’t hear the knock at the door.
“Knock knock!”
The door swings open, and Sua appears. The first thing she sees is Till hovering over Ivan, still pressed close, the space between them charged and unmistakable.
“Oh, come on!” she exclaims, hands on her hips. “This is a hospital! And for the record, I’ve been knocking for five minutes! Have some decency!”
Till and Ivan immediately separate, though not without hesitation, their hands lingering a second too long before letting go, faces flushing crimson.
“Sorry! It’s not like—I mean, I wasn’t—he…” Till stammers, words tumbling out in a jumbled mess, ears burning.
Ivan just looks away, trying—and failing—to act innocent, a faint pink creeping across his cheeks, the corner of his mouth betraying him with a small, helpless smile.
Sua sighs, exasperated but secretly amused. “I’m out here worried sick, and here you two are… enjoying yourselves?”
Till groans, hiding his face in his hands. “It’s not what it looks like!”
Ivan mumbles, still avoiding eye contact, “Totally innocent… definitely.”
Sua shakes her head, a smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, sure. Totally innocent. You looked like you were about to eat each other.”
She steps closer and firmly nudges Till aside. “Move. You’ve had your time. Now let me see my brother.”
Till stumbles back, deeply offended. “Hey—!”
“Are you okay?” Sua asks immediately, her tone softening as she turns to Ivan.
Ivan smiles, sheepish but sincere. “I’m fine. Sorry for worrying you.”
She exhales slowly, like she’s been holding that breathe since the phone call. “Good,” she says.
Then, without warning, she digs into her tiny purse, pulls it out like a weapon, and starts smacking him with it—light but relentless.
“Because I’m going to kill you,” she says firmly, punctuating each word with a thump. “You. Absolute. Moron. Irresponsible. Dumbass.”
Ivan yelps and curls inward, raising his arms to shield his head. “Ow—hey—hospital patient here!”
“I don’t care,” she snaps, smacking him again. “You collapsed! You scared everyone! Do you have any idea—”
“I’m having déjà vu,” Ivan blurts out, half-laughing despite himself.
Till watches from the side, arms crossed now, heart still racing but lighter somehow. He should probably intervene. He doesn’t.
Because Ivan is smiling—really smiling—and Sua’s anger is laced with relief, and the room feels warmer than a hospital room has any right to feel.
The door swings open.
“What is happening?” Hyuna asks as she steps in, eyes immediately locking onto the scene: Ivan curled up defensively, Sua mid-swing with her purse, Till hovering nearby like a chastised witness.
“Oh,” Hyuna adds, processing. “Are we beating Ivan up?”
She raises her hand. “Can I go too?”
“Yes,” Luka says immediately as he walks in behind her, rolling up his sleeves. “I’ll join. He almost gave me a heart attack.” He cracks his knuckles for emphasis.
Ivan’s eyes widen. “Absolutely not—this is a closed-group activity—”
Mizi ignores all of it. She rushes straight to the bed and throws her arms around Ivan carefully but firmly, pressing her face into his shoulder. “I was so worried,” she says, voice muffled but fierce. “You scared us so much.”
Ivan freezes for half a second, then awkwardly pats her back. “…I’m sorry.”
Sua lowers her purse at last, sighing as the tension finally drains out of her shoulders. “See?” she mutters. “You’re loved. Whether you like it or not.”
Till meets Ivan’s eyes over Mizi’s shoulder. Ivan looks overwhelmed—soft, teary, alive.
For once, he isn’t trying to explain it away.
The hospital room fills with laughter and relief, the kind that comes after fear has finally loosened its hold.
“You should’ve seen Luka,” Hyuna says, leaning against the wall, her smile soft. “I’ve never seen him that distressed. It was like looking at a completely different person.”
Luka straightens immediately. “I was not that distressed,” he says, clearly offended.
“You were about to cry,” Hyuna fires back without missing a beat.
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Yes, you were,” Sua, Mizi, and Till say in perfect unison.
Luka scoffs, throwing his hands up. “Oh, come on. You would’ve been too if you were there when this moron passed out.” He points accusingly at Ivan.
Ivan pouts, lips pressed together in exaggerated offense, while Till calmly feeds him another spoonful of pudding like this is the most natural thing in the world.
Hyuna steps closer and grabs Luka’s arm, playful and teasing. “You’re right,” she says gently. “But I think it was kind of sweet—seeing how much you care about your friends.”
Luka looks away, ears turning red. “Tch. Don’t make it weird.”
Mizi lets out a shaky laugh, readjusting in her seat as the adrenaline finally drains from her body. “It’s not weird,” she says, voice tired but lighter now. “This whole thing felt like being on a rollercoaster. And honestly? I don’t ever want to ride that one again.”
Sua steps closer and pats her shoulder, firm but gentle. “Agreed.”
Then her eyes shift to the bed, narrowing.
“To think,” Sua adds dryly, “that the person who caused all this panic is sitting there comfortably, being fed by his boyfriend, like nothing happened.”
She shoots Ivan and Till a sharp, unimpressed glare.
Till, entirely unbothered, scoops another spoonful of pudding and offers it without a second thought. Ivan takes it obediently, cheeks faintly pink, looking far too content for someone who was just verbally executed by his own sister.
Then Till smiles, unapologetic, shifting closer to Ivan like it’s the most natural thing in the world-hovering casually at the side of the bed—protective without even trying.
“Come on, guys, give him a break,” Till says lightly. “Can’t you see he’s recovering?”
Of course you’d say that, Luka mutters.
Sua clicks her tongue. “Unbelievable.”
Ivan swallows the pudding and shrugs weakly. “In my defense,” he says, voice still a little hoarse, “I am medically ordered to rest.”
“That’s not a defense,” Sua shoots back. “That’s an excuse.”
Till grins. “A very official one.”
Luka snorts from near the door. “Don’t encourage him. He’ll start quoting the discharge papers like scripture.”
Hyuna laughs, leaning against the wall. “Honestly, though? Seeing him like this is kind of nice. Less… feral.”
“Hey,” Ivan protests faintly.
Mizi smiles at that, exhaustion still clinging to her but softened now by relief. “I just can’t believe you scared us that badly,” she says, looking at Ivan with something between fondness and reproach. “You don’t get to do that again.”
Ivan’s expression shifts—no jokes this time. He nods once.
“I won’t. I promise.”
Till squeezes his hand, grounding and steady. “I’ll hold him to it.”
Ivan swallows, fingers curling into the sheets as his gaze drops.
“Guys,” he says quietly, the levity gone. “Jokes aside.”
The room stills—not abruptly, just enough for everyone to turn toward him.
“I really am sorry,” Ivan continues, voice hesitant but honest. “For worrying you. All of you.” His gaze drifts from face to face—Sua, Mizi, Hyuna, Luka—lingering like he wants to memorize the sight. “I didn’t realize how much I mattered to other people until now.”
Sua stiffens. “Don’t say that.”
“I know,” Ivan says quickly. “I’m trying not to.” He takes a breath. “I’ve spent a long time thinking I had to earn being cared about—like I had to be useful. Or impressive. Or right.”
He lets out a quiet, embarrassed laugh. “Turns out collapsing is not the ideal way to test that theory.”
Hyuna snorts. Luka shakes his head. Mizi smiles faintly.
“But I’m lucky,” Ivan says softly, cheeks warm. “Really lucky. To have friends who show up. Who yell at me. I’m also lucky to have a sister who cares so deeply for me… even when she beats me to a pulp sometimes.” He glances at Sua. “And means it.”
She huffs. “Deserved.”
“I’m going to try,” Ivan continues, more serious now. “I’m going to work hard to stop feeling unlovable.” He hesitates, then adds—shy but firm—“Not just for you. For me too. I don’t want to waste this. Or you.”
Sua exhales, the last of her anger finally giving way. “You better,” she mutters. Then, more quietly, “We can’t afford to lose you.”
Immediately, Ivan—wide-eyed and bright red—grabs the bedsheets and hides under them.
“What—” Till blinks, then smirks. “Wait. Are you embarrassed?” he asks, poking gently at the lump under the covers.
“As he should be,” Sua says, smiling.
“Oooh,” Hyuna adds mockingly.
“I’m not buying it,” Luka mutters.
Mizi tilts her head. “Should I take a picture? For memories?”
Till quickly sets the pudding cup on the nearby table. “Nope. No pictures,” he blurts out.
“Why not?” Mizi pouts.
“Well—I mean—you see—” Till starts, already doomed.
“Oh, I get it,” Sua cuts in without missing a beat. “You don’t want anyone else seeing Ivan like this. You want this version all to yourself. That’s what you’re thinking, you freak.”
Till freezes. His face goes red.
Unable to defend himself, he ducks under the covers with Ivan.
A chorus of awws fills the room.
Then Mizi speaks, warm and sincere. “I’m really happy you two are finally together.”
Both of them peek out from under the blanket.
“Even I was getting tired of all the pining,” Mizi adds, smiling.
Ivan and Till straighten, offended.
“You’re exaggerating,” Ivan says.
“We were not that bad,” Till agrees.
“Yeah, you were,” Sua says, immediately launching into mockery—first mimicking Till: “I don’t know if I can do this,” then Ivan: “He doesn’t love me. It’s impossible.”
Hyuna jumps in, dramatically imitating Till. “I’m a terrible person, Hyuna. I look at him and my brain stops working.”
Luka adds flatly, “Ivan couldn’t stop talking about Till during the sleep study. ‘He looks cute like a kitten. He mumbles dumb things. His hair is disheveled.’ I’ve never seen anyone more down bad.”
Flustered beyond recovery, Ivan and Till retreat back under the blankets.
And the room settles into something warm and full—laughter lingering, fear fading, love finally sitting where denial used to live.
It’s been a few days since Ivan was discharged, and life slips back into a chaotic but familiar rhythm.
Jokes bounce easily between them. Conversations overlap. Everything feels like it’s settled back into place—only now, there’s something new underneath it all.
Ivan is different.
He laughs more freely, doesn’t stop himself mid-thought anymore. He gestures when he talks. He leans into people instead of away. He lets himself be scolded, teased, fussed over—and doesn’t apologize afterward.
Till notices everything.
The way Ivan lets Till tug him closer in hallways. The way he lets Till fix his collar, brush crumbs from his lips, feed him when he’s tired. The way he sighs softly when Till wraps an arm around him, like he’s finally learned he doesn’t have to brace himself all the time.
Ivan lets himself be loved.
And Till loves him for it.
After classes, Mizi, Sua, Hyuna, and Till sit in the lab with the lights off, sprawled comfortably across chairs and desks while Ivan and Luka set up the projector.
“Why are we here again?” Sua asks, arms crossed, already annoyed.
Mizi nudges her gently. “I think it’s nice. Something fun always happens here.”
Hyuna snorts. “If by fun you mean a bunch of nerds studying.”
“Hey,” Luka protests, turning around. “You’re dating one of those nerds.”
Hyuna grins. “And I love him very much.”
Till barely hears them. He’s watching Ivan move across the room, focused and animated, and the simple sight makes his chest feel light.
Ivan notices. He steps closer and presses a quick kiss to Till’s cheek. “You’re going to make me nervous,” he
Till smiles, fond and a little breathless. “You? Nervous? I don’t think so,” he says softly. “But I’d gladly try.”
He leans in and presses a lingering kiss to Ivan’s forehead, unhurried and full of care.
“Ew,” the rest of them groan in unison. “Get a room.”
Till and Ivan only laugh, their shoulders brushing as if the sound itself pulls them closer.
“Ready?” Ivan asks quietly, tilting his head, his voice gentle in a way that feels meant only for Till.
Till’s heart stumbles at the sight. He lifts his hand without thinking, brushing his fingers through Ivan’s hair, slow and reverent. “Always,” he murmurs.
Ivan leans into the touch, eyes drifting half-closed, breathing evening out beneath Till’s hand. “A hug,” he asks softly. “For good luck.”
Good luck, Till thinks. He doesn’t need it— but if Ivan asks, who’s Till to deny him that?
He slips his arm around Ivan’s shoulders and draws him in, holding him close. It’s an easy embrace, natural and warm, like they’ve been doing this for years instead of days. Ivan returns it immediately, careful but firm, his arms wrapping around Till’s waist. His hand slides up, fingers threading through Till’s hair as he presses closer, their foreheads nearly touching.
“I miss you,” Ivan whispers, the words barely louder than breath.
Till’s chest tightens. “M-miss—” He glances around instinctively, then leans in to whisper back, flustered and sincere. “We were together last night.” His ears burn as he says it.
Ivan smiles, soft and knowing. “You know I can’t be away from you for long,” he murmurs.
He pulls back just enough to look at Till, still close, still sharing the same space. Ivan reaches up and adjusts Till’s oversized hoodie—his hoodie—fingers lingering at the collar like he doesn’t quite want to let go. His gaze drops to the large bandage on Till’s neck, and he carefully straightens it.
“Careful,” Ivan says lightly, a fond smile curling at his lips. “That might fall off.” His thumb brushes close, not touching, but close enough. “And I don’t think you’d want to explain that.”
Till lets out the smallest squeak, immediately lifting a hand to the bandage. “Y-you— little—”
Ivan doesn’t let him finish. He leans in and steals a quick, gentle kiss—soft, brief, and full of promise—before stepping away and returning to his place like nothing happened.
Till sits down slowly, pulling the hoodie closer around his neck, heart still racing.
Hyuna, Mizi, and Sua notice instantly.
“What did he say?” Sua asks, squinting at him. “Something wrong?”
Till blurts out, “Nothing! Nothing at all. Just—regular Ivan. Completely normal. Nothing to worry about.” His voice cracks slightly.
The three of them exchange a look—knowing, suspicious—but let it go.
Till exhales and sinks back in his seat.
He makes a mental note to kill Ivan later.
Very gently.
Finally Ivan and Luka take their places at the front.
“Okay,” Ivan begins, smiling genuinely—and Till’s stomach flutters at the sight of it. “You might be wondering why we asked you all to be here.”
He clicks the remote. “Since our last experiment could generously be described as a failure, we decided to start a new one.”
The slide changes.
Lie Detection Without Lying
Objective: Study omission rather than deception.
Method:
• Partners answer questions truthfully—but are allowed to leave things out.
• Researchers analyze hesitation, phrasing, and body language.
“We’ll be studying which couple can tell whether their partner is hiding something or not,” Ivan finishes, enthusiasm bright in his voice. “So—who wants to participate?”
Silence stretches across the room.
Then—
“Absolutely not,” Sua says immediately, flat and final.
“Nope,” Mizi adds, already shaking her head like she can see the disaster coming.
“Hard pass,” Luka mutters, crossing his arms. “I should have known, you were planning something like this.”
“Are you kidding me?” Hyuna laughs, pointing between Ivan and Till. “After everything? You want more experiments?”
The room erupts into overlapping protests, groans, and half-laughing complaints.
Ivan suddenly bends forward, laughter bursting out of him—real, unrestrained—so strong he has to brace one hand against the desk to stay upright. The sound is so unexpected that the overlapping protests die out one by one as everyone turns to stare.
“Sorry—sorry,” he manages between breaths. “It’s just… I expected this reaction, but somehow it’s even better than I imagined.” He snorts, trying—and failing—to pull himself together.
Then he straightens, wiping at the corner of his eyes, still grinning.
“Relax. There’s no experiment. Luka and I decided to go back to studying bacteria.”
Luka blinks. “We did?”
“Yes,” Ivan continues smoothly, nodding as if this has always been the plan. “Harmless. Predictable. They don’t yell at you.”
He gestures vaguely toward the group. “You all really fell for it. You should’ve seen your faces.”
There’s a beat of stunned silence.
Then Till starts laughing—full and unguarded, bending forward like he can’t stop himself.
That breaks the spell.
Mizi laughs too, covering her mouth. Hyuna groans and laughs at the same time. Sua sighs, shaking her head, but she’s smiling despite herself. Even Luka lets out a reluctant chuckle.
The lab fills with laughter, warm and echoing, bouncing gently off the walls.
Ivan looks around, chest warm, heart steady.
For once, he isn’t measuring the moment.
He isn’t naming it or dissecting it.
He’s just living in it.
His gaze finds Till’s, and something quiet passes between them—no words, no proof needed. Just certainty. Till reaches for Ivan’s hand without thinking, and Ivan lets him, their fingers lacing together easily, naturally, like this has always been theirs.
The laughter slowly fades into easy chatter as the lab settles back into its familiar hum. Plans are made—food, maybe a movie, definitely something warm and simple. Life, uncomplicated for once.
Ivan squeezes Till’s hand, a small, content smile tugging at his lips.
No hypotheses.
No observations.
No conclusions.
Just this.
Exactly as it is.
…
Official Research Log
Investigator/Subject: Ivan P.
Study: The Chemistry of Love
Phase: Final Evaluation
Status: Concluded — Experiment Failed
Objective:
To determine whether romantic attachment can be fully explained, predicted, and reduced to measurable biochemical and psychological processes.
Summary of Methodology:
The study employed controlled social exposure, secondary-agent interference, observational trials, and physiological monitoring to isolate variables commonly associated with romantic attachment (jealousy, stress response, attentional fixation, and emotional deviation). The intent was to prove that perceived “love” is a byproduct of predictable chemical reactions and cognitive bias rather than an independent phenomenon.
Results:
The experiment did not yield reproducible or controllable outcomes.
Key failures include:
- Inability to isolate emotional response from subjective meaning.
- Persistent deviation from baseline despite removal of stressors.
- Subject interference compromising objectivity.
- Emotional response escalating rather than stabilizing with increased data.
Repeated attempts to rationalize results as experimental error proved insufficient.
Conclusion:
The hypothesis is rejected.
Romantic attachment cannot be fully reduced to chemistry, data, or behavioral prediction. While physiological responses are present and measurable, they do not account for the entirety of the experience. Emotional significance persists independent of analysis and resists compartmentalization.
Further, subject bias was not incidental—it was intrinsic.
Addendum (Required Disclosure):
During the course of the study, the subject experienced the phenomenon under observation.
This experience was not planned, predicted, or preventable through methodological control. Despite extensive efforts to deny, reframe, or invalidate it, the emotional attachment remained consistent, reciprocal, and non-transient.
Therefore, the subject acknowledges the following:
- Love exists.
- It is not inherently rational.
- It cannot be invalidated through denial.
- Personal experience confirms its presence beyond theoretical models.
Personal Note (Unscheduled):
The subject reports a sustained state of happiness and emotional fulfillment. The subject is currently in a committed romantic relationship and experiences significant joy in physical affection, including—but not limited to—kissing his boyfriend.
Preliminary observations also indicate notable improvements in mood, decreased compulsive overanalysis, and pronounced physiological arousal during intimate physical engagement, especially during se—
“Nope.”
Till reaches over and presses the laptop shut. “You are not putting that in there. Absolutely not. Stop. End the report.”
Ivan blinks. “…For the record, this is censorship.”
Till raises an eyebrow. “End. The. Report.”
Ivan sighs, smiling anyway.
Final Statement:
This experiment was designed to disprove love.
Instead, it confirmed it.
End of Report.
Fin