Archive of Our Own ^beta

The restaurant is a trendy spot in the heart of the city — candlelit tables, soft amber lighting, and a slow hum of conversation blending with the gentle clink of silverware against plates. It’s the kind of place that feels intimate, where the glow from the sconces on the wall casts everyone in a flattering light. But for Hyunjin, sitting at a table by the window, the setting feels like an inappropriate romantic scenery in a psychological drama.

Across from him, Taeyang — his, supposedly, today’s date — is glued to his phone, tapping at the screen with barely a glance up. Hyunjin forces a smile, his fingers playing with the stem of his wine glass. The wine is good, he thinks to himself, but it’s not enough to save the sinking ship of this evening.

He steals a glance outside, where the street is bathed in the neon light of nearby bars and stores. It’s raining — soft, misty droplets that blur the glow of the city and make everything look like a watercolour painting. A couple hurries by, laughing under an umbrella, and Hyunjin feels a pang of envy.

“Hyunjin, right?” Taeyang’s voice finally cuts through the awkward silence, and Hyunjin pulls his gaze back to the table. “So, you’re a… biologist or something?”

The way Taeyang says it, with disinterest, with a lack of curiosity, makes Hyunjin’s heart sink a little. He leans forward, trying to inject some life into the conversation. “Yeah, I study alien flora mostly — how their biological systems interact with Earth’s ecosystems. Right now, we’re looking at how some plants from their world adapt—”

“Right, right, that’s cool,” Taeyang cuts him off, his eyes darting back to his phone. He lets out a soft chuckle at something on the screen. “Sorry, my group chat is going crazy.”

Hyunjin’s fingers tighten around the glass. He hides his frustration behind a polite smile, but inside, it’s like something’s wilting. His enthusiasm for his work — something that usually lights him up — is fading under Taeyang’s indifference.

“Yeah, it’s cool,” Hyunjin mutters, leaning back in his chair. His eyes drop to the table, staring at the flickering candle between them. Why does this always happen?

“Must be a lot of sitting in labs, though.”

“It’s more interesting than it sounds,” Hyunjin replies. “We’re learning a lot from the alien samples, especially with how adaptable their biology is. Like, some plants from their world can actually grow in Earth’s atmosphere—”

“Yeah, I’m not really into science,” Taeyang interrupts, chuckling lightly. “But it’s great that you’re passionate about it though.”

And just like that, the conversation dies again.

Hyunjin clenches his jaw, fighting the rising wave of frustration. This is how it always goes. He talks, they pretend to listen, but the moment he gets into anything deeper than surface-level conversation, they lose interest. They always see his face first — his looks, his charm — and nothing else. No one ever seems to care about what’s actually going on in his head.

It’s not like he’s asking for much — just a little interest, someone to ask questions, to care about what makes him tick. But once again, he feels like he’s the only one trying, the only one who’s interested in making the conversation work. And it’s exhausting.

“So… what do you do?” he asks, trying to keep the small talk alive.

Taeyang shrugs, not even looking up this time. “I work in marketing. It’s alright, you know, pays the bills.”

There’s another long, awkward silence, broken only by the sound of the waitress pouring more wine into Hyunjin’s glass. She gives Hyunjin a sympathetic glance, as if she can sense the disaster unfolding.

When the waitress leaves, Taeyang finally stands up, checking his phone one last time before shoving it in his pocket. “Hey, uh, something came up. I’ve got to go. You’re beautiful, really, so maybe we could meet again some other time? Sorry about this, but… you know how it is, emergencies.”

Hyunjin stares up at him, feeling a mix of disbelief and resignation wash over him. It’s always the same excuse — vague, unconvincing, and a clear sign that his date would rather be anywhere else.

“Sure,” he says, his voice flat. “Emergencies.”

Without another word, Taeyang nods, mutters a quick “Take care,” and disappears into the rain-soaked street, leaving Hyunjin alone at the table. The soft jazz in the background suddenly feels unbearably sad.

For a moment, Hyunjin just sits there, staring at the now-empty seat across from him. His fingers trace the rim of the glass absentmindedly as the familiar weight of loneliness settles into his chest. He’s used to this feeling, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. Why does it always end like this?

He checks his phone, seeing a few texts from his friends — How’s the date going? Is he cute? — and contemplates answering, but what’s the point? They’ll just tell him the same things they always do: “You’ll find someone eventually,” “You’re too good for them,” or “It’s their loss.”

But those words feel hollow. He doesn’t want to be “too good” or “eventually find someone.” He just wants someone who sees him — who cares about more than just his looks, someone who listens.

The waitress approaches again, offering Hyunjin a pitying smile. “Would you like some dessert, sir?”

Hyunjin chuckles bitterly, shaking his head. “No, thanks. I think I’m done for tonight.”

“At least, he paid the check,” she smiles again, shrugging her shoulders.

“What a gentleman.” Hyunjin salutes her with the glass, finishing off the wine with one ungracious sip.

The air outside the restaurant is crisp, the chill of the late evening settling over Seoul. The rain is still falling, light but persistent. Hyunjin tugs his coat tighter around his body as he checks the time on his phone. It is late — later than he expected, and his stomach twists as he realises he’s missed the last bus and the last train back to the Cultural Exchange and Research Complex. He stands in front of the restaurant for a moment, letting out a long, frustrated sigh before opening his taxi app.

Another wasted evening, another failed date.

The restaurant was nice, the food delicious, the wine good, but what was supposed to be a conversation felt hollow, empty. The same routine as always: compliments on his appearance, but nothing deeper. He sighs again, watching the little icon on his phone move as the taxi approaches.

“Why do I even bother anymore?” he mutters, his voice swallowed by the hum of the city around him. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, staring down the street as he waits for the taxi. Night city is alive with activity — couples sharing umbrellas, people laughing as they duck into bars — but all Hyunjin feels is the gnawing ache of solitude.

His thoughts drift back to high school, a time that should’ve been full of excitement and discovery. Instead, it had been filled with superficiality. He was “the pretty boy” — the one everyone noticed, but no one really knew. People liked to stare, to admire, but the moment they tried to talk, their interest faded. No one ever looked past the surface, and even when they did, they didn’t seem to care about what they found.

The taxi pulls up to the curb with a soft screech, the driver’s face lit by the glow of his phone. Hyunjin climbs in, sinking into the back seat. He gives the driver the address of the Complex, leaning his head against the seat as the city lights blur by outside.

As the car weaves through the quieting streets, Hyunjin’s mind wanders. He had chosen biology in university — a subject that fascinated him, one that let him dive deep into the world of living things, complex and layered, just like he wished someone would see him. But even in his major, people smiled and dismissed him, as if someone like him couldn’t possibly be serious about science. “You’re just doing this for the aesthetics, right?”, “Making your pre-debut era look media-worthy?” they’d joke. He’d laugh along, but inside, it stung.

It was during his second year of university that everything changed.

Humanity had always wondered about life beyond Earth, scanning the skies and sending signals into the dark, cold expanse of space. As the Earth became more and more exhausted, the possibility of colonising other planets became more a matter of survival than plain curiosity. Yet no one ever expected the aliens to make the first move.

It had been a historic moment for humanity — an event no one could have imagined.

The whole world was shaken, and Hyunjin, like many others, was awestruck.

Their civilization — far more advanced than ours — came from a distant galaxy, one that almost mirrored the Milky Way. Their planet — a twin of our Earth — had already undergone a few cycles of destruction and regeneration, exploding and reforming from dust over millions of years. Through it all, their people had survived, building colonies on other planets, adapting, thriving.

Aliens had been watching Earth long before we even knew they existed, long before we existed, but only intercepting first signals as early as Yuri Gagarin’s first space flight. Quietly, they’d prepared for contact, waiting until the time was right.

They said that our galaxy was a little bit “softer”, and they would like to explore the possibility of building colonies and space stations-settlements in our galaxy, in exchange for their help with preservation of Earth.

The world changed after that.

Humanity’s focus shifted from looking outward to dealing with the reality of not being alone. It was an age of excitement and fear.

Organisations like NASA, ESA, CNSA, KASA and Roscosmos were suddenly in charge of diplomacy with a species from a different galaxy. Trust was difficult to build, and though cooperation between scientists and governments had begun, most people were still cautious, if not outright suspicious, of the newcomers. A dilemma has arisen in society: can we provide a place in space that is no one’s, but is still ours?

Hyunjin knew, from the moment the news broke, that he wanted to be a part of this new world. He had watched the footage of the first contact — the slightly unfamiliar faces of the alien delegation, human-like, yet not quite. He was captivated by their biology, their history, and their advanced technology. The Cultural Exchange and Research Complex, set up to foster collaboration between the two species under KASA, here, in South Korea, felt like the natural place for him.

As soon as he graduated, he jumped at the chance to volunteer, studying alien biological samples. It felt like the perfect escape. He was thrilled when he was accepted.

The taxi speeds down the darkened highway, the cityscape shrinking behind them as they near the outskirts. Hyunjin feels a sense of relief thinking about the lab waiting for him.

The Complex isn’t just a research station — it’s a small town, where humans and aliens live and work together. He likes it there. The labs are sterile, quiet, filled with the smell of chemicals. Everyone wears the same white lab coats, the same goggles, the same gloves. In that uniformity, they are all equal. It doesn’t matter who you are outside the lab — inside, they are all just researchers, driven by the same curiosity.

Hyunjin finds comfort in that. In the lab, no one cares about his looks. No one dismisses him as just a pretty face. He can lose himself in his work, where data and results matter more than appearances. It’s the one place he truly belongs.

The taxi turns off the highway, the blue lights of the Complex glowing softly in the distance. As they approach it, Hyunjin’s heart feels a little lighter. Tomorrow, he’ll dive back into his research, lose himself in the comforting predictability of data and experiments, leaving thoughts of failed dates behind.

Romance, he decides, isn’t worth the trouble anymore. Not when he has the stability of his work to fall back on.

The car rolls to a stop in front of the Complex entrance. Hyunjin thanks the driver and steps out into the cool night air. As the taxi drives away, he takes a deep breath, his eyes drifting up to the glowing dome overhead.

Work, at least, never lets him down.

👽

The hum of machinery fills the lab, a steady, familiar sound that soothes Hyunjin as he leans closer to the microscope. His eyes are fixed on the alien sample beneath the lens — a delicate, silvery plant, its shimmering leaves unlike anything found on Earth. He adjusts the focus, watching the intricate network of cells pulse with faint, iridescent light. Time slips away unnoticed, the late hour marked only by the growing stillness in the lab. His colleagues have all gone home, leaving him alone in the cool, sterile space, but Hyunjin doesn’t mind.

Here, among these alien specimens, he feels alive.

He reaches for his notebook, scribbling down observations about the plant’s cellular structure, how it seems to react to changes in temperature. His hand slows as he glances at the array of other samples waiting for him — insects with wings that shimmer like glass, soil teeming with microscopic organisms that defy classification. The sheer variety of life forms from the alien world fascinates him, capturing his imagination in a way nothing else does.

Just as he’s about to dive back into his work, a soft ping breaks through the quiet, pulling his attention to his laptop. An email in the Complex’s network. He clicks it open out of habit, eyes skimming the lines without much interest at first. The subject line reads, “Invitation for Volunteers – Human-Alien Social Study Program.” He blinks, his mind taking a moment to register the words. It’s not unusual for the research team to send out calls for participation in various studies, but this one is different.

Hyunjin scrolls through the email, catching phrases like “cross-cultural communication” and “personal relationships”. It’s an opportunity for humans and aliens to interact more directly, a part of the ongoing effort to strengthen relations between the two species. He feels a flicker of interest, but pushes it aside, focusing back on the work in front of him.

Social studies aren’t his field — he’s a scientist, more comfortable with plants and insects than people, let alone aliens.

He shrugs it off, closing the email and returning to the microscope. The world of alien biology is far more fascinating, after all. His fingers tap the surface of the cold metal, adjusting the lens again, but his mind drifts back to the email.

Social study... What would that even look like? The idea lingers, tugging at the edges of his focus as he works. He’s been at the Complex for a while now, but most of his interaction with aliens has been through the samples they provide. He hasn’t spent much time with them personally, not beyond the occasional glimpse in the hallways, reports from other departments, or rare lunch breaks with Jeongin.

An hour passes, and Hyunjin’s concentration begins to wane. The allure of the plant sample fades as the numbers on the digital clock begin to look like 11 pm.

He stretches his neck, feeling the stiffness from hours bent over the microscope, and decides it’s time to call it a night. As he packs up, his gaze falls on his laptop once again.

Back in his dorm room, the familiar scent of flowery air freshener greats him — stark contrast to the chemical one of the lab. He drops his bag on the floor and collapses onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling. His mind is restless, still buzzing from the day’s work, but it’s not enough to quiet the nagging thought that’s been growing since he read the email.

The idea of doing something different, something outside the confines of the lab, pulls at him.

Hyunjin grabs his phone, scrolling through social media aimlessly, but it’s not distracting enough. His thoughts keep returning to social study. He opens his work email again, scanning the details more carefully this time. It’s not just some small experiment — it’s a long-term project aimed at fostering deeper connections between humans and aliens. It’s meant to be an immersive experience, an exchange of cultures as much as science.

It’s a change of pace, something far outside his usual routine.

Hyunjin sighs, tossing his phone aside as he stares at the ceiling. His life has been so predictable lately. Work, failed dates, more work. Maybe this is the shake-up he’s been waiting for. He hasn’t had the chance to really work with aliens yet, not directly, and his curiosity — both scientific and personal — nudges him toward the idea.

Before he can second-guess himself, Hyunjin grabs his phone again, pulling up the email. His fingers hover over the volunteer form for a moment. Then, with a quiet determination, he starts filling it out, answering the questions with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. When he’s done, he takes a deep breath and hits “Submit.”

It’s done. He sets the phone aside, feeling a strange mix of apprehension and anticipation. As he turns off the light and settles into bed, his mind races with possibilities.

Maybe interacting with aliens wouldn’t be worse than what he’s been through with humans.

👽

Hyunjin sits at his desk in the lab, tapping his fingers nervously against the smooth surface. The glow of his computer screen casts a faint light on his face, highlighting the furrow in his brow as he refreshes his email for the hundredth time that morning. His inbox remains empty, save for a few automated messages.  No response yet. The empty inbox feels like a weight on his chest. He shouldn’t be this anxious, but his mind won’t stop spinning.

It’s been three days since he submitted his application to participate in the social study with the aliens, and the waiting is driving him crazy. The excitement that filled him when he first sent in the form has slowly given way to doubt.

What if they don’t pick me?
What if they do pick me and it’s a disaster?
Am I really ready for something like this?

He chews on the inside of his cheek, leaning back in his chair as his thoughts whirl. Why did he even sign up for this in the first place?

But then again… Aliens didn’t have the same social expectations that humans did — maybe communication with them would be simpler, cleaner? Less messy.

Hyunjin exhales sharply and runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it in frustration. Could he really make this work? The idea of opening up, even in the name of science, seems like stepping into unknown territory.

But maybe… maybe the unknown could be a good thing.

A part of him is curious. What if he could build something meaningful, something interesting with someone who didn’t think or feel like a human? What if, with aliens, his awkwardness wouldn’t matter as much?

The sharp buzz of his phone interrupts his spiralling thoughts. He glances at the screen — it’s Jisung.

▶Meet us at the usual spot. You’re coming, right? Don’t make us come find you!

Hyunjin rolls his eyes but can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips. Jisung always knows when to reach out. He might be a whirlwind of chaotic energy, but there’s no one more supportive. Maybe some time with Jisung and Jeongin is exactly what he needs to get his mind off the waiting, to get out of his head and stop obsessing over his inbox.

The cafe is warm and welcoming. It’s a small, cosy place within the Cultural Exchange and Research Complex, a spot where Hyunjin, Jisung, and Jeongin often meet for lunch or coffee after long shifts. The familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee and pastries hits Hyunjin as soon as he walks in, along with the low murmur of conversations and the clinking of mugs.

Hyunjin spots his friends near the window, seated at their usual table. Jisung is animated, gesturing wildly as he talks, while Jeongin sits across from him, sipping his coffee with a bored expression, though his eyes sparkle with quiet amusement.

Jisung and Jeongin are Hyunjin’s lifeline at the Complex.

Jisung is the human team’s communication specialist, his job focused on translating the alien language and culture. He’s quick-witted, sharp, and endlessly curious, his enthusiasm for bridging the gap between species as vibrant as his personality. He often jokes that he’s not just translating words — he’s translating entire worlds.

Jeongin, meanwhile, is his alien counterpart. He’s part of the linguistic team sent to Earth, tasked with helping bridge the cultural divide between his species and humanity. Though Jeongin’s demeanour is cool and collected, there’s a certain softness to him that comes out when he’s with people he trusts. He might seem indifferent, but he takes his role seriously — making sure the humans understand not just the words of his people, but their intentions, their way of thinking.

The aliens have been in contact with humans for a few years now, and Jeongin was one of the first ones to cross over and work closely together. His outward indifference hides a curious mind, always intrigued by human behaviours and habits.

“Hyunnie! There you are. We were about to send a search party.” Jisung greets him, shuffling over to make space at the table.

Hyunjin slides into the seat next to Jisung, who beams at him, all wide eyes and mischievous grin. “I’m here, aren’t I?” Hyunjin mutters, pulling off his coat and slumping into the chair.

“About time you got here. I was really starting to think you were too busy dissecting alien dirt to show up.”

“It’s soil samples, actually. Very different.”

Jeongin lifts his gaze from his coffee cup, an amused glint in his eyes. “And how are your precious soil samples today?”

Hyunjin groans, leaning back in his chair. “Same as always. But that’s not what’s bugging me.” He glances between them, hesitant. “I applied to that social study with the aliens, but now I’m freaking out about whether or not it was the right choice.”

Jisung immediately leans in, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Wait, you actually applied? I’m so proud of you! This is huge!”

Hyunjin rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, but now I’m not so sure. What if I’m not ready for this?”

“Are you kidding?” Jisung says, shaking his head. “This is exactly what you need. You’ve been stuck in that lab forever. Getting out there, working directly with the aliens — it’s a perfect opportunity for you.”

Jeongin takes a slow sip of his coffee, his gaze steady on Hyunjin. “You’ll be fine. Besides, we’re not that different from humans. The worst you’ll have to deal with is Jisung trying to ask endless questions about our culture.”

Jisung snorts, rolling his eyes. “Oh please, like you’re not obsessed with me. You’d miss me if I wasn’t around. Besides, someone has to make sure we understand each other. It’s called building cultural bridges.”

Jeongin huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, though Hyunjin doesn’t miss the tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth. “You’re delusional if you think I’d miss your annoying face. I just happen to be stuck with you.”

“Stuck with me? You practically follow me everywhere. Face it, Jeongin, you love me.” Jisung teases, leaning in closer with a playful glint in his eyes. “Admit it.”

Jeongin doesn’t respond, instead focusing on his coffee.

It’s the same game they always play — Jisung’s relentless teasing and Jeongin’s calm deflections. Despite the sarcasm, Hyunjin can tell that Jeongin secretly enjoys the attention. There’s an underlying warmth in their exchanges that neither of them ever acknowledges directly, but it’s always there.

Hyunjin smiles, feeling some of the weight lifting from his shoulders.

“I don’t know why you guys don’t just admit you’re into each other and save the rest of us from having to watch this whole act,” Hyunjin says, shaking his head.

Jeongin glares, though his blush deepens, and Jisung shoots him a wink. “Oh, we’re just keeping things interesting. You know, gotta spice up lunch breaks.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes but feels a genuine smile tugging at his lips.

Jisung’s right — it’s just nerves. And watching his friends makes him realise how much he overthinks things, especially when it comes to new experiences. They always seem to know how to ground him, whether it’s with banter or teasing.

“I guess you’re right,” Hyunjin says, relaxing into his seat. “Maybe this is the change I need.”

“Of course I’m right,” Jisung says, tossing a fry in Hyunjin’s direction. “And even if you’re nervous, just remember — Jeongin here will be around to bail you out if things get too weird.”

Jeongin raises an eyebrow, but there’s a trace of fondness in his voice as he responds. “Don’t expect me to rescue you from every cultural misunderstanding.”

Jisung nudges him again, smirking. “Oh, I don’t know. I think you’d enjoy rescuing me at least once or twice.”

Hyunjin laughs at their banter, feeling lighter than he has all week.

“Alright,” Hyunjin says, smiling to himself. “I’ll stop freaking out and just wait for the email. Whatever happens, I’ll handle it.”

Jisung grins and claps him on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit! You’ve got this, Hyunnie. And if it doesn’t come through,” Jisung adds with a sly grin, “I’ll pull some strings. Get you in somehow.”

Jeongin raises an eyebrow. “What strings do you think you have, exactly?”

Jisung grins wider. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Jeongin rolls his eyes again but doesn’t respond.

Hyunjin takes a deep breath, feeling more confident than he did before. Maybe this really is the opportunity he’s been waiting for. Whatever comes next, he’s ready to face it.

👽

Hyunjin stares at his laptop screen, heart racing as the notification pops up in his inbox — CEaRC: Social Study Confirmation. For a moment, he just stares, too stunned to move. After weeks of waiting, second-guessing, and nervous anticipation, the confirmation is finally here. His fingers tremble slightly as he clicks open the email, eyes scanning the text.

Dear Hwang Hyunjin,
We are pleased to inform you that your application to participate in the Alien-Human Social Study has been accepted…

The rest of the words blur as Hyunjin reads, adrenaline surging. He blinks, then reads the message again, this time more carefully. Accepted. He’s been accepted into the study. He leans back in his chair, trying to process it. All of his questions bubble to the surface.

He shakes his head, pushing the confusion aside. He’ll find out everything soon enough. Scanning the email again, he spots the next steps: a meeting with the project’s coordinators — Bang Chan, head of the human side of the study, and Lee Minho from the alien side — scheduled for tomorrow.

The following morning, Hyunjin stands at the entrance to the Cultural Exchange and Research Complex’s administrative wing, a building designed with sleek, modern lines and metallic facades that gleam in the morning light. Today, instead of heading into the familiar confines of his lab, he’s stepping into uncharted territory.

The glass doors slide open soundlessly as Hyunjin walks in, and he quickly navigates the pristine hallways to the small conference room. The closer he gets, the more his nerves tangle into knots. His stomach flips as he thinks about meeting the people — and aliens — who run the show.

Peeking inside the glass-walled room, Hyunjin immediately spots Bang Chan and Lee Minho. They sit on the large table, the contrast between them striking. Bang Chan is animated, leaning forward with a bright smile as he talks, his hands gesturing excitedly. He’s dressed sharply but casually, like a man who knows how to take command without making it intimidating. The warmth he radiates is palpable, even through the glass.

Beside him, Lee Minho is a study in composure. His posture is rigid, his expression calm and unreadable, with the slightest furrow in his brow as he listens to Chan. Though he looks human, there’s something subtly otherworldly about him — an almost unnatural stillness. Where Chan radiates warmth and enthusiasm, Minho exudes a cool, almost inscrutable demeanour, his gaze sharp and assessing. He exudes an aura of quiet control.

Hyunjin takes a deep breath, straightens his shirt and steps inside. Chan looks up immediately, flashing him a grin.

“Hyunjin! Come on in, sit down,” he says, his voice cheerful and inviting.

Hyunjin smiles nervously and takes the seat opposite them. “It’s great to meet you, sir”.

“Please, just call me ‘hyung’,” he says, grinning. “None of that ‘sir’ stuff. We’re all friends here.”

He claps his hands together as if they’re all about to embark on an exciting adventure. Minho watches the exchange with a raised eyebrow.

“I assume you’ve read through the basics of the study,” Minho says, cutting straight to business, his tone calm but firm.

“I have,” Hyunjin says, though his understanding is still hazy.

Chan waves his hand looking at Minho disapprovingly, “Can you wait, jeez?” Then he looks at Hyunjin again smiling, “I’ve heard you’ve been doing some impressive work in the biology labs.”

Hyunjin’s cheeks flush slightly. “I’m just trying to contribute, really.”

Chan nods enthusiastically, but before he can respond, Minho cuts in again, his voice smooth but lacking the same warmth. “This isn’t a biology study. You understand that, correct?”

Hyunjin blinks, caught off guard by the bluntness of the comment. “Yes, I do.”

Minho’s gaze sharpens. “This study is centred around interpersonal dynamics — how humans and aliens interact, bond, and potentially form deeper relationships. It’s a social experiment, not a biological one.”

There’s a weight to his words that presses on Hyunjin, but before the tension can build, Chan steps in, his smile returning. “What Minho means is that you’ll be working on something new — something exciting. Think of it as a cultural exchange, but on a personal level.”

Hyunjin nods, trying to digest that. “But I’m still not sure what my role is.”

“We want to see how close humans and aliens can get in a controlled setting, in terms of social interaction, compatibility, and maybe even... romantic interest.” He winks, though Minho’s face remains stony, clearly not sharing Chan’s playful tone.

Hyunjin feels his stomach flip. Romantic interest? “Wait, so... this is like... dating?”

Chan chuckles. “Sort of! But don’t worry, it’s still professional. We’re not expecting you to fall in love on command. This is about exploring the possibilities. The main goal is to study how humans and aliens connect on a personal level, outside of the scientific or diplomatic context.”

“You’ll be paired with one of our alien scientists, Kim Seungmin.”

“Paired?” Hyunjin repeats, trying to wrap his mind around the idea.

“Yes,” Minho says, eyes steady. “You’ll spend time together. Form a bond. It may be professional, it may be personal. The study will focus on how well humans and aliens can relate to each other on an emotional level. We’re looking for trust, understanding... ”

Hyunjin feels his stomach churn. Well, he hadn’t anticipated this when he signed up. Forming relationships — especially ones that could become intimate — was not his area of expertise. He’s more comfortable with Petri dishes than with people, let alone aliens.

Chan seems to sense his apprehension and leans back, folding his arms casually. “Don’t overthink it, Hyunjin. It’s not as intense as it sounds. You’ll get to know Seungmin, share experiences, and learn from each other. Who knows? You might even enjoy it.”

Minho speaks up again, his voice as calm as ever. “It’s not just about dating. We’re exploring the full spectrum of relationships. Romantic involvement is only one potential outcome. What matters is building trust and understanding between individuals from both species.”

“Right, of course,” Hyunjin quickly responds, trying to shake the strange combination of excitement and dread building in his chest.

The idea is overwhelming, but also... strangely exciting. He’s spent almost two years in the safety of his lab, studying alien biology from a distance. Now, he’s being asked to dive into the unknown.

“And don’t worry about the details,” Chan adds with a reassuring smile. “Once the paperwork is finalised, you’ll be introduced to Seungmin. The study will take shape as you go. Just be yourself. Everything will fall into place.”

Hyunjin tries to smile, though the uncertainty still lingers. “I’ll... do my best.”

“I’m sure you will,” Chan says, standing up and extending a hand again. “Welcome aboard.”

Minho’s expression softens ever so slightly, and he nods. “We’re confident this will work. You wouldn’t have been chosen otherwise.”

Hyunjin exhales slowly, feeling the weight of their expectations settle on his shoulders. He shakes Chan’s hand, then Minho’s. As he leaves the conference room, his mind is buzzing. Personal relationships with an alien? He can hardly process it, but one thing is clear — whatever happens next, his life is about to get a whole lot more interesting.

👽

Hyunjin sits in the waiting area of the administrative wing, trying not to fidget. It’s been a couple of days since his meeting with Bang Chan and Lee Minho, and now he’s about to meet Kim Seungmin, his alien counterpart for the study. He taps his foot, glancing around the sleek, minimalist lobby. The cold, ultra-modern décor doesn’t help soothe his nerves — white walls, steel accents, everything pristine and organised, as though the place itself demands perfection.

He’s used to the laboratories, where things are more… lived-in.

The door slides open, and Hyunjin straightens, quickly rising to his feet when a man steps through. For a moment, he’s taken aback. That’s Kim Seungmin?

Seungmin looks human — tall, lean, with broad shoulders, quite attractive features formed into an expression that’s unreadable. His eyes are dark, focused, and there’s a stillness to him, like every movement is calculated. The only thing that gives him away is the air of detachment that Hyunjin immediately senses. Seungmin seems… cold. Distant. Almost robotic.

Hyunjin has met a few aliens since joining the Complex, but none of them were quite like this. Jeongin, at least, has a sense of humour, a spark of liveliness. He’s spent more time on Earth, specifically around Jisung, and it shows in the way he interacts with people. But Seungmin? Hyunjin isn’t so sure. He doesn’t seem hostile, just... indifferent. As though he’s observing Hyunjin the way a scientist might observe a sample under a microscope.

“Hwang Hyunjin-ssi,” Seungmin greets, his voice smooth, but without much warmth. He extends his hand, and Hyunjin shakes it, trying to ignore how stiff his own fingers feel.

“Hi… nice to meet you, Kim Seungmin-ssi, right?”

Seungmin nods once, his grip firm but brief. “Yes. Shall we begin?”

There’s no small talk, no easing into the conversation. Seungmin’s tone is businesslike, efficient, like he’s already moving on to the next task. Hyunjin blinks, still trying to catch up. This is going to be… interesting, he thinks to himself.

They step inside the same small conference room from before. Bang Chan and Lee Minho are already waiting for them.

Hyunjin shoots a glance at Chan, who gives him a reassuring smile as they settle in. The documents on the table catch Hyunjin’s eye immediately — a contract. His brows furrow in confusion.

“A contract?” Hyunjin wonders aloud, blinking at the papers laid out in front of him.

Chan nods, his tone easygoing. “It’s just a formality, don’t worry. We have these agreements in place as a safeguard. It guarantees that both parties, you and Seungmin, will follow the guidelines of the study. It’s really more about safety — if anything goes wrong, this document ensures that there’s a process for handling it.”

“Go wrong?” Hyunjin repeats, his stomach twisting a little. “Like what?”

Minho’s voice cuts in smoothly, “It’s unlikely that anything will go wrong, but given the sensitive nature of the study, we prefer to have everything in writing. This contract is for your protection as well as Seungmin’s. You’ll be working closely together, after all.”

Seungmin watches the conversation unfold in silence, his gaze shifting between the speakers, never showing any hint of emotion. Hyunjin sneaks a glance at him, trying to read something — anything — in his expression. But there’s nothing. No curiosity, no concern, not even impatience. Seungmin simply waits, like a machine processing data before moving to the next command.

Reluctantly, Hyunjin picks up the pen, his mind still buzzing with uncertainty. The contract outlines the terms of their “relationship” for the duration of the study. A bizarre mix of professional and personal, with expectations of communication, interaction, and emotional exchange. Hyunjin feels like he’s signing up for something more than just science, but with Chan smiling at him reassuringly, he presses his signature down.

“There,” Hyunjin says, setting the pen down with a slight thud, feeling like he just agreed to some kind of otherworldly pact.

Seungmin follows suit, signing the contract with a single, elegant stroke. He pushes the papers back toward Chan, who collects them with a satisfied nod.

“Great!” Chan beams. “That’s settled. Now you two can focus on the fun part — getting to know each other.”

Hyunjin gives a tight-lipped smile, not sure if “fun” is the word he’d use. He glances at Seungmin, who has already retrieved a small tablet from his briefcase and is typing something in with quick, practised motions. Hyunjin hears a ping of a notification on his phone.

“Please send me your schedule,” Seungmin says, without looking up from the screen. “I’ll plan our communication for next week.”

Hyunjin hesitates, unsure how to respond. It feels... mechanical, like setting up a series of meetings for a project, sure, but not like anything that involves personal relationships. But then again, what did he expect? Seungmin seems to approach everything with scientific precision.

“Uh, sure,” Hyunjin agrees, though there’s a note of reluctance in his voice. What else can he do? It’s not like he has a choice. “I’ll send it to you later today.”

Seungmin nods, still focused on his tablet, as though the conversation is already over. Hyunjin feels an odd mix of frustration and bewilderment. This is the person he’s going to be spending so much time with? How is this supposed to lead to any sort of meaningful connection?

Chan senses Hyunjin’s unease and gives him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Hyunjin. It’s just the beginning. You’ll get used to it.”

Hyunjin nods absentmindedly, but as he leaves the room, his thoughts are in turmoil. He has no idea what to expect from Seungmin. This whole experiment feels... off. But he signed the contract, and now he’s in it. He’ll just have to figure it out as he goes.

As he walks down the hall toward his lab, he pulls out his phone and shoots Jisung a quick text.

◁Guess I met my new study partner. He’s... something.

A minute later, his phone pings.

▶Oh? What do you mean?

Hyunjin sighs.

◁I don’t even know where to start.

👽

Hyunjin arrives at the cafe at the designated time and spots Seungmin sitting at a table in the corner, already waiting for him: he’s contacted Hyunjin previously to schedule a meeting ‘to discuss their further plans’.

True to form, Seungmin looks perfectly composed — sitting upright with a small tablet in front of him, fingers poised above the screen as he types something, his expression as neutral as ever. Even in the relaxed atmosphere of the cafe, Seungmin gives off a kind of detached air. It makes him stand out from the warmth of the surroundings, like he’s immune to it.

As Hyunjin approaches, Seungmin glances up, offering a polite nod. “Hwang Hyunjin-ssi,” he greets.

“Hyunjin’s fine,” he responds with a smile, sliding into the chair opposite Seungmin. “You don’t have to be so formal.”

Seungmin nods again, though it feels more like an acknowledgment of information rather than a shift in demeanour. “Hyunjin, then. I’ve prepared the details for our study. Shall we begin?”

Hyunjin raises his eyebrows, half expecting Seungmin to at least ask how he’s doing before diving into the business of their arrangement. But no — Seungmin is already pulling up a digital document on his tablet, tapping through pages of charts and schedules with an efficiency that Hyunjin has come to expect.

Seungmin pushes the tablet toward Hyunjin, his voice calm and matter-of-fact. “Our primary focus will be on monitoring human emotions and romantic behaviours, particularly how they evolve through different stages of a relationship. We’ll be documenting these stages — hand-holding, embracing, kissing, and other culturally significant gestures of affection — and recording the corresponding physiological responses.”

Hyunjin blinks, staring at the list in front of him. There’s something almost clinical about it, a sequence of dates and milestones laid out like a scientific experiment. He skims over the words — “Stage 1: Hand-holding,” “Stage 2: Brief Hug,” “Stage 3: Prolonged Cuddling” — his mouth quirking up into a grin. It reads more like an alien’s guide to human dating than anything resembling an actual relationship.

Seungmin continues, seemingly unaware of Hyunjin’s amusement. “We’ll measure heart rate fluctuations, pupil dilation, and other indicators of emotional engagement during each interaction. Our goal is to quantify and analyse the physiological aspects of romantic attraction.”

“So… this is all data collection to you?” Hyunjin asks, half-joking. He takes a sip of his coffee, raising an eyebrow at Seungmin. “You don’t feel any of these things yourself?”

Seungmin looks at him, considering the question. “No. My species has evolved past the need for emotions. Our intellectual capacities allow us to process information without emotional interference. That’s why we approach relationships scientifically.”

Hyunjin leans back in his chair, fascinated by how completely different Seungmin’s worldview is.

Seungmin pauses, his eyes narrowing slightly as if analysing the matter. “I have studied human emotions extensively. I understand them from a theoretical perspective. But experiencing them directly is not something I have considered necessary. Emotional responses are inefficient.”

Hyunjin chuckles softly, shaking his head. “It’s not about efficiency. Sometimes emotions are messy, sure, but they’re kind of what makes relationships… well, relationships. Love isn’t something you can measure with just a heart rate monitor.”

Seungmin listens, his expression unchanged, though his fingers tap once against the table, a small movement that suggests he’s thinking. “That is precisely why this study is important. To understand how humans prioritise these inefficient responses in their social dynamics.”

“Right,” Hyunjin says, amused. “And that’s why we have… this.” He gestures to the tablet, where their relationship plan is laid out like a project timeline. “Milestone one: hand-holding. Really?”

Seungmin looks down at the list, his expression unchanging. “Physical contact is a crucial element of human romantic interactions. The touch of hands is often considered a significant emotional gesture in human cultures.”

“I know,” Hyunjin says, grinning. “But seeing it written down like that, with a deadline… it’s kind of funny.”

Seungmin blinks, tilting his head slightly. “You find it amusing?”

“A little, yeah. Don’t you think it’s kind of weird? Like, having a schedule for ‘emotional milestones’?”

“I do not experience humour in the same way humans do,” Seungmin says. “But if it seems strange, I will take note of that for further observation.”

Hyunjin can’t help but laugh, though not unkindly. There’s something endearing about Seungmin’s detached approach, like he’s trying so hard to understand something that’s completely foreign to him. The scientific breakdown of their relationship milestones only makes Hyunjin more curious about how Seungmin will react once they start actually interacting.

“So, let me get this straight,” Hyunjin says, leaning forward, arms resting on the table. “We’re going to have a ‘first date,’ then hold hands at a scheduled time, and after that… what? A short hug on the second date?”

Seungmin nods, looking at his notes. “Correct. After the initial stages, we will progress to more intimate gestures such as embraces and prolonged physical contact. This will allow us to gather more comprehensive data on the physiological responses triggered by these interactions.”

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, suppressing a laugh. “And… kissing?”

“That will occur during stage four, once we have established a sufficient baseline for previous interactions.” Seungmin says this with complete seriousness, as if kissing were a mathematical equation waiting to be solved.

Hyunjin grins, shaking his head in disbelief. “Okay, well, I guess I’ll just follow your lead, then.”

Seungmin tilts his head again, slightly confused by Hyunjin’s light tone, but he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he pulls up their schedule on the tablet. “We can plan our first meeting for tomorrow. It will take place in a controlled environment to minimise external variables.”

“A controlled environment?” Hyunjin echoes, smirking. “You mean, a date?”

Seungmin nods seriously. “Yes. A date.”

Hyunjin leans back in his chair, feeling an odd mix of anticipation and curiosity bubbling inside him. The situation is ridiculous — romance scheduled like a research project — but at the same time, he’s intrigued. There’s something about Seungmin’s cold, logical demeanour that makes him want to see what lies beneath. If anything even does.

“All right,” Hyunjin says, meeting Seungmin’s gaze with a newfound spark of excitement. “Let’s see where this goes.”

Seungmin nods in return, completely focused on the task at hand. “I will see you tomorrow then, Hyunjin.”

As Hyunjin stands to leave, he can’t help but feel a bit more energised. Maybe it’s the strangeness of the situation, or maybe it’s just the novelty of spending time with someone so vastly different from anyone he’s ever met. Either way, he finds himself looking forward to their first official date — no matter how ridiculous it might be.

Later that evening, Hyunjin makes his way to the gym, hoping to burn off the strange mix of excitement and nervous energy from his earlier meeting with Seungmin. The gym is one of his usual haunts within the Complex, equipped with all the fitness gear humans might need, from weights to treadmills, and even a small pool. It’s late enough that the gym isn’t crowded, but he’s not alone. In the centre of the room, his friend Seo Changbin is mid-conversation with another figure — one Hyunjin quickly recognizes as Lee Felix, the alien doctor responsible for the well-being of their non-human residents.

Changbin, dressed in a tank top and athletic shorts, looks every bit the fitness instructor he is, his muscular build on full display as he moves his hands in broad, animated gestures. “No, no,” Changbin says, clearly explaining something. “It’s not just about strength. Human sports are about pushing yourself to the limit, improving endurance, agility, even mental toughness.”

Felix stands across from him, watching intently, his head tilted in mild confusion. He’s leaner than Changbin, almost graceful in his movements, and his dark eyes are bright with curiosity. “But why would you need to push yourself?” Felix asks, his voice soft and lilting, as if he’s genuinely trying to understand. “Our bodies don’t require such things. We don’t need physical strain to remain healthy.”

Hyunjin steps closer, intrigued by the conversation. Changbin is explaining human sports to an alien? This should be good.

“Sports aren’t just for health,” Changbin continues, bouncing on his feet as if he’s ready to demonstrate. “It’s about competition, adrenaline. Pushing your body to see how far it can go — it’s a challenge!”

Felix furrows his brow, looking sceptical but intrigued. “Competition… for what purpose? To win?”

“Exactly!” Changbin exclaims. “It’s all about winning — well, mostly. It’s also about teamwork and personal improvement.”

Felix’s lips quirk into a small smile. “We don’t feel the need for such things. Physical relaxation is more valuable to us. Like this…” Without any warning, Felix bends his body at an impossible angle, his back arching in a way no human could replicate. His limbs seem to stretch effortlessly as if his entire body is made of elastic. He holds the pose for a moment, then straightens up with ease, a soft laugh escaping him. “It’s much more useful to be flexible, don’t you think?”

Hyunjin stares, slack-jawed, and Changbin’s mouth drops open in sheer disbelief. Felix’s demonstration is unlike anything they’ve seen before, and it’s clear that both of them are awestruck.

“I— what the— how did you do that?” Changbin stammers, blinking rapidly.

Felix blinks innocently, as if unaware of the astonishment he’s caused. “It’s just how our bodies work. Flexibility is natural to us. I don’t understand why you humans build so much muscle... It looks tense.” He steps closer to Changbin, lightly touching his arm, his fingers brushing over the taut muscles in Changbin’s bicep. “Like here, your body is strong but tight. I can see why it might be aesthetically attractive here, but it seems uncomfortable. I could help you relax.”

Hyunjin has to bite his lip to keep from laughing. Felix’s comment is innocently clinical, but the way Changbin freezes, his face flushing pink, tells Hyunjin that his friend is more than a little flustered.

Changbin coughs, stepping back. “I-I’m fine! I don’t need to… uh, relax. This is, uh, this is normal.”

Felix looks genuinely confused. “But you seem tense?”

Hyunjin can’t hold it in any longer and bursts out laughing. Changbin glares at him, embarrassed, while Felix looks between the two, still not understanding the subtext of his words.

Changbin shakes his head, trying to recover his composure. “Humans… we have a different way of doing things, okay?”

Felix tilts his head, nodding slowly as if processing the information. “If you say so,” he says, though his eyes sparkle with amusement. “It still seems inefficient.”

Hyunjin wipes at his eyes, finally calming down enough to jump into the conversation. “Anyway, speaking of inefficiency,” he says, still grinning, “I’ve got something new to share. I’m officially in that social study.”

Both Changbin and Felix turn toward him. “Social study?” Changbin asks, his eyebrows rising in interest.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin confirms. “The one with the aliens, looking into human relationships. My assigned partner is Kim Seungmin. He’s—”

Felix’s eyes widen slightly, a flicker of recognition crossing his face. “Seungmin? He’s your partner?”

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow. “You know him?”

Felix nods, crossing his arms loosely. “Yes. You could say we’re... close.”

Changbin raises an eyebrow. “Close? I didn’t think aliens did the whole ‘friendship’ thing.”

Felix smiles, a little sheepish. “Not in the way humans do. We don’t use terms like ‘friends’ where I’m from, but here, I suppose you could say Seungmin and I would be considered friends.”

Hyunjin chuckles, finding it strange to imagine Seungmin, with his cool, robotic demeanour, as someone who could have friends — even if only by Earth standards. “Huh. Didn’t expect that.”

Felix nods thoughtfully. “Seungmin is... reserved, but he’s a brilliant scientist. I think you’ll work well together.”

“We’ll see,” Hyunjin says, feeling a bit more at ease after hearing that from Felix. Still, the idea of studying romance in a scientific context with Seungmin is bizarre to him.

With a grin, he pats Changbin on the shoulder. “Anyway, I’m heading to the pool for a bit. You guys keep working on… whatever that is.”

As Hyunjin walks off toward the pool, Changbin and Felix remain by the equipment. Changbin narrows his eyes at Felix, who’s still watching him with that curious look in his eyes. “You really don’t understand why that stuff you said was weird, do you?”

Felix shakes his head, genuinely puzzled. “Weird? I was only offering to help you relax.”

Changbin rolls his eyes. “Right. Let’s just keep it professional, okay?”

Felix grins, completely unfazed, and Changbin can't help but feel a strange warmth crawling up his neck, which only makes Felix’s innocent offers of “help” all the more confusing. Their banter continues, light and teasing, as Hyunjin slips into the pool area, still chuckling to himself.

👽

The first official date between Hyunjin and Seungmin is held at a cosy little restaurant inside the Complex. The atmosphere is warm, with soft lighting casting gentle shadows over the wooden tables.

Hyunjin arrives on time, already feeling a little nervous, but that nervousness turns into quiet amusement when he notices Seungmin — straight-backed and looking like he’s about to conduct a high-level experiment, every motion calculated, with his tablet in front of him, almost as if it’s an extra appendage. His hair is perfectly in place, his expression neutral, and he’s holding a bouquet of flowers in his hands, awkwardly stiff. The one thing he’s probably missing is a lab coat.

Hyunjin hides a smile at Seungmin who, still not noticing him, meticulously inspects the bouquet of roses he has brought.

Hyunjin sits at the table, greeting Seungmin. The alien greets him back — formally.

“Flowers,” Seungmin says, handing them to Hyunjin like it’s a transaction. “This is part of the human dating ritual. I selected roses based on their popularity in romantic contexts.”

Hyunjin smiles as he takes the bouquet. “Uh, thank you. They’re beautiful.”

Seungmin nods once, as if checking off a box in his mind, then pulls out his small tablet. “Excellent. Step one: complete.”

Hyunjin’s smile wavers. This is going to be interesting.

As the waiter hands them menus, Seungmin glances up and narrows his eyes slightly, clearly reading something in his head. “We should maintain eye contact for approximately eight to ten seconds every three minutes during conversation,” he announces, folding his hands neatly in front of him.

Hyunjin blinks, trying his best to stifle a laugh. “Okay?”

“Also, when we hold hands later—” Seungmin starts, as if it’s a foregone conclusion, “—our pulse rates should increase by approximately 5% if the romantic attraction is mutual.”

Hyunjin presses his lips together, hiding his amusement behind the menu. This is a date... not a lab report. But despite Seungmin’s clinical approach, there’s something oddly charming about his utter lack of pretence.

As they order, Seungmin continues to offer tidbits of scientific data. “Compliments should be given every fifteen minutes for optimal engagement.” He looks across the table at Hyunjin, slightly squinting as if trying to remember what a compliment even is. “You… look pleasing today,” he says carefully.

Hyunjin snorts into his water, barely able to contain himself. “Thanks?”

Seungmin seems satisfied with this reaction, checking off another imaginary box in his head. But despite the rigid structure of the “date”, Hyunjin can sense something else beneath the surface. Seungmin, while awkward and heavily focused on the scientific side of things, seems genuinely curious.

“You don’t have to be so formal, you know?”

Seungmin blinks at him, as if the concept of not being formal is foreign. “This is part of the procedure.”

Hyunjin waves his hand. “Relax. It’s just a date. We can talk, laugh — be spontaneous.”

“Spontaneous?” Seungmin’s eyebrows knit together as he processes the word. “I have read about spontaneity, but there’s little empirical evidence to suggest it enhances successful social bonding.”

Hyunjin can’t help it; he bursts into laughter. It’s just too much, the way Seungmin takes every word literally, dissecting it like one of the biological samples back at the lab. “You don’t need evidence. Just trust me. Sometimes it’s about enjoying the moment.”

Seungmin watches him with those observant, clinical eyes. He doesn’t laugh but seems intrigued by Hyunjin’s carefree reaction. “I see. You found humour in that. Why?”

Hyunjin tilts his head, still smiling. “Because you’re treating this like a research project instead of, well, a date. It’s cute — kind of charming.”

Seungmin’s frown deepens slightly, like he’s making an internal note. “It’s not my intention to be ‘cute,’ but I’ll accept that as a positive response.”

Hyunjin rests his chin on his hand, watching Seungmin with interest now. There’s something endearing about how out of touch Seungmin seems, how he’s trying so hard to follow human customs but missing the essence of them. As their food arrives, Seungmin looks down at his plate and pulls out his tablet again.

“Now, we should hold eye contact for eight to ten seconds. It’s said to build intimacy.”

Hyunjin picks up his fork, fighting back another smile. “Is that so?” he teases, looking directly at Seungmin, locking eyes as if testing the theory. He counts in his head, but before the timer can reach five seconds, he finds himself chuckling again. “Okay, maybe not so rigid. Just — let it happen naturally.”

Seungmin breaks eye contact only to make a quick note on his tablet. “I understand. Humans are less reliant on structure in romantic encounters.”

Hyunjin leans back, still holding his amusement at bay. “Well, yeah. We don’t usually have a checklist for dates. It’s about chemistry. You know, feelings.”

“Feelings,” Seungmin repeats. “This is a complex concept for my species. We don’t experience emotions the way humans do.”

Hyunjin tilts his head. “Yeah, I remember that. But… You really don’t experience love, anger, happiness?”

Seungmin looks contemplative for a moment. “Not in the same way. We are highly intellectual beings. Our decisions are based on logic, efficiency, and survival. Emotions, as you understand them, are not necessary for us.”

Hyunjin hums thoughtfully, picking at his food. “That must make things pretty straightforward. But don’t you get curious?”

Seungmin considers his response. “We are always curious. Curiosity is part of our nature as scientists and explorers. But emotions, as I have observed in humans, often interfere with objective reasoning. Why would you want to feel something that clouds your judgement?”

Hyunjin shrugs, leaning forward again. “Because emotions are part of being human. They’re what make life colourful, interesting. They give meaning to things.”

Seungmin’s gaze lingers on Hyunjin for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “I have read about this concept, but I’ve yet to fully grasp it. It’s part of what I hope to study.”

There’s a silence between them as Seungmin busies himself with his tablet again. Hyunjin watches, now more intrigued than amused. The alien’s awkwardness is starting to grow on him, especially how genuine Seungmin seems beneath the awkward exterior. He’s trying — really trying.

“So, why did you choose biology?” Seungmin suddenly asks, not lifting his eyes from his notes.

Hyunjin pauses, not expecting such a personal question. “Why biology?” He takes a moment to think. “I guess I’ve always been fascinated by how things work. Life, nature, the connections between living organisms — it all seemed so intricate, and I wanted to understand it. Growing up, I was always that kid who’d get excited over insects or plants. I guess I just followed that curiosity.”

Seungmin listens intently, nodding once. “It’s interesting. You chose a path that requires deep observation and analysis. That’s not unlike what we do as scientists.”

“Yeah, but I think humans also have a personal stake in it,” Hyunjin adds. “It’s not just about analysing life, it’s about being a part of it. You can’t really separate yourself from the process.”

Seungmin tilts his head. “You mean to say your emotions influence your scientific pursuits?”

Hyunjin nods. “Exactly. We’re emotional beings, so of course that affects how we see the world and how we study it.”

Seungmin makes another note. “Fascinating.”

The date continues in this awkward yet strangely endearing fashion. Seungmin keeps consulting his tablet, counting seconds of eye contact, and throwing out stiff, pre-calculated compliments. Hyunjin, meanwhile, can’t help but laugh at how surreal the entire experience is. It’s ridiculous, he thinks. But somehow... I’m having a good time.

After they finish their meal, Seungmin rises from his seat, offering Hyunjin his hand with that same stiff, mechanical motion. “It is customary to walk together after a meal.”

Hyunjin can’t help but grin. “Right, the post-date walk. How could I forget?”

They walk out of the restaurant and back toward the Complex’s dorms, the night air cool and refreshing. Seungmin holds Hyunjin’s hand, his grip firm but not uncomfortable. He walks with precision, every step measured.

“Why are you walking like a robot?” Hyunjin muses, kicking a pebble ahead of him.

“I’m... testing the efficiency of human physical affection,” Seungmin replies seriously, looking down at their linked hands as if he’s trying to understand it on a molecular level.

Hyunjin chuckles, squeezing his hand lightly. “You don’t need to ‘test’ holding hands. Just... do it. It’s supposed to feel natural.”

Seungmin blinks, looking down at their intertwined hands. “So... there’s no data to collect?”

Hyunjin laughs. “The only data you need is how much you like it.”

“You laughed frequently during our date. And now. Why?”

Hyunjin chuckles, glancing at him sideways. “Because it’s a little... unconventional. You followed all the steps perfectly, but dating doesn’t really work like that.”

“I followed the procedures I researched,” Seungmin says, sounding almost perplexed.

Hyunjin stops and turns to face him, their hands still connected. “You did, but dating is about more than just following rules. It’s about connection, about feeling comfortable with someone, and having fun.”

Seungmin seems to mull this over, processing Hyunjin’s words. “I see,” he says after a pause. “Perhaps I misunderstood the concept.”

“Just a little,” Hyunjin teases, but there’s no malice in it. “I still had a good time. You made me laugh, even if it wasn’t on purpose, and I enjoyed myself because of that.”

Seungmin looks down at their clasped hands. “I... am glad. Perhaps the next date should be structured differently. I will allow you to plan it, to show me how humans experience it.”

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, amused. “You want me to plan the next one?”

Seungmin nods seriously. “It would be informative to observe the process from a human’s perspective.”

Hyunjin laughs again, shaking his head. “Alright. No tablets though. Deal?”

Seungmin thinks about it for a moment before agreeing. “Deal.”

Hyunjin can’t help but feel a strange sense of anticipation. Despite the awkwardness, despite the alien’s strict adherence to scientific methods, there’s something about Seungmin’s sincerity that makes Hyunjin feel oddly excited about what comes next.

As they part ways, Hyunjin smiles at Seungmin and thanks him. “Despite everything, it was a nice evening. Thank you.”

Seungmin nods, still wearing that unreadable expression, but there’s something softer in his eyes. “Thank you, Hyunjin. I look forward to the next date.”

Hyunjin watches him walk off, feeling a strange warmth in his chest. Who knew dating an alien could be this entertaining?

👽

Hyunjin spends the next couple of days overthinking the next date with Seungmin. It’s ridiculous, he tells himself repeatedly, there’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s just a date — an experiment, even. They’ve signed a contract, for crying out loud. This whole thing is supposed to be structured, monitored, and professional. But for some reason, every time he tries to settle on something simple, like a movie or dinner, his mind spins off in a hundred different directions.

Why is he overthinking this so much? Seungmin isn’t human. He’s probably not going to care if they sit in silence through a film or awkwardly sip coffee. But the thought of picking something generic, something devoid of meaning, makes Hyunjin frown. There’s a growing part of him that wants Seungmin to enjoy the date — not just observe it.

Eventually, after staring at his blank calendar for far too long, Hyunjin gives up. He needs help. And he knows exactly who to ask.

Heading to the library in the Complex, Hyunjin finds Jisung sitting at one of the tables, surrounded by books and tablets, deep in conversation with Jeongin. The two are in their own little bubble, voices low, though every now and then, Jeongin lets out a soft laugh, and Jisung looks pleased, trying to hide a smile. It’s always like this with them — Jisung flirts shamelessly, and Jeongin pretends to hate it, but it’s clear he enjoys the attention.

Hyunjin watches them for a second before stepping closer. “Hey, you two. I need some help.”

Jisung looks up, instantly grinning. “Well, well, if it isn’t Mr. Scientist-slash-Dater-extraordinaire. How’s it going with the alien Romeo?”

Jeongin snorts softly, turning a page on the tablet he’s reading, but Hyunjin catches the amused flicker in his eyes.

Hyunjin rolls his eyes but plops down next to them. “It’s fine. Kind of. Actually, I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Jisung leans forward, resting his chin on his hand, fully intrigued. “What’s the problem? Trouble in paradise already?”

“I don’t know what to do for our next date,” Hyunjin admits, feeling a little embarrassed by how worked up he’s been. “I mean, he’s an alien. I don’t even know what he likes. Do I just treat it like a normal human date? Or is there some... middle ground?”

Jeongin raises an eyebrow, glancing at Hyunjin. “You’re overthinking it. Just do what you’d normally do on a date, but keep in mind that he’ll approach everything from a scientific perspective.”

Jisung nods. “Yeah, Jeongin’s right. I mean, you said Seungmin’s super practical, right? He’s probably interested in seeing how humans experience stuff. You could pick something that’s meaningful to you.”

Hyunjin frowns slightly. “But what would that even be? I don’t want to take him somewhere and have him analyse every second of it again.”

Jeongin smiles faintly, leaning back in his chair. “Seungmin will analyse everything — that’s just how he is. But you can still choose something that’s personal. It’ll be more interesting for him if you’re passionate about it.”

Jisung snaps his fingers. “Exactly! Like, what’s something you really love that you could introduce him to? Something that might surprise him.”

Hyunjin leans back, crossing his arms. “I don’t know... I really like going to dog cafes, but that might be too much, right? I mean, aliens and dogs... that might be weird. Besides, we’d have to go to the city, and I don't know how he’s feeling about that.”

Jeongin chuckles, shaking his head. “Actually, it might be perfect. We don’t have pets the way humans do. He might be fascinated by the concept of animals as companions.”

Jisung’s eyes light up. “That’s brilliant! Take him to a dog cafe. You’ll be in your element, and it’ll give him something new to experience.”

Hyunjin stares at them, his mind slowly wrapping around the idea. It actually... makes sense. He loves dogs, and spending time in a dog cafe always makes him feel comfortable, relaxed. Maybe it’s the perfect way to show Seungmin something more personal, without making it feel like another clinical experiment.

“You think he’d actually enjoy it?” Hyunjin asks, still unsure.

Jeongin shrugs. “I think he’d be curious. And that’s the point, isn’t it? To let him see how humans bond with things they love.”

Jisung grins. “Plus, you’ll be surrounded by cute dogs. It’s a win-win situation.”

Hyunjin can’t help but smile now, feeling a bit more confident. “Alright, a dog cafe it is. I’ll take him to the city and see how it goes.”

Jeongin gives him an approving nod. “It’s a good plan. It’s something you enjoy, and it’ll give him a real taste of human culture.”

Jisung leans back, satisfied. “And who knows, maybe Seungmin will end up loving dogs. You might just turn him into a dog person.”

Hyunjin laughs, shaking his head. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

With a plan in place, he can’t help but feel a small flicker of excitement. This next date might actually be fun. And the thought of seeing Seungmin’s reaction to a bunch of playful dogs running around makes him smile even more.

The city glimmers under the fading light, casting a golden hue over everything. Hyunjin and Seungmin stand side by side at the edge of the bustling city, waiting for the light to change so they can cross the street. Hyunjin fidgets a little, glancing over at Seungmin, who stands unnaturally still, eyes scanning the unfamiliar environment like he’s conducting an internal analysis.

The street is full of life, but Hyunjin can feel a strange tension bubbling just beneath the surface. It’s not the city or the people — it’s Seungmin.

It’s their second date, and while Hyunjin wants to keep it casual, something about this whole situation is starting to feel a little too awkward. Maybe it’s because Seungmin doesn’t seem to grasp the concept of a “date”.

“Are you certain this is appropriate for our research?” Seungmin asks suddenly, his tone carefully measured. He hasn’t looked directly at Hyunjin since they left the Complex, but now his gaze shifts briefly in his direction.

Hyunjin chuckles. “It’s not just about research. It’s about having fun too.”

“Fun,” Seungmin repeats as if the word is foreign to him. “That is... subjective, is it not?”

“Yeah, exactly. Just go with it, Seungmin. Trust me, you’ll like it.”

Seungmin looks doubtful but doesn’t protest. When they finally reach the dog cafe, the sound of playful barking filters through the air as soon as they open the door.

The cafe itself is small, with mismatched chairs, large cushioned seats, and dogs of all shapes and sizes darting between tables, jumping on laps, or napping in corners. It’s pure chaos, but to Hyunjin, it feels like heaven.

Seungmin, however, seems momentarily overwhelmed.

“Is this... safe?” he asks, his brows furrowing slightly as he watches a particularly energetic corgi skitter across the floor.

Hyunjin laughs, giving Seungmin a playful nudge. “Of course it is. Come on, relax.”

A golden retriever comes bounding over, tail wagging furiously, and Hyunjin kneels down immediately, his face lighting up as he scratches behind its ears. The dog leans into him, soaking up the affection, while Seungmin stands stiffly beside him, still observing everything precautiously.

“This is normal behaviour for humans?” Seungmin asks, his tone clinical.

“Completely normal,” Hyunjin replies, grinning up at him. “We love dogs.”

Seungmin’s eyes narrow slightly as he processes the information. “Interesting.”

Hyunjin stands up and gestures toward an open seat near the window. “Come on, sit. Try petting one, you might like it.”

Seungmin hesitates, glancing at the dog, then back at Hyunjin. “What does this accomplish? Scientifically speaking.”

Hyunjin chuckles. “It’s not always about data, Seungmin. Sometimes it’s just about bonding, feeling connected to something else.” He gestures toward the dog again. “Just try it.”

Seungmin still looks sceptical but sits down. As if sensing the opportunity, the golden retriever pads over to him, sniffing at his legs before nudging his hand with its nose. Seungmin freezes, clearly unsure of what to do.

“You can pet him, you know,” Hyunjin says, laughing at the hesitation in Seungmin’s expression. “He won’t bite.”

Seungmin carefully places his hand on the dog’s head, his movements awkward and slow, as though he’s not entirely convinced this is the right thing to do. The dog wags its tail enthusiastically and presses its head harder into Seungmin’s palm.

“See?” Hyunjin says, watching with amusement. “He likes you.”

Seungmin looks down at the dog, his brow furrowed in concentration. “It’s... warm.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of the point,” Hyunjin says with a grin. “They make you feel warm, too.”

For a moment, Seungmin just sits there, petting the dog in silence as if he’s trying to analyse the sensation of warmth. Hyunjin watches him with a mix of amusement and curiosity, wondering if this is Seungmin’s first real encounter with something as simple as affection.

A Pomeranian scurries over, yipping happily, and Seungmin’s eyes flick toward the small, fluffy dog, clearly unsure how to handle the situation.

“That one’s a Pomeranian,” Hyunjin explains, his voice gentle. “Smaller, fluffier, but just as friendly.”

Seungmin tilts his head, observing the tiny dog. “There are... varieties?”

Hyunjin laughs. “Yeah, tons. They all have different personalities, too.”

Seungmin listens, his hand still resting on the retriever’s head. “You speak about them as though they are individuals, like humans.”

Hyunjin nods. “In a way, they are. That’s what makes pets so important to us. They’re companions. Some people consider them family.”

Seungmin looks genuinely perplexed by the idea, but he doesn’t argue.

After spending a while in the cafe — Hyunjin blissfully enjoying the dogs and Seungmin cautiously trying to emulate the same — Hyunjin suggests dinner.

They leave the cafe and head down a narrow alleyway, where the vibrant noise of the city fades into something quieter. Hyunjin leads Seungmin to a hole-in-the-wall family restaurant, the kind with flickering neon lights and barely enough seating for ten people.

“It’s not fancy, but the food’s amazing,” Hyunjin promises. Seungmin eyes the worn-down interior and the tiny handful of customers but follows Hyunjin.

The owner — a nice loud ahjumma — greets Hyunjin warmly, and they quickly settle into a booth near the back. Seungmin studies the menu with the same intensity as if it were an official document, while Hyunjin orders confidently, rattling off his favourite dishes.

The meal is warm and hearty, filled with dishes that have a homemade feel — spicy stews, fried dumplings, and steaming bowls of rice. Hyunjin watches as Seungmin eats each bite with precise deliberation, as though he’s trying to analyse every flavour, every texture.

“This is good,” Seungmin finally says, his voice flat but genuine. “Surprising.”

“I told you,” Hyunjin laughs, taking a bite of his dumpling. “I’ve been coming here for years.”

They talk more as they eat, Seungmin asking questions about the restaurant, the food, the people passing by on the street. Hyunjin answers easily, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere and Seungmin’s quiet, curious nature. There’s something almost endearing about the way Seungmin tries to understand everything from a scientific perspective, even things as simple as a good meal or a cosy atmosphere.

By the time they catch the last train back to the Complex, the city has quieted, and the train carriage is nearly empty. They sit next to each other, the gentle rocking of the train adding a layer of calm to the end of their evening.

Without thinking, Hyunjin leans his head on Seungmin’s shoulder, sighing softly as the exhaustion of the day starts to catch up with him. Seungmin tenses immediately, his entire body going rigid beneath Hyunjin’s weight.

“Why are you doing that?” Seungmin asks, his voice laced with confusion.

Hyunjin chuckles, eyes closed. “Because it’s romantic. And I’m tired.”

Seungmin is silent for a long moment, clearly processing the information. “This is... considered romantic?”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin replies, his voice soft. “It’s comforting.”

Another pause, and then Seungmin speaks again, his voice quieter this time. “For the first time in my life, my two hearts are beating out of sync.”

Hyunjin’s eyes snap open, and he lifts his head to look at Seungmin. “Wait, two hearts? I didn’t know you guys had two!”

Seungmin turns his gaze to Hyunjin, his expression contemplative. “It is a result of the atmospheric pressure on my home planet. It’s higher. Our bodies evolved to have two hearts to regulate blood flow and maintain stability.”

Hyunjin blinks, fascinated. “So, what does it mean if they’re beating out of sync?”

Seungmin hesitates, searching for the right words. “It’s what humans might call... being nervous?”

Hyunjin grins, feeling a flutter of something in his chest. “Are you nervous?”

Seungmin considers the question for a moment before answering. “Perhaps. You’re close, and your scent is... pleasant. I believe I like it.”

Hyunjin’s grin widens, his heart skipping a beat at Seungmin’s candid admission. “That’s... kind of sweet, Seungmin.”

Seungmin doesn’t respond, but there’s a faint flicker of something soft in his eyes — something uncertain but undeniably real. The train rocks gently beneath them, and without thinking twice, Hyunjin rests his head back on Seungmin’s shoulder, feeling a warmth spread through him that has nothing to do with the temperature in the train.

👽

Seungmin’s dorm is smaller than Hyunjin expected. Minimalistic, like the alien himself — just a bed, a little couch barely enough for two people to sit on it, a desk with a few neatly stacked papers, and a small kitchen area. What surprises Hyunjin the most, however, is how well Seungmin has prepared for their “experiment.” Takeout boxes sit neatly on the table, and a movie is cued up on Seungmin’s screen, ready to play.

“Wow,” Hyunjin says as he steps inside, eyes scanning the room. “You’ve really gone all out.”

Seungmin stands by the table, his posture stiff but his expression unreadable. “I conducted more research,” he replies in his usual calm tone, his hands clasped together as if he’s briefing Hyunjin on another experiment. “This is the typical setting for a... ‘movie night’ date, correct?”

Hyunjin chuckles, stepping closer. “Yeah, but you did a great job. This feels pretty spot-on.” He gives Seungmin an appreciative smile. “Honestly, I’m impressed.”

For a brief moment, Hyunjin sees something shift in Seungmin’s expression — his brows knit, and his gaze flickers downwards before he looks back up. It’s subtle, but there’s a hint of discomfort or, perhaps, flustered modesty. “I’m glad the environment is acceptable,” Seungmin says, his voice steady, but Hyunjin doesn’t miss the way his fingers tap against each other nervously.

They settle down on the couch, Hyunjin grabbing one of the takeout boxes and Seungmin following suit. The movie starts, but Hyunjin can’t help but be distracted by Seungmin’s strange dedication to detail. It’s endearing how hard he’s trying to be accurate. Still, despite the effort, Seungmin remains painfully awkward, maintaining a strict posture even while seated, his eyes focused on the screen as if he’s preparing to take notes.

“So,” Hyunjin begins, after a few bites of food and a particularly cheesy moment in the movie. “I actually wanted to ask you. Are you always this... formal on your dates?”

Seungmin tilts his head slightly. “I don’t— We don’t actually go on dates back home,” he says.

Hyunjin can’t help but laugh softly. “Right, how could I forget?”

They watch the movie in silence, Hyunjin getting invested in the plot, Seungmin quietly observing him now instead.

It’s only when the credits start to roll and Seungmin eventually turns the TV off, Hyunjin remembers what that is supposed to be about — their “hug experiment”. Seungmin, ever the scientist, seems ready to initiate. He turns to Hyunjin, his expression more serious than the situation warrants.

“I believe it’s time to conduct the next step in our experiment: hugging.”

Hyunjin blinks, momentarily taken aback by how matter-of-fact Seungmin sounds. “Uh, yeah. Sure.” He puts down his takeout box and stands up, feeling a mix of amusement and slight anticipation. Seungmin rises as well, standing awkwardly close, as if preparing for a precise manoeuvre.

Seungmin extends his arms first, wrapping them around Hyunjin in a way that’s both too rigid and too loose, like he’s trying to follow an invisible manual. Hyunjin stifles a laugh, feeling Seungmin’s body tense against his. “Maybe let’s switch it up,” Hyunjin suggests, his voice light. “I’ll show you how it’s done.”

They switch positions, with Hyunjin now guiding Seungmin’s arms into a more natural embrace, pulling him closer. As Hyunjin wraps his arms around Seungmin’s torso, he feels something unexpected. It’s not the physical contact itself, but something deeper, something that makes Hyunjin’s heart skip a beat.

For a moment, he pauses, stunned by the intensity of the moment. Seungmin feels different in his arms — not cold, not robotic, but solid, warm. It’s quiet, and Hyunjin can hear both their breaths, mingling softly in the small space between them. His head rests lightly against Seungmin’s, and for the first time, he feels how comforting this strange, alien presence can be.

Seungmin remains silent, and Hyunjin briefly wonders if he feels the same. But then, true to form, Seungmin begins speaking.

“I am observing a notable increase in body heat,” Seungmin says, his voice soft yet ever so clinical, as if they aren’t standing there, wrapped in each other’s arms. “My heart rate has risen by approximately 15 beats per minute. I would assume this is a typical physiological response?”

Hyunjin pulls back slightly, meeting Seungmin’s eyes. He tries to suppress a smile, realising that while he’s caught up in the moment, Seungmin is still trying to analyse everything. “Yeah, it’s normal. It means... you’re feeling something.”

Seungmin blinks, considering the words. “Feeling something,” he repeats, as if the concept is foreign. His arms remain wrapped around Hyunjin, though there’s a slight uncertainty in the way he holds on, as if he’s unsure whether to let go or continue.

Hyunjin, his voice soft, says, “You’re not supposed to think so hard about it, you know. It’s not really something you can measure. It’s... just a feeling.”

Seungmin’s eyes flicker with something unreadable, but he stays silent, nodding slightly.

They break apart after a few more seconds, and while Seungmin remains composed, there’s something different about him — his usual stoicism seems less solid, more vulnerable somehow.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad,” Hyunjin says lightly, trying to ease the tension.

Seungmin nods. “The data collected is useful.” But there’s a subtle waver in his voice, and Hyunjin doesn’t miss the way Seungmin’s hands flex slightly, as if trying to recapture the warmth from the hug.

When Hyunjin finally leaves Seungmin’s dorm later that night, he walks away with a small smile. What he doesn’t know is that after he leaves, Seungmin stays frozen for a moment. His fingers brush his chest, where he feels the aftershock of Hyunjin’s touch, his two hearts beating out of sync. Seungmin exhales shakily, pressing a hand to his chest as he tries to calm the erratic rhythm, feeling so much yet understanding so little.

👽

The gym is relatively quiet, the rhythmic clink of weights and faint hum of treadmills filling the air. Hyunjin stands at one of the machines, working through a light set of pull-downs, while Changbin reclines on a bench nearby, his water bottle resting against his knee as he watches lazily.

“So, your social study,” Changbin muses, half-smiling as he flicks a glance at Hyunjin. “How’s that going? Are you and your alien study partner becoming best friends yet?”

Hyunjin pauses mid-rep, a slight grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Not best friends, but it’s... going well, actually. Better than I expected.”

Changbin raises an eyebrow. “Better how? The last time you told me, you guys were awkwardly holding hands for ‘science.’”

Hyunjin chuckles, setting the bar down and wiping his brow with the towel draped over his shoulder. “Yeah, we’ve moved on from that. Now, it’s onto hugging.” He throws a look at Changbin, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Which was just as awkward as the hand-holding, by the way.”

“Dude,” Changbin groans, already laughing, “I can’t even imagine that. Seungmin’s probably over there taking notes, while you’re like, ‘Is this really happening?’”

“Pretty much,” Hyunjin laughs, shaking his head. “It’s kind of adorable, though. He’s so serious about it. Like, everything is measured — how many seconds we should hold the hug, what heart rate counts as ‘romantic response.’ I don’t even know how I’m supposed to keep a straight face.”

Changbin smirks, leaning back further. “So, you’re telling me you’re not just studying emotions — you’re studying the perfect hug?”

“Apparently,” Hyunjin replies, still grinning. “But honestly, for as clinical as he is, Seungmin is... sweet in his own way. He tries so hard to understand, but you can tell he’s just as confused as me. It’s funny, but kind of endearing too. I didn’t expect that.”

Changbin nods, his eyes narrowing with mock suspicion. “Endearing, huh? Sounds like someone’s getting attached.”

Hyunjin shoots him a look, rolling his eyes. “I’m not getting attached. It’s just— he’s different, okay? And it’s interesting. Anyway, what about you and Felix?”

At the mention of Felix, Changbin immediately stiffens, his expression darkening as he sits up straight. “Felix?” he scoffs, crossing his arms defensively. “Don’t even get me started on him.”

Hyunjin’s grin widens. He knows this reaction well. “What’s wrong now?”

“What’s wrong?” Changbin bursts out, his voice rising with heat. “He’s infuriating, that’s what’s wrong! He’s always hovering around, acting all innocent and clueless, but it’s obvious he’s messing with me. Like, the other day at the gym, he started feeling up my muscles — just out of nowhere! And then he says something like, ‘You’re really too tense, still don’t want me to help you relax?’”

Hyunjin blinks, suppressing a laugh. “And?”

“And?!” Changbin throws his hands up in exasperation. “He doesn’t even realise how weird that is! It’s like, what am I supposed to do with that? He’s either teasing me or just completely oblivious. Either way, I can’t stand it.”

Hyunjin remains quiet, but he can tell from the way Changbin’s face flushed and his voice became defensive that his friend is feeling a lot more than just frustration. Changbin’s heated rant about Felix is telling — Hyunjin isn’t stupid. Changbin definitely has a crush on the alien, even if he won’t admit it to himself yet.

“Right,” Hyunjin says slowly, smirking just a little. “You can’t stand him.”

Changbin shoots him a glare, missing the hint of teasing in Hyunjin’s voice. “Exactly. He’s driving me crazy, Hyunjin. I don’t know how you deal with Seungmin, but Felix is a whole other level of frustrating.”

Hyunjin just nods along, deciding it is better not to push Changbin further for now, though the truth is painfully obvious to him.

Meanwhile, across the Complex in one of the quieter research lounges, Seungmin and Felix sit in conversation. The room is peaceful, save for the soft hum of Felix’s tablet screen displaying some recent research data.

Felix sits with one leg draped casually over the other, his face twisted in mild frustration as he taps the corner of the screen absently. “I don’t get it, Min. I’ve tried everything I can think of with Changbin, but he still reacts like I’m doing something wrong.”

Seungmin, seated across from him with his usual calm demeanour, regards Felix with a slight nod. “It’s the same with Hyunjin,” he admits. “I’ve been following the guidelines for emotional interaction and romantic studies to the letter, but every time I do, Hyunjin laughs. He says it’s ‘cute,’ but I don’t understand why.”

Felix sighs, leaning back in his chair. “Changbin… I offer him help, advice, but he just gets all flustered and then he storms off. I don’t know what humans expect, but I don’t think I’m getting through to him at all.”

Seungmin tilts his head slightly. “I believe the issue may lie in our differing understandings of emotional expression. We approach situations logically, and they react emotionally.”

“Yeah, but it’s frustrating,” Felix mutters. “Changbin’s emotions are so... intense. I don’t know how to deal with it. He acts like I’m teasing him when I’m being sincere.”

Seungmin looks thoughtful. “It seems we’re both facing similar challenges. Hyunjin also reacts in ways I don’t fully comprehend. It’s difficult to know if I’m... doing it right.”

Felix glances at him, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t it weird, though?”

Seungmin nods, though his eyes narrow slightly. “It is puzzling. Despite all our knowledge, emotions remain... difficult to interpret.”

Felix sighs again, slumping in his chair. “Yeah. It’s like we’re speaking the same language but missing the meaning.”

For a moment, they both sit in silence, the weight of their shared frustration hanging between them. Despite their intellectual prowess and advanced understanding of human behaviour, neither Seungmin nor Felix can quite grasp the elusive nature of emotions that their human counterparts seemed to navigate with ease — and it is starting to wear on them both.

“Perhaps,” Seungmin says quietly after some time, “it is not about understanding every detail, but simply... allowing the experience.”

Felix gives him a sideways glance. “And you came to that conclusion after all your careful planning?”

Seungmin’s lips curve into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. “I came to learn so I learn”.

👽

It’s a perfect day for a picnic. Or, more precisely, “a car camping date”.

The warm breeze of early April rustles through the trees lining the Han River as Seungmin and Hyunjin settle on folding camp chairs around a small table with neatly packed sandwiches, fresh fruit, and a few drinks. The sky above them is a soft, pastel hue, gradually darkening as the sun begins to set. The atmosphere feels calm, serene, and for the first time since their “dates” began, Hyunjin doesn’t feel the awkwardness hanging over them like a cloud.

Seungmin sits beside him, his usual stiff posture slightly more relaxed than before. He still has that air of professionalism, though, as if he’s cataloguing each moment in his head for later analysis. Hyunjin can’t help but smile to himself, finding the contrast amusing.

“This was a good idea,” Hyunjin comments, taking a bite of his sandwich. “You really went all out.”

Seungmin nods. “I read that outdoor settings can enhance positive emotional responses and reduce stress in humans. The river is also noted as a common place for romantic outings.”

Hyunjin’s smile grows. “Yeah, well, it’s working. You did good.”

For a moment, Seungmin’s eyes flicker with something — almost a sense of pride — but he masks it quickly, returning to the food in front of him.

As the day slips into dusk, they chat more comfortably, their conversation ranging from trivial topics about work to small anecdotes Hyunjin shares about his childhood. Every now and then, Hyunjin catches Seungmin watching him intently, as if studying every word and movement with precision. The thought makes him chuckle softly under his breath, but it also makes his heart feel lighter.

The first stars are twinkling in the sky by the time they finish their meal, and the city lights around the Han River cast a romantic glow over the water’s surface. Seungmin clears his throat, and says, his tone serious, “The next stage of the experiment… is the first kiss.”

Hyunjin has been expecting it all evening. They’ve been building up to this moment, their “experiment” progressing step by step, each one bringing them closer in ways Hyunjin hadn’t fully anticipated. Yet now that the moment has arrived, he feels something flutter in his chest — a mixture of excitement and nerves.

Seungmin leans in slightly, though there’s still that awkward hesitation in his movements. His eyes flicker over Hyunjin’s face, taking in every detail as if assessing the situation like a complicated equation.

“Shall we proceed?” Seungmin asks, his voice yet so clinical but with an underlying uncertainty.

Hyunjin’s lips curve into a soft smile. “Yeah, we can proceed.”

Slowly, Hyunjin closes the distance between them, his heartbeat quickening as he moves closer. The cool evening air prickles at his skin, but as their lips meet, the chill is quickly replaced by a warm, gentle sensation. It isn’t rushed or overly dramatic — it’s soft, tentative, and surprisingly sweet. Seungmin’s cold fingers brush lightly against Hyunjin’s cheek, sending a shiver down his spine, but not because of the temperature.

For a moment, the world seems to pause, the noise of the city fading into the background. The only thing Hyunjin can focus on is the tenderness of the kiss, the way Seungmin’s lips feel against his own. Despite the awkwardness of their earlier interactions, there’s something genuine in this moment — something that makes Hyunjin’s heart swell unexpectedly.

When they finally pull back, Hyunjin’s breath is a little shaky, but a pleased smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

Seungmin, however, looks somewhat perplexed. His brow furrows as if something in his data isn’t adding up. “I’m noticing several anomalies in my physiological responses,” he mutters, more to himself than to Hyunjin. “Elevated heart rate… irregular breathing patterns… warmth in the chest… It’s normal, but it’s more intense than it should be.”

Hyunjin chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Seungmin, those aren’t anomalies.”

Seungmin glances at him, confused. “They aren’t?” Seungmin seems unconvinced, his mind still whirring with scientific explanations. “Perhaps it’s due to environmental factors — the temperature, the time of day—”

Seungmin falls silent, his gaze thoughtful but conflicted. He’s used to calculating every reaction, assigning it a reason, a variable he can control. But this… this is different. His two hearts are still beating faster than usual and he’s still not sure why.

“Perhaps it’s an uncontrolled variable,” Seungmin mutters quietly.

Hyunjin smiles softly at the alien’s confusion, but a part of him is starting to understand. Seungmin doesn’t fully comprehend the emotions stirring inside him, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. They’re just foreign, uncharted territory for someone who has never experienced them before. But Hyunjin can see it — the way Seungmin’s eyes linger a little too long, the slight fluster when their hands brush, the quiet moments of genuine curiosity.

“Maybe,” Hyunjin whispers, “you’re feeling what humans call being nervous. You’ve been there before, don’t you remember?”

Seungmin’s eyes widen slightly. “Nervous? Why would I be nervous this time?”

Hyunjin grins. “Well, you’re close to me. And maybe,” he pauses, letting the moment sink in, “you really like being close to me.”

Seungmin’s lips part in quiet thought, and for a moment, he’s completely still. Then, in that calm, matter-of-fact voice he always uses, he says, “I think I like your proximity. I hadn’t accounted for that.”

Hyunjin lets out a soft, breathy laugh, his heart feeling a little lighter.

Seungmin looks at him, his expression still serious, though now tinged with something softer. “Though… the data remains inconclusive.”

Hyunjin rests his head back against Seungmin’s shoulder, feeling the warmth of the alien’s presence. “You’ll figure it out eventually.”

As the lights of the Han River shimmer around them, the warmth of the kiss still lingering, Hyunjin feels something — a connection that’s slowly forming, even if Seungmin can’t quite understand it yet.

👽

        After their Han River date they fall into some kind of routine. The dates start to feel more like dates rather than laboratory experiments — at least, to Hyunjin. It’s still hilarious sometimes, sometimes — awkward, but still.

It goes somewhat like this.

Hyunjin drags Seungmin into a karaoke booth one evening, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “You have to try this. It’s basically a requirement for anyone living on Earth.”

Seungmin eyes the microphone like it’s an alien artefact (in some way it actually is). “I’ve never done this before. Do I sing... human songs?”

Hyunjin bursts out laughing. “What else would you sing? Alien ballads?” He picks a random upbeat song and thrusts the microphone into Seungmin’s hand. “Come on, just sing. It’s fun.”

Seungmin takes the mic, standing stiffly in the middle of the room. As the music starts, he looks around nervously, his voice coming out in an awkward monotone, “Twinkle, twinkle, little star...”

Hyunjin gasps, his hands flying to his mouth in horror. “No! Not that song! This isn’t kindergarten!”

Seungmin pauses. “I thought it was a popular Earth melody?”

Hyunjin, laughing so hard he can barely breathe, waves his hand. “Okay, okay, we’ll start slow. Let me show you how it’s done.”

He grabs the mic and belts out a pop song, dramatically performing as if he’s on stage. When he’s done, he glances over at Seungmin, who looks… mildly alarmed.

“I’m not sure I can replicate that,” Seungmin admits, blinking in confusion.

Hyunjin grins. “That’s okay. Just do your best. You’ll get the hang of it.”

Seungmin fumbles with the mic again, this time trying a random ballad but singing in a mechanical, deadpan tone. Hyunjin falls to the floor in a fit of laughter. “Oh my god, you’re hopeless!”

Hyunjin and Seungmin are sitting on the couch, preparing to watch a movie. Seungmin is in charge of picking one this time, and he proudly presents his choice.

“I’ve heard this movie is highly regarded by humans. It’s called Shrek,” Seungmin says, sounding almost scientific in his delivery.

Hyunjin stares at him in disbelief. “Shrek? That’s what you picked?”

Seungmin frowns. “It’s a classic, according to the internet.”

Hyunjin tries to keep a straight face. “I mean... yeah, but... you do know it’s an animated movie about a green ogre, right?”

Seungmin nods seriously. “Yes. I’m very interested in how humans represent interspecies relationships.”

Hyunjin loses it, laughing so hard he nearly falls off the couch. “Oh my god, Seungmin, it’s not that deep!”

Seungmin blinks at him, confused. “But it’s about love between different beings, which fits into our current... dynamic.”

Hyunjin wipes tears from his eyes. “Okay, okay, let’s watch Shrek. Maybe it’ll be an educational experience for you.”

Halfway through the movie, Seungmin leans over. “This donkey character is surprisingly wise.”

Hyunjin throws a pillow at him, still giggling.

They’re sitting together on a park bench after a long day. Hyunjin tilts his head back to look at the stars, feeling the cool breeze against his skin.

Seungmin is quiet next to him, watching him closely.

“What?” Hyunjin asks, catching Seungmin’s stare.

Seungmin blinks and looks away. “I was just... observing.”

“Observing what? My stellar beauty?” Hyunjin jokes, nudging him with his shoulder.

Seungmin hesitates, and for a second, Hyunjin thinks he’s going to make another analytical comment. But instead, Seungmin says softly, “Your smile.”

The words hang in the air, and suddenly the atmosphere feels heavier, more intimate. Hyunjin’s heart flutters, and he shifts, leaning slightly toward Seungmin, his breath catching.

Seungmin, oblivious to the tension, asks, “Should I document this as a new experiment?”

Hyunjin groans and pulls back, slapping a hand to his face. “You’re ruining the mood, you idiot.”

Seungmin blinks, confused. “What mood?”

Hyunjin’s head is resting against Seungmin’s shoulder as they sit together on the couch watching some, almost random, romantic comedy. He doesn’t remember when he started leaning on him, but Seungmin didn’t seem to mind.

At some point, Hyunjin dozes off, lulled by the warmth of Seungmin’s body and the murmur of the movie.

When he wakes up, groggy and disoriented, he notices that Seungmin hasn’t moved. He’s still sitting there, straight-backed, as if he’s too afraid to disturb Hyunjin. There’s almost no light, TV turned off at the end of the movie.

“You didn’t have to stay still,” Hyunjin mumbles, his voice thick with sleep.

Seungmin glances at him, his expression unreadable. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

Hyunjin blinks up at him, something soft stirring in his chest. “You’re... kind of sweet, you know that?”

Seungmin looks genuinely confused by the statement, which only makes Hyunjin laugh. “Don’t worry about it. You’re just... special to me.”

Seungmin’s eyes widen slightly, and Hyunjin knows he’s trying to process the words in his usual logical way. But some things can’t be explained, and maybe that’s okay.

One sunny afternoon, Hyunjin and Seungmin are occupying their usual bench in the park, sharing a tub of ice cream. Hyunjin keeps stealing the bites with the most toppings, and Seungmin narrows his eyes every time he notices.

“You’re doing it again,” Seungmin says, his voice flat.

Hyunjin blinks innocently. “Doing what?”

“Taking all the good bites.”

Hyunjin grins, holding up a spoonful of ice cream loaded with chocolate sauce and sprinkles. “Oh, this? You wanted this?”

Seungmin gives him a deadpan stare. “That was my spoon.”

Hyunjin laughs, leaning closer. “I guess you’ll just have to do something about it.”

Seungmin, in a rare moment of playfulness not so usual for him, leans in and takes the spoonful of ice cream right from Hyunjin’s hand, their faces so close their noses brush.

Hyunjin’s eyes widen, and then he bursts out laughing. “Okay, you won this time.”

Seungmin smiles, looking rather pleased with himself. “I always win.”

Hyunjin wipes a stray bit of ice cream off Seungmin’s lip, the playful atmosphere melting into something softer. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Seungmin shrugs, but there’s a light blush on his cheeks. “I think I’m good at learning from you.”

Hyunjin leans in and kisses him, the taste of ice cream lingering on both their lips. When they pull back, Hyunjin’s smile is so wide it almost hurts. “You’re the sweetest.”

“That’s just the ice cream talking.”

It’s oh so easy for Hyunjin to forget that this is all still just an experiment.

👽

Hyunjin’s day starts going wrong the moment he wakes up. His alarm doesn’t go off, which means he’s already late by the time his bleary eyes shoot open. Scrambling out of bed, he stubs his toe on the edge of his dresser, cursing under his breath. He rushes to get ready, but his shower takes forever to heat up, and when it finally does, he’s already running fifteen minutes behind.

After a rushed attempt at getting dressed — where he spills coffee on his favourite shirt — Hyunjin heads to the lab. He’s met with an urgent email from his supervisor, requesting a report he thought wasn’t due until the following week. Great. He sits down to type, only for the lab computer to freeze right before he saves his work.

His experiments go no better. The specimen he’s been working with for the past two weeks suddenly dies, the equipment malfunctions, and his colleagues are all too busy with their own work to lend a hand. Hyunjin can feel his frustration simmering, but he tries to keep his cool. That is until the printer jams, shredding the hard copy of the report he painstakingly recreated.

By mid-afternoon, he’s nursing a throbbing headache. His emails pile up, each one bringing more tasks, more demands. Someone’s forgotten to prepare the culture for tomorrow’s experiment, which means Hyunjin will have to stay late to do it himself. And the final blow? During a quick lunch break, his favourite sandwich shop messes up his order, and he ends up with something he’s allergic to. He glares at the limp salad they gave him as a replacement. He can’t win.

For the first time in ages, Hyunjin feels like he’s on the verge of snapping. He keeps his head down, hoping no one will notice his sour mood as the day drags on. The workday feels endless, and by the time five o’clock rolls around, Hyunjin doesn’t want to talk to anyone. He just wants to disappear.

When the clock finally strikes the end of his shift, Hyunjin doesn’t even stop to say goodbye to his colleagues. Instead, he heads for the small park within the Complex, hoping the open space and quiet will help clear his head. As he trudges through the gravel path, he kicks at the ground, the frustration still coiled tight in his chest.

The park is peaceful, the evening air cool against his skin as the sun begins to dip below the horizon. It should be relaxing, but Hyunjin feels like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He sits down on a bench, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes, trying to shake off the exhaustion.

“Hyunjin?”

He looks up, surprised to hear that familiar, soft voice. Seungmin stands a few feet away, looking slightly out of place in the park but just as composed as ever. They hadn’t made any plans to meet today, and Hyunjin hadn’t expected to run into him here.

“Hey,” Hyunjin mutters, trying and failing to sound cheerful.

Seungmin tilts his head, observing Hyunjin with that keen, analytical gaze. “You seem... different today.”

Hyunjin huffs, not having the energy to explain how everything has gone wrong. “Just... a bad day. One of those days where nothing goes right.”

There’s a brief silence as Seungmin processes the information. He steps closer, sitting beside Hyunjin on the bench, though he leaves enough space between them to be respectful.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Seungmin asks, his tone gentle.

Hyunjin shakes his head, letting out a long sigh. “Not really. Just needed some air, I guess.”

Seungmin nods but doesn’t press further. For a while, they just sit there in comfortable silence, the sound of the wind rustling through the trees around them. Hyunjin feels some of the tension begin to ebb, just from having Seungmin nearby.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Hyunjin says after a few minutes.

“I didn’t have any plans, so I thought I would take a walk. But now, I think I will stay here. With you.” Seungmin’s words are simple, but they carry a weight of intention behind them.

Hyunjin glances at him, a small, tired smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You don’t have to, you know. I’m not a great company right now.”

Seungmin looks at him, his expression thoughtful, and then says, “That doesn’t matter. You look like you could use someone nearby.”

Hyunjin blinks at him, touched by the sincerity of his words. For a being who’s so focused on data, on protocols, Seungmin somehow manages to be one of the most considerate people Hyunjin knows. The frustration that’s been building up all day begins to melt away, replaced by a warm sense of calm.

“Thanks,” Hyunjin says quietly, his voice softer now. “I appreciate that.”

They sit together for a while longer, watching as the sky turns shades of pink and orange. Seungmin doesn’t ask him any questions or try to solve his problems. He just stays, offering silent support. It’s a comfort Hyunjin hadn’t realised he needed.

As the cool evening air brushes against his skin, Hyunjin steals a glance at Seungmin. There’s something about the way the alien just is — always attentive, always trying to understand the human experience, no matter how confusing it might be for him. Hyunjin suddenly feels grateful for their strange connection, for the awkward dates, the moments of hilarity, the silent company like this.

And in this quiet moment, Hyunjin realises something — he’s grown attached. To Seungmin.

It hits him like a soft wave, subtle yet undeniable. He’s gotten used to Seungmin being around, to the way the alien makes him laugh even when he’s not trying, to the way he listens, to the way he cares in his own unusual way. For the first time in a while, Hyunjin feels a sense of clarity despite the chaos of his day.

He’s not just attached to Seungmin because of the experiment or the contract they signed. He’s attached to him for real.

👽

Seungmin makes his way down the white halls of the Complex’s scientific wing, hands in his pockets, data swirling in his head about their upcoming “experiments”. He’s scheduled to meet Hyunjin for lunch to discuss the next stage and to observe Hyunjin’s communication with his friends. His logical mind, as usual, is focused on refining the methodology. But as he approaches the door to Hyunjin’s lab, something unexpected stops him in his tracks.

Laughter.

Hyunjin’s laughter.

Seungmin halts, peering into the lab. Hyunjin is leaning against one of the counters, casually talking to someone else — another biologist, one of his colleagues, maybe. The person is standing far too close, and Hyunjin seems relaxed, amused, his eyes crinkling as he laughs at something the other person says. Seungmin feels a strange knot forming in his chest, tight and unfamiliar, like the air around him suddenly became too thick.

What is this feeling?

The longer he watches, the more uncomfortable Seungmin becomes. Hyunjin’s smile, that light in his eyes — it’s not directed at him this time. It’s for someone else. Something ugly churns inside Seungmin, a sensation he doesn’t understand. It’s foreign, and he tries to rationalise it, but no data or previous experience offers any explanation.

“Jealousy,” a voice cuts through his thoughts, startling him.

Seungmin turns abruptly to see Minho standing nearby, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. His gaze flickers toward Hyunjin and the other biologist before settling back on Seungmin, as though he knows exactly what’s going on in the alien’s mind.

“Jealousy,” Minho repeats, his voice teasing but with a hint of seriousness. “That’s what you’re feeling.”

Seungmin frowns. “Jealousy? I do not understand the concept.”

Minho shrugs, stepping closer. “It’s when you see someone you care about giving attention to someone else, and it makes you… uncomfortable.” He tilts his head, examining Seungmin closely. “And if I had to guess, this little experiment of yours has deviated.”

“Deviated?” Seungmin repeats, his brow furrowing as he tries to make sense of Minho’s words.

“Yeah,” Minho says, nodding toward Hyunjin. “Your emotions are starting to interfere with your objectivity. That… feeling inside you, that’s your experiment going off the rails. You’re not supposed to be feeling things for real, right?”

Seungmin stiffens, shaking his head. “No. The experiment is progressing according to plan. My reactions are all within the expected range. It’s... environmental factors.”

Minho raises an eyebrow. “Environmental factors, huh? Is that what you call it when you feel that tight knot in your chest?”

Seungmin hesitates, caught between the need to rationalise his emotions and the unfamiliarity of what he’s experiencing. “It’s... irrelevant. The experiment continues.”

Minho chuckles, patting Seungmin on the shoulder. “Sure, keep telling yourself that. But remember, emotions aren’t something you can just measure. If you keep ignoring what you’re feeling, this whole thing’s gonna get messy.”

Before Seungmin can respond, Hyunjin emerges from the lab, spotting the two of them. His face lights up when he sees Seungmin, and he walks over, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the air.

“Hey, what’s up?” Hyunjin asks, his usual bright smile returning as he glances between the two of them.

Minho steps back, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Nothing. Just having a friendly chat.” He shoots Seungmin a knowing look before turning to leave. “I’ll see you two around.”

As Minho walks away, Hyunjin turns to Seungmin, a slight frown creasing his brow. “You okay? You seem a little... tense.”

Seungmin blinks, quickly collecting himself. “I’m fine. Shall we go for lunch?”

Hyunjin doesn’t seem convinced, but he lets it slide, nodding as they head out of the lab together. They make their way to the cafe where they spot Jisung and Jeongin already seated at a table, enthusiastically waving them over.

The moment they sit down, Jisung launches into an animated story about his morning, while Jeongin throws in sarcastic comments, making Hyunjin laugh — a sound that Seungmin now finds himself keenly aware of. The conversation flows naturally, with Hyunjin’s laughter filling the air, and the easy camaraderie between the four of them lightens the mood. But something tugs at Seungmin.

As Hyunjin listens to Jisung’s story, grinning and playfully nudging Jeongin, Seungmin’s mind drifts. His thoughts aren’t on the experiment anymore, but on the way Hyunjin smiles, the way he’s at ease with others. The way Seungmin’s chest tightens each time Hyunjin’s attention shifts away from him, and how his two hearts beat unevenly when Hyunjin’s gaze returns.

These reactions — elevated heart rate, warmth in the chest, a tightening sensation — he’s documented them in the past. But the longer they persist, the harder they are to dismiss. Even as he tries to focus on the meal and the banter around him, he can’t stop questioning whether Minho was right.

Has the experiment deviated?

Has he?

When Hyunjin laughs again, this time at something Jeongin says, Seungmin feels that unfamiliar knot again. And for the first time, he wonders if maybe Minho’s observations weren’t just empty words after all. Maybe this sensation isn’t something he can dismiss as just another variable.

👽

Seungmin sits across from Hyunjin, clipboard in hand, his usual expression of calm focus masking the confusion churning inside him. He tries to keep his gaze fixed on the clipboard, scribbling notes in neat, controlled lines. “So,” he begins, voice clinical, “today’s objective is to assess physiological responses during varying levels of proximity. I have to compare the data with the previous numbers, now that according to the schedule, we should have become closer. Let’s begin with hand-holding.”

Hyunjin’s eyes glint with amusement as he extends his hand, clearly aware of the absurdity of this formality. They’ve been here before, many times now. But this time, it feels different — Seungmin knows it, even if he won’t admit it. He carefully places his hand in Hyunjin’s, his touch light, almost hesitant. A shiver runs through him, uninvited, as warmth spreads from where their palms meet.

“How long should we hold?” Hyunjin asks, voice teasing. He always asks that, playing along with Seungmin’s meticulous experiments, but lately, there’s a different tone to it — like he’s waiting for Seungmin to break the mask.

“Sixty seconds,” Seungmin answers quickly, forcing himself to focus on the experiment. His fingers twitch in Hyunjin’s grip. Just sixty seconds. That’s all it is.

But something is wrong. The elevated heart rate he’s come to expect from himself now pounds more urgently, each beat an erratic stutter that throws his whole system off. He can’t ignore it anymore. His data, meticulously logged and analysed, shows clear anomalies — spikes in pulse, inexplicable rises in temperature, and a hazy fog that clouds his mind whenever Hyunjin is near.

“Seungmin?” Hyunjin’s voice cuts through his thoughts, pulling him back. His thumb gently strokes the back of Seungmin’s hand. It’s supposed to be part of the experiment — another gesture, another variable to measure. But the tenderness behind it is... distracting.

“Yes,” Seungmin says, too quickly, “uh, now... the next phase. Cuddling.”

Hyunjin smirks, but doesn’t say anything. His eyes soften, though, as he shifts closer to Seungmin on the couch. The distance between them dissolves as Hyunjin wraps an arm around Seungmin’s shoulders, pulling him close. Seungmin stiffens, trying to mentally calculate the appropriate duration for this “cuddle,” but his mind is elsewhere. The warmth radiating from Hyunjin seeps into his skin, and the weight of his arm around him feels too comforting, too right.

It’s only supposed to be another experiment — more data to gather, more observations to record. Yet, as they sit there, in the quiet of the room, Seungmin feels himself drifting, he feels this pull deep in his chest. His thoughts become tangled, hazy, as though every equation he’s memorised suddenly doesn’t make sense. He shouldn’t feel this. His emotions were never supposed to interfere with his work.

But Hyunjin’s scent, the rise and fall of his breath, the quiet drum of his heartbeat close to Seungmin’s chest — it all overwhelms him. He blinks, trying to refocus, but Hyunjin is everywhere in his thoughts. He tries to pretend it’s still just science, still part of the experiment, but his body betrays him. His two hearts beat erratically, each out of sync with the other, thumping louder with every passing second.

“Seungmin,” Hyunjin whispers, leaning in closer, his breath ghosting over Seungmin’s ear. “What’s next on your list of ‘romantic experiments’?”

Seungmin swallows thickly, trying to keep his voice steady. “A k-kiss,” he mutters, though the word feels heavy on his tongue. “That’s the next step.”

Hyunjin leans back, his gaze searching Seungmin’s face. For a moment, neither of them move, caught in a strange tension that’s far from scientific. Then, slowly, Hyunjin leans forward, his lips brushing against Seungmin’s. It’s soft, barely a kiss at all, but it sends shockwaves through Seungmin’s entire being. His clipboard slips from his lap, forgotten. There’s no more data to collect — just the warmth of Hyunjin’s mouth against his.

Seungmin tries to focus, to detach, but he’s failing. Miserably. Every kiss, every touch, muddles the lines between the experiment and something far more personal, far more profound. His mind keeps drifting back to Hyunjin, even when he isn’t supposed to. He’s constantly thinking about him, craving his presence, the feel of his skin, the sound of his laughter — everything. His controlled, scientific approach is crumbling, and for the first time, Seungmin realises he can’t measure or quantify what’s happening to him.

Hyunjin pulls back, his lips twitching into a smile. “You okay? You look like your head’s about to explode.”

Seungmin clears his throat, flustered. “Everything is... progressing. As expected.”

But it isn’t. Not even close. His heartbeats are erratic, his body reacts without his consent, and his thoughts are consumed by Hyunjin. As Hyunjin gently untangles their fingers, Seungmin stares at his hands, clenching and unclenching them as if trying to regain some control.

Hyunjin stands up, stretching lazily. “Well, scientist, I think you need to take a break from all the experiments. You’re gonna short-circuit if you keep going like this.”

Seungmin can’t find the words to argue, the confusion in his chest too heavy to untangle. For the first time in his life, the lines between what’s scientific and what’s emotional blur — and it terrifies him.

(Of course, he blames Minho for that.)

👽

The late-April breeze is gentle, carrying the fresh scent of blooming flowers as Hyunjin walks through the park, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. The sky is a pale blue, fading into the hues of early evening, and the warmth of spring wraps around him like a soft blanket. Nature feels lighter, almost as if it’s breathing after the long winter, and Hyunjin revels in the quiet calm of it.

He doesn’t have any plans today, but the weather is too nice to stay indoors. His feet naturally lead him to the park, where the trees are heavy with cherry blossoms, their pale pink petals fluttering to the ground in the soft wind. He’s lost in thought, enjoying the quiet hum of the evening when a familiar figure catches his eye.

Seungmin.

He’s standing a little off to the side, looking curiously at a group of people — Hyunjin recognizes them to be from a different lab, chemical perhaps? — riding bicycles along the park’s path. His usual stoic expression is softened by a faint curiosity, and he doesn’t seem to notice Hyunjin approaching until he’s right next to him.

“Seungmin?” Hyunjin asks, his voice light. “What are you doing out here?”

Seungmin blinks, turning to face him. “I was observing human recreational activities. The weather is optimal for outdoor experiments,” he says in his usual matter-of-fact tone, though his eyes linger on the bicycles with clear intrigue.

Hyunjin can’t help but chuckle, the sound’s warm. “You’ve never ridden a bike, have you?”

Seungmin shakes his head. “I’ve read about it, of course. I understand the mechanics of it, but…” He trails off, looking vaguely uncertain.

“Well, it’s not hard. I could teach you,” Hyunjin offers with a grin, a spark of mischief lighting his eyes. “That is, if you’re interested in turning your observations into practical experience.”

Seungmin’s eyes narrow slightly, as if he’s weighing the pros and cons of the offer. Finally, with a small nod, he agrees. “I would like to try.”

Hyunjin rents a bike from a nearby stand, and before long, they’re standing in an open area of the park. Hyunjin demonstrates the basics — how to balance, how to pedal, and how to steer. Seungmin listens attentively, his face set in concentration, but when it comes time for him to actually get on the bike, there’s a brief moment of hesitation.

Hyunjin places his hands on the back of the bike seat, steadying it. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” he says, his voice gentle.

Seungmin climbs onto the bike, his posture stiff, and Hyunjin walks beside him, slowly guiding the bike forward. For a moment, Seungmin wobbles, almost losing his balance, but Hyunjin’s grip steadies him.

“Easy,” Hyunjin says, his hands still on the seat. “Just trust me, okay?”

Seungmin glances at him, and there’s something vulnerable in his gaze — something that makes Hyunjin’s heart skip a beat. Slowly, Seungmin starts pedalling, his movements awkward at first, but with each passing second, he gains more confidence. Hyunjin lets go of the seat, watching as Seungmin rides a little further down the path on his own.

When Seungmin finally stops, turning back to look at Hyunjin, there’s a rare flicker of pride in his eyes.

“You did it!” Hyunjin calls out, beaming.

Seungmin rolls the bike back towards him, his expression as neutral as ever, but there’s a soft warmth in the way he looks at Hyunjin. “Thank you for the instruction. It was... enjoyable.”

“Anytime,” Hyunjin replies with a grin, his chest feeling lighter. “Now, since we’re already out here, what do you say we stay out a little longer? The stars will be out soon, and it’s a good night for stargazing.”

Seungmin considers this for a moment before nodding. “I would like that.”

They find a quiet spot near the riverbank, away from the busier parts of the park. The sky slowly darkens, the stars beginning to peek through the twilight. As they sit on the grass, side by side, the sounds of the city fade into the background, leaving just the quiet rhythm of the water lapping at the shore.

Hyunjin leans back, his hands behind him, eyes scanning the stars. “You know,” he says softly, “when I was younger, I used to come to a park near my house a lot. I’d lie on the grass and just... watch the stars. It always made me feel like the world was bigger than whatever I was dealing with.”

Seungmin tilts his head slightly, watching Hyunjin with quiet curiosity. “The stars remind you of that?”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin replies, his voice a little distant. “It’s comforting, I guess. Although it makes me realise how small I am in comparison to the whole universe, it still makes me feel... less small in general.”

There’s a pause, and then Seungmin speaks, his voice soft. “You are not small. Not to me.”

Hyunjin turns his head, surprised by the sincerity in Seungmin’s words. The alien’s gaze is intense, almost too much to hold, and for a moment, Hyunjin feels something — something tender and fragile, like the space between them is closing without either of them realising it.

“Do you miss home?”

Seungmin takes a moment to answer. “Sometimes. But here... things feel different.”

“Different how?”

Seungmin hesitates, then admits, “I feel more... connected here. With you.”

Hyunjin feels a flutter in his chest but tries to play it cool. “I thought aliens weren’t supposed to have feelings.”

Seungmin shifts his gaze to Hyunjin, his expression serious. “I didn’t know I could feel this much.”

Seungmin’s hand brushes against Hyunjin’s, a light touch at first, but then he intertwines their fingers, as if testing the sensation. Hyunjin’s heart skips, warmth spreading through him at the simple, intimate gesture.

“Hyunjin,” Seungmin murmurs, his voice quieter now. “I think I... understand more about what these moments mean to humans. But I still... find myself confused by the intensity.”

Hyunjin smiles softly, his thumb lightly brushing against Seungmin’s knuckles. “You’re not the only one,” he admits.

For a long moment, they sit in silence, only for Hyunjin to break it, his voice playful, though there’s a hint of nervousness in his tone.

“You want to come over? I’m really craving ramyeon right now”.

Seungmin’s eyes widen, and Hyunjin watches as the alien’s ears turn a faint shade of pink. It’s the first time Hyunjin’s seen him look truly flustered. “I have read... that such an invitation can imply certain things in human culture,” Seungmin says, his voice suddenly stiff.

Hyunjin laughs, waving his hand quickly. “No, no, not like that! I just... I mean, I’m hungry. It’s not— there’s no hidden meaning behind it. Just... ramyeon.”

Seungmin visibly relaxes, though there’s still a trace of embarrassment in his expression. “I see,” he says, nodding. “In that case, I would like to join you.”

As they walk back to Hyunjin’s apartment, hand in hand, Hyunjin can’t help but smile to himself. Despite the misunderstandings, despite Seungmin’s confusion and awkwardness, it’s… nice. And it’s something Hyunjin finds himself wanting to explore, no matter where it leads.

Hyunjin watches as Seungmin stares at the steaming bowl of ramyeon in front of him. “You said you wanted to try everything human, right?”  Hyunjin grins, pushing the bowl closer.

Seungmin nods seriously. He picks up the chopsticks and, after watching Hyunjin demonstrate, mimics the action. The noodles seem harmless at first.

Until Seungmin takes a big bite.

Hyunjin watches as Seungmin’s expression goes from neutral curiosity to pure panic. His lips twitch when Seungmin swallows slowly, blinking rapidly. “It’s... spicy,” Seungmin says with surprising calmness, though his eyes are watering.

He glances at Hyunjin, his expression unusually tense.

Hyunjin leans back in his chair, grinning at the sight. “Can’t handle the heat, huh?” He teases, his voice laced with amusement.

Seungmin wipes at his mouth with a napkin, blinking rapidly to clear his eyes. “This... particular level of spice was unexpected. I was unprepared.” His tone is deadpan, but the way he subtly fans his mouth is what gets Hyunjin laughing out loud.

“Unexpected? It’s just a little spice! I thought you were supposed to be the evolved one here.” Hyunjin snickers, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Seungmin, lips still tingling from the spice, shoots him a flat look. “On my planet, we do not consume food that actively hurts.”

Hyunjin bursts out laughing again, leaning forward and almost toppling off his chair. “Oh god, Seungmin, your face— priceless!”

Seungmin raises an eyebrow but doesn’t retaliate. He watches Hyunjin laugh with an intensity that Hyunjin would later notice as something more than amusement — it’s almost as if Seungmin is studying him, trying to understand why this moment, this human interaction, is so full of joy.

Once the laughter dies down, Hyunjin motions towards the bathroom door. “Okay, if you want you can take a cold shower, maybe it’ll help. And then we could watch something.”

He doesn’t expect Seungmin to really go and take a shower. (Hyunjin even has to find him something spare to wear.) What a straightforward guy he is.

After his shower Seungmin quietly settles beside Hyunjin on the couch. Hyunjin flips through the movies, but out of the corner of his eye, he notices Seungmin seems... distracted. His body is a little too still, his eyes not really focused on the screen.

“Hey,” Hyunjin calls softly, turning towards him. “What’s up? You seem... distant.”

Seungmin hesitates, eyes flicking from Hyunjin’s face to the TV and back again, as if calculating something in his mind. His fingers twitch slightly on his lap, and after a long pause, he speaks, voice quieter than usual. “I... wasn’t entirely opposed to what the invitation for ramyeon implied.”

The words hang in the air between them, heavy with an unexpected weight. Hyunjin blinks, taken completely off guard, and for a moment, he feels heat flood his face.

“What?” Hyunjin’s voice comes out a little higher than he intended, his cheeks burning. “Wait— so you... you weren’t against that? Is it another part of your experiment?”

Seungmin looks down, his brows drawing together. “I... don’t know. Yes? No.” He sounds uncharacteristically unsure, his usually sharp tone muddled with confusion. “There is a... physical attraction towards you, but I am not entirely certain how to categorise it. It’s not part of the original experiment. I don’t have a logical explanation for what I’m feeling.”

Hyunjin stares at him, heart skipping a beat. Seungmin, always so composed and rational, is clearly thrown off by whatever is stirring inside him. It’s such a rare moment of vulnerability, and Hyunjin can see the tension in the way Seungmin’s hands rest awkwardly in his lap, his eyes flickering with uncertainty.

Hyunjin swallows, his voice softening. “Do you... want to try? Just see where this goes?” His question is careful, he doesn’t want to push too hard.

Seungmin’s gaze finally meets his, and something in his eyes is different — a flicker of curiosity, desire, and maybe a touch of fear. “Try… what?”

Hyunjin smiles, his heart beating a little faster as he leans closer. “This.”

He leans in, and their lips meet in a slow kiss.

The first touch is soft, hesitant, like testing the waters. Hyunjin’s lips move gently against Seungmin’s. He feels Seungmin respond, a bit unsure at first, but then the kiss deepens — slow, deliberate.

Hyunjin’s hand slides up to cup the back of Seungmin’s neck, pulling him closer, and the kiss becomes more intense, more desperate. Seungmin, for all his lack of understanding, follows instinctively, his body reacting to the closeness in ways his mind can’t fully grasp. Hyunjin feels Seungmin’s hand slip to his waist, the grip firmer than expected, and a shiver runs down his spine.

It’s not just the kiss. The soft press of Seungmin’s cool fingers against his skin, the way their breath mingles in the shared space between them, the subtle hum of need that neither of them fully knows how to name. Hyunjin’s heart is pounding, his mind fogged with the feeling of being so close to Seungmin in this way. He hadn’t expected this intensity, the way the kiss deepens into something that neither of them wants to pull away from.

But it’s Seungmin who breaks the kiss first, breathing heavily, his brow furrowed as though he’s processing too many new sensations at once. Hyunjin, flushed and breathless, leans back slightly, eyes wide and lips parted.

“That was...” Hyunjin starts, his voice hoarse, but he trails off, not really sure how to put it into words.

Seungmin’s chest rises and falls, his usually composed face showing traces of bewilderment. He swallows, his gaze locked on Hyunjin’s lips, like he’s trying to comprehend what just happened. “I... don’t know how to classify this reaction,” he admits, almost to himself. “But... I want to do it again.”

Hyunjin’s stomach flips at the quiet confession, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Then let’s not overthink it,” he murmurs, leaning in again.

Seungmin leans forward too, almost shyly, and Hyunjin’s breath catches when their lips meet again, slower this time.

The taste of Seungmin is too sweet, the warmth of him too inviting, Seungmin’s lips parting under his, a soft sigh escaping into the quiet room.

Seungmin is so pliant against him, and it drives Hyunjin mad. He has always seen Seungmin as composed, slightly guarded, with that stiff posture that came from always being so careful around others. But here, in the dim quiet of Hyunjin’s dorm room, that facade seems to melt away. Seungmin is anything but stiff now.

He moves his hand gently along Seungmin’s jawline, the pads of his fingers brushing over his smooth skin. Seungmin shivers under the touch, and that quiet reaction almost undoes Hyunjin. He’s never seen him like this — so vulnerable, so utterly willing. It makes his heart race, not just because of the desire coursing through him but because it feels like Seungmin is handing him all of his trust, silently asking for Hyunjin to take the lead.

Hyunjin hesitates, pulling back slightly to study Seungmin’s face. His lips are flushed, eyes half-lidded, and his chest rises and falls quickly with each breath. He’s nervous, just like Hyunjin, but there’s something else there, too — something more intense, more certain.

“Hyunjin…” Seungmin’s voice is quiet, barely more than a whisper, but it sends a shockwave through him.

His hands slide up, lifting Seungmin’s shirt, that is actually Hyunjin’s, over his head, revealing the bare skin beneath. Seungmin’s chest is heaving slightly, his breathing shallow as Hyunjin’s fingers trace the lines of his body. He’s so warm, so soft, and it’s making his head spin. Seungmin trembles slightly under his touch.

“Is this… okay?” Hyunjin whispers, his lips hovering near Seungmin’s neck, close enough to feel the rapid pulse beneath the surface. It doubles — both his hearts are beating completely out of sync, violently, wild.

Seungmin nods, not trusting his voice, but the way his body moves into Hyunjin’s touch says more than words could. His hands grip Hyunjin’s arms, pulling him closer, his body trembling under the weight of the moment. Hyunjin’s lips brush the edge of Seungmin’s jaw, then lower, pressing soft, tentative kisses along his collarbone.

Seungmin sighs, his head tipping back to give Hyunjin more access, and that quiet sound — so soft, so open — makes something tighten in Hyunjin’s chest.

It is like every bit of tension Seungmin usually carried has evaporated, leaving him vulnerable in the best way.

The more Hyunjin touches him, the more he explores Seungmin’s body with his hands and lips, the more pliable Seungmin becomes. The way Seungmin leans into every touch, every kiss — it is intoxicating.

Hyunjin’s own hesitance melts away as he grows bolder, trailing kisses along Seungmin’s chest, his hands exploring the contours of Seungmin’s body. He can feel every subtle shift, the way Seungmin’s body arches slightly into his touch, the quiet gasps that escape his lips.

Hyunjin pulls him closer, their bodies pressed together as they move to the bed, the quiet rustle of sheets the only sound between them. Seungmin follows without protest, his eyes half-lidded, his breathing uneven. It is all Hyunjin can do to stay calm himself, the sight of Seungmin beneath him — so vulnerable, so willing — is almost too much.

When Seungmin reaches out, his fingers trembling slightly as they brush against Hyunjin’s skin, Hyunjin feels his own breath catch. The touch is so light, so hesitant, but the intent is clear.

“How do you want to do this?”

Seungmin pauses, considering the question, which takes him some time, because he’s so clearly out, it makes Hyunjin smile.

“I— I trust your judgement about this… procedure.”

As much as Hyunjin wants to laugh about this phrasing, he gets serious instead. He leans on his forearm, looking into Seungmin’s eyes, and gently removes the fallen strands of hair from his face.

“It’s not only about trust, Seungmin-ah. I want you to feel good.”

“I think… As long as it’s you, I will.”

Hyunjin freezes. His heart leaps into his throat. His head swims, his brain unable to process Seungmin’s words. It’s… definitely not about the experiment or social study in general. Not for him, not anymore.

He steals in a deep breath against his nerves.

“Okay, I— Okay”.

Hyunjin kneels between Seungmin’s long, lean legs, tugging his pants down slowly. He trails light, teasing kisses along Seungmin’s skin, until he reaches the soft, sensitive skin of his inner thighs. The touch makes Seungmin squirm, his hands instinctively gripping Hyunjin’s shoulders for balance, as if grounding himself.

Hyunjin’s gaze flicks upward, meeting Seungmin’s eyes, and the intensity in Seungmin’s gaze sends a spark of heat rushing through Hyunjin. Keeping eye contact, he leans forward and grazes his teeth over the delicate skin of Seungmin’s thigh, bites it. The sharp hiss of breath Seungmin releases makes Hyunjin smirk.

Hyunjin presses his lips over the reddened mark, sucking gently in a way that mimics a soft kiss. Seungmin’s fingers tighten on his shoulders, his thighs trembling with each touch. Hyunjin continues, his eyes remain locked with Seungmin’s, the tension between them palpable as he runs his tongue gently over the mark, soothing the heated flesh. Seungmin runs his tongue over his own lips.

“Can you— Please stop teasing me? This is… what you’re doing, right?”

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

Hyunjin sits up, pulling his own shirt off, and Seungmin immediately pulls Hyunjin closer, their chests pressing together, skin against skin. It is electric, the sensation of being so intimately close. His skin is smooth, warm, and Seungmin traces the contours of Hyunjin’s collarbone with his fingers, before letting his hands explore lower, memorising the way Hyunjin’s muscles tensed and relaxed under his touch.

Hyunjin’s breath hitches as Seungmin’s hands roam lower, and he leans down, pressing a kiss to the corner of Seungmin’s jaw, then his neck.

Seungmin’s fingers brush against Hyunjin’s side, tracing lines down his ribcage, feeling the way Hyunjin’s chest rises and falls with each breath. Hyunjin lets out a low sigh, his hand sliding through Seungmin’s hair, before guiding their lips together again.

This time, the kiss is searing, filled with all the want and need.

👽

The next morning feels like a surreal dream to Seungmin, a strange haze settling over him as he wakes up much later than usual. The weight of last night still lingers — Hyunjin’s touch imprinted on his skin, the warmth of every kiss. He can practically feel the ghost of Hyunjin’s lips brushing against him even now. As he sits up, the bed feels too empty, too cold, without Hyunjin beside him.

Across the room, Hyunjin is already getting ready for work, dressed in his usual casual clothes, hair slightly messy but somehow still perfect. He’s moving around quickly, clearly in a rush, but he pauses when he notices Seungmin stirring.

“Morning,” Hyunjin greets, soft and fond, like this is the most natural thing in the world for them. “I’ve got to head out now, but the coffee’s on the stove. Help yourself, make yourself comfortable.” He flashes a quick smile as he steps closer to the bed, leaning down to press a light kiss to Seungmin’s lips. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

And just like that, Hyunjin is out the door, leaving Seungmin in a stunned silence. He blinks, trying to make sense of everything, but the overwhelming emotions from last night come crashing back all at once. Seungmin isn’t used to this — any of it. The way his body still aches, not from exhaustion but from the intensity of the night they shared. The raw emotion bubbling up inside him, an emotion he has no idea how to categorise. He’s been so focused on the experiment — on the objective, clinical side of things — that he’s never prepared for this.

It’s... unsettling. The way Hyunjin makes him feel so much, so deeply. Seungmin freaks out a little, pacing around Hyunjin’s room before finally retreating to his own space to sort out his thoughts.

Later in the afternoon, Seungmin goes for a walk to clear his head, heading toward a small park inside the Complex. The breeze is cool and soothing, the spring greenery calming, but his mind refuses to quiet down. As he walks, he spots Minho sitting on a bench, seemingly lost in thought himself. Seungmin debates turning around, but Minho notices him first and waves him over.

“So, how’s the experiment going?” Minho asks instead of a greeting as Seungmin approaches, his tone light, but there’s something deeper in his eyes, like he’s been thinking about this conversation for a while.

Seungmin exhales, sitting down beside him, unsure how to even begin answering that question. “I... don’t know,” he admits after a moment. “You were right. It feels like it’s deviating from the original course.”

Minho raises an eyebrow, not in surprise but more like he’s been expecting this. “Deviating how? Are you feeling more than you expected?”

Seungmin is silent, thinking about last night. The way Hyunjin kissed him, touched him, and how it made him feel — like he was on the edge of something he couldn’t fully comprehend. He nods, hesitant. “Yes. But I don’t know what it means.”

Minho leans back, looking at the sky for a moment before turning back to Seungmin. “You know, I’ve been wondering the same thing about my own... situation,” he says, his voice quieter now. “It started off as something simple, but now? I can’t tell if it’s still part of the plan or something else entirely.”

Seungmin looks at him, surprised by the vulnerability in Minho’s voice. He’s always been so sure of himself, so calculated in everything he does. But now, there’s a flicker of doubt there, one Seungmin didn’t expect to see.

Minho continues, “That’s why I’m asking you. I don’t think the experiment is wrong. I just think maybe it’s... evolving. And maybe that’s okay.”

Seungmin sits with that for a moment, the weight of it settling on his chest. “But how do we know?”

Minho smiles faintly. “I don’t think we ever really do. We just feel it.”

Feeling. The very thing Seungmin is least familiar with, and yet it’s consuming him. He looks away, his mind spinning. “I don’t know what to do,” he admits quietly.

Minho claps him on the shoulder. “Maybe you don’t have to do anything right now. Just... let it happen. See where it leads.”

As Seungmin looks back at Minho, there’s a strange sense of comfort in his words, even though they don’t provide the clear answers he’s used to seeking. Maybe, for once, it’s okay not to have a strict plan. Maybe it’s okay to let things deviate.

But maybe, it’s not.

The days following Seungmin’s conversation with Minho are a blur of overthinking.

Every moment he shared with Hyunjin plays over and over in his mind, but this time, there’s no scientific detachment — just raw emotion that he can’t seem to categorise. He tries to focus, tries to compartmentalise his feelings like any other experiment, but the lines have blurred too much. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t deny the truth.

He’s lost control of the experiment.

It should be a simple decision, really — end the experiment before it goes any further off-course. Regain his objectivity. But what keeps nagging at him, making it impossible to come to terms with his next step, is the thought of Hyunjin. Seungmin had set out to learn about human emotion, to analyse it, dissect it. But now, it’s not just data or research. It’s personal. And that makes everything more complicated.

Eventually, the decision is made. He has to end it. There’s no other choice. He can’t continue with the experiment if he’s unsure about his own objectivity. He needs to regain control, step away from the chaotic emotions that have been clouding his judgement.

But ending the experiment means something far more difficult — cutting off Hyunjin. And that’s what Seungmin struggles with the most.

It’s not permanent, of course — he just needs time to… understand. Himself, whatever he’s feeling. Name it. He just needs time to let the intense burning in his chest cool down, he needs his clear head back — to come clear with Hyunjin too. He deserves to know what Seungmin’s feeling, but firstly — Seungmin should know this himself.

It’s not easy, it’s scary even, but Seungmin really needs this time away from Hyunjin.  

The first day, he ignores Hyunjin’s message about meeting for lunch. Instead, he buries himself in work, thinking that if he can stay busy, if he can keep his mind occupied, then maybe the gnawing ache in his chest will disappear.

The second day, Seungmin avoids the places where they usually meet, pretending that he’s simply swamped with responsibilities. Hyunjin sends him another text, a casual, “Where are you? Haven’t heard from you in a bit,” followed by a smiley face that Seungmin can practically hear in Hyunjin’s voice. But he doesn’t reply.

On the third day, Seungmin catches a glimpse of Hyunjin walking across the Complex park. His chest tightens at the sight, but he ducks out of view before Hyunjin can see him. The sense of guilt that floods through him is overwhelming, but Seungmin reminds himself why he’s doing this. He needs to figure out what’s next, where this all went wrong.

He knows Hyunjin is probably confused — maybe even hurt — but it’s better this way. He tells himself that again and again, even though it doesn’t feel better. It feels like a constant tug-of-war inside him.

Seungmin spends his nights lying awake, his mind replaying every moment between them, every smile, every touch. He misses Hyunjin. More than he ever thought he would. And that, more than anything, terrifies him.

By the end of the week, Seungmin’s resolve begins to crack. He sees Hyunjin’s name light up his phone screen one evening, the message unread but there. He sits there for a moment, staring at the screen, the familiar pang of guilt gnawing at him.

He doesn’t know if this is the right decision anymore. But he can’t turn back — not yet.

👽

Hyunjin doesn’t know what to make of Seungmin’s sudden disappearance from his life.

At first, he tries to rationalise it. Maybe Seungmin’s busy. Maybe the alien’s research has intensified, or maybe he’s dealing with something personal. Seungmin is always so logical, so focused on his work, so maybe he’s just preoccupied. But as the days pass and his phone remains silent, the pit of unease in Hyunjin’s stomach deepens. He sends a few casual messages, but they go unanswered.

Each unanswered message feels like a heavy weight pressing on his chest.

Then one afternoon, as Hyunjin is about to leave his lab, he gets called in to meet Chan and Minho. He doesn’t think much of it — probably some routine check-in. But the moment he steps into the room and sees the serious looks on their faces, he knows something is wrong.

“We’ve decided to end your experiment with Seungmin,” Minho says, his tone clipped but steady.

Hyunjin feels the floor drop beneath him. It’s like all the air has been sucked out of the room, and he can’t breathe. “What... what do you mean? End it?”

Chan sighs, his expression sympathetic but firm. “Seungmin’s requested to stop. He believes the experiment has become compromised.”

Hyunjin’s head spins. Compromised? What does that even mean? And why hadn’t Seungmin said anything to him? The silence from Seungmin suddenly takes on a new, painful meaning. “So, that’s it?” Hyunjin’s voice trembles, and he hates it. “It’s just over?”

Minho exchanges a glance with Chan before nodding. “It’s for the best. We don’t want the experiment to lose its objectivity.”

Objectivity. Hyunjin barely listens after that word. His chest tightens painfully. He feels dizzy, like he’s about to pass out, but instead, he forces himself to breathe. He nods, barely hearing their explanations, before walking out of the room without another word.

He needs to find Seungmin. Now.

When Hyunjin finally tracks Seungmin down, it’s in the park, the same place they’d often met for their little walks. Seungmin stands there, hands in his pockets, and when he sees Hyunjin approaching, his expression shifts from neutral to uneasy.

“Hyunjin,” Seungmin starts, but Hyunjin is already in front of him, eyes blazing.

“What the hell, Seungmin?” Hyunjin’s voice is louder than he intended. “What is this? What’s going on? You just—” He gestures wildly, his frustration boiling over. “You just disappeared? No explanation, no anything, and now I’m hearing from Minho and Chan that it’s over? That you want to end the experiment?”

Seungmin takes a slow breath, trying to keep his voice calm. “Hyunjin, listen. I didn’t want you to find out like this, but I... I can’t continue. The experiment isn’t—”

“The experiment?!” Hyunjin cuts him off, incredulous. “Is that all this is to you? An experiment?”

Seungmin frowns, visibly struggling to find the right words. “Hyunjin, you don’t understand. This was supposed to be objective research. I’m not... I’m not supposed to feel this way.”

“And what way is that, Seungmin?” Hyunjin’s voice cracks. “Like someone with feelings? Newsflash, we all feel things!”

“It’s not that simple!” Seungmin’s voice rises for the first time, his usually calm demeanour breaking. “I can’t quantify this anymore. It’s biassed. It’s—”

“Bullshit!” Hyunjin snaps, stepping closer, his frustration spilling over. “You think you can just measure this? That you can quantify love with data points and brain scans? Yeah, sure, you can monitor physiological reactions, hormones, brain activity—” Hyunjin’s voice drops, more hurt than angry now, “but love isn’t something you measure, Seungmin. Love is something you feel. And you... you’re a damn fool if you think you can control that.”

Seungmin is silent, his face unreadable. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

Hyunjin laughs bitterly, running a hand through his hair. “You’re so caught up in your stupid experiment, in your data, that you don’t even realise what’s happening.” He looks at Seungmin, and his voice trembles. “I thought you would understand. You’re feeling something, Seungmin. Something real. And you’re too scared to admit it, so you’re just going to run away?”

Seungmin swallows hard, looking down at his feet. “I don’t know what I’m feeling,” he admits, his voice soft, almost vulnerable. “I don’t know how to... how to categorise this. I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

Hyunjin’s heart aches at the raw confusion in Seungmin’s voice. He takes a step closer, the anger draining out of him. “You don’t have to understand it right now,” Hyunjin says quietly. “It’s not something you can figure out with a formula. Just... let it happen.”

Seungmin looks up, meeting Hyunjin’s gaze, and for a long moment, they just stare at each other. There’s so much unsaid between them, but in that silence, something falls.

“Here’s your latest data point,” Hyunjin says, his voice trembling with both hurt and sarcasm. “A fight. Go ahead, write it down.”

Seungmin’s lips press into a thin line. He doesn’t respond, but the weight of the moment hangs between them, heavy and unresolved.

Hyunjin feels like his heart has been ripped out. The conversation with Seungmin replays over and over in his head, the words like daggers cutting deeper each time he thinks about them. He really treated me like a subject. Nothing more, Hyunjin thinks bitterly, his chest tightening with every breath. The thought of Seungmin reducing everything between them — every kiss, every touch, every vulnerable moment — to data points for an experiment makes him feel hollow.

He can’t stand it. He needs to escape, even if just for a little while.

So when Jisung and Jeongin suggest going out to the city, Hyunjin agrees without hesitation. A night out, drinking, maybe it’ll dull the ache. Or at least distract him long enough to pretend it doesn’t exist.

They head to a bar, one that Jisung insists has the best drinks in the area. The place is lively, with music thumping in the background and people laughing, chatting, enjoying their night. It’s the perfect contrast to the storm brewing inside Hyunjin.

Hyunjin drinks. He drinks a lot, drowning his thoughts in shot after shot, the burn of alcohol numbing the hurt, if only a little. Jeongin, who’s not exactly experienced with alcohol, tries to keep up, but after just one cocktail, he’s already giggling at everything, his cheeks flushed.

“Hyung, I think I’m floating,” Jeongin says, staring at his drink like it’s the funniest thing in the world. He leans his head on Hyunjin’s shoulder, looking up at him with wide, amused eyes. “How does alcohol work again?”

Hyunjin manages a laugh, though it’s hollow. “You’re not floating, Jeongin. Just drunk. You even call me ‘hyung’ now, look at you!”

Jisung watches the interaction, clearly amused. He’s had a few drinks too, but nothing close to Hyunjin’s pace — his alcohol tolerance is much weaker. Right now, his focus is entirely on Jeongin, who’s swaying slightly in his seat, a dopey smile plastered on his face.

“You’re cute when you’re drunk,” Jisung says, his voice soft and affectionate, though there’s a teasing edge to it.

Jeongin looks up, blinking at Jisung. “Am I?” He giggles again, pressing his hand against Jisung’s arm for balance. “I feel... fuzzy.”

Something flashes in Jisung’s gaze, something tender and warm. Hyunjin watches, detached, as Jisung reaches out, gently brushing a strand of hair from Jeongin’s face. “You’re always cute,” Jisung murmurs, and there’s something more in his tone, something that catches even Jeongin’s attention despite his tipsy state.

Jeongin tilts his head, blinking up at Jisung. “What are you saying?”

Jisung hesitates for a moment, but then, with a soft sigh, he smiles. “I’m saying we should date, you idiot.”

Jeongin’s eyes widen, and for a second, it’s like his brain can’t process what Jisung just said. Then, suddenly, he bursts into giggles again, throwing his arms around Jisung. “Yes!” he says, far too loudly, drawing a few amused glances from nearby tables. “Of course, I’ll date you! I like you very much, hyung!”

“Don’t forget you said it in the morning.”

Jisung grins, wrapping an arm around Jeongin’s waist to steady him. There’s a look of fondness in his eyes, a softness that makes Hyunjin’s heart clench painfully. They’re happy. They’re together. At least someone’s doing well.

Hyunjin downs another shot, trying to ignore the jealousy creeping up his spine. It’s not that he begrudges Jisung and Jeongin their happiness. He’s genuinely glad they found each other. But watching them, seeing how easily they fall into each other’s arms, how simple and real their affection is — it only reminds him of what he doesn’t have. What he thought he had with Seungmin, before it all crumbled into nothing.

“At least someone’s got their happy ending,” Hyunjin mutters bitterly under his breath, barely audible over the thumping music.

But Jisung catches it. He gives Hyunjin a knowing look, one eyebrow raised. “Hey, it’s not over for you yet, Hyun,” he says, his tone surprisingly serious. “Whatever’s going on with Seungmin... it’s not the end. You’ll figure it out. Give him some time, okay? I’ve been shamelessly flirting with Jeongin for what? two years? And it only took him two years of sarcasm and one ‘Sex on the Beach’ to accept it. So, really, give Seungmin some time to wrap his pretty head around all that’s happening.”

Jeongin looks at him scandalised, “Pretty? Is my head pretty, hyung?”

“The prettiest!”

Hyunjin scoffs, swirling his drink around in the glass. “Yeah, well, right now it feels like the end for me. Happy for you though.”

Jisung doesn’t push further, but the look he gives Hyunjin is filled with sympathy, and Hyunjin hates it. He doesn’t want pity. He just wants to stop feeling this goddamn ache in his chest.

Jeongin, blissfully unaware of the undercurrent of tension, continues giggling, his head resting comfortably on Jisung’s shoulder. Hyunjin watches them for a moment longer, then looks away, staring into his drink as if it holds the answers to all the questions swirling in his mind.

It doesn’t. But it’s all he has right now.

👽

Late evening shadows stretch across the walls of Minho’s office, the dim light from his desk lamp casting a soft glow on the scattered paperwork. He leans back in his chair, rubbing his eyes, feeling the strain of the long day. The silence is interrupted by the sound of the door opening.

Bang Chan steps in, his usual bright energy subdued by the late hour. “Still working, huh?” he asks, his voice gentle, though there’s a hint of curiosity in his tone. He walks over to Minho’s desk and sits on the edge, his eyes scanning the room before landing on Minho.

Minho sighs, putting his pen down. “Just wrapping things up.”

Chan nods, then cuts straight to the point. “So. I didn’t want to be nosy and pushy, but can you tell me what really happened with Hyunjin and Seungmin? Why did they end their part of the study? I’ve seen them around, they don’t seem to be very happy about it.”

Minho hesitates, the question hanging in the air. He wasn’t sure how much to share, especially when he himself was still trying to piece it together. “It’s… complicated,” he says, his voice thoughtful, avoiding eye contact for a moment.

“Complicated how?” Chan presses, his eyes narrowing slightly in concern. He knew Hyunjin and Seungmin’s experiment was progressing, but he hadn’t expected such an abrupt end. “Did something go wrong?”

Minho sighs again, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe… maybe the experiment worked out a little too well.”

Chan blinks, confused. “What do you mean?”

Minho leans forward, resting his elbows on his desk. “We wanted to see if humans and aliens could form personal relationships, right? Well… they did. Maybe it was wrong to try and measure it, to reduce something so complex into data.”

Chan raises an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Was it?”

Minho looks at him, exasperated. “Okay, okay, you were right, okay? Hold your “I told you so” to yourself. How was I supposed to know it would end up like this? Other pairs are barely even at the ‘friends’ stage right now. They’re steadily getting to know each other, but that’s it. I didn’t expect for Seungmin and Hyunjin to get to know each other a bit too well. ”

Chan chuckles softly, his smile growing wider. “Well, you could’ve just looked at yourself.”

Minho stares at him, confusion clouding his expression. “What?”

There’s a brief silence as Chan’s words hang in the air. Chan’s gaze softens, his eyes searching Minho’s face. “I know you like me, Minho.”

Minho’s hearts skip a beat, his eyes widening slightly. He’s taken off guard by the bluntness of the statement, and for a moment, he’s not sure how to respond. Chan’s smile is easy, but there’s a weight behind his words, a knowledge they’ve both been dancing around for a while.

Minho swallows, trying to collect himself. “I—” He starts, but words fail him, and he feels the heat rise to his face. He’s never been good at admitting things like this, never been good at facing what’s right in front of him.

Chan’s smile softens even more, and he reaches out, placing a hand gently on Minho’s arm. “You don’t have to say it,” he says, his voice quiet but sure. “I know it’s not easy for you. I know you don’t do the whole “emotions” thing back at your home planet. But I’ve also known you for almost three years since you came to Earth and I couldn’t help but notice that being around people from here changes you. You can’t deal with emotional beings relying only on sheer intellect. So I am more than happy to wait for you, even if it takes three more years.”

Minho looks down at Chan’s hand, the warmth of the contact seeping into his skin, and he lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. He doesn’t say anything, but the unspoken admission sits between them, clear as day.

Chan gives his arm a gentle squeeze. “You were so focused on Hyunjin and Seungmin, on their relationship, that you didn’t even realise it was happening to you too.”

Minho chuckles, the tension easing a little. “Yeah, well… maybe I should’ve seen it coming.”

Chan’s eyes sparkle with amusement. “It’s okay. You’re not the only one who missed the obvious.”

👽

Hyunjin’s muscles burn with each rep as he works out in the Complex’s gym, Changbin standing nearby, guiding him through the set. The clanking of weights fills the air, but Hyunjin’s mind is somewhere else, a thousand miles away.

“One more, come on,” Changbin urges, arms crossed, but a teasing grin tugging at his lips. “You’re not gonna let those weights crush you, are you?”

Hyunjin grunts, pushing the barbell up with shaky arms, managing to set it back on the rack with a heavy thud. He sits up, rolling his shoulders, but his focus is fractured.

Changbin notices, but instead of asking right away, he lets the silence linger for a beat before speaking. “You know,” he says, stretching his arms above his head. “I took Felix up on that ‘relax’ offer he gave me.”

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Yeah? How did that go?”

“Well,” Changbin sighs, shaking his head, “I didn’t know what to expect, honestly. But Felix made me do something like yoga.”

Hyunjin hums distractedly, his eyes glazing over as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The conversation with Changbin is background noise to the mess in his mind — everything swirling back to Seungmin. He feels the familiar weight of heartache pressing down on him again. He’s not even listening properly until Changbin’s next words pull him back.

“So, how’s everything with Seungmin?” Changbin asks, his tone casual but laced with curiosity. He spots Hyunjin’s shift in mood instantly, the way his jaw clenches slightly, the tension creeping back into his posture.

Hyunjin exhales sharply, shaking his head. “I don’t want to talk about him anymore.”

Changbin stays quiet, watching Hyunjin’s expression twist as if he’s grappling with some internal battle.

“I didn’t know I would fall so deeply in love with him,” Hyunjin admits, his voice low and rough. “And it still hurts.”

There’s a beat of silence between them, and for a moment, Changbin considers pushing further, asking more questions — but he doesn’t. Instead, he shrugs and changes the subject.

“You know, I think Felix understood why I kept declining his offer before. He’s been teasing me about it nonstop since,” Changbin says, a grin spreading across his face. “I’m actually thinking about asking him on a proper date.”

Hyunjin glances up, surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Changbin nods. “Might as well, right? Worst that can happen is we end up in another yoga session.” He chuckles and gestures toward the weights. “Alright, enough talk. One more rep, let’s go!”

Hyunjin smiles faintly, grateful that Changbin doesn’t push the subject of Seungmin any further. As he grips the barbell again and focuses on the weight above him, he feels a flicker of relief — at least in the gym, things are clear, simple. He can control how much weight he lifts, how hard he pushes himself. But when it comes to his feelings for Seungmin, everything is tangled, complicated, and far too heavy to carry alone.

“Let’s go, Hyunjin!” Changbin cheers, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Last one!”

With a grunt of effort, Hyunjin pushes through the final rep, grateful for the distraction — even if it’s only temporary.

👽

Seungmin sits in front of his computer, the sterile blue glow of the screen illuminating the darkened room. His fingers hover above the keyboard as he stares at the blinking cursor, the blank report form open in front of him. His mind is a whirlwind of fragmented thoughts and emotions, but he pushes them down, tries to focus on the task at hand.

He begins typing mechanically, as though reading from a script.

EXPERIMENT REPORT: Human-Alien Social Dynamics and Emotional Interaction Study

Principal Investigator: Kim Seungmin, Lead Researcher, Inter-Galactic Sociological Studies
Subject: Hwang Hyunjin, Human Participant
Objective: To evaluate the formation and progression of romantic attachment between a human subject and an alien researcher through controlled social experiments.

Introduction:

The study was initially designed to observe the feasibility of intimate interpersonal relationships between human beings and alien counterparts, with the goal of identifying common psychological, emotional, and physiological factors that contribute to such bonding. Given the importance of establishing inter-species cooperation and understanding, this experiment was to assess if emotional dynamics such as attraction, love, and attachment could transcend biological and cultural differences.

Phase 1: Initial Interaction

The subject was engaged in a series of structured interactions, beginning with simple conversations and escalating to mild physical contact (e.g., hand-holding, hugging). Each interaction was carefully monitored to record physiological responses from both parties, focusing on elevated heart rate, body temperature, and hormonal fluctuations. My initial assumption was that all reactions could be explained within the framework of physical stimuli and social conditioning.

Observations:

• Subject Hyunjin displayed a high degree of empathy, humour, and openness during initial encounters.
• Researcher noted minimal deviations in physical responses, chalked up to environmental factors.
• No significant anomalies were observed.

Phase 2: Increased Physical Contact

Romantic gestures, such as prolonged physical touch, kissing, and expressions of verbal affection, were introduced to measure deeper emotional responses. Despite attempts to remain emotionally detached, it became apparent that my own reactions were increasingly difficult to dismiss.

Observations:

• Subject Hyunjin’s emotional responses were more complex and nuanced than anticipated. His smile, laughter, and touch resulted in unanticipated physiological responses from researcher.
• Heart rate anomalies: Consistently elevated when near the subject, even in non-experimental settings.
• Cognitive distraction: Researcher found his mind often returning to thoughts of Hyunjin outside of experimental hours. He could not categorise these thoughts under any known physiological or neurological condition.

Seungmin’s words flow coldly, detached. He lists out every step they took, every moment they shared, reduced to numbers and observations. But the more he writes, the heavier it feels. The emptiness of the data, the meaninglessness of the measurements — it’s suffocating.

His fingers pause, trembling slightly over the keyboard. He exhales slowly, like he’s bracing for something inevitable. And then, without really thinking about it, he lets his fingers move, no longer writing the report he’d intended.

Phase 3: Emotional Involvement

As the experiment progressed, the boundary between “research” and “emotion” became blurred. My reactions to Hyunjin no longer aligned with the purely academic focus of the study. In fact, I found myself experiencing something far beyond objective observation.

Observations:

• I began experiencing unfamiliar emotions — frustration when the subject interacted with others, irrational joy when the subject directed affection toward me, and inexplicable anxiety when we were apart.
• Subject Hyunjin’s gaze, voice, and mere presence induced what I can only describe as warmth and comfort. I suspect that these feelings may correlate with what humans identify as “love”, though I initially resisted this conclusion.

Conclusion:

All of the above observations suggest one unavoidable truth: this experiment is inherently flawed — not because the methodology was incorrect, but because the variables cannot be controlled. Love, attachment, and human connection defy scientific explanation.

I attempted to quantify love. I failed.

To date a human, one must be willing to embrace uncertainty, to feel deeply without understanding every nuance, and, most importantly, to let go of the need for control. Love is not a formula or a set of reactions to be analysed. It is something you live, experience, and feel — whether you are human or alien.

Seungmin swallows hard, eyes burning as he continues.

Final Observation:

To date a human, you need to be in love with them.

Seungmin blinks at the words, heart racing as something inside him breaks open. He types faster now, not caring about the formalities, about the structure of the report.

It started slowly — at first, I told myself it was all part of the experiment. Every gesture, every touch. But with each passing day, I couldn’t help but notice the way Hyunjin laughed at my awkwardness, or how his eyes lit up when he talked about something he was passionate about. He is effortlessly warm. He made the cold, unfamiliar world I stepped into feel like something I could understand.

There’s something about the way he exists that I couldn’t measure. I tried to catalogue it all, to keep myself objective, but the truth is — I couldn’t.

Seungmin’s breath catches as he types the words he’s been avoiding for so long. It feels like a confession, something raw and vulnerable spilling out of him as he writes everything he hadn’t allowed himself to say.

Hyunjin’s smile, his warmth, the way he cares for others — even when he’s flustered, or frustrated, there’s a softness in him that made me want to be close, to know him better. It wasn’t just data, it wasn’t just part of the experiment. I was drawn to him. I still am.

I thought I could keep our relationship contained, that I could reduce it to facts and figures. But relationships with humans — especially with someone like Hyunjin — cannot be summed up in a mathematical formula. They just need to be allowed to happen.

Our fight. Now I know — it was a simple misunderstanding. I thought Hyunjin was disappointed with the end of the experiment and tried to explain to him why I decided to end it. Hyunjin thought that for me, everything that happened between us was just an experiment. We talked about different things with the same words. As usual, I forgot that people perceive everything through the prism of emotions, and not just intellect.

This report serves as a reminder that some things cannot be explained by data or logic alone.

End of Report.

Attached is a message for the subject:
“Hyunjin, you are everything I thought I could never understand. I was wrong.”

Signed,
Kim Seungmin, Researcher (and a fool)

Seungmin leans back in his chair, staring at the words he’s typed. It’s all there, everything he feels, written out in black and white. He exhales shakily, a wave of bittersweet relief washing over him.

He hesitates for a moment, but then with a resigned sigh, he attaches the report to an email. His fingers hover over the keyboard again before typing Hyunjin’s name into the recipient box. His heart thuds painfully in his chest as he writes the subject line: Final Report.

Without giving himself time to second-guess, Seungmin clicks Send.

It’s done. The truth is out there now, written in a report he never thought he’d send. But as he sits in the silence of his room, he feels the weight of everything he lost pressing down on him. And no amount of data can explain how much that hurts.

👽

Hyunjin sits at his desk, staring at the email from Seungmin. He’s seen it sitting there for a while now, the words Final Report taunting him every time he opens his inbox. He doesn’t want to open it — he’s tired of the statistics, of the cold, calculated nature of Seungmin’s words. But today, in the quiet heaviness of his mood, something pushes him to click on it. Maybe it’s closure he's seeking, or maybe it’s just an attempt to understand.

As the document loads, Hyunjin sighs, preparing himself for more clinical detachment, more feelings reduced to data points. But as he reads through Seungmin’s words, his frown slowly fades.

“...To date a human, you need to be in love with them.”

The line makes him stop, his heart skipping a beat.

He keeps reading, and something shifts inside him as he takes in Seungmin’s confession, the vulnerability in each sentence. The emotions that Seungmin tried so hard to suppress, now laid bare. By the time Hyunjin reaches the end of the report, a breathy laugh escapes him.

“He’s such a loser,” Hyunjin mutters, rubbing a hand across his face, his heart swelling despite the sadness still lingering in him. “And he said he’s from a highly intelligent race!”

He can’t sit still anymore. He grabs his phone, quickly typing out a message before his brain can catch up with his heart.

◁Meet me at our usual spot in the park.

The second he sends it, he’s on his feet, running out the door without a second thought.

When Hyunjin arrives at the park, breathless and heart racing, Seungmin’s already there. He looks nervous, his hands fidgeting at his sides, but the moment his eyes land on Hyunjin, a visible wave of relief washes over him.

Hyunjin stops just a few feet away, catching his breath as he looks at the alien he’s hopelessly fallen for.

“Seungmin, you are a fool!” he blurts out, his voice breaking with emotion. “I—”

“Hyunjin.” Seungmin’s voice is soft, almost hesitant when he interrupts. “I think... I love you.”

Hyunjin’s heart skips a beat. “Wha- You think?”

Seungmin’s brow furrows in thought. “It’s hard to explain. I’ve never felt this before, but when I’m with you, everything feels... different. Better. And when I’m not with you, I miss you.” He pauses, his gaze meeting Hyunjin’s. “Is that what love is supposed to feel like?”

Hyunjin’s chest tightens with warmth, and he smiles softly, reaching out to cup Seungmin’s cheek. “Yeah,” he whispers. “That’s love.”

Seungmin’s expression softens, and he leans into Hyunjin’s touch. “Then, yes. I love you. With the full power of my two hearts.”

Hyunjin stares at him, blinking in surprise, before laughing. “Oh, you’re learning! You’re evolving! You’re being cheesy on purpose! Who would’ve known?” He tenderly pinches Seungmin’s cheek. “But I love you too, you big dork.”

Seungmin tilts his head, his eyes twinkling in that way that makes Hyunjin’s chest tighten. He can’t help himself but to close the remaining distance between them and hug Seungmin silly.

“I missed you so much,” Hyunjin whispers, his voice cracking with the weight of everything he’s felt. “You stupid alien.”

Seungmin chuckles softly, hugging him back. “I missed you too.”

“So, what now?” Hyunjin asks quietly, not entirely sure if he’s ready for the answer.

“Now... we go on the real date,” Seungmin says, his voice carrying that familiar logic, but there’s something warmer behind it now. “Without it being an experiment.”

Hyunjin chuckles, shaking his head. “I don’t even know if I remember what a real date feels like anymore.”

“I can bring my tablet with me, make some measurements to… facilitate the transition”.

“Don’t you dare, you soulless calculator!”

Seungmin laughs. “Okay, no more research, no more data. Just... us.”

Hyunjin lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. It’s strange how easy those words make everything feel. There’s no pressure, no need to fit into expectations. It’s just them, navigating the mess of emotions and uncertainties together.

Hyunjin steps back slightly, his hands still resting on Seungmin’s chest. His fingers absentmindedly trace the fabric of Seungmin’s shirt, feeling the subtle rhythm of his two hearts beating beneath his touch.

“You’re serious about this?” Hyunjin asks, searching Seungmin’s eyes for any hint of doubt.

“Completely,” Seungmin says, his thumb brushing gently over Hyunjin’s cheek. “I don't have all the answers, but I do know that this,” he gestures between them, “feels right. And I want to see where it goes. With you.”

Hyunjin’s heart stirs at that, and for the first time in what feels like forever, the weight that’s been pressing down on him lifts. He pulls Seungmin closer again, resting his head against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of him, the comfort in his presence. It’s not perfect, and it’s definitely not the plan either of them had when they started, but it’s theirs.

“I thought you’d run off back to your planet or something,” Hyunjin murmurs, half-joking, half-serious.

Seungmin laughs softly, his breath warm against Hyunjin’s hair. “I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”

Hyunjin pulls back slightly, enough to look up at him. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go that easily, Seungmin.”

“Deal,” Seungmin whispers, and before either of them can say anything else, Hyunjin presses his lips to Seungmin’s in a soft, lingering kiss. There’s no desperation in this one, no need to rush. It’s steady, sure — an unspoken promise that whatever comes next, they’ll face it together.

fin.