The silence in the exam hall was absolute—thick enough to choke on. Pens scratched over paper like desperate whispers, the only sound save for the occasional sigh or the anxious shuffle of legs under desks. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow over rows of hunched students, each swallowed by their own private hell of formulas and proofs.

You sat dead center, knuckles white around your pencil, eyes darting between the question sheet and the clock ticking with cruel indifference. The numbers refused to make sense. Your pulse was loud in your ears. Integrals, variables, limits—they all blurred into one mocking mass of torment.

Just for a second, you looked up, eyes drifting to the tall, narrow window that offered a view of the corridor outside. And there he was.

Hyunjin.

Your boyfriend, standing just beyond the glass, in his signature loose hoodie and an expression far too amused for a Tuesday morning. He wiggled his fingers in a lazy wave, and then—god, of course—he lifted a makeshift sign from behind his back. Sloppy marker strokes scrawled one word across cardboard:

"Date?"

Your mouth parted in disbelief. You glanced down at your exam sheet, then back at him with an incredulous glare, mouthing, 'Are you insane?' A sharp shake of your head followed, along with a frantic hand gesture to the invigilator prowling the aisle.

He tapped his chin, clearly pretending to ponder. Then, in true Hyunjin fashion, he simply disappeared.

You barely had time to worry before it happened.

BZZZZZZT. The fire alarm screamed to life.

Overhead, sprinklers erupted like fountains, dousing desks, exams, and shrieking students in a torrential downpour. The room exploded into chaos—papers drenched and flying, chairs scraping, the invigilators barking useless commands over the siren as students bolted for the exits.

Through the mist and mayhem, a soaked hand grabbed yours—Hyunjin.

“You said no,” he grinned, tugging you into the hall, “so I changed the circumstances.”