The Algorithm of Obsession

9.

it should be illegal to update after 3 months,

and i plead the eighth

please forgive me, between finding uni and post entrance shit-bottom

 (yes rock bottom is too high up for me) i plead forgiveness for my creativity had gone in coma.

this chapter might as well come off as a disappointment but we gotta start somewhere, have a seat babes let the ride begin!

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Novi's room was quiet except for the soft hum of her ceiling fan. A half-finished sketch of a soufflé recipe lay on the table, ignored. Her best friend, Mira, sprawled on the bed, scrolling through her phone.

"So," Mira said without looking up, "why do you look like you're plotting world domination again?"

Novi rolled her eyes, hugging her pillow. "That was a one time thing!"
"And not world domination. Just... an experiment."

That finally made Mira glance over. "Experiment?"

Novi hesitated, chewing on her lip. She couldn't explain it fully—not yet. But she had this pull, this need to know. "Yeah. With Kian."

The second his name left her lips, Mira's mouth curved into a slow, wicked smirk. "Ah. Kian. Didn't we just roast you about him yesterday? And here you are, alone in your room, plotting experiments with his name on them."

"Mira," Novi groaned, shoving the pillow over her face.

Mira only laughed, triumphant. "Don't bother hiding, you're blushing."

Peeking out from behind the pillow, Novi narrowed her eyes. "It's not like that. I'm... testing him. Little things. To see if he's really who I think he is."

Mira tilted her head, smirk still firmly in place. "Testing him for what?"

Novi hugged the pillow tighter. "I can't explain. You'll see. It'll be obvious later."

Mira finally tossed her phone aside, sitting up straight as Novi slid a notebook across the desk like it contained state secrets.

"Okay," Mira said, arching a brow, "what's this, a grocery list?"

Novi shook her head, all business. "This is the operation plan. Subject: Kian."

Mira's smirk widened. "Oh, we're calling him subject now. Fancy."

"Focus," Novi snapped, though her eyes gleamed. "We're running controlled experiments. I need your help with execution."

She flipped the notebook open, revealing her neat, bullet-point handwriting.

"Variable One — Knowledge Retention. Objective: test subject's awareness of personal details. Control group: things my friends know. We'll measure deviation in accuracy."

Mira whistled low. "You're literally making this sound like a lab report."

"Well, I am aiming to be a food tech one day," she said in a duh tone. Catching herself before this spun into a whole new tangent (like literally every other conversation between these two), she snapped back: "No distractions. Shush."

"Variable Two — Social Interaction Index. Objective: observe subject's behaviour with peers versus authority figures. Note any inconsistencies."

Mira leaned forward, grin growing.

"Variable Three — Post-Class Trajectory. Track subject's movements after hours. Identify frequent locations, assess behavioural patterns."

"Stalker vibes, but continue," Mira muttered, scribbling fake notes in the air.

"Hmm?" Nov glanced over.

Mira raised her hands like she'd been caught red-handed.

"Variable Four — Communication Matrix. Collect data on texting style, frequency, tone. Compare across multiple recipients if possible."

Mira nodded gravely. "In other words, we're screenshotting receipts."

"Variable Five — Object Response. Present specific items and measure reaction. Note micro-expressions, delays, changes in vocal tone."

"And?" Mira prompted, waiting for more.

Novi closed the notebook with a snap, handing it to Mira. "That's classified."

Mira burst out laughing, loud and unrestrained. "Novi, this is absurd. You're treating him like a rat in a maze."

Novi gave her a flat look. "So you're not helping?"

Mira's grin softened into something fierce, loyal. "Girl, you know I'd jump in the ocean for you. Of course I'm helping. Now hand me the lab coat and tell me where we start."

The mischief in their eyes matched perfectly, like two generals about to launch a war.

Mira placed the notebook on Nov's desk with exaggerated drama. "You know, if you put this much passion into your soufflés, your professor wouldn't have made you re-do it four times."

Novi gasped, scandalized, then smacked her with a pillow. "Nooo, don't start. I swear she has a personal vendetta against me. It's not the soufflé, it's me."

Mira howled with laughter, dodging the pillow. "Right, subject: professor. Variable One : hates Novi's face."

That finally cracked Novi's composure, and she doubled over laughing until her stomach hurt.

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A/N:
was this vanilla? 
BUT girll please bear with it this once (and also probably some time in the future im far from perfect lol)
also love Mira!

also all that science talk after so long reallyyy worked my brain- it went to the town on my brain yeaa
(Also no clue why theres an image on the cover - or wtv thats called)