Research On You

Chapter 1 : We Were The Last Two

The fluorescent lights in Bio Lab 3 buzzed like they were personally judging all forty of us.

It was the first day of thesis class for fourth-year BS Biology. Four months until defense. Four months until graduation. Four months until we found out if the last four years actually meant something.

I was on my third cup of coffee.

"Good morning, class," Professor Celestia "Celes" Dela Vega said. She was in her forties, sharp suit, sharper eyes. The kind of professor who could tell you were lying from the way you clicked your pen. "This is your final semester. Which means it is time for your final thesis."

The room groaned.

"For this project, you will work in pairs," Professor Celes continued. "No groups. No solo work. Pairs. Your research topic must be related to human biology and psychology. Choose something you can finish in four months. I am not extending deadlines."

My hand shot up immediately. "Ma'am, can I partner with Seraphina Santos?"

Sera. My best friend since freshman year. BS Biology. Loud. Chaotic. The human equivalent of a group chat at 3 AM. She was the one who told me to sleep, to eat, to stop highlighting my textbooks until the pages bled color. She was also the one who said, "Girl, if you’re not going to court him, I will," every time she saw me glaring at Theodore Alistair.

Professor Celes glanced at her tablet. "Santos is already paired with Villanueva. Engineering needed an extra for their biostatistics data."

"What?" Sera and I said at the same time.

Sera was sitting three rows ahead with Cassian "Cass" Villanueva. Cass. Theodore’s best friend. BS Biology. Quiet. Tall. The type who barely talked but when he did, people listened. Protective to a fault. He and Theodore had been together since day one of freshman year.

Sera mouthed "sorry" at me. I rolled my eyes and pretended it was fine.

"Any other pre-arranged partnerships?" Professor Celes asked.

Hands went up. Names were called. People moved seats.

I stayed put and organized my pens. Pink for introduction. Blue for literature review. Yellow for methodology. Green for results. If I couldn’t control my partner, I could control my notes.

Twenty minutes later.

"Alright," Professor Celes said. "Last two names. Anastasia Isolde Reyes."

I stood up. "Present."

"And Theodore Alistair."

The door opened at 10:02 AM.

Theodore Alistair.

Hoodie. Jeans. Two minutes late, like always. Tall. Chill. Rich. BS Biology, same block as me for four years. The genius slacker. The class clown. The guy who walked in late and still answered every question correctly.

"Sorry, ma'am. Traffic," he said.

Professor Celes sighed. "Take a seat, Alistair. Reyes and Alistair. You two are partners."

Silence.

Everyone knew. Anastasia Isolde Reyes. The perfectionist. The working student. I worked at Rel’s Cafe to pay for tuition. Type A. Planner. Afraid to fail. The girl who thought she had to fix everything.

Theodore Alistair. The genius slacker. The "I'll do it later" king who somehow always did it.

Oil and water.

"Ma'am, is there anyone else I can—" I started.

"No," Professor Celes cut me off. "You are the last two. You will make it work. My office, Friday at three PM. Bring three topic proposals."

Class dismissed.

I was packing when someone leaned on my desk.

"Hey, partner," Theodore said.

I didn’t look up. "Don’t call me that."

"What, partner? We’re literally partners now. For four months. For a thesis." He dragged the word out. "Part-ner."

I looked up. He was holding two paper cups. Black coffee. No sugar. Exactly how I drank it.

"Did you just—"

"Buy you coffee?" He finished. "Yeah. For research."

"I didn’t ask for coffee."

"You looked like you were going to pass out," he said. "And we have work to do."

I took it. My pride had limits.

"Fine," I said. "Weekly meetings. Color-coded files. Deadlines a week early. No excuses."

He grinned. "Damn. And here I thought we were gonna wing it."

"We are not winging a thesis, Theodore."

"Theodore," he repeated. "Nobody calls me that. It’s Theo."

"I’ll call you what I want."

He laughed. "Fair. So, Ms. Reyes. What do you want to research?"

I pulled out my notebook. "Option one: Academic pressure and memory. Option two: Coping mechanisms of working students. Option three—"

"Grief and healing," he interrupted.

I stopped. "That wasn’t on my list."

"Add it," he said. Joking, but not. "It’s human. People don’t talk about it enough."

"Why grief and healing?"

He shrugged. "Because we’re all going to lose something. Might as well study how to survive it. Plus, it sounds deep. Professors love deep."

"That is the worst reason."

"Is it working?" he grinned.

I sighed. "Fine. Grief and healing. But I’m lead researcher. You do interviews."

"Deal," he said. "But I name the thesis."

"You don’t—"

"'Research on You,'" he said.

"That’s not academic."

"It’s memorable," he said. "Professor Celes likes memorable."

I hated that he was right.

---

That night I was at Rel’s Cafe until 10 PM. Aurelia "Rel" Mendoza, my manager and sister figure, kept refilling my coffee.

"Thesis?" she asked.

"Partners," I said. "With Theodore Alistair."

Rel paused. "The one who’s always late?"

"The same."

She clicked her tongue. "God help you, kid."

My phone buzzed.

Unknown: Hey. It's Theo. From class.

Unknown: Sent you a folder. "Research on You - Draft 1"

Unknown: Don't hate it yet. Read it tomorrow.

I opened it. Five pages. Organized. Footnotes.

_P.S. I got you more coffee tomorrow. - T

---

Friday. 3 PM. Professor Celes’ office.

Theodore was already there. On time. For once.

"Reyes," Professor Celes said. "Alistair. Sit."

"I read your proposals," she said. "Grief and healing. Interesting."

Theodore shrugged. "It felt right. Plus, it’s different."

Professor Celes looked at us. "It is a difficult topic. It requires empathy. Can you handle that?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said.

Theodore nodded. "We can handle it."

"Good," she said. "Progress reports every two weeks. Both of you. Together. Dismissed."

Outside, Sera and Cass were waiting.

"Well?" Sera asked. "Did you survive?"

"Barely," I said.

Cass looked at Theodore. "You good?"

"Peachy," Theodore said. "We got approved. Thesis title: 'Research on You.'"

Sera gasped. "That’s so cute!"

"It is not cute," I said.

"It is cute," Sera insisted.

"Hey! Wait up!"

Elias "Eli" Torres. BS Communication Arts. Campus photographer. Soft-spoken. Always had a camera. Always had snacks. Called everyone "kid."

"Professor Celes said you need photos for your thesis presentation," Eli said. "I’m your guy. I document everything. For the memories."

He smiled. "I’m Eli. Smile, kids. This one’s for later."

"Later for what?" I asked.

"You’ll see," he winked.

---

The next two weeks were chaos.

Library at 9 PM. Theodore showed up with food. "Brain food," he said. "Salt helps with focus."

"That’s not how that works."

"Sure it is," he said. "Science."

"You’re impossible."

"I prefer charming," he said.

We worked. I typed. He read. Every ten minutes he’d slide me a paper with a sticky note. "This might help." "Good point." "This sentence is too long, Ms. Grammar Police."

At 11:30 PM, he leaned back. "Break time."

"We’re not taking a break."

"We are," he said. "Mandatory. Doctor’s orders."

"Are you a doctor?"

"No, but I play one on TV," he said. He came back with water and chips.

"Junk food?"

"Brain food," he corrected. "See? Science."

"You’re ridiculous."

"Thank you," he bowed. "I try."

At 12:30 AM, he said, "Reyes."

"Hmm?"

"Why grief and healing?"

I hesitated. "Because it’s relevant. Because people our age deal with it and don’t know how to talk about it."

"Good answer," he said.

"What about you?"

He shrugged. "Same. It’s human. And I’m curious."

We worked until 1:30 AM.

1:45 AM. My phone buzzed.

Sera: Are you still with him?

Me: Yes. He’s annoying

Sera: Good. That means he likes you.

Me: That is NOT what that means.

Sera: Keep telling yourself that.

"You good?" Theodore asked.

"Fine," I said. "Just Sera."

"How is she?"

"Loud," I said. "But nice."

He nodded. "She seems nice."

At 2 AM, the lights dimmed. Ten minutes until closing.

I was typing when I felt my hands shake. From exhaustion. From coffee.

Theodore noticed. "Hey."

"What?"

"You’re tired."

"I’m fine."

"You’re not," he said. "We’re done for tonight. I’ll walk you out."

"I can walk myself."

"I know," he said. "But I’m walking you anyway. Field study on campus safety."

"That’s not real."

"It is now," he grinned. "Come on, Ms. Color-Coded Notes."

The campus was empty at 2 AM. Quiet.

"You’re really intense," he said.

"I am not."

"You are," he said. "You care about everything. Your grades. Your job. This thesis. It’s exhausting watching you."

"Is that a complaint?"

"No," he said. "It’s an observation. It’s cool. But you don’t have to do everything alone."

We reached the gate.

"Thanks," I said. "For walking me."

"Anytime," he said. "You’re doing good. With the thesis. With everything."

"You’re not so bad either. For a slacker."

He gasped. "Slacker? I’m wounded."

"You are a slacker."

"I’m a strategic procrastinator," he corrected. "Difference."

"Sure."

He laughed. "See you Monday. For interview drafts."

"Don’t be late."

"No promises," he said. "But I’ll try. For you."

He walked away.

Back in my dorm, an email.

From: Theodore Alistair

Subject: Research on You - Notes*

Added three sources.

Found two interview participants.

Also: you laughed at 12:37 AM. Logged.

You did good today, partner.

Go sleep. - T

P.S. The chips were for you.

I opened my notebook.

Pink: Introduction.

Blue: Literature Review.

Yellow: Methodology.

Green: Results.

Purple: Unexpected.

Under purple:

Coffee without asking.

Chips from vending.

Jokes that made me laugh.

A genius slacker who notices too much.

Maybe this thesis wasn’t just research.

Maybe it was me, researching him.

And maybe he was researching me too.

Some studies take four years.

Some people take longer.

Theodore Alistair was going to take me the longest.

END OF CHAPTER 1