Seki-kun's desk becomes the only place worth watching in class because he turns boredom into architecture. Yokoi gets dragged into his orbit every single episode, getting blamed for things she never started, and the show finds infinite comedy in that one trapped angle. Seven minutes is exactly long enough to build something ridiculous and get out before the premise cracks.
Yokoi thought she'd have a normal school day. Then she sat next to Seki-kun, and everything changed. Her classmate isn't like other students. While lessons drone on, he constructs elaborate worlds right there at his desk: a miniature golf course with painstaking detail, a full-scale battle staged with paper soldiers, domino chains that could span the entire classroom. Each creation is a masterpiece of boredom-fighting ingenuity, and each one catches Yokoi's attention whether she wants it to or not. The problem? She gets pulled into his games. She starts noticing the story unfolding, the mechanics he's built, the careful setup of his next elaborate scheme. And every single time, when the teacher glances over, it's Yokoi who looks guilty. Seki-kun remains perfectly composed, completely innocent in appearance. This is high school as a series of increasingly ridiculous distractions, told from the perspective of someone trying desperately not to be entertained by the boy next to her. Comedy comes from the contrast between his creative chaos and her increasingly futile attempts to ignore it all.