THYME'S POV:
Everyone has fears, and it's easy to say you can conquer them, but much harder to actually do it. My fears eat away at me, making me avoid anything related to them. For me, that means avoiding rejection.
Yes, I'm terrified of being rejected. This fear has deep roots, going all the way back to when my own parents rejected me...they didn't want me to live with them, to stay with them. I only became part of their family because my grandmother passed away. If she hadn't, I would never have had a chance to be with my biological parents.
Growing up, I faced a lot of situations where I was ignored and rejected within my own family. Because of this, I pushed myself to be the best: topping my class, becoming class president, and leading clubs. I did all these things hoping my parents would finally see my worth.
But then, an accident happened a year ago, and I lost some of my memory. I don't know what I lost, but I have a strong feeling that the missing memory is about the rejection I fear the most. I don't know what it was, but I can sense that before the accident, I said something to my parents that made them reject me yet again. My sister has never told me about it. All she says is, "It's better if you don't remember it, because you might not be able to see your parents the way you see them now."
Because I know how painful rejection is, I've never rejected anyone. If someone needs help, I always offer a hand. That's why things got complicated three months ago, the day I passed my interview to get into this university. Someone took a photo of me and posted it on the 'Uni Cute Boys Page.' Even though my photo only got 487 likes, I gained 68 admirers. Out of these, 10% are female, 20% are gay, 20% are bisexual, and 50% are pansexual, omnisexual, or straight but curious. To put it simply, I attracted 90% boys and 10% girls.
It would have been fine if it were just normal attention, or if it was only about one percent of the university's student population, so I tried to ignore it. But what's worse is that these 68 admirers act like die-hard fans. Some send me flowers, some send me chocolates or snacks, and some are even actively trying to court me in person.
I want to make it clear to them that I'm not gay. I will never be attracted to guys, or to anyone, for that matter. I've already given up on love. I have to give it up because I'm too scared of rejection. I've already been rejected twice, so I can't risk my feelings being rejected or abandoned again.
I've never actually said I would reject them. The only thing I keep saying is that I "need time to think." But how long will that really solve the problem? It's been two weeks since they started courting me. There are times I've actually run away from them just to avoid talking, because I simply can't reject them. I'm too afraid of hurting their feelings.
"Thyme, stop staring at your plate like it holds the answers to the universe," Dom's voice cut through my thoughts, jolting me back to the noisy university canteen. Lance snickered beside him, already halfway through his Pad See Ew. We were at our usual table, the one tucked away in the corner, a small island of normalcy amidst the chaotic lunch rush.
"Just thinking," I mumbled, pushing a forkful of rice around my plate. The food tasted bland, even though I knew it was my favorite chicken stir-fry with basil from the school's stall. My mind was still replaying the endless loop of my admirers, their expectant faces, and my own paralyzing fear.
"Thinking about what? Another one of your secret admirers?" Lance teased, nudging my arm.
"Speaking of which," Dom leaned forward, his eyes scanning the bustling room. "Isn't that one of them, over by the Engineering faculty's table?" His gaze settled on someone in the distance. "Yeah, that's definitely him. Looks like he's looking for you, Thyme."
Shit, I need to run away. "Sorry guys, help me hide!" Lance immediately pushed me down the table. "Thyme, crawl towards the other exit," Dom suggested. I scrambled low, following his lead.
"Thank you guys, see you later!" I was almost halfway when I heard a familiar voice talking to Dom and Lance.
"Where is Thyme? Isn't he with you guys?" Shit! That's Prasert Wongsuwan. I didn't even need to turn my head to know it was him. He's the most annoying out of my admirers because he was my schoolmate in high school and the leader of the fan club of my previous band when I was still singing.
"Ah... eh... Thyme went to the bathroom," Dom explained. I didn't have a choice; I decided to stand and run towards the exit. Luckily, he didn't notice me until I reached the exit.
"Wait, isn't that Thyme?" That's the last thing I heard before I ran as fast as I could. I needed a place to hide. The safest place was not the library or the laboratory; it was the rooftop, as it's off-limits to students.
My legs burned, but the adrenaline surged, pushing me faster. Just a little further, Thyme. Don't look back. Don't look back. I burst through the canteen doors and into the main hall. My plan was simple: get to the elevators, go up a few floors, and then make my way to the rooftop stairs. It was a convoluted escape route, but I knew the building's layout better than anyone.
As I rounded the corner, heading for the main elevator bank, my heart sank. My stomach twisted into a knot. There they were, a small group of them, casually loitering by the elevator doors, as if they were just waiting for their turn. But their eyes, wide and searching, confirmed my fear. They were waiting for me.
Dammit! Of course, they'd stake out the elevators. It's the most obvious route.
I immediately stopped, pressing myself against the wall, hoping the stream of students wouldn't part enough for them to spot me. My mind raced. Okay, Thyme, new plan. Elevators are a no-go. Too many of them. Too enclosed. Trapped. Definitely trapped.
I peeked around the corner. One of them, a lanky guy with bright red hair, was actually holding a small bouquet of flowers. Seriously? Flowers in the elevator? Do they think this is a romantic comedy?
Right, stairs it is. Painful, but necessary. I silently cursed my popularity, or rather, the obsessive nature of these people. Why couldn't they just take a hint? Every polite evasion, every "I need time to think," just seemed to fuel their determination. It was like I was speaking a different language.
Taking a deep breath, I subtly changed direction, angling myself towards the lesser-used stairwell at the far end of the hall. It was a longer walk, and the stairs themselves were a grueling climb, but at least it offered a chance at anonymity. As I walked, I kept my head down, pretending to be engrossed in my phone, even though my fingers were just nervously tapping the screen.
Just keep moving, Thyme. Don't draw attention. Don't make eye contact. You're invisible.
I could feel my chest tightening with each step, not from the physical exertion, but from the constant, gnawing anxiety. Would I ever be truly free of them? Would I ever just be able to walk across campus without feeling like I was being hunted? The rooftop felt like a temporary reprieve, but I knew, deep down, this wasn't a sustainable solution.
"Finally! Just a few more steps," I gasped, my lungs burning. I was really exhausted. I'd never climbed a total of six floors via staircase before, and it had been a while since I'd had proper exercise.
"Yes, I'm lucky! The rooftop is open!" I immediately went in, and no one was out there. I thought I'd spend the remaining two hours of my free time here.
The cool breeze on the rooftop was a welcome relief, a stark contrast to the stuffy stairwell and the suffocating pressure of the canteen. I took a deep, shaky breath, letting my shoulders drop. For a moment, there was just the quiet hum of the city below and the vast, open sky above. Finally, some peace.
I walked further onto the spacious concrete, intending to find a secluded spot to just... be. But then I saw him.
He was leaning against the far railing, a tall, imposing figure even from a distance. As I got closer, I realized just how tall – easily 185 cm to my meager 169 cm. He had the kind of build you only saw in sports magazines: athletic, clearly muscular, but lean, not bulky. And his face... undeniably handsome, with sharp features and a relaxed, almost bored expression.
A knot tightened in my stomach. Great, just what I needed. Another person. And this one radiated an aura of quiet confidence that instantly made me feel small and, frankly, intimidated. I appreciated the aesthetics, of course – anyone would acknowledge he was handsome – but a wave of nervousness washed over me. Who is this guy? And why is he here?
He turned slowly, as if sensing my presence, his eyes, dark and unreadable, locking onto mine.
"Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in," he said, his voice deep and calm, yet it held an edge that made me flinch internally. "Not many people make it up here. And even fewer know I'm usually here. So," he paused, pushing off the railing and taking a deliberate step towards me, his gaze sweeping over me with an unnerving intensity, "How did you know? And how exactly did you get up here?"
I stammered, my mind a blank. "I... I just... I didn't know anyone was here."
He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of something that looked like annoyance crossing his face. "Don't tell me you're another one." His voice dropped, losing its calm facade and becoming sharper. "You've been watching me, haven't you? Figured out my spot. Is that why you're not answering? Because you're one of them?"
I blinked, completely caught off guard. One of what? His admirers? Me? Never! The sheer absurdity of the accusation, coupled with his aggressive tone, completely paralyzed my tongue. I just stared, my mouth slightly agape, trying to process his words.
My silence, it seemed, only confirmed his suspicions. He let out a short, humorless laugh. "Listen, I don't have time for this, or for you." He gestured vaguely towards the stairwell with a dismissive hand. "This is my territory. My space. So if you're one of my little fan club, you can leave. Now. I come here to escape, not to be stared at."
My initial fear evaporated, replaced by a surge of pure, unadulterated irritation. His territory? Who does this guy think he is? My voice, when it came, was sharper than I intended.
"Excuse me?!" I practically scoffed. "'Your territory'? Do you even know where you are? This rooftop," I emphasized, gesturing around us, "is on top of the Faculty of Science building! And you, with your Engineering uniform, are telling me this is your territory?! How does that even make sense?! You're not even a student of this building!"
He didn't even dignify my outburst with a response. Not a word. Not a glance. He simply turned, walked past me as if I were thin air, and headed towards a battered lounge chair tucked away in a sunny corner. He lay down, pulled a thick textbook from his bag, and covered his face with it. Within seconds, his breathing evened out. He was just... sleeping.
I stared, dumbfounded. He had actually just ignored me. Completely. Utterly. Ignored. Me.
A Most Annoying Rooftop Guest
I wanted to kick that bastard. Seriously, just a swift, precise kick right where the sun don't shine (or where the book was, in this case). But no, my inner voice, the one that lectures me about kindness and not sinking to the level of rude giants, held me back. For now, I would just let him be, as long as he didn't bother me for the remaining time I planned to spend on this very much not his personal rooftop.
"But where should I sit?" I muttered to myself, scanning the immediate vicinity. My eyes landed on a perfectly good chair, regrettably, right next to the Sleeping Gorilla. Ugh.
"Just need to ignore his presence and everything will be alright," I whispered, like a mantra to myself, then tiptoed towards the chair, moving with the stealth of a highly anxious ninja. The last thing I needed was to wake the beast.
I finally settled into the chair, leaning back and looking up at the sky. Oh, it was beautiful. A canvas of vibrant blue, dotted with fluffy white clouds, each one a whimsical shape. From this height, I could truly appreciate the vastness, the serenity.
You know what would fit perfectly with this atmosphere? My stomach rumbled, already plotting. A nice, spicy Som Tum (Green Papaya Salad). It's light, refreshing, colorful, and packed with vibrant flavors—spicy, tangy, slightly sweet. Perfect for a breezy rooftop with a view. And the crunch and zest? Totally mirroring the energy of a bright, cloud-dotted sky.
And then? Definitely some Gai Yang (Grilled Chicken). Smoky, juicy, pairs beautifully with the Som Tum. And of course, Khao Niao (Sticky Rice) – essential for scooping up all that deliciousness. For dessert, a classic Khao Niao Mamuang (Mango with Sticky Rice). Light, tropical, the perfect sweet ending. Imagine eating that combination while sipping on a cold Thai iced tea or a refreshing lemongrass drink, the city view stretching beyond you under a sky like that... that's peak serenity and flavor.
"Argh, I'm starting to get hungry again," I groaned, talking out loud without thinking. Luckily, the bastard didn't stir. His textbook-covered face remained as still as a stone.
"Glorp... glorp..."
SHIT! My stomach's protest was so loud, it sounded like a dying whale. Did I wake him up? I froze, my eyes darting towards the gorilla-shaped lump. Oh god, did he hear that? Did he just twitch?
"But will he... might he... wake up if I check if he's sleeping or not?" I whispered, arguing with myself. My internal debate raged for a full three seconds.
"Just a peek only," I decided, convinced I could be discreet. Slowly, ever so slowly, I reached out and lifted the corner of the book covering the bastard's face.
I wasn't expecting him to be awake. I definitely wasn't expecting him to have been waiting for me to lift the book. Our eyes met, and his were wide open, a mischievous glint dancing in their depths.
"Shit!" I yelped, immediately scrambling backward, almost tripping over my own feet. I took a few frantic steps away from him, feeling like a caught mouse.
He slowly pushed the book off his face, a lazy smirk spreading across his lips. "Trying to check if I'm sleeping?"
"No! I was..." My mind raced for a plausible lie, but nothing came.
"Stop making excuses. It's clear you're one of my admirers." He stated it with such obnoxious certainty, such unshakeable arrogance. I wanted to punch him, to wipe that smug look off his face, but a quick assessment of his muscular physique versus my own noodle arms quickly squashed that urge. I knew I couldn't win a fight against this walking gym advertisement.
"I don't care what you think about me," I snapped, my frustration boiling over. "I'm tired of being misunderstood by a bastard like you!" I glared, then turned my back on him with as much dignity as I could muster, stomping back to the chair where I was sitting earlier.
He let out a loud, booming laugh that echoed across the rooftop. "You are funny!"
His laughter grated on my nerves, every decibel adding to my irritation. But I forced myself to remain calm. I couldn't get entangled in more troublesome situations. Not today.
Then, he spoke again, his voice still tinged with amusement. "I was just joking, you know. I know you're not my admirer... I don't think I have an admirer who has such a loud, rumbling stomach."
My face burned. "I... it didn't happen! Stop saying nonsense!" I tried to deny it, even though I knew the damning evidence had just reverberated through the very air we breathed. He just laughed harder.
"Stop laughing at me, you stupid giant gorilla!" The words flew out before I could stop them. My hand immediately clamped over my mouth. Shit! Why did I say that? Did I just annoy him even more? Will he actually crush me now?
He tilted his head, his laughter finally subsiding into a low chuckle. "Okay, okay. I'll stop laughing at you, Snotty Kid."
Snotty Kid?! My jaw dropped. Heat rushed to my face. Do I look like a kid to him?! I'm in university! But then, a flicker of self-preservation kicked in. No, Thyme. Don't engage. Just... stop talking back. He'll get bored eventually.
He swung his legs off the chair, sitting up. "I'm also hungry," he announced, as if it were a profound revelation. "Do you want to join me?"
My brain sputtered. "Are you serious? Do you think I'm a kid who will join a stranger because they invited me to eat?" I shot back, purely out of reflex. The idea was preposterous. A total stranger. A rude, arrogant, gorilla-like stranger.
"But I'll treat you anything you want," he added, a hint of a challenge in his eyes.
Free meals. The two most beautiful words in the Thai language. My resolve wavered. I was hesitant, battling my pride against my perpetually hungry stomach. This guy was annoying, beyond annoying, but... free food.
"If you don't want it, it's fine," he said, pushing himself up, as if preparing to leave.
No, wait! It was frustrating, humiliating even, to consider, but a free meal was a free meal. The thought of all those delicious Thai dishes, paid for by someone else... it was too tempting.
"Fine!" I blurted out, trying to sound as unenthusiastic as possible. "I'll join you. As long as it's your treat."
"Okay." A genuine smile, surprisingly charming, finally broke through his usual aloof expression. He extended a hand, the one not holding his Engineering textbook, towards me. "I'm Meta."
I hesitated, then reluctantly took his hand. His grip was firm, warm. "Thyme."
We stood there for a moment, an awkward silence hanging between us, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the campus below. Well, Thyme, you managed to escape a fan club only to walk straight into a... whatever this is. A free meal. That was it. Just a free meal. No big deal. Just a very tall, very handsome, very annoying stranger who now knew my name.
He dropped my hand, turning towards the stairwell. "Lead the way, Thyme. You look like you could use a proper meal to fill that rumbling stomach of yours."
My face flushed again. He was never going to let me forget that, was he? I glared at his retreating back, then sighed. At least he was leading the way. And free food awaited. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Maybe.