THYME'S POV:
The first thing I registered was the smell: a heady, mouthwatering swirl of lime, chili, grilled chicken, and sweet mango. It clung to me, wrapped around me like a warm blanket, pulling me deeper into the most glorious dream I'd ever had.
I was floating, suspended in a culinary wonderland. Around me, plates piled high with Som Tum sparkled, the green papaya strips glistening. Juicy pieces of Gai Yang practically begged to be eaten, their smoky aroma intoxicating. And then, the ultimate seduction: golden slices of ripe Nam Dok Mai mango, nestled beside perfectly steamed sticky rice, gleaming under an invisible spotlight. My dream-self, unburdened by worries or social anxieties, felt pure, unadulterated bliss. This was it. This was the pinnacle of human existence.
I reached out, my mouth watering, but then something odd happened. A plump, glistening piece of mango sticky rice, not content to just sit there, wiggled off its plate. It didn't just wiggle; it scooted towards me, then, with a tiny, adorable sound like a contented sigh, it hugged my leg.
"Wha—?" My dream-brain struggled to compute. More food joined it. A strand of green papaya from the Som Tum stretched out, wrapping around my arm like a playful vine. A small, crispy piece of grilled chicken detached itself from its skewer and snuggled into my side. Soon, I was enveloped. Living, breathing, delicious food creatures were hugging me.
It was terrifying. And yet... strangely, undeniably, happy-making. How could I be scared when a tiny, sweet mango was nuzzling my cheek? How could I feel anything but joy when a spicy, tangy sliver of papaya was clinging to my shirt? My heart pounded with a mix of alarm and... well, delight. They were so soft, so warm, so incredibly appetizing.
But as more and more food-creatures clamored for my affection, piling onto me, burying me in a delicious, overwhelming embrace, the "happy" part of "scared but happy" started to shrink. I was being smothered. By Pad See Ew noodles. By tiny, sentient spring rolls. By an entire bowl of Tom Yum soup that seemed to be trying to swallow my head whole.
This is too much! I can't breathe!
My instincts, the primordial Thyme-instincts, took over. If something's hugging you and it's delicious, there's only one logical response. I started to eat. I crunched on the spring roll that was clinging to my ear. I slurped up the noodles tangled in my hair. I devoured the mango that was still stubbornly snuggling against my neck. I ate and ate, until the pile of edible affection around me began to dwindle.
Just as I thought I had consumed every single, lovable, huggable food creature, a shadow fell over me. I looked up.
And there he was. Meta. He stood over me, tall and impossibly handsome, but with a twinkle in his eye that bordered on mischievous. In his hands, a shimmering, almost magical wok.
"You like my creations, Thyme?" he purred, his voice resonating with an otherworldly satisfaction. "I can make more. Endless. All for you."
The realization hit me like a ton of bricks made of sticky rice. He was the source! He created these living, delicious beings! My dream-logic, utterly untethered from reality, made an immediate, profound leap.
"Meta!" I declared, scrambling to my feet, my voice filled with a desperate, food-fueled epiphany. "You have to be my boyfriend! You have to! Imagine... endless food! Endless deliciousness! We'll never go hungry! You can just... create food for me forever!"
My eyes snapped open.
I lay there in the predawn light of my dorm room, staring at the ceiling. The sounds of distant traffic slowly replaced the dream's symphony of sizzling woks and happy food-creatures. The cool air didn't feel anywhere near as comforting as a warm mango hug.
"No. No, no, no, no, NO!" I bolted upright, clutching my pillow. The dream replayed in my mind, the horrifying clarity of it. Me. Declaring my undying affection to Meta. Not because he was kind, or funny, or even remotely less annoying. But because he could create delicious food.
"I wanted to make him my boyfriend... because of food?!" I roared, my voice barely a whisper in the quiet room. A wave of pure, incandescent fury washed over me. "That bastard! He's hypnotizing me! Even in my dreams, I'm getting tricked by his food offers! He's turning me into a food-obsessed maniac!"
I threw my pillow across the room in disgust. This was beyond unacceptable. This was an affront to my very being. This was... Meta's fault.
When I turned my head towards my clock, it was already 7:30. My alarm hadn't rung at all. "Shit, I'm going to be late!" I tried to immediately stand, but the blanket wrapped around my feet caused me to lose my balance and smash my face directly onto the floor. "Urggg... That hurts," I groaned, pushing myself up as quickly as possible despite the throbbing pain. Being late to class was a bigger concern.
I hadn't even had time to iron my uniform, so it was a wrinkled mess. I ignored it, heading straight to the bathroom for a quick shower before throwing on my crumpled clothes. Time was ticking, so I ran as fast as I could.
When I arrived at the bus stop, I couldn't help but notice that most of the students I passed were staring at me weirdly. Some were whispering, their words too low for me to catch. What the hell is happening? I wondered, but decided to ignore it for now. The bus arrived on time, and I successfully boarded.
Upon entering the university campus, the stares intensified. Students continued to gaze and whisper, and it really confused me. Was it about my wrinkled uniform? Or something else? I desperately wanted to know, but I couldn't just ask them directly. This wasn't like high school, where everyone knew everyone's business within a few hours. University was supposed to be my fresh start, a place where I could finally blend in, where the constant scrutiny and bizarre attention might finally fade. Instead, it felt like a spotlight had been turned up even brighter. The whispers, the strange looks – they were a familiar, unwelcome chorus, but now they carried a new, unsettling weight. It felt heavier, more widespread, as if something significant had happened, something everyone knew about but me. The usual "too cute" or "too vanilla" judgments had morphed into something colder, more pointed. I could feel their eyes dissecting me, each whisper a tiny knife prick. It was like walking through a minefield of judgment, though I felt blind to its specific threats. All I could do was keep moving, feigning indifference, trying to outrun the invisible current of gossip that seemed to swirl around me.
I successfully reached the lecture hall just before our professor showed up. Dom and Lance waved, catching my eye, and I immediately went straight to them. There was something odd about their expressions the moment I sat down, and that's when they started talking.
"Thyme, what happened yesterday?" Lance immediately asked, his usual chill replaced by a worried furrow in his brow.
"What do you mean, 'what happened'? I don't get you," I replied, my voice probably too casual for the dread already stirring in my gut.
"Lance means this," Dom interjected, his phone already out and thrust into my face. The screen showed a picture of me and Meta eating in a restaurant, clear as day.
"What! How did you have this picture?" My confusion wrestled with a sudden, clammy nervousness.
"It was posted on a page called 'Uni Pue-uk'," Dom explained, scrolling through the comments.
"Wait, the page name is Uni Taro?" I genuinely thought I'd misheard. Why would it be called that?
"What planet did you come from, Thyme? 'Pue-uk' is a slang word for 'to be nosy' or simply 'gossip'!" Dom exclaimed, rolling his eyes.
"Both of you, stop. We're getting off track here," Lance cut in, his gaze fixed on me.
"Why were you with Meta yesterday, Thyme?"
Shit. Lance looked so serious. How the hell was I supposed to tell them I'd followed a complete stranger just because he offered me a free meal? The memory of that delicious food, the one I'd even dreamed about, brought a fresh wave of mortification.
"Have your m..." Dom started, ever the tactless one, but Lance clamped a hand over his mouth.
"Just answer my question, Thyme. You are now a hot topic in the university. Based on the comments, you are Meta's boyfriend." My eyes widened in disbelief.
"What the... are you serious? Did they mistake me for that bastard's boyfriend?" Lance and Dom nodded, their expressions grim. The real problem wasn't just the rumor; it was how I was going to explain it to them. I didn't want to lie, but I was too embarrassed to admit I was tempted by free, delicious food.
"Thyme, we are waiting for yo..." Lance's words trailed off as our professor entered the lecture hall. I was saved, but only for a few hours. How could I possibly come up with a reasonable explanation without revealing my utter idiocy to them?
The class ended. I practically bolted from the lecture hall, my mind still a frantic blank. I hadn't come up with a single plausible explanation. The moment I stepped outside, a wall of girls stood waiting, their faces serious, some glaring at me with open irritation. This wasn't the usual university crowd; this was an organized front. My "fresh start" was quickly dissolving into the same old nightmare, but amplified. The casual glances from earlier had been a mere prelude to this confrontation. University life, with its larger campus and more diverse student body, had only meant more people to spread rumors, more eyes to scrutinize, and more, seemingly coordinated, groups to corner me. This wasn't just individual admirers or haters; this felt like a full-blown, campus-wide conspiracy against my peace.
One girl, who seemed to be their leader, stepped forward. "Are you Khun Ahan Yimgin?"
Wait! What? How did they know my full name? This situation was far more serious than I'd anticipated. My full name was only on official records, not something casual acquaintances knew. The sheer scale of their information meant this wasn't just idle gossip. My heart pounded a new rhythm of alarm.
"Yes, I am. What can I do for you?" I tried to act as polite as possible, a desperate attempt to diffuse whatever was coming.
"Thyme, are you trying to run away from us?" Dom's voice came from behind, but he stopped when he noticed I was talking to someone.
"Are you Meta's Boyfriend?" The leader's question hit me like a physical blow. Shit, are they serious?!
"No, I'm not!" I denied instantly, perhaps too vehemently.
"I don't believe you. Meta only has three friends, and all of them are from the Faculty of Engineering," another girl spoke up, her voice sharp and accusatory.
"I..." How could I possibly explain this to strangers? It was too embarrassing to blurt out the truth to people I'd just met.
"She is right! We are Meta's admirers since high school, and we've never seen you with Meta before, so what is your relationship with him?" Their questions were getting more piercing, their expressions more menacing.
"I'm not his b..." I tried to deny the accusation again, but their collective presence was becoming overwhelming. They were getting scarier by the second.
I grabbed Dom and Lance, yanking them forward. "Sorry, guys, please help me run away from them!" I used them as human shields, practically shoving them into the path of those girls, and then I bolted like a startled gazelle. I could hear their shouts, a furious, high-pitched chorus calling my name.
"Hey! Don't run away from us!" Shit, they were faster runners than I expected. Seriously, what were these girls eating for breakfast—pure adrenaline and a side of vengeance? Another problem immediately emerged: my own admirers, a second tidal wave of adoration and awkwardness, were waiting for me outside my faculty, also in a group.
"Shit, this is troublesome!" My brain screamed, a tiny panic button being hammered repeatedly. What should I do? God, please help me, please save me! This wasn't just a chase; it was a full-blown, multi-directional stampede of affection and fury.
"That's Thyme, guys!" Shit, they noticed me. Both groups were now running, converging, chasing me as well. I don't intend to do parkour, but at this rate, I might be forced to scale buildings or leap across rooftops. My life had officially become an absurd action movie, starring me, the reluctant romantic lead. I veered hard towards the football field, a vast green expanse that promised at least temporary escape. When I saw the chain-link fence for the field, I immediately scrambled over it, hoping my chasers would be deterred.
No such luck.
Some of the girls, clearly trained in the art of pursuit, used another path, while others, shockingly agile, clambered over the fence like determined squirrels, their screams echoing across the field. My admirers were right behind them, a mix of hopeful romantics and vaguely creepy stalkers, all equally adept at hurdling obstacles.
I ran as fast as I could, weaving through the bewildered students playing football. "Move away!" I bellowed, my voice cracking, dodging players like they were sentient cones in a bizarre obstacle course. They immediately scattered, probably thinking I was some deranged streaker, which, honestly, felt like a step up from "Master of Food Who Smiles While Eating" or "Meta's Secret Boyfriend."
Then, amidst the chaos, someone caught my eye: the colossal, infuriating source of this entire problem. Meta. He was wearing a soccer uniform, a splash of vibrant color in my grey world of panic, clearly a member of the football team. He looked unfairly composed, even in athletic gear. My first instinct was to stop running, to march right up to him and demand an explanation for the literal mob on my heels, but the collective roar of my pursuers reminded me that wasn't an option.
Meta noticed me. His eyes, somehow still burning with that steel-melting intensity, widened slightly.
"Hey, Snotty Kid, what are you doing here?" he called out, his voice annoyingly calm despite the impending human avalanche.
"I don't have time to explain!" I screeched back, then, without thinking, I grabbed his arm. It was solid muscle, like grabbing a tree trunk. I pulled him with all my might, forcing him to run with me.
"Wait! What are you doing?!" Meta tried to dig his heels in, but then he turned, saw the sheer, terrifying number of students converging on us, and his eyes flickered with a rare moment of something that looked suspiciously like comprehension, perhaps even a flicker of alarm. He just started running, matching my frantic pace.
"Hey! Meta, where are you going!" one of his teammates shouted, probably bewildered to see their star player suddenly become part of a bizarre, impromptu cross-campus marathon. But we ignored them. We just kept running. Because when you're caught between a rock, a hard place, and approximately more than a hundred furious chasers, the only logical thing to do is run like hell.
"Let me grab my bag first," Meta said, and I nodded. He pulled me towards the bench, retrieved his bag with a casual sweep, then motioned for me to follow.
"Follow me," he instructed, leading me towards the parking lot. The parking lot? I was a little confused. But then I saw it: a sleek, black, expensive sedan. This was our escape vehicle. My eyes widened. I recognized it—a BMW 520i. That car cost around 3.6 to 3.7 million baht. Is this guy seriously that rich? My mind reeled. The sheer audacity of it all, fleeing a mob in a luxury vehicle.
"What are you spacing out for? Come inside," Meta's voice cut through my thoughts, snapping me back to reality. Right. On the run. Not the time to marvel at German engineering.
"Yeah... So... Sorry," I mumbled, scrambling into the passenger seat. I was painstakingly careful closing the door, terrified I might scratch or damage the pristine paint. My meager monthly allowance wouldn't even cover a dent.
"Why do you look so stiff?" Meta asked, a teasing glint in his eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing. Who wouldn't be nervous riding in a car like this? A single scratch, a minor ding, and I'd be working for him for the rest of my life to pay it off.
"Just drive already! Your admirers might know which one is your car, we might end up being caught!" I urged, peering frantically out the window.
"But where should we go?" he asked, surprisingly calm.
"Just go to any place as long as no one catches us!"
"Okay," he responded, and the engine rumbled to life, a low, powerful purr.
"Hey, drive now!" I saw them—a terrifying wave of his fans and my own admirers, a combined force, making a beeline for the parking lot.
"Calm down. They won't catch us," Meta said, still infuriatingly collected. But I wasn't calm. It was his fault I was in this situation! Or... was it my fault? I wanted to smash my head against something to wake up from this nightmare, but when I looked around, everything in the car seemed so impossibly expensive. This was no dream.
Luckily, Meta accelerated just in time, the powerful sedan surging forward, leaving the screaming mob behind.
"Shit!" The word slipped out, an involuntary explosion of relief and lingering panic. I immediately slapped a hand over my mouth. I couldn't believe I'd just cursed out loud.
"Is cursing your favorite choice of words?" Meta asked, a mocking grin spreading across his face.
"No, it's not like that! I'm just always getting nervous when you're nearby, and I blurted out my thou—" I immediately covered my mouth again. Damn it, Thyme! Stop blurting out your thoughts!
"This is really embarrassing, Thyme," I whispered to myself, cheeks burning, as Meta erupted into laughter. Yesterday, I hadn't dared to stare at him directly, but now, so close, I could clearly see how undeniably handsome he was. His laugh, though—it was a bit off, like a villain cackling at the hero's defeat. It was hard to describe, but his handsomeness was undeniably devilish, not the angelic type. I could even feel a shiver tracing down my spine with that unsettling, scary laugh.
"Oh, so you're getting nervous? Then....."
"Don't you dare continue what you're trying to say!" I cut him off before he could utter anything more ridiculous.
"Calm down, Snotty Kid. All I wanted to say is I look scary sometimes, and that might be the reason why you're getting nervous."
"Ahh, I see," I said, trying to sound dismissive, even as a tiny part of me considered it.
"Are you thinking something else?" he pressed, that teasing glint back in his eyes.
"Can you please focus on driving?" I retorted. He just laughed it off, but thankfully, he stopped teasing me. I had no idea where we were going, but one thing was certain: it was a place far, far away from those relentless pursuers.