THYME'S POV:
The lecture hall emptied until I was a solitary island in a sea of vacant chairs. The professor's words still echoed in my mind, a chaotic map to a world I was terrifyingly lost in. "Professor Welaruk," I called out, my voice thin in the cavernous space. He was already at the door. I hurried to follow, but the moment he stepped into the hallway, he was gone. He didn't run; he dissolved into the river of students, a shadow swallowed by the afternoon rush.
So fast… My heart sank with a familiar, hollow disappointment. He was a key, a clue, and he had vanished as quickly as he'd appeared, leaving me with more questions than answers.
I glanced at my phone. 11:20 AM. A gnawing hunger twisted in my stomach, but it was nothing compared to the desperate, clawing hunger for understanding in my soul. I turned toward the cafeteria, my mind a dizzying replay of timelines and warnings, when my path was suddenly blocked.
Not Meta's admirers this time. Mine.
My body went rigid, the old, familiar feeling of being a cornered animal making my blood run cold. I tried to pivot, to flee, but another group had already flanked me. I was trapped in a tight circle of seven curious, demanding faces. The air grew thick, heavy.
"Wh-what can I do for you?" I stammered. The words felt like crumbling chalk in my mouth.
The three guys in front of me parted, and Prasert Wongsuwan stepped through. He was a wall of muscle and height, a pest from high school who had shadowed me for years. But the jovial, puppy-like quality he usually had was gone, replaced by a cold, sharp edge that made a shiver of real fear trace down my spine.
"Thyme, don't try to run," he said, his voice flat, serious. "We just want to confirm something." The seriousness wasn't just in his eyes; it was a shared, chilling determination among all of them. This wasn't a friendly check-in. This was an interrogation.
"What… what do you want to talk about?" I whispered, my voice lost in the roaring of blood in my ears.
Prasert leaned in, his gaze boring into mine. "What is happening between you and Meta?"
The question was a physical blow. My breath hitched. What should I say? My mind fractured, splintering into a thousand panicked thoughts. The truth? What truth? The kiss? The feeling that I'm falling for him? They'd think I was insane. But to lie… to see the hope in their eyes curdle into hurt because of a lie I told…
My desire to protect everyone, to never inflict the pain of rejection I knew so intimately, was a cage of my own making, and the bars were closing in. Thyme, why are you always like this?
"Thyme," Prasert repeated, his patience fraying. "Just tell us."
"I think my brother has a right not to answer."
The voice, sharp and familiar, cut through the tension. My sister, Ratchanee. A wave of relief warred with a fresh spike of dread. Chanee, why are you here?
Prasert scoffed, his annoyance toward her visible to everyone. "I'm not asking you, Ratchanee. I'm asking Thyme." The history between them, the bitter breakup, hung in the air, making it crackle.
"Chanee, what are you doing?" I whispered, my voice strained.
"I'll tell you later," she murmured, then fixed Prasert with a cool, unyielding stare. "My brother seems like he doesn't want to answer you."
"You want an answer? Fine," Ratchanee declared, her voice ringing with a false confidence that made my stomach clench. "My brother and Meta are figuring things out. It's a mutual understanding. So all of you can stop pestering him."
No! Chanee, why would you say that? The words were a betrayal. My heart ached, a sharp, twisting pain as I watched the confusion and hurt dawn on my admirers' faces. I was the cause of this sadness. I was the one rejecting them, through my sister's careless words.
"You're jumping to conclusions, Ratchanee," Prasert shot back, his face hardening into a mask of bitter resentment. "From what I've heard, Thyme is being threatened by that bastard. I just wanted to confirm it so I can make sure he doesn't bother Thyme anymore."
No… no, that's not it. The words were a poison, painting Meta as a villain, putting him in danger. He wasn't threatening me. He was… he was protecting me. He was saving me. But my tongue was a lead weight in my mouth, paralyzed by the fear of causing more pain. If I defend Meta, I hurt them. If I stay silent, I betray him.
Thyme, you have to speak. Now.
"I..." My voice cracked, a single, useless syllable hanging in the air. My throat closed up. The words wouldn't come. I couldn't form them. All I could see was the hope draining from Prasert's face, replaced by a deep, hollow disappointment that was a mirror of my own self-loathing.
He stared at me for one last, agonizing second before turning away. His group followed, their footsteps heavy, each one a hammer blow against my cowardice.
I was left alone in the hallway, the silence screaming.
Why am I like this? The question echoed in the void where my courage should have been, a devastating whisper of my own unforgivable weakness.
"Brother, you're so annoying!" Ratchanee's voice, a whip-crack of annoyance, snapped me out of my self-pity. She grabbed my arm and dragged me away from the empty hallway, her grip surprisingly strong. She was a woman on a mission, and I was her reluctant captive. We ended up in a secluded corner of the faculty garden, a quiet sanctuary with weathered cement chairs and a table.
She folded her arms across her chest, her expression shifting from annoyance to a terrifyingly serious excitement. "So, answer me. What is your actual relationship with Meta?"
"I... I thought you already knew," I stammered, my heart doing a panicked little jig.
She scoffed, a genuine, amused laugh escaping her lips. "Phi, you can be so smart but so slow when it comes to this. I saw that picture on social media with you and Meta. It's not a mystery. You don't get that close to anyone but Dom and Lance. And I know you, and I also know Meta. We were all in high school at the same time, remember? Meta doesn't interact with anyone except his sister and his best friend. So when I see you two looking like that..." She grinned, wiggling her eyebrows. "I already have a guess."
My mouth fell open. My mind, usually so quick to connect dots, was a blank. "Yeah, I guess so."
She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with an almost predatory glee, and grabbed both of my hands in hers. "So what is the status? Are you guys dating? Are you exclusive?"
"Uhmmm... like you said earlier, we're in a mutual understanding," I mumbled, my cheeks growing hot. The moment the words left my mouth, she erupted.
"OH MY GOD!" she shrieked, a high-pitched sound of pure joy. She started bouncing in her seat, clutching my hands so tightly I thought my fingers might break. "Finally! My real-life BL couple! The ship is sailing! I've been waiting for this moment for years! I need to tell my fan club!"
I stared at her, utterly bewildered. "Chanee, what's wrong with you? What's a fan club? What are you talking about?"
She finally took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "I'm just so happy! My favorite ship is finally real! I've been shipping you two for years!"
Wait! The words hung in the air, a bell ringing in my head. Shipping us for years? "Chanee, calm down. Did... did Meta go to the same high school as us?"
She froze, her eyes widening, and her hands flew to her mouth, as if she could stuff the words back in. The playful, confident look vanished, replaced by a look of pure regret.
My grip on her hands tightened. "Chanee. Explain. Now. Before I force you."
She swallowed hard, knowing I wouldn't let this go. "You had that accident last year. You probably don't remember much. But you and Meta were in the same class from tenth to eleventh grade. Then he had his own accident a year before you, and his parents transferred him to a different school for twelfth grade."
A cold shock ran through me. It wasn't just a coincidence that he felt familiar. We had known each other all along. My sister's words were a new piece of the puzzle, but also a new layer of confusion. Why didn't Meta ever say anything? Did he also have amnesia? Was it possible for two people to have the same memory loss?
"You said you've been shipping us for years," I pressed, my voice low. "Were we... close?"
Ratchanee gave a weak, awkward smile. "Not exactly. You guys rarely talked. But every time you did, I saw something. The way he looked at you, the way you didn't run away from him like you did everyone else... I couldn't help it! As a BL fan, every possible ship is my ship, and you two were perfect!"
I felt a dizzying mix of relief and confusion. So we weren't close, but we knew each other. That explained the feeling of familiarity, at least. "So we knew each other all along," I mumbled to myself. "That's why I felt like I knew him..."
Before I could process any more, Ratchanee's eyes narrowed. "Now it's my turn to ask, Phi. I saw that picture of you and Meta at a hotel. The one with the glass bathroom. I want details. Did you two... what did you do in there?"
Oh, no. My heart started to race again. The kiss. The CPR on the beach. There was no way I could tell her. Not a chance. My face burned with a desperate heat.
"Answer me now! Why are you so quiet?!" she demanded, her voice rising in a frantic, fangirl crescendo.
I need to run. My eyes darted around, looking for an escape.
"Meta!" I yelled, pointing a finger dramatically at something behind her.
Her head whipped around instantly. "Where?!" she shrieked, a look of pure excitement on her face.
It was my chance. I bolted, scrambling away from the table.
"Hey! Phi! Don't you dare run from me!" she screamed, jumping up and chasing me. "I still need answers!"