A HIDING PLACE

THYME'S POV:

I walked further onto the rooftop, seeking solitude. Then I saw him.

He leaned against the railing—tall, imposing. Athletic build, sharp features. Handsome in that effortless way that makes ordinary people feel like intruders.

A familiar dread coiled in my stomach. Just what I need. Another person invading the emptiness I craved. His quiet confidence felt like a spotlight on my own discomfort. I noted his appearance objectively—anyone would—but appreciation drowned beneath waves of nervousness. Who was he? Why here?

He turned slowly, sensing me. Dark eyes locked onto mine.

"Well, well," he said, voice deep and calm yet edged like a blade. "Not many make it up here. Fewer know I’m usually here." He pushed off the railing, stepping closer. His gaze scraped over me. "How’d you know? How’d you get up?"

I stammered. Blank mind. "I… didn’t know anyone was here."

He raised an eyebrow. Annoyance flickered. "Don’t tell me you’re another one." The calm vanished, replaced by cold precision. "You’ve been watching me. Figured out my spot. That why you’re not answering? You’re one of them?"

I froze. One of what? His admirers? The absurdity choked me. My silence seemed to confirm everything for him.

A humorless laugh. "Listen. I don’t have time for this." He gestured dismissively toward the stairs. "This is my space. If you’re from the fan club, leave. Now. I come here to escape stares."

Fear evaporated. Raw irritation surged. His territory? The arrogance. My voice came out sharper than intended.

"Excuse me?!" A scoff tore loose. "Your territory? This rooftop"—I gestured wildly—"is on the Science building. You’re wearing Engineering colors. How does that even—"

He didn’t react. Didn’t glance. Just walked past me like I was air. Went to a battered lounge chair in the corner. Pulled a textbook from his bag. Covered his face. Seconds later, steady breathing. Asleep.

I stared. He ignored me. Completely.

I wanted to kick him. Hard. But restraint held me—the voice whispering don’t become what angers you. Fine. He could have his corner. I’d take mine.

My eyes landed on a chair beside him. Damn it.

"Just ignore him," I whispered, tiptoeing over like a thief. Settled in. Leaned back. The sky stretched above—vast, blue, indifferent. Beautiful.

Hunger twisted in my gut. Som Tum. Green papaya salad. Bright, sharp, alive. Then Gai Yang—charred chicken, smoky comfort. Khao Niao to hold it all. Mango sticky rice for sweetness. Eating here, with this sky… peace.

"Argh," I groaned aloud. Stupid. But he didn’t stir.

Then—GLORP.

My stomach roared. Loud. Mortifying. I froze. Did he hear?

Internal war: Check if he’s awake? Just a peek…

Slowly, I reached. Lifted the corner of his book.

His eyes were open. Waiting. A predatory gleam.

"Shit!" I scrambled back, nearly falling. Heart hammering.

He pushed the book aside. Smirked. "Checking if I’m sleeping?"

"No! I—" Lies died in my throat.

"Stop. You’re clearly an admirer." Arrogance cemented in his tone.

"I don’t care what you think!" Frustration ripped through me. "I’m tired of being misunderstood by a bastard like you!" I turned away, stomping back to my chair.

His laugh boomed across the rooftop. "You’re funny!"

Every chuckle grated. I clenched my fists. Stay calm. Don’t engage.

Then, softer: "I was joking. I know you’re not an admirer… doubt any admirer has a stomach that sounds like a dying whale."

Heat flooded my face. "It didn’t happen!"

He laughed harder.

"Stop laughing, you stupid gorilla!" The words burst out. I covered my mouth. Shit. Now he’ll crush me.

He tilted his head. Chuckled low. "Fine. I’ll stop… Snotty Kid."

Snotty Kid? Indignation flared. I’m in university! But survival instinct kicked in. Don’t respond. Let him bore himself.

He sat up, swinging legs off the chair. "I’m hungry too." Pause. "Want to join me?"

My brain stalled. "Join a stranger? Do I look like a child?" Reflexive defiance.

"I’ll treat you. Anything you want."

Free food. The words echoed. Pride warred with hunger. Annoying, arrogant, gorilla-like… but free.

"...Fine." I forced disinterest. "As long as it’s your treat."

"Okay." A genuine smile broke through—startlingly warm. He extended a hand. "I’m Meta."

I hesitated. Took it. Firm grip. "Thyme."

Silence hung thick. What have I done? Escaped a fan club only to walk into… this. A free meal. That’s all.

He dropped my hand, turning toward the stairs. "Coming?"

I glared at his back. Sighed. Free food awaited. Maybe… maybe it wouldn’t be unbearable.

The lie tasted bitter, but I followed.

Thyme's POV

The rooftop stretched out—cold concrete underfoot, the city’s hum distant below. I’d come here for silence, for the weightless feeling of being truly alone. Then I saw him.

He leaned against the railing, tall and solid, like a statue weathering time. Athletic build, sharp jawline—handsome in a way that felt impersonal, like a painting you admire but don’t touch.

My stomach clenched. Of course. Another soul in my refuge. His ease was a mirror to my unease. I acknowledged his looks—anyone would—but the nerves drowned it. Who was he? Why here?

He turned slow, eyes dark as tar locking onto mine.

"Well, well," he said, voice deep but edged like flint. "Not many find this place. Fewer know I’m here." He pushed off the railing, stepped closer. His gaze scraped over me. "How’d you know? How’d you get up?"

I stammered. Mind blank. "I… didn’t expect anyone."

Eyebrow raised. Annoyance flashed. "Don’t say you’re another one." Calm shed like skin. "Watching me? Found my spot?" Voice sharpened. "That why you’re silent? You’re them?"

I froze. Them? His admirers? Absurd. Silence stretched—my answer to him.

A laugh, hollow. "Listen. No time for this." Dismissive hand toward stairs. "My space. Fan club? Leave. Now. I come to escape eyes."

Fear dissolved. Fury boiled. His space? Arrogance. Words spat sharp.

"Excuse me?" Scoff raw. "Your territory? This roof"—arm flung wide—"tops Science. You wear Engineering grey. How—"

He walked past. Like air. Went to a sun-bleached lounge chair. Textbook from bag. Covered face. Steady breaths. Asleep.

I stared. Ignored. Wholly.

Kick him? Tempting. But restraint whispered: Don’t become what you hate. Fine. His corner. Mine remained.

My eyes caught a chair beside him. Damn.

"Just… ignore him," I breathed, tiptoeing like a trespasser. Sat. Leaned back. Sky above—vast blue, indifferent clouds. Peace.

Hunger twisted. Som Tum. Green papaya—sharp, alive. Then Gai Yang—charred chicken, smoke comfort. Khao Niao to hold it. Mango sticky rice for sweetness. Eating here, under this sky… sanctuary.

"Argh," I groaned aloud. Foolish. He didn’t stir.

Then—GLORP.

My stomach roared. Mortifying. I froze. Heard?

Debate: Check if he’s awake? Peek…

Hand reached. Lifted book corner.

Eyes open. Waiting. Predator’s gleam.

"Shit!" I scrambled back, almost falling. Heart thunder.

He pushed book aside. Smirked. "Admiring me?"

"No! I—" Lies choked.

"Stop. You’re an admirer." Certainty like stone.

"I don’t care!" Fury ripped free. "Tired of being misread by a bastard like you!" Turned, stomped to chair.

His laugh boomed—rooftop echo. "Funny!"

Each chuckle grated. Fists clenched. Don’t engage.

Then, softer: "Joking. Know you’re not an admirer… doubt any have a whale-gut."

Face burned. "Didn’t happen!"

Louder laugh.

"Stop laughing, gorilla!" Words burst. Hand clamped mouth. Shit. He’ll break me now.

Head tilted. Low chuckle. "Fine. I’ll stop… Snotty Kid."

Snotty Kid? Indignation flared. University student! But survival hissed: Silence. Bore him.

He sat up, legs off chair. "Hungry too." Pause. "Join me?"

Brain stalled. "Join a stranger? Look like a child?" Defiance reflex.

"My treat. Anything."

Free food. Echoed. Pride vs. hunger. Arrogant, gorilla… but free.

"...Fine." Feigned disinterest. "Your treat."

"Okay." Smile broke—warm, disarming. Hand extended. "Meta."

Hesitated. Took it. Grip firm. "Thyme."

Silence thickened. What did I do? Escaped admirers for… this. Free meal. Only that.

He dropped my hand, turned to stairs. "Coming?"

Glared at his back. Sighed. Free food waited. Maybe… bearable.

The lie tasted like ash, but I followed.

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2030'S THYME'S POV:

Being forgotten by someone you love... it's like dying while still breathing. When I saw him again, every look he gave me—empty, unfamiliar—cut deeper than any knife. I thought leaving was noble. That I was freeing him from our broken past by vanishing. God, how arrogant that was. My running didn't fix anything. It just... broke us worse.

I wasn't saving him. I was a coward hiding behind some twisted idea of sacrifice. Now? I'd give anything to go back. Rip time apart if I had to. Burn every page of this tragedy we wrote. Stand there in the wreckage instead of fleeing. Face the pain. Face him. Because this? This hollow aftermath? I built it with my own hands.