Next period: Physics.
The definition of pain.
Min slumped into her seat beside Thyme. He didn't say a word—just walked in, hoodie up, expression unreadable. The teacher started scribbling formulas on the board that looked like alien language, and half the class zoned out instantly.
Thyme yawned.
Min side-eyed him as he dropped his head onto his desk, completely unbothered.
Three minutes later, his eyes were shut.
And his hoodie made it easier to block out the world.
Is he seriously sleeping? she thought.
But the droning voice of the teacher and the brain-dead equations weren't helping her stay awake either. Her head leaned into her arm… just for a second…
Just like that, both of them slept through Newton's laws like they were bedtime stories.
Bell rings.
Min sat up in panic. Thyme stretched like nothing had happened and stood up to leave.
"Wait!" she called out, standing quickly. "We need to talk about the English project."
He turned slowly, lifting a brow. "Don't expect me to do anything. You're the one who looked excited. Do it yourself."
"Excuse me?" Her voice rose. "It's a partner project."
He shrugged. "You seem like the teacher's pet type. You'll manage."
Min's jaw dropped. "Wow. You're seriously the worst."
"Thanks, I try," he said, walking off.
But before he could leave, she marched after him. "At least give me your Insta. I'm not texting you through email like it's 2008."
He paused.
"Fine. It's thymebomb."
She blinked. "...Seriously?"
"Don't judge. I made it in 7th grade."
Min snorted. "It shows."
---
Later that night
Min flopped onto her bed, grabbed her phone, and opened Instagram. She found him easily. Same smug face. Way too many gym selfies for a high schooler.
She messaged him:
Min: hello. this is me, min. the new transfer.
Thyme: yooo oh you yeah what
Min: we need to divide the slides. Miss Park said it should be balanced.
Thyme: ughhh fine. u seriously funny for taking this so seriously lol
Min: it's called being responsible. maybe try it sometime.
Thyme: nah I'm allergic.
She rolled her eyes—but a small smile crept onto her face.
Thyme: fine I'll do like 3 slides. happy?
Min: 4. you're not that special.
Thyme: deal.
And just like that… a little progress.
Strictly for the project.
Nothing else.
Probably.