Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

***

From : Mr Chic ( chicboy @email.com)
To : Sarawat's Fanclub ([email protected])
Date : 22 Aug 2021, 11:13 PM

Yo Sarawat,

I recently turned 21. One of my closest friends gave me an autographed copy of your latest album as a gift.

He gushed and gushed over your, and I quote his words not mine, "smooth voice, straight-from-the-heart lyrics and drop-dead gorgeous looks".

I was so excited to receive it that I immediately tore open the packaging that had your face and signature on it. My friend was devastated until we saw that your face and sign were also on the CD itself.

I managed to get through almost an entire minute of your first song and then I lost no time at all in cutting two circles out of old canvas, sticking them on both sides of the CD to cover it up nicely and made a lovely coaster out of it.

I believe in recycling trash. Just because you sound like a wannabe Bryan Adams/ Jon Bon Jovi replica, it doesn't mean I can't put the CD to good use.

Also, your latest haircut makes you look like the abandoned offspring of an unkempt bactrian camel and a shaggy alpaca, with due apologies to both species.

In conclusion, I'm jealous of the people who don't know you. Wish I was one of them.

Love,
Your Anti-Fan

P.S : I have conveyed to my friend sternly but with his best interests at heart, that I judge him harshly for his taste in music and idols.

P.P.S : I gifted him the coaster. I believe in taking bad things and returning them better.

*

From : Sarawat Guntithanon (sarawow@email.com)
To : Mr Chic (chicboy@email.com)
Date : 23 Aug 2021, 03:35 AM

Yo Yo Anti-Fan,

I was having a rough day yesterday, so I decided to go through my fan mail. That always cheers me up.

Imagine my surprise and delight when amidst all the love from many generous hearts I found your rather unique message. You made me laugh. Thank you.

Let me sincerely apologize for the disappointment you encountered when presented with such an unworthy gift. I applaud your resourcefulness in converting it into something useful instead.

Allow me to make up for it with this gift card that you can redeem against an album from any of your favourite artists.

As for my haircut that you've described so vividly, I will pass your compliments along to my stylist, Man. Even though the look found favour with GQ and Vogue, I'm sure he will appreciate your honest feedback and put more effort into my hair next time.

Finally, I'm jealous of the people who do know you. You're an absolute riot.

Love,
Sarawat

P.S : I've sent this from my personal email ID so your reply doesn't get lost in the other inbox. I would appreciate it if you could keep this to yourself.

P.P.S : Belated happy birthday. And just FYI, I have been called a bad boy on occasion. In case you want a new recycling project.

Attachment :
<HBD_AntiFan.jpg>

*

From : Musicallity Sales Desk ([email protected])
To : Sarawat Guntithanon ( sarawow @email.com)
Date : 23 Aug 2021, 10:48 PM

Dear Music Lover

Thank you for spreading the joy!

Your Musicallity gift card was recently redeemed. Please find attached your receipt.

Need help? Contact our Support Desk for assistance.

Stay cool!
Musicallity Team

Attachment :
<RedemptionInvoice_2308211044.pdf>

*

From : Mr Chic ( chicboy @email.com)
To : Sarawat Guntithanon ( sarawow @email.com)
Date : 24 Aug 2021, 8:32 PM

Dear-to-some-but-not-to-me Sarawat

Thank you. The voucher was an unexpectedly nice gesture. And as a penniless college student, I'm just the right amount of shameless to redeem it.

I still don't like you though.

Luke (your fan and my soon to be ex-friend) has told me so many stories of your goody-goody activities that I gagged a little bit from an overdose of saccharine.

He's the one who "gifted" me your album, by the way, and has been trying to justify it since then.

No one can be as perfect as he thinks you are. You're too good to be true - too handsome, too kind, too humble (if Luke is to be believed).

I'm 90% sure you're secretly in a cult where you dance naked in a circle on new moon nights while drinking chicken blood from a coconut shell. I imagine your song playing in the background while this happens. It would lend the right tone.

Also, in case you're wondering, I'm never going to willingly subject my ears to your nails-on-a-chalkboard crooning again. My standards are high.

Scrubb high.

Which is what I bought with your coupon. (Thanks for that though. Genuinely.)

Ugh, now I have to keep this correspondence going out of courtesy.

But I am a man of principles. I will not allow my poverty to dilute my honesty.

I sign off, still convinced that my teeth are brighter than your future.

Love,
Your Anti-Fan

P.S : What makes you think I would admit to anyone that I'm in touch with you? Puhlease

P.P.S : And "bad boy" Sarawow? If I had to die, I would jump off your ego on to your IQ.

*

From : Sarawat Guntithanon (sarawow@email.com)
To : Mr Chic (chicboy@email.com)
Date : 25 Aug 2021, 2:54 PM

Dear-to-many-but-most-of-all-to-me Anti-Fan

I was hoping that you would reply, and lo and behold, you did.

And what a reply it was. I haven't been this entertained in forever.

I'm not part of a cult yet, but I am eager now to be in one. It sounds like a fun way to spend a moonless night or two.

Please oh please, don't hold yourself back out of any notions of propriety. God forbid you should ever feel the need to "dilute your honesty". Your frankness is what makes you special.

And I stan a man of principles. Just saying.

Sarawow was the name on my varsity soccer jersey and it's just one of those things that stick around when you're in college. You know, like a certain someone who goes by Mr Chic.

I dropped out of uni after freshman year when the band went pro two years ago.

I miss it sometimes, and wonder what my life would have been like if I'd been a regular student.

Maybe a little less of every single aspect of my life being questioned and monitored and over-analyzed, and more of me just being... me?

So allow me this small memory of a time that I cherished and won't ever get back, please?

Meanwhile, I have made some astute observations about my favourite Anti-Fan -

1. You have good taste in music. I love Scrubb, they're amazing. Plus you detest me, so double confirmation.

2. Your opinions are strong but you don't resort to crude expletives and your insults are inventive. If I had to guess, I'd say you're a law student.

3. Your friend seems like a nice guy. I feel like if you give me a chance, you might get to like me, or at least tolerate my music enough not to lose more friendships and gain more coasters than necessary.

So here are two tickets to my show next month. Perhaps you could accompany your friend and give me a chance to redeem myself in your eyes/ ears?

Love,
Wat

P.S : If you come to the concert, I could even arrange backstage passes for you. I think your friend would like it.

P.P.S : And I would too.

Attachment :
<2gether_with_Sarawat_VIP.pdf>

*

From : Mr Chic ( chicboy @email.com)
To : Sarawat Guntithanon ( sarawow @email.com)
Date : 26 Aug 2021, 01:43 AM

Dude,

All my eloquence seems to have been lost on you. You seem to think that listening to you live is somehow going to be less painful than listening to you recorded, where I at least have the option of turning you off.

I see that the concert is a fund-raiser for the benefit of children in war-torn countries. It's a worthy cause and makes me think you're at least partially human.

The tickets look awful though, with your constipated face plastered across them. You look like someone who's used up their entire vocabulary in one sentence and is wondering what to say next.

I imagine that the same expression can be found on the faces of those poor souls who thought they were contributing to a charitable cause but got conned into three hours of listening to you instead.

However, when I gave the tickets to Luke, he flipped out with happiness. He's vomiting rainbows everywhere.

He is my brother's best friend and I've known and admired him since I was an apple-cheeked toddler walking around in diapers and baby booties.

He is one of the coolest, funniest, most amazing people I know. In fact, I first thought he gave me your CD as a prank gift.

But then Luke said he genuinely likes you and your music, and went on and on about how one of his schoolmates is in your crew, and how he has all these first-hand stories of how "generous, down to earth and professional" you are.

I'm convinced that your crew member was referring to how you give away your tickets to random people who don't even want to attend your shows, probably because no one actually wants to buy them.

Anyway, Luke is prancing around happily and making plans to meet up with his schoolmate after the concert. No doubt to fanboy over you some more.

I guess no man is perfect. Not even Luke. Though he is still awesome in every other way.

I wish it was his face on the tickets instead of yours. I'd pay good money for them. If I had good money. Or bad money. Or any money, really.

Love,
Your Anti-Fan

P.S : Heavy is the (badly styled) head that wears the (rockstar) crown.

I can imagine it's not easy having everybody's eyes on you all the time, every move being scrutinized, and on top of it all to have disgruntled anti-fans like me pulling you down.

I almost feel guilty. Almost.

You do you with your head held high, Sarawow. Let the haters hate. Including me.

P.P.S : Your logic and intuition are sound. I am a law student. I'm glad your brains are better than your songs. At least you have something to fall back on.

*

From : Sarawat Guntithanon (sarawow@email.com)
To : Mr Chic (chicboy@email.com)
Date : 26 Aug 2021, 07:22 AM

My favourite Anti-Fan,

Thank you for your empathy. I don't want you to feel guilty at all. Not even a little bit.

I don't have much to complain about, honestly. I love making music and I have the best fans (and anti-fans) ever.

So are you coming to the concert with Luke?

Love,
Wat

P.S : I hate the tickets too. The organizers kept asking me to make a stern face. I'm a lot more cheerful in person, I swear.

P.P.S : I think you have a crush on Luke. Do you really hate me or are you just jealous he is a fan of mine?

P.P.P.S : Please come. Pretty please. I want to meet you.

*

From : Mr Chic ( chicboy @email.com)
To : Sarawat Guntithanon ( sarawow @email.com)
Date : 26 Aug 2021, 08:13 AM

Saraleo,

I ABSOLUTELY DO NOT HAVE A CRUSH ON LUKE.

AND I'M NOT JEALOUS. LEAST OF ALL OF YOU!!!!

I hope your underwear is forever a little damp and your socks ride up between your toes.

Grrrrrr,
Your Anti-Fan

P.S : Did you really tell your hairstylist that you look like an alpacamel? Luke said his friend told him about someone called Man, who took offence at your hairstyle being questioned. It's not his fault! It's your face!

P.P.S : Anything more than 2 postscripts is superfluous. So I'm going to ignore your P.P.P.S.

*

From : Sarawat Guntithanon ( sarawow @email.com)
To : Mr Chic ( chicboy @email.com)
Date : 27 Aug 2021, 01:29 AM

Prove it, Mr Chic. Come with Luke to the concert, and let me see for myself.

If I'm wrong, I'll treat you to a meal. Whatever and wherever you want.

If I'm right, you have to do one thing I say. Nothing lewd or inappropriate, I promise.

Also, did you use black magic voodoo on me? My socks really did ride up between my toes and I felt icky all day.

Please be merciful on
yours truly,
Wat

P.S : I did tell Man and he was a bit miffed. But I took the blame entirely on myself. I promise.

P.P.S : If you want to score some boyfie points with Luke, I can send you autographed merch.

P.P.P.S : I actually have nothing to say here. I just wanted to skirt the edge of danger and leave a third postscript. I'm tempted to leave a fourth one. Is that too risky? Do I dare?

P.P.P.P.S : I did it! Wow, this adrenaline rush is something else. And I know you won't read this far, so I'm putting this here.

I'm jealous of Luke, even if you aren't jealous of me.

Chapter Text

From : Mr Chic ( chicboy @email.com)
To : Sarawat Guntithanon ( sarawow @email.com)
Date : 28 Aug 2021, 08:42 AM

Dear 5-year-old Saraboy

Are you in kindergarten? What's with the "prove you didn't fart" arguments? Sheesh!

Also, curses be upon this city's traffic. I had to wait for 4 minutes at a signal just now and there was a gigantic billboard with your smirking face leering down at the innocent general population. I swear two kids burst into tears when they saw it.

Why do you have so much make-up on your face? Have you taken a part-time job in a Chinese opera? I applaud your attempts at securing alternate employment, I only hope it's not a singing part.

Irritated,
Your Anti-Fan

P.S : Your smile looks creepy. I almost like you frowning better. Then I realized all your expressions are equally bad. If you were the light at the end of the tunnel, I'd turn back.

P.P.S : I thought you'd hit rock bottom with postcript no. 3 but by going down to postcript no. 4 (which I refused to read on principle), you have proved that you're impossible to underestimate.

*

From : Sarawat Guntithanon ( sarawow @email.com)
To : Mr Chic ( chicboy @email.com)
Date : 30 Aug 2021, 01:13 AM

My dearest Anti-Fan

I had make-up on because I was literally promoting a make-up brand. But if you think it's too much, you could come to see me with a remover and tone it down to an acceptable level.

I won't mind you touching my face. Not one bit.

Yours with and without make-up,
Wat

P.S : I aim to surprise and delight you always. So this time, I won't write even a 2nd postscript.

P.P.S : Aaargh, I couldn't control myself. Meet me, please? Just tell me a place and a time and I'll come to you. You don't even have to bring the remover, I'll get it myself.

*

From : Mr Chic ( chicboy @email.com)
To : Sarawat Guntithanon ( sarawow @email.com)
Date : 2 Sep 2021, 11:18 AM

I've discovered that I dislike tax law almost as much as I dislike you.

*

From : Sarawat Guntithanon ( sarawow @email.com)
To : Mr Chic ( chicboy @email.com)
Date : 3 Sep 2021, 12:13 AM

Do I dare declare that we're pen pals (or anti-pals) now? So exciting. I'm thrilled that we're sharing discoveries.

I've discovered that polar bears rub noses to communicate, especially when asking a favour or a question. Isn't that cute?

So if I rub my nose against yours, don't get the wrong idea. I'd only be trying to emulate non-verbal communication skills propagated by an apex predator at the top of the food chain.

*

From : Mr Chic ( chicboy @email.com)
To : Sarawat Guntithanon ( sarawow @email.com)
Date : 4 Sep 2021, 12:36 AM

Dear Bearawat

If I play dead, will you leave me alone?

As for us being pen-pals? I'm not that desperate and you're not that lucky.

I have a paper to submit in the morning and zero inspiration. I was worried and pondered what to do.

But then I remembered that when you had a song to write and zero inspiration, you still went ahead and wrote one.

I've seen deeper feelings and better rhyming in refrigerator operating manuals than in the aforementioned song, but you still got over 1 million views in less than a day.

Thus inspired, I'm powering on with my exposition on Adherance to Inheritance Laws in Ancient Civilizations.

Thanks,
Your Anti-Fan

P.S : Spoiler alert - History is proof that no inheritance laws were ever followed in ancient civilizations.

So I'm basically just rewriting the script from Game of Thrones with a few minor details changed here and there. I bet the prof won't even notice.

P.P.S : I'm going camping with my brother Type, Luke and some other friends for a few days starting tomorrow. Digital detox, reconnecting with nature, that sort of thing.

If I see any bears, polar or otherwise, I will NOT be rubbing noses with them.

*

From : Sarawat Guntithanon ( sarawow @email.com)
To : Mr Chic ( chicboy @email.com)
Date : 4 Sep 2021, 05:30 AM

My favourite (and hopefully only) Anti-Fan,

I'm not shy to admit that a few tears sprung to my eyes after reading your email. So touched was I that my work inspired you.

I also cried because I will miss you desperately while you're away. When are you coming back? Do you have place for one more in your camping party? I don't even need a tent of my own. I'll just snuggle with you.

Already sad,
Wat

P.S : Are you sure I can't come with you?

P.P.S : If my next album has sad songs, you're to blame.

P.P.P.S : Stay safe (and single).

*

From : Sarawat Guntithanon ( sarawow @email.com)
To : Mr Chic ( chicboy @email.com)
Date : 7 Sep 2021, 10:58 PM

I miss you. More than I thought. More than you could imagine.

Attachment : <This Person.mp3>

*

From : Mr Chic ( chicboy @email.com)
To : Sarawat Guntithanon ( sarawow @email.com)
Date : 8 Sep 2021, 01:33 AM

We have come on a midnight trek to the top of a hill. I can see twinkling lights far away in the distance. I hope none of them are yours and that you're sleeping peacefully.

The moon is barely a sliver in the sky. But the stars are so bright and the woods are so peaceful, that the darkness feels like a comforting blanket and not gloomy or oppressive.

And I don't miss you.

P.S : I somehow caught one bar of signal on my cellphone. I can't download what you sent me though.

P.P.S : I'll be back tomorrow. Meanwhile, here's a picture from the bonfire last night.

Attachment : <IMG202109062218.jpg>

*

From : Sarawat Guntithanon ( sarawow @email.com)
To : Mr Chic ( chicboy @email.com)
Date : 8 Sep 2021, 08:02 AM

Aaaaarrggghhh - I was so excited to see you, but also so, so nervous. My fingers were shaking. But it's just a photo of fire and sticks burning. So unfair!

And speaking of unfair things - You've seen me, but I haven't seen you. And, you've heard my voice but I haven't heard yours.

The universe is out of whack. We need to restore the balance.

When are you planning to address these valid concerns of your one and only,
Wat

P.S : Hope the camping trip remains PG and you've kept your burning passion for Luke to yourself.

P.P.S : Or should I be sending you couples gifts now?

*

From : Mr Chic ( chicboy @email.com)
To : Sarawat Guntithanon ( sarawow @email.com)
Date : 9 Sep 2021, 11:33 PM

It's bold of you to presume you're the only Wat I know. I know a Jirawat, a Barawat and a Shekhawat.

Also, what is truly unfair here is that I, unfortunately, have seen you and heard you. That's precisely what I have been protesting all this time.

I'm trying my best to unsee and unhear you. That would restore our balance in the universe.

In other news, the camping trip was amazing. So much fun. And the fact that there were an extra 100 miles between you and me was an added bonus.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN BURNING PASSION FOR LUKE ASGSAHSGHGSAKG!

I would like to inform certain annoying people that I do not harbour any feelings for a particular tall, dark, handsome, swoon-worthy, amazing man whose name starts with L.

If anything, my innocent, family-friendly activities put the holes in wholesome and the haste in chaste.

Unlike you, who puts the nut in nutcase and the mental in judgemental.

Didn't think about you at all,
Your Anti-Fan

P.S : You know I'm fundamentally opposed to hearing anything you sing because I'm fond of my ears, but your cover of This Person was not terrible.

I tried searching for your version online, but couldn't find it. Was this exclusively for me?

P.P.S : I just saw the controversy around the events from your fan meeting on the 7th. Are you okay?

I wish I had five minutes with that so-called fan who claimed he was manhandled by you. I'd show him exactly what manhandling means.

It's a good thing the entire interaction was caught on camera and your band stood by you throughout.

But even if there had been no proof, I would have known it was a false, attention-seeking claim. You would never do something like that.

Don't pay heed to what the haters say. As if you have time for their pathetic rants. You're too busy making crappy music.

*

From : Sarawat Guntithanon ( sarawow @email.com)
To : Mr Chic ( chicboy @email.com)
Date : 9 Sep 2021, 11:36 AM

Yay! You're back! And ouch - You're back with a bite.

Does this mean I have to wait till the concert to meet you? You are coming, aren't you?

Thought about you all the time,
Wat

P.S : Yes, This Person is just for you. And so is this person.

P.P.S : I'm fine now, especially after having read your mail. Thank you. Your support enveloped me like a warm hug. And I know you missed me too.

*

From : Mr Chic ( chicboy @email.com)
To : Sarawat Guntithanon ( sarawow @email.com)
Date : 10 Sep 2021, 11:58 PM

Dear Deluluwat

An interesting thing happened today. I received my very first confession ever.

So there's this guy called Mil from Architecture. He walked up to me after lunch and gave me a box of chocolates and said he's liked me for a while. I almost said yes because the truffles were DELISH!!

But better sense prevailed in time. I let him down gently and told him thanks but no thanks. I'm perfectly happy living the single life.

He took it sportingly and we parted as awkward friends who will nod at each other from a distance if we're ever in the same general visible area, but otherwise avoid each other the best we can.

Love,
Your Anti-Fan

P.S : I can see right through your rather transparent attempts to jeer and mock me with your low-quality flirting. Save us both the pain of this cringey spectacle. I beg of you.

P.P.S : Would it be unethical if I say yes to just one date with Mil in exchange for another box of Swiss chocs? They were amazeballs.

*

From : Chocolicious Gifts (auto-reply @chocolicious.com)
To : Anti-Fan ( chicboy @email.com)
Date : 11 Sep 2021, 12:05 AM

Dear Anti-Fan

You have received a chocolicious gift from Sarawat.

Please fill this form to redeem your Supreme Truffle-icious 100-piece Gift Box.

Enjoy the melt-in-your-mouth experience of our premium Swiss chocolate truffles that are lovingly hand-crafted by expert chocolatiers.

At Chocolicious, we stand by our commitment to the environment. All our ingredients are organically farmed and responsibly sourced.

Our customer service team will be in touch with you once your gift box has been shipped.

Stay sweet!
Pear from Chocolicious

*

From : Sarawat Guntithanon ( sarawow @email.com)
To : Mr Chic ( chicboy @email.com)
Date : 11 Sep 2021, 12:07 AM

I've sent you something. Redeem it right now.

Please, please, please don't ever be tempted to say yes to random people just because they give you chocolate.

And for crying out loud - how much more transparent do I need to be for you to get what I'm trying to do here?

Love,
Wat

*

From : Mr Chic ( chicboy @email.com)
To : Sarawat Guntithanon ( sarawow @email.com)
Date : 12 Sep 2021, 05:35 PM

Dear Saruffle

I wanted to thank you earlier, but I was too busy stuffing my face.

You will be happy to hear that I have entered a semi-vegetative state caused by an over-consumption of the yummiest truffles in the history of truffles.

I know you said not to take any decisions under the influence of chocolate, but this gesture of yours deserves - no, demands - reciprocation.

I will come with Luke to your concert. No promises about meeting you though.

Love,
Your Anti-Fan

P.S : I'll try to save some pieces for you.

P.P.S : On second thought, buy your own.

I don't think I can hold back from devouring them all and licking every remaining sliver of chocolaty goodness from the tiny and pretentious bits of "organic beeswax coated leafpaper" that they're wrapped in.

*

From : Sarawat Guntithanon ( sarawow @email.com)
To : Mr Chic ( chicboy @email.com)
Date : 12 Sep 2021, 05:40 PM

YES!!! FINALLY!!!!

You've promised you'll come. You cannot go back on your word now!

This changes everything! I have to go over my song list and make some big changes overall.

I will be a bit busy for the next couple of weeks until the concert. I'll check in from time to time.

Don't miss me as much as I'll miss you.

Anxiously waiting to see you,
Wat

P.S : Here are the backstage passes for you and Luke.

P.P.S : You'll meet me, won't you? I know you will... right?

Attachment : <staff_pass.pdf>

*

From : Mr Chic ( chicboy @email.com)
To : Sarawat Guntithanon ( sarawow @email.com)
Date : 12 Sep 2021, 08:54 PM

I'm not going to miss you at all.

I'll spend my time fruitfully, feeding good music to my ears for the next two weeks before they are subjected to the torture of hearing you sing live.

Love,
Your Anti-Fan

P.S : Luke legit wept when I gave him the backstage passes. He's counting down the days until he gets to see you in person. You both will make a lovely couple. I'll send flowers for your wedding.

P.P.S : Don't you dare reply with a cheesy one-liner.

*

From : Sarawat Guntithanon ( sarawow @email.com)
To : Mr Chic ( chicboy @email.com)
Date : 13 Sep 2021, 12:37 AM

I would never play hide-and-seek with you ...

... because it's impossible to find someone like you.

See you soon, my Anti-Fan

***

This Person - Scrubb

Will you be the only one
Waiting for something you're missing?
It might be this person who'll be right here
Filling your good days from now on
It might be this person, if it's this person
The world that was once empty will be different

Chapter Text

From : Sarawat Guntithanon ( sarawow @email.com)
To : Mr Chic ( chicboy @email.com)
Date : 25 Sep 2021, 07:42 PM

Are you here, Anti-Fan? Please tell me you are.

I'm headed out to the stage in fifteen minutes. I hope you enjoy the show and I get to see you later.

Wish me luck!

*

From : Mr Chic ( chicboy @email.com)
To : Sarawat Guntithanon ( sarawow @email.com)
Date : 25 Sep 2021, 07:46 PM

I'm busy right now trying to find a spot where I'm not being jostled to an inch of my life by your over-enthusiastic fans. Can I save my eye-rolls for later?

I'm here only for the free meal you promised. I'm a growing boy with limited resources and an unlimited appetite.

I'll save my best wishes for myself given that I'm the one whose eardrums are going to be assaulted in a bit.

Aaarghhh,
Your Anti-Fan

P.S : Break a leg. I mean it literally.

P.P.S : No, I don't. You know what I mean.

*
From : Sarawat Guntithanon (sarawow@email.com)
To : Mr Chic (chicboy@email.com)
Date : 25 Sep 2021, 07:50 PM

OMG, you're here?! I haven't felt this nervous in a long time.

I have a surprise for you tonight. Tell me if you liked it when I see you later.

Love,
Wat

P.S : Don't you think it's high time we exchanged numbers so it's easier for us to communicate real time? Texting would be great. Calling would be even better.

*
From : Mr Chic (chicboy@email.com)
To : Sarawat Guntithanon (sarawow@email.com)
Date : 25 Sep 2021, 07:58 PM

Dear Artist-Of-The-Year according to Rolling Stone but not me,

The only number you're getting from me is the count of dishes I'm going to order when you finally admit I'm right and you're wrong about the whole Luke situation.

Why would I subject myself to more direct ways of being annoyed by you? I'm already surrounded by ten-feet-tall replicas of you glaring at me from all directions.

The decor for your concert is disturbing and leaves much to be desired.

I may or may not have drawn a moustache on some of your posters. You should consider growing one. It would improve your looks by hiding part of your face.

Now stop emailing and start the show! Give these fifteen thousand saps who actually paid money to be here, their due.

The sooner they stop screaming "Sa-ra-wat, Sa-ra-wat" the better it would be for my blood pressure.

Luke is chanting with them, by the way. I've never seen him this excited. He's holding on to the backstage passes like his life depends on them.

I'm not jealous at all. In fact, I have a glow stick in my hand that I've twisted into a special shape in your honour.

If you see a fluorescent yellow dick floating in the air, it's Luke. I've stuck it on his cap and he doesn't even know.

This is me NOT wishing you good luck (I know you're grinning. Stop.)

Prepared for the worst,
Your Anti-Fan

P.S : I hope my ear plugs work!

P.P.S : Sadly, they don't.

*
From : Mr Chic (chicboy@email.com)
To : Sarawat Guntithanon (sarawow@email.com)
Date : 25 Sep 2021, 11:07 PM

Mr Rockstar,

The concert was not as bad as I thought it would be, although I still don't know what all these screaming fans see in you.

I won't say it to your face, but you look somewhat bearable tonight. You can tell Man that he did a passable job with your hair this time.

And compliments to your stylist as well (Gun, is it?) You don't look terrible. Black suits you. It's the colour of your soul and your expression.

I teared up a little when you dedicated your first song to your mom. I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm a total mama's boy myself.

Although I am not one of them, I could see how much your fans appreciated your gratitude and shout-outs to them.

I went nearly deaf in one ear when the girl beside me screeched like a barn owl as you sent a wink and a flying kiss towards our side of the auditorium.

Your guitar solo was not awful. I went so far as to clap at the end.

But do you have to stare that intensely? And do your eyes have to be "dark and piercing"? (someone else's words, not mine. I said you looked grumpy and got a death glare in return)

And do you have to have that half-smile on your face that brings a dimple to your cheek? (I know it only because the girl next to me squeaked "dimply-wimply" and needlessly placed her head on my shoulder)

And do your fingers have to be that long and fly so effortlessly over the strings? (I won't lie, you looked cool. Happy?)

I didn't really notice it, but you had good stage presence and were borderline photogenic. (I say this purely from an aesthetic point of view. Luke took pictures, not me. In case you were wondering. Fine, I took one. But only because the backdrop and lighting were really good)

I was fully prepared to be underwhelmed by the rest of your show.

But then surprise, surprise! You went and included Scrubb in your repertoire and instantly raised the standard by a mile.

"Everything" and "Close" are two of my all-time favourites! And as much as it pains me to admit this, you didn't suck when you sang them.

I've heard Scrubb live, and they're the absolute best. But you managed to come a close second (pun intended).

Your acoustic cover of the songs were... they were fantastic, alright (don't you dare smile in a smug, self-satisfied way. I still don't like you. Not one bit!)

The way you sang them, they felt raw and intimate and almost like a confession.

But did you have to sing it while looking towards our section of seats? Luke and roughly a thousand more of your VIP fans went crazy together and their screams are ringing in my ears even now.

I would like nothing better than to go home now, change into my comfy pyjamas and listen to Scrubb while drinking cheap wine.

But you did give us VIP tickets for free (that went for 500 dollars a piece otherwise?! Who are these people that have money to burn?) and Luke has been making puppy eyes at me for us to go backstage ASAP.

So here I am, "Excuse me"-ing away to a side door through a throng of your fans. Luke is determinedly clearing a path for us. Nothing will stop him from bulldozing his way across the auditorium to meet you.

Tired but curious and not entirely dissatisfied,
Your Anti-Fan

P.S. : You'd better not keep me waiting for more than ten minutes. I'm impatient.

P.P.S : And no, it's not because I'm excited to meet you. Because I'm not. Stop smirking.

*

From : Sarawat Guntithanon ( sarawow @email.com)
To : Tine ( chicboy @email.com)
Date : 26 Sep 2021, 04:12 AM

Dear Tine (I love that I can call you by your name now)

Thank you for the lovely cactus you gave me in that cute bunny shaped pot with your handwritten note.

"Don't be a cactass. There are too many pricks out there already" - Such sound advice. And your handwriting is so pretty too.

It's sitting on my table as I type this and every time I nick my finger on it, I think of you.

You'll be pleased to know, my fingers are full of holes now. And I thought of you a lot.

How sad it is that I still have to use email to send you a copy of our photo together because you refused to give me your number (I'm still a little hurt, NGL).

I did notice that my "direct channels of annoyance" did not extend to the chocolates I gave you that you polished off at record speed. Strange.

I still can't help laughing every time I remember how you said you've heard frogs with a better range of voice than me and that if they did not have webbed feet and a distinct lack of thumbs, they would most likely be better guitarists too.

Of course, that was before I read your email where you waxed eloquent about how much you actually loved the show. And my Scrubbprise (note the elegant wordplay).

You can't take it back now. I'm going to print your mail out and frame it.

Love,
Wat

P.S : I was wrong. You don't have a giant crush on Luke.

You did not go all pouty and red when he shook my hand and asked for a photo with me and my team.

You did not wedge yourself in between him and me when we took a selfie.

You did not try to flirt sloppily with my manager in front of Luke.

You did not look adorably cute and I wasn't even a little bit jealous.

You did not huff and cross your arms and frown when Joss turned you down in two seconds flat.

I did not cringe from second hand embarrassment or laugh at all.

You certainly did not glare at me like it was all my fault.

You did not look hurt when Joss took Luke away to meet the rest of my crew.

You did not force yourself to smile and nod brightly when Luke asked you if it was okay for him to go for drinks with Joss and other friends from their school.

You did not look crestfallen and sad when they left together.

You did not cry and something inside me didn't break a little at that.

You did not slip away without saying goodbye because you were too overwhelmed.

P.P.S : I'm sorry it turned out this way for you, Tine. If it's any comfort, I'm ready to take you out for the best meal ever as promised. Whenever, wherever.

P.P.P.S : Your tears are beautiful just like everything else about you, but I like your smiles infinitely more.

P.P.P.P.S : I won't tell you to "get over it", because you don't simply get over some loves. I will only hope that there will come a time when you'll look back at today and not be haunted by the memory.

Attachment :
<Sarawat_n_Tine.jpg>

*
From : Tine (chicboy@email.com)
To : Sarawat Guntithanon (sarawow@email.com)
Date : 27 Sep 2021, 07:28 PM

Dear Sir,

Hope this email finds you (locked in a) safe and (thrown in a) well.

Did you read a different email from a parallel universe Tine who said he loved your concert? Because I said something entirely different.

And your "wordplay" would also be considered elegant only in that same parallel universe, certainly not in this one.

At least your delusion did not extend to my so-called "crush" on Luke. I'm glad that you admit, and rightly so, that you were wrong about it.

Turns out my friend was the one with the crush on your manager.

As we discovered two days ago, Luke's been in love with Joss since high school but never had the courage to do anything more than gaze dreamily at him from afar and sigh breathily through his mouth every time he saw Joss.

When Luke found out that Joss was your manager, he began following your work closely so he would have an excuse to speak to Joss more often.

All those times that he spouted disturbingly stalker-level information about you, he was getting the dope from Joss.

Unfortunately, he chose me as his dumping ground for Sarafacts thus gained, thereby giving rise to completely justified suspicions on my part as to his amorous feelings for you.

He was excited about the concert because he was hoping to run into Joss afterwards.

When I told him about the backstage passes, I swear he had tears in his eyes. I now realize they were for Joss and not you.

Apparently, under the influence of a shot or ten of premium soju, Luke found the confidence to bare his heart to Joss, who gladly accepted and reciprocated his feelings without delay.

As of the time of typing this, they're out on their first date.

But you already know that, given that you let Joss borrow your Maserati.

Let me give you a blow-by-blow eyewitness account as Luke's neighbour :

Luke's eyes shone as Joss drove up. It wasn't the car, but rather the one driving it who was responsible for it.

Joss blushed and smiled sweetly when Luke gave him flowers (roses, so romantic).

They hugged awkwardly. It was cute.

I took a picture of them. They both made it their respective lockscreens right away (the universal sign of lovestruck saps).

Then they got into the car, looking all shy and flustered when I reminded them to stay safe and play safe.

I don't know what meaning they assigned to my practical and sound advice, but they both went red and I'm fairly certain their date will have a happy ending or two.

The key takeaway here is : Even your fans are not actually your fans.

Although in all fairness, Luke told me that he genuinely loves your music, even outside of the Jossfluence.

And he does like you. Just not that way.

And I don't like you. In any way.

But I do like food. Japanese.

I'll let you choose the venue. Preferably one that does not have a fancy dress code.

I don't think my slightly-faded high school uniform trousers will pass for formals, though I'm proud to say they still fit. (Mostly)

As a diligent, hard-working and dedicated student of law, I'm free at practically any and all hours of day or night, weekday or weekend, come rain or sunshine.

So check your calendar for a free hour between your hair appointments and gym schedules and let me know when I can claim my justly earned meal.

Your hungry Anti-Fan,
Tine

P.S : I was not even a teeny-tiny little bit heart broken because I did not have a crush on Luke that only you may or may not have guessed.

Thank you for the chocolates. They were exactly what I needed at the time. I had some truffle shaped holes in my heart that needed filling.

P.P.S : And thank you for the hug. I didn't know I needed it until you gave me one. And I wasn't crying. I just had dust in my eyes.

P.P.P.S : I'm fine, really. In the light of the morning, I found my heart lighter.

I realized that my crush was just that. A crush. Admiration, not worship. Attraction, not love.

I'm truly happy for Luke and Joss. They're made for each other.

In summation : You weren't as awful as I thought you'd be. I would like to take full credit for the vast improvements in your personality.

And I'm shocked that your bad influence has dragged me down to a third postscript level of crudeness. I now hate you even more than before.

*

From : Sarawat Guntithanon (sarawow@email.com)
To : Tine (chicboy@email.com)
Date : 27 Sep 2021, 07:41 PM

Dear Tine,

I'll pick you up this Saturday at 8 a.m sharp from the lobby of your apartment.

I hope that gives you enough time to arise from your beauty sleep and get ready to have your mind blown!

No dress code. Please read that as "No dress-code" and not as "No-dress code". Wear something comfortable.

Can't wait to see you again,
Wat

P.S : Any allergies I should know about?

P.P.S : I've already got your address from Joss. It's not creepy, I'm just well prepared.

P.P.P.S : I'm relieved you're happier now. I don't think I could bear it if you were sad all by yourself. But we shall speak of it no more.

P.P.P.P.S : I'm doing my hair myself. I'm not risking it with Man on such a critical mission. I can't afford to bear any resemblance whatsoever to an alpacamel or any other amalgamated animal tomorrow.

*
From : Tine (chicboy@email.com)
To : Sarawat Guntithanon (sarawow@email.com)
Date : 27 Sep 2021, 08:00 PM

Saturday it is then.

Yours with a willing stomach and no demands,
Tine

P.S : The only thing I am allergic to is you.

P.P.S : You are creepy.

P.P.P.S : The third postscript has officially become a thing now. It's gaining legitimacy. But I refuse to devolve to a fourth postscript.

*

From : Sarawat Guntithanon (sarawow@email.com)
To : Tine (chicboy@email.com)
Date : 2 Oct 2021, 09:27 PM

I'm sorry, Tine. A million times.

Please forgive me for exposing you to that situation, even though I will never forgive myself for putting you in harm's way.

I've already called up my lawyers. I'll make sure those bastards pay for what they did today.

I failed to protect you. Maybe you're better off away from me.

Sorry,
Wat

P.S : Just once, one last time, could you please tell me if you're okay?

P.P.S : I hate myself for putting you through this. I won't blame you if you hate me too. For real.

***

Everything - Scrubb

I'll do everything, I'll try every way
It makes me know well what things will be like
It doesn't matter if you have someone else,
just look at me
Just that, I'm happy inside already

I don't care if you have someone else or how the reality is
I don't know, I just have you in my heart
I'll do everything, I'll try every way
To make you feel warm in your heart with me

Chapter Text

From : Tine (chicboy@email.com)
To : Sarawat Guntithanon (sarawow@email.com)
Date : 2 Oct 2021, 11:58 PM

Dear Sorrywat,

I'm perfectly and completely fine, in addition to being great, awesome, splendid, excellent and wonderful.

I really don't know what you're apologizing for. You and I seem to have very different recollections of how the day went.

Let me recap for us both the events from earlier today. I'm attaching a photo of us to go along with my narration.

Settle down comfortably, because this is going to be a long one -

You arrived promptly at 8 a.m, to be met, as promised, by a stylishly dressed, handsome young man, namely moi.

You then proceeded to give me beautiful and mildly fragrant lilies. Very chic, just like me. (I still don't know how you know they're my favourite flowers.)

While I recovered from my surprise and was happily sniffing the lilies, you leaned across and strapped me into the rather comfortable seat of your Ferrari.

(I did forget to breathe for a few seconds because you were suddenly very close and breathing the same air as me).

You then drove us a short way outside the city to an absolutely lovely and extremely high-end resort-spa nestled amidst the greenest of rice fields by the river.

It had a suitably pretentious name (Immantra - what does that even mean? Is that like the opposite of mantra?)

While I tried desperately to blend into the delicate fern and bamboo aesthetics to drive attention away from the more tattered parts of my ripped jeans, you booked us both a spa treatment.

Can I just say my new goal in life is to find an artistic hobby and convert it into a money-spinning profession just like you've done?

I want more of these spa sessions in my life without having to sell my kidney to pay for them.

After an hour of basically becoming putty in the expert hands of Mai the Masseuse and moulded into a fresher, better Teepakorn, I found myself sitting on a comfortable armchair in an open balcony, in utter bliss and sipping aromatic green tea that you poured for us.

Wasn't the view amazing? The cool, green stalks of rice that swayed in the gentle breeze, the sparkling blue waters of the river not too far away, the soft cooing of songbirds. (And you)

I feel like we talked about almost everything of note that has happened in our lives from the time we were born.

Remember how surprised we were when we discovered that we both went to the same soccer camp, but in different years? Coach Green was pretty unforgettable.

Eventually, we strolled to the in-house organic food bistro for what you called "the first course of our all-day meal".

I never thought I would enjoy eating veggies. I've gone through life with the firm belief that unless kale is made out of bacon, I'll pass.

But the salad I had at Good & True was easily among the best foods I've ever eaten.

Maybe it's not the what but the who that makes the difference sometimes.

The "who" in this case being Chef Earn. She's so young but has such a refined, matured pallette.

And she thought I was cute. Obviously she has great taste.

I'm not sure why you had to deliberately stand between her and me to take an unflattering selfie when I explicitly gave you the camera to take a photo of just Earn and I.

Then you took me on a leisurely barge ride up the river (or was it down the river?)

Just us. Side by side. With the sun warming our backs and the wind in our hair.

You mentioned how your first major concert performance was as the opening act for Scrubb about two years ago when Ctrl+S had just been signed as a pro band.

You were so shocked when I told you I'd attended that concert, and you didn't believe me until I showed you photos.

I assured you that you sounded just as awful then as you do now, so you've been consistently bad always. At least you haven't grown worse.

You told me about your favourite stage shows and tours and how you tend to lose track of time when you're doing the things you love, like composing or recording.

And somehow, we lost track of time ourselves, as we watched the world on the shore go by while we stayed right where we were. Next to each other.

Which brought to mind two questions -

1. When did you even organize our day out?

(Your schedule is punishing. You pack 33 hours of work into a 24-hour day.

I know this only because Joss over-shares about you and Luke has this notion that I might find it of interest. I'm not sure why)

2. Why did it feel like we were the only two people there?

(I realized shortly thereafter that we were NOT the only two people there.

I had somehow overlooked an entire wedding party who were on the barge with us.

I don't know how I missed noticing forty people. I almost photobombed the bride and groom's wedding vow pictures.

You very charmingly took photos with the newlyweds to make up for it.

I guess I was distracted. Not sure by what though.)

When we came back to the resort, you led me to the fancy Japanese restaurant that I had noticed earlier.

The Emperor's Teahouse was just as posh and classy as its name suggested.

We then proceeded to have the best meal of my life, with course after course of sheer culinary wizardry.

The broth of the ramen made me weep for joy. Every morsel of food was like divinity upon my lips.

My taste buds sang praises to the heavens above and my stomach thanked me for blessing it with such an exquisite experience.

I guess my boundless joy spread to you, because you couldn't stop smiling as you watched me eat.

I thought I'd feel conscious with you staring at me while I stuffed my face with food, but I was pleasantly comfortable around you.

And I found it endearing that you kept placing things on my plate for me to try.

(Although I was convinced you were secretly using me as your food taster before you sampled the more exotic looking concoctions.

I deliberately made a wonky face once or twice when eating the ones I particularly liked, so you'd leave them alone and there would be more for me.)

At long last, I slipped into a food coma so deep that I was convinced I would not emerge from it for days.

And yet merely minutes later, when you gently suggested that I may want to taste the best cakes I've ever had, my appetite shamelessly awoke again.

And so we jumped into your car and drove back to the city.

On the way, you told me about your brother, and I realized Phukong and I have mutual friends from some random social service camp I went to years ago.

And turns out my second cousin Dim was your senior in college. How insane is that?

It's like we've had all these unrecognized connections and our lives have crossed paths for years. We just didn't know it until now.

You parked near the entrance to the cobblestoned lanes of the Art District.

We wandered down narrow paths bordered by walls proudly coloured in bold murals.

We passed impromptu pop-up shops selling ceramic pottery, stone sculptures and hand crafted jewellery.

You bought us matching bracelets with pendants shaped like two halves of a guitar pick.

You said it was to remind us to never let the music inside us fade away.

I urged you firmly, but politely, to stop being needlessly deep.

The seller literally gave the second one for free. It was a Buy One Get One sale.

We paused to soak for a bit in the fervent energy and unfettered passion of artists and their patrons in exclusive boutique galleries.

How did you discover Marilyn's Monroe?

It's hidden in plain sight in the middle of the district and yet I had never noticed it before. Perhaps because it looks nothing like a coffeehouse from the outside.

I love, love, love the gorgeous old worldly interiors, the fifties' decor, the cozy nooks, the eclectic knick-knacks placed everywhere, the mismatched furniture and cushions and curtains that shouldn't go together but somehow do.

And oh the aroma of roasted coffee beans and vanilla and warm spices and oven fresh bread.

If I could bottle that scent and sell it, I'd be able to afford more spa days. Hell, I could live in a spa forever.

And to hear you sing while we waited for our coffee was probably the best part of an already perfect day.

Because you sang Your Smile.

I don't know how you do it, but when you sing Scrubb, you make the song your own.

It becomes Sarawat.

(And I'm beginning to think that's not a bad thing after all.)

It was a second after the last lingering note dissipated into the air that disaster struck.

In the blink of an eye, the whole place was suddenly flooded with paparazzi that seemed to spring out of the woodworks like termites.

They thrust a thousand cameras into our rather startled faces and snapped away to glory.

As I came to know later, your rather unusual and repeated attentions directed towards the VIP section during your concert did not escape the eagle-eyed reporters of some scummy gossip pages.

I had no clue that "Sarawat's Muse" was a trending topic. As a dedicated Anti-Fan, I stay away from anything related to you.

A bunch of these worthy journalists had been covering a celebrity art show in a gallery nearby when they spotted us out on the street, when you put the bracelet on my wrist.

And that's how I found myself blinded by flashes that shone brighter than the sun and deafened by shrill voices asking me if we're lovers.

I was a little stunned otherwise I would have laughed uncontrollably at the ridiculous accusation.

We were both jostled and pushed around and as the crowd closed in around us, we got separated and somehow lost sight of each other for a minute or two.

Amidst all the hullabaloo, an over-enthusiastic photographer leaned too close to a newbie waiter, who inexplicably chose that moment to bring us our drinks.

(I stan the newbie's dedication to waitering. But he needs to read the room better next time)

Before I knew it, I was drenched in coffee. Thankfully it was iced and the only thing that was hurt was my dignity.

And to a much lesser degree, my hand, which was cut across the palm by a shard of broken glass.

It was not a very deep cut, but the bright redness of my salad-healthy, ramen-fed blood mingled with the dripping coffee on my shirt to spread and create a big scarlet mess on my chest.

You went ballistic when you saw the blood. I had to hold you back to stop you from physically attacking the photographer who had caused the accident.

You then proceeded to give the paparazzi a thorough and unfiltered dressing down. You threatened them with lawsuits and worse.

Then you dragged me into the cafe manager's office, apologizing non-stop. The staff brought us a first-aid box, and locked the doors to give us privacy.

You cleaned and bandaged my wound, which was not serious at all and I felt ashamed of having caused such a big ruckus.

You held my face in your hands and kept asking me if I was okay. I kept telling you I was fine, but you didn't let go of me.

You were trembling and I saw so much anguish in your eyes that I couldn't help pulling you into my arms and holding you tightly to myself.

I don't know if you finally believed me, or if you were just cold and secretly wanted a hug from me all this time, but you stopped shivering after a few minutes.

You didn't stop saying sorry though, as if it was your fault. 

We just sat there for a while, wrapped around each other.

Ten minutes later the place was taken over by your security team and cordoned off.

I was bundled into a black SUV with tinted windows by your efficient bodyguards and Joss led you away quickly to a different car.

I was deposited safe and sound at the Teepakorn residence in due time.

The bodyguard who came with me all the way to my front door even handed me a goodie bag before he nodded a grim goodbye.

And thus ended my day of adventure.

I'm fine, Wat. I really am. It's your turn now to tell me you're okay too.

Love,
Tine

P.S : You can't promise me a day-long meal and not see it through to the end.

Next time, you can wear a disguise. You already know my views about a moustache for you.

P.P.S : What do you mean "if you hate me for real"? I do hate you for real. I'm beginning to think I've been talking to a wall all this time.

Do you even read my emails? Or is there a Sarabot that scans them?

P.P.P.S : Do you really want me to stay away? Say it again and I will. Consider this a warning and a promise.

P.P.P.P.S : Your self-styled hair was perfect. Actually, everything about you was perfect.

But the fact that I've come down to the 4th postscript clearly indicates that I've lost my mind so anything I say here is to be considered as the rambling of an unhinged person.

Attachment :
<SarawaTine.jpg>

*

From : Tine ( chicboy @email.com)
To : Sarawat Guntithanon ( sarawow @email.com)
Date : 5 Oct 2021, 07:04 AM

Rise and Shine Sleepy Joe!

You haven't responded to my email in two days and I'm beginning to think my Sarabot theory is true.

Luke told me that Joss told him that you haven't left your room since you returned home from the coffee place.

Remember the goodie bag your bodyguard gave me?

Imagine my abject disappointment when instead of dark chocolate, exotic fruits, gourmet cheeses and wine, it was found to contain nothing but useless fan mementos.

Kindly read through this ridiculous list -

A pillow with your face on it (nightmares guaranteed)

Fridge magnets (I'll just paint something on them and use them anyway)

A Sarawat plushy with a change of clothes
(as if I'm going to undress and redress a doll that looks like you. The grumpy expression on its face is spot on though.

I just hope for the sake of your innocent underage fans that the rest of your toy replica is not anatomically correct. I haven't checked.)

A coffee mug with the letter S on it (I'll grow succulents in it. More cacti for you.)

Replicas of you as 5-inch high table standees (I've placed them all around my brother's room to pop-up in unexpected places. I can't wait to hear him scream when a mini-Wat glares at him as he poops)

A tote bag and metal water bottles with Ctrl+S branding (finally something that I can use as is)

A mix of pin badges and bag tags (I'll recycle the merch to organize my recycling supplies that I'll use to recycle the merch. It's Inception level recycling)

If you're reading this right now (i.e. shortly past 7 in the morning), you'll find me outside your room, waiting to give you frank and even more detailed feedback on the quality, range and utilitarian value of your awful merchandise.

Come out of your room, Wat. Stop sulking, you big baby. I can hear you moving around inside.

Impatiently yours,
Tine

P.S : I know you can hear me. If you want me to go away and never come back, stay inside for the next 5 minutes. I'll get the message loud and clear. I won't ever bother you again.

P.P.S : I want to show you something. But only in person. Face to face.

P.P.P.S : Don't push me away, Wat. Please?

P.P.P.P.S : Hold on. Why did you send me an email just now when you can hear me banging on your door?

I'm going to send mine to you first and then read yours.

***

Your Smile - Scrubb

Your smile, just once,
Makes me forget my troubles
And makes me realize what is more important
Than anything to be replaced

Your voice, just once,
Makes me float far away out of sight
There's something more that I once found
Much more than can be explained

If I try to close my eyes right now,
I see the same image again
I just want to stop time, just for now,
If you'll agree that it's not so simple

I only want to ask for your smile one more time
To know that we don't want to say good-bye
One day, we'll realize what's most important
Is still remembered in our hearts

Chapter Text

From : Sarawat Guntithanon ( sarawow @email.com)
To : Tine ( chicboy @email.com)
Date : 5 Oct 2021, 07:03 AM

My dearest Tine

I have a confession to make and I don't know what you'll think of me afterwards.

I know I don't deserve your consideration, but I hope you will read this all the way to the end before making up your mind.

Here goes -

I saw you for the first time three years ago at a Scrubb concert.

I was standing in the row behind yours. We were complete strangers but I could immediately see you were a true fan of Scrubb.

You called out every song in the exact order in which it was going to be performed long before anyone else had even the faintest clue.

You knew what was next on the list just from the re-arrangements the band made on the stage with the instruments or who got which mic.

I was amazed by how intently you must have listened to their songs, and the dedication with which you must have watched their live performances in the past.

You found so much joy just from being there with them, listening to them play, immersing yourself in the lyrics and the music and the vibe.

You gave yourself up to the unique euphoria that only great music can bring.

I recognized a kindred spirit in you, because that's how music makes me feel too.

The way it fills your soul with unadulterated, raw emotion. A rush that is incomparable and intense and pure.

At one point, you stepped back and bumped into me. You turned to me and smiled in apology.

I've not forgotten that smile in three years.

You know how they describe love at first sight in books and movies? It was exactly like that for me with you.

I felt like I'd been struck by lightning. My breath was punched out of my lungs and every nerve ending in my body lit up.

In a crowd of thousands, my eyes could see only you. My heart beat to the tune of your playful fingers, my pulse thrummed to the cadence of your tapping feet.

I felt as though some piece of me that I hadn't known was even missing, had been found. My very essence vibrated with the music that filled the air around us.

I spent the next hour watching you spell-bound as you jumped up and down and sang along with every song.

Your eyes were scrunched up into crescent moons, you were breathless, your clothes clung to your body with sweat, nothing mattered to you as you danced in rapture.

You turned to look at me once again when they played Click. It seemed like they were singing it just for us.

And I knew that my life would never be the same again.

Before I could fully absorb what was happening to me, the concert ended and we were swept away in different directions by the crowd.

I tried to make my way to you, but I lost sight of you for just one second and you disappeared.

I looked desperately for you outside the venue, but I couldn't find you anywhere.

I almost went crazy that day. You took a part of my soul with you and I had no clue how to get it back.

Over the next year, I kept searching for you in every Scrubb concert I could go to. My friends thought I was going mad.

I joined my college band and started playing Scrubb songs in college fests all over the country to try and find you.

It was during one of those performances that Ctrl+S was spotted by a producer for a big label. One thing led to another, and we were signed up by the label within a few months.

It had been more than a year by then, and I was no closer to finding you than the day I lost you.

I couldn't get over you, but my hope of finding you began fading with time.

I slowly, reluctantly learned to live with the very real possibility that I would never see you again.

So I immersed myself in my work and trusted the universe to lead me to you. I was willing to wait for a lifetime if that's what it took for us to meet again.

When you sent me that first email, I didn't know it was you. I was genuinely tickled by it and sent you the voucher to make up for your disappointment.

When you redeemed the voucher, I got a receipt for it. I checked it purely out of curiosity.

I saw your name. Tine Teepakorn. I thought it was pretty and the alliteration was musical.

Then I noticed you'd redeemed the gift card on Scrubb. A spark of long buried hope flickered in me.

I looked up your name on social media, not expecting anything at all.

I almost died when I saw your face smiling back at me. I couldn't believe I'd actually found you.

I wanted to reach out to you right away, but a few roadblocks presented themselves before me -

1. I wasn't sure if it was indeed you that I was exchanging emails with, or if my anti-fan was a different Tine. I didn't want to approach you without context and risk looking like a weirdo.

2. I didn't know how to bring up our chance meeting three years ago, because if you were really my anti-fan, you did not seem to think very highly of me.

3. I realized from your social feeds that you had feelings for someone else.

You posted several pictures of and with him, made indirect references about him, but never mentioned him by name.

And perhaps his accounts were private, because I couldn't read his responses.

So I didn't know for sure if he was my Anti-Fan's Luke. And I didn't know the exact nature of your relationship with that man or how deep it went on both sides.

I decided to hold off from contacting you on social media until I discovered more about you.

Meanwhile, I found myself falling for the boy I was talking to. My sassy, witty, smart, funny Anti-Fan, who breathed fire and wore his heart on his sleeve.

At first, I flirted with him just to see if he would get flustered. But very soon, I discovered that I was the one who got flustered instead.

I would keep checking my emails for a reply from him, read and re-read his words, grinning like an idiot all the while.

Behind his barbs I could sense his warm and sunny personality, and I noted how his insults never had any bite behind them.

He was mean but never hurtful. Caustic but never cruel.

And he did care about me even though he vigorously claimed the exact opposite.

Perhaps because he didn't really hate me after all.

By now, I was torn and conflicted between my feelings for Tine the Anti-Fan, the boy I was starting to fall in love with, and Tine the Scrubb fan, the boy whose face I hadn't forgotten in three years.

I kept hoping that I'd see my Anti-Fan or hear his voice just once to confirm that they were both the same Tine.

But of course, you never made it easy for me.

So I forced myself to stay patient and not jump to conclusions. To let things take their due course, wait for the right opportunity and not do something stupid that may end up with me losing either of my Tines.

During the concert, I kept searching for a glimpse of you in the VIP section. If I could have seen you even once, for even just a fraction of a second, my heart would have been less troubled.

But I didn't see you. (Or a floating yellow dick, for that matter)

When I saw you for the first time backstage after the concert, I almost wept with sheer relief and exhilaration.

My first love and the boy who was making me fall in love again were both you, Tine.

I wanted to run to you, sweep you into my arms and kiss you then and there.

But then I witnessed the whole scene between you, Luke and Joss play out, and saw how sad and hurt you were.

I was terrified that you were in love with Luke and that you may not be able to get over him. Like I hadn't been able to get over you all these years.

So I decided to do what I reasonably could - keep my feelings to myself and stay by your side, help your heart heal, and hope that in time you'd be willing to open yourself up to someone other than Luke.

And when that time came, I prayed it would be me.

I had planned the perfect itinerary for our first day out together.

After coffee and cakes at Marilyn's, I would have taken you on a walking tour of the old Colonial District.

I wanted to show you these beautiful, old but well-tended secret gardens hidden away behind false walls, and twisting, winding lanes lined with blooming wisteria trees.

One of the British era townhouses in that area has now been converted into a pub. We might have ended our walk there, and settled down to watch the sunset, while drinking a pint or two of brewed wheat beer.

We would have walked back to the car afterwards, taking a shortcut through the botanical gardens, where the night flowers would have started to bloom.

I would have brought you to my apartment for dinner, where I would have cooked my special green curry for you.

We would have fought over which movie to see over dinner, and you would have won. Obviously.

I'm sure it would have been some ridiculous movie in a genre I wouldn't normally go for, but I would still enjoy it thoroughly because you'd be happy.

We would have closed the night out with a cup each of the best gelato in town from my friend's exclusive salon.

I'd have driven you home then, and bade you good night with a warm hug, after securing our next date.

And hopefully, just before I got into my car, you'd see it fit to give me your number.

And I'd call you as soon as I reached home to tell you how wonderful every single second spent with you had been. And how I hoped you'd enjoyed yourself as well.

But of course, none of that happened, because I failed to protect you from the vultures that circle around me all the time.

I've been running the scenario over and over in my head and I find something new every time that I could and should have done to keep you safe from the paparazzi.

I should have anticipated it. I should have reduced my exposure, brought in my security team sooner. Kept you completely out of their sights right from the start.

When they surrounded you and I couldn't see you for a few minutes, I got panic-inducing flashbacks of the time I lost you at the concert three years ago.

So when I saw you hurt and harassed and bleeding, I lost it. I went blind with fear, rage and guilt.

Thank you for saving me from doing something I would have regretted. Thank you for comforting me, when you should have been blaming me instead.

I've secured a restraining order against twenty-three of the websites that published your pictures. They've already taken them down.

No one from these sites is allowed to come within 100 feet of you without your express permission. This should dissuade the smaller sites as well.

I'm so sorry, Tine. For keeping all this from you. For putting you in a situation where you got hurt.

It is serendipitous how our lives have intertwined over the years without us knowing.

We've been destined to meet all our lives. It just took us a while to get the timing right.

You are my first love, my last love, my only love. And I don't want to wait anymore.

I want to woo you like the prince you are, show you in every way I can how special you are, what you mean to me.

Do I stand a chance with you?

Yours (if you would have me),
Wat

P.S : I take back what I said before. Even if you're better off without me, there is no way I can stay away from you. Not anymore.

P.P.S : Everything before this postscript has been sitting in my drafts for two days. I just didn't have the courage to press send.

P.P.P.S : I can hear you trying to break my door down. Give me exactly thirty seconds to send this out to you and then I'll open the door and watch you read this.

P.P.P.P.S : I love you, Tine.

*

Wat watched nervously as Tine read his email.

He shifted from foot to foot, cleared his throat, gulped dryly, rubbed the nape of his neck self-consciously.

He pulled the sleeves of his jumper down to cover his fingers so Tine wouldn't see how they trembled.

He chewed on his lips and anxiously waited for Tine to finish. Time seemed to tick by inexorably slowly.

Joss, who had let Tine into Wat's apartment, took pity on Wat and gave him a bottle of water from the fridge.

Wat opened it and cringed as the crack of the seal breaking resounded like a bullet in the silence that hung thickly in the room.

He took a tentative sip while Tine scrolled away. It was a long email.

Tine frowned intently as he read the words, going back and forth to re-read some sections.

"Is this true?" asked Tine, looking at Wat at long last.

Wat nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"You really did not see the bright yellow glowstick penis?" said Tine, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

Wat ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "Don't do this to me, Tine. I've laid my soul bare in that mail and that's all you caught?"

Tine kept his phone on a table, took two steps towards Wat, held his face in both hands, and kissed him.

Wat was stunned into inaction for a second. He couldn't believe his Tine was kissing him.

He parted his lips against Tine's soft but insistent ones and found himself swooning as Tine deepened the kiss.

They didn't even notice Joss tip-toeing away, closing the front door behind him as he left them alone.

Wat curled one hand around Tine's perfect waist, carded the other through Tine's soft hair and pulled them closer until there was no space between them at all.

Their mouths moulded together perfectly, as though their lips were made only for each other.

They tasted each other with soft, tentative flicks of their tongues, exploring, seeking more.

Wat was sure he would die from the sheer toe-curling pleasure of hearing the soft airy moans that escaped Tine as Wat tugged at his lower lip with his teeth.

Lost in a world of their own, the two saw, heard, felt nothing except the oneness that was theirs and theirs alone - their shared breaths and swallowed sighs, their synchronized heartbeats, their interlocked fingers.

They kissed unhurriedly and languidly, hands moving shyly down each other's body, fingertips tingling with the sensation of feeling out the other's dips and planes, sparks flying wherever skin met skin.

They parted breathlessly at last. Tine rested his forehead against Wat's and closed his eyes.

"I didn't know you would go to these lengths to try and convert your anti-fan. I hope you realize this changes nothing. I still don't like you. At all" he said, planting small, soft kisses on Wat's lips between words.

Wat chuckled and kissed Tine's forehead.

"I wouldn't dream of changing anything. I love everything about you, Tine" he said, smiling so sweetly at the boy before him that Tine felt his heart twinge.

He looped his arms around Wat's neck and buried his blushing face on Wat's shoulder.

"You said you had something to show me" said Wat, bending his head low to brush his lips against Tine's cheek and running his fingers through Tine's hair.

He pressed his warm palm along the curve of Tine's spine as Tine felt about on the table for his phone and held it up before Wat.

"You know that photo of us together from the first time we met after your concert? It's been my phone's wallpaper since then. Who's the lovestruck sap now?" Tine mumbled and hid his face against Wat's chest.

Wat felt a thrill run through him, his chest tightened with an expanding confetti balloon of joy and love so intensely sweet that he didn't know how his heart hadn't exploded yet.

He rested his cheek on Tine's head and hugged him so tightly that he squeezed the breath out of them both.

"How can you be this cute, my love? How? I can't bear it" whined Wat, who didn't know how to contain the sheer, over-whelming rush of affection that seeped out through his pores.

Tine blushed some more and pulled Wat closer.

"I love you, Wat. I love you like I never thought it was possible for me to love anyone. I love you so much that it scared me.

I've known it for a while, but I was too afraid to admit it to myself.

I stubbornly clung to my childish crush on Luke so I wouldn't have to face my growing feelings for someone as perfect and unattainable as you.

You're a rockstar with millions of fans. I'm no one and have nothing to offer to you except my undiluted brattiness.

I did not, could not, dare to hope that I would ever become more than someone you exchanged emails with when you were bored.

While you made your way into my heart and firmly stayed there, I never believed that I stood a chance with you for real.

So I shielded my heart behind my truculence and refused to acknowledge your many attempts to draw me out.

When we met backstage after the concert, I was awestruck by you. You were even more amazing in person than I had previously thought.

You were so warm, so sweet, so utterly lovable that my heart just gave up trying to stay strong.

So when Luke chose to finally take the leap with Joss, it left me defenseless and vulnerable.

I cried that day not because I lost Luke, but because I could no longer hide behind him.

I couldn't deny my feelings for you anymore and it hit me all at once that I would never be able to recover from you.

I was hopelessly in love, with very little chance of survival.

It took me a day or so to process things, but I decided that I'd stay by your side however and for as long as you'd let me.

A single moment with you would be worth any number of lifetimes without.

I would take whatever you saw fit to share with me, and be grateful for the chance to be with you however you allowed.

To know that you've loved me all this time - it feels surreal.

Is this real or am I in a dream I never want to wake up from?

Do you really love me, Wat? I'm nobody."

Wat held Tine's chin gently between his thumb and forefinger. He lifted Tine's face to his and kissed him again.

Deeply, passionately, with the aching want of a million moments of undying, unrequited love.

Tine beamed at him, eyes shining. And Wat felt whole again.

"You're not nobody. You're everything to me. I adore you, my love. This rockstar is whipped for his anti-fan.

I've waited for this moment for years. To hold you in my arms like this. To drown in your eyes and be the reason for your smile.

I loved you then, I love you immeasurably more now, I'll keep loving you forever.

My Anti-Fan, my muse, my Tine... Mine, all mine."

-- THE END --

Click - Scrubb

I never thought I'd have such a good day with you by my side like this
I instantly felt it the second we first met, that there was something
By talking to you, I knew, I saw that this was meaningful
Between us there must be something that links you and me together

There might have been many times
I was confused with many people coming and going through my life
But when I met you, it was different because I was certain
If today we ended things, it'd probably be a mistake
When I found someone who was drawn to be my perfect match

A/N : This story brought me out of a writer's block and an overall slump in motivation in my life in general. I had so much fun writing this.

Thank you for your love and support. You don't know how important you are to me and how happy you make me ❤️

A big shout-out to the anon reader who trusted me with this prompt.

Until we meet again.

Love, Your Mixi ❤️