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The week before Valentine's Day, the student council at Chulalongkorn University rolled out a cheesy little event called Secret Hearts.
It was fairly simple:
- One was to write a love letter, anonymous if necessary.
- The best ones would then be featured in the Valentine’s edition of the university newsletter.
It was supposed to be innocent fun. A harmless way to spread a little romance.
It was not supposed to be the beginning of Dunk Natachai’s public descent into absolute ruin.
To be fair, it all started with Pond Naravit.
“You should write one,” Pond said, mouth full of noodles. “You’ve been mooning after Joong since orientation. Just send it anonymously.”
“I’m not mooning.” Dunk stabbed his salad with unnecessary force. “And Joong doesn’t even like guys.”
“Are you sure?” Phuwin piped up, twirling his straw in his iced tea. “Because he complimented your hands last week and then tripped over air when you smiled at him.”
“That’s just how he is! Joong compliments everyone.”
“Yes, but he doesn’t blush and trip at everyone,” Phuwin pointed out, sipping loudly.
Dunk sighed. He did not need hope. He needed therapy.
And a restraining order. Possibly for Pond and Phuwin.
Still, that night, Dunk sat at his desk in his tiny off-campus apartment and opened a fresh Google Doc.
To Whomever It May Concern,
I don’t think you know what you do to people.
Your laugh could be studied in chemistry. Your smile ruins me, body and soul. The way your eyes crinkle at the ends, it makes the world stop for a bit. When you say my name, I forget how to breathe.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m imagining all of it. That you look at me longer than necessary, that your voice softens when I speak.
But then you’re next to me again, bumping your knee into mine on instinct, and hope flares in me once more.
I think I’m in love with you. Scratch that, I know I’m absolutely in love with you.
This probably doesn’t concern you. You’re the heart and soul of this place, so you likely have no shortage of love coming your way.
But it’s always concerned me, seeing you give your love away so freely, never realizing that I'm the one who wants it most of all.
He printed it, folded it neatly, and slipped it in the submission box by the Student Union under the safety of night.
He almost immediately regretted it.
The Valentine's edition of the university newsletter was published three days later.
Pond said it looked like it had been designed in Canva by someone who once ate a crayon.
But that didn’t matter.
Instead, what really mattered was that Dunk’s letter had been printed on the centerfold. It was bold, italicized, and attributed only to “Anonymous.”
He nearly dropped his coffee when he saw it.
“Oh my god,” he whispered. “Oh my god.”
Pond, reading over his shoulder, whistled. “Damn. Your smile ruins me? Bro, that's so cliché.”
Phuwin narrowed his eyes. “Wait a minute. You didn’t actually write that—”
“I DID,” Dunk hissed. “And it wasn’t supposed to be printed!”
“Who was it for?” Pond asked gleefully, teasingly, as if he didn’t already know.
Phuwin piped up beside him, in a singsong voice, “Was it Joong?”
“I will throw myself into traffic.”
The campus group chat exploded within hours.
>> Who’s it about???
>> i bet it’s for Tanawat from accounting 🫢🫢
>> “Your smile ruins me, body and soul” – LITERALLY who smiles like that??
>> must be joong. it’s always joong.
Dunk didn’t reply, of course.
And then Joong, bright-eyed and freshly showered from swim practice, cornered him on the way to class. Dunk tried not to focus on the water drops streaming down from his hair onto his slightly exposed collarbones.
“Did you read the newsletter?” Joong asked, out of breath and grinning. “That anonymous letter?”
Dunk’s soul left his body.
“Oh, uhm. Yeah, saw it.”
Joong looked around as if afraid of being overheard. “Who do you think it’s about?”
“Dunno,” Dunk said, voice cracking like a dying radio.
Joong bit his lip. “Do you think it’s about… Tanawat?”
Dunk nearly choked. “TANAWAT?”
Joong nodded solemnly. “He does have a nice smile. And he’s always offering people gum.”
“I—what, no—”
But Joong had already wandered off, eyebrows furrowed in deep contemplation about Tanawat’s gum generosity. Dunk could only sigh resignedly at his retreating figure.
The days passed like a fever dream.
Dunk tried to move on. He really did.
But then Force, never one to miss drama, made it his personal mission to investigate “The Love Letter Incident.” He conducted interviews during lunch.
“You’re awfully quiet, Joong,” he said one day, chewing on grilled chicken. “Something on your mind?”
Joong didn’t even look up. “Nothing important.”
“Thinking about your possible secret admirer?”
Dunk decided to focus on a fly that was sitting on his arm.
Joong flushed. “It’s probably nothing.”
Pond gasped. “You hope it’s about you!”
“I didn’t say that!”
“You definitely hope it’s about you.”
Joong sank into his hoodie like a turtle. “Maybe.”
Dunk continued to focus on random things, pointedly ignoring the grins that Pond and Force were giving him.
The week after Valentine’s Day, Dunk walked past Joong’s locker and overheard him talking to First and Khaotung.
“I think… I think I love the person who wrote it,” Joong admitted, cheeks pink. “Not because of the letter. But because I think, well, I hope it’s someone I already love.”
Dunk stopped breathing.
That night, Dunk opened the original file. He printed it again and added a single line at the top, in a messy scrawl:
To Whom It May Concern,
You. It’s always been you.
The next morning, he slid the folded letter into Joong’s locker.
Joong found it during lunch.
He unfolded it slowly, rereading the words he had memorized days ago. Only this time, something was different. There, in sloppy handwriting at the top, was a new line.
You. It’s always been you.
Joong stood frozen for a moment, and then blinked for another.
His mind snapped to the handwriting, with the way the letters leaned and the uneven strokes, it all clicked.
Then he ran.
Dunk was at the courtyard bench, headphones on, trying to disappear into the earth.
Joong sat beside him, breathless.
“You wrote it,” Joong said, unable to contain the excitement from slipping into his voice.
Dunk didn’t answer. He continued to look down.
Joong reached for his hand.
“You wrote it for me.”
Dunk’s voice was a whisper. “You thought it was about Tanawat.”
“I was in denial,” Joong said, laughing. “I thought you’d never feel the same. But then you wrote that letter and… God, Dunk. Your smile ruins me.”
Dunk looked up.
Joong leaned closer.
And right there, surrounded by hollering undergrads and half-eaten pad thai containers, he kissed him.
Phuwin, watching from behind a vending machine, wiped away a fake tear. “Iconic,” he whispered to Pond, who was already live-tweeting the event with the caption:
BREAKING: mysterious love letter revealed to be about Joong Archen. Dunk Natachai is confirmed to have written the letter. Both look unfairly hot. Developing.