Chapter Text
Joong had always been outgoing. It came easily to him, like breathing, and somewhere along the way it had turned him into what people liked to call “popular”. He had friends everywhere. Dance club, futsal team, random classmates he had only spoken to once. Even lecturers seemed to like him well enough.
People paid attention to Joong without him trying.
Which made it all the more ridiculous that the only person he actually wanted attention from barely seemed to notice him.
Dunk Natachai Boonprasert was nothing like him.
Third year, art faculty, always sitting at the very front, always surrounded only by the same two people. Quiet, composed, and seemingly very content to remain that way.
Joong had no problem approaching people. Never had. But whenever it came to Dunk, everything in him seemed to short-circuit. His confidence disappeared, replaced by something far more pathetic.
His friends found it hilarious.
“Got you coffee.”
Joong blinked, pulled out of his thoughts as Santa jogged up beside him, thrusting a cup into his hands. The ice clinked softly as Joong accepted it.
“You look like you’re about to die,” Santa added. “Morning classes don’t suit you.”
Joong huffed lightly. They really did not. But a certain someone always seemed to have them.
Santa nudged him with his elbow, grin already forming. “Oi. Look.”
Joong followed his line of sight.
Dunk.
Walking up the stairs, dark hair slightly messy, bag slung over one shoulder, completely unaware of the way Joong’s entire brain stopped functioning.
“Your favourite phi,” Santa said, far too pleased with himself.
Joong rolled his eyes, though the heat creeping up his neck betrayed him. “Shut up and go to class.”
But his eyes stayed on Dunk until he disappeared from view.
Dunk caught the laughter from below and glanced briefly down the stairwell.
Joong. Of course.
He turned away almost immediately, making his way towards Pond and Phuwin.
“Since when does Joong attend morning lectures?” Dunk asked, slipping into his seat beside them. Phuwin shrugged. “Since this semester, I think. Doesn’t look thrilled about it.” Dunk let out a quiet scoff. “Probably struggling without an audience.”
Pond snorted, then winced slightly when Dunk’s elbow found his arm.
“He’s nice, actually,” Pond said, rubbing the spot. “And attractive.”
“That’s your boyfriend you’re saying that in front of,” Dunk replied dryly. Phuwin did not even look up from his phone. “He’s lucky I’m secure.”
Dunk shook his head, though a small smile threatened to form before he forced it down.
Still, as annoying as Joong could be, Pond might have had a point. Joong was… not awful. Just loud. Always surrounded by people. Always drawing attention.
And Dunk preferred none of that.
Dunk excelled in his studies. It was one of the few areas of his life that remained entirely under his control.
His parents had not been thrilled when he insisted on pursuing art. It had taken careful arguments and far too many debates, but he had won in the end.
Now, seated at the front of the lecture hall, laptop open and covered in stickers, Dunk focused entirely on the slides ahead.
He took notes methodically, barely sparing attention for the occasional whispers behind him.
Structure was comforting. Predictable.
Unlike people.
By noon, the campus had come alive. Joong had not had a moment to himself.
Confessions, gifts, snacks pressed into his hands despite his polite refusals. It was routine by now. He rejected every time, gently, but people rarely listened.
Sitting in the cafeteria, he pushed the growing pile of snacks aside as his friends gathered around.
“Another successful day for mister campus star,” Aou teased. Joong made a face. “Do you want them or not?”
Force had already started rummaging through the bags. “I absolutely do.”
They fell into easy conversation, but Joong’s attention wandered again.
There.
Across the hall.
Dunk.
Something was off.
Joong straightened slightly, eyes narrowing as he watched the interaction. The person standing in front of Dunk was far too close, posture aggressive, voice sharp even from a distance.
Dunk looked uncomfortable. That was enough. Joong stood before he had fully thought it through.
“Back off.”
His arm came up instinctively, creating space between Dunk and the other man.
The stranger scoffed. “What’s it to you?” Joong’s gaze hardened. “You’re making him uncomfortable.”
“Are you his fucking boyfriend or something?”
The words hung in the air. Joong did not hesitate. “Maybe I am.”
Behind him, he could feel Dunk shift. “Let’s just go,” Dunk said quietly, placing a hand on Joong’s arm, trying to pull him away.
The name clicked into place.
Joss.
Right. Futsal.
Joong’s expression darkened slightly. “Bit embarrassing, isn’t it?”Joss laughed, sharp and unpleasant. “You one of them gays as well?”
Joong exhaled slowly, jaw tightening. He forced himself not to react physically.
“I don’t care,” he said instead, voice steady. “He said he’s done talking to you.”
He turned, taking Dunk’s hand without thinking, and led him away.
Dunk stumbled slightly as he was pulled along. Joong did not stop until they reached a bench. “Alright,” Dunk said, breath catching slightly. “You can let go.”
Joong released him immediately, expression shifting into something uneasy.
“I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t want him to hurt you.”
Dunk studied him for a moment.
Joong looked almost… apologetic. Like he had done something wrong simply by stepping in.
“It’s fine,” Dunk said. “Thank you.” Joong lit up at that, only for concern to settle in again.
“Does he do that often?”Dunk hesitated, then shrugged. “Enough.”
“That’s not okay.”
Dunk let out a small laugh. “And what do you want me to do? Report him?”
Joong frowned. “Yes.”
“As if that would change anything.”
There was a pause.
Joong sat beside him, hands clasped together. “I’m not friends with him.”
“I assumed you were,” Dunk replied. “Same circle.”
Joong shook his head. “And it would be quite stupid to befriend a homophobe when I’m queer.”
Dunk blinked.
“…You are?” Joong laughed softly, almost shy. “I thought that was obvious.”
Dunk glanced away, suddenly aware of everything at once. The proximity. The tone. The implication. “I see.”
Joong rubbed the back of his neck. “I like someone anyway.”
Dunk’s fingers stilled.
He did not ask who.
“I have class,” he said instead, standing quickly. “Thank you. Again.”
He left before Joong could respond.
Later, with Pond and Phuwin, the interrogation was immediate. Dunk tried to focus on his notes. Failed.
“He helped you?” Pond asked.
“Yes.”
“And defended you?” Phuwin added.
“Yes.”
Pond leaned back, grinning. “He’s better than I thought.” Dunk exhaled through his nose. “He’s… not as bad as I assumed.”
And that unsettled him more than anything.