Work Text:
“Hi.”
A soft velvet voice tickled Yuma's ears, breaking his concentration on the music files he’d been browsing on his phone. It was quiet—so light it almost felt like a breeze against his ears—but it held a steady, rhythmic calm that made Yuma look up instantly. And boy, he had to look up.
Towering over him was a man whose face was a complete subversion of the party's noise. He was striking—impossibly small features framed by a shock of platinum blonde hair that caught the chandelier's light like spun silk. He’s wearing a black glittered suit with nothing underneath. A glimpse of a majestic vertical line down the chest teased curious eyes, like Yuma’s.
“Yes?” Yuma was surprised his voice came out normal after being floored by such gorgeousness.
“Ah, no, I’m just… um…” The man rubbed his nape, looking somewhat nervous despite his strong appearance. “I, um… I realised that you’ve been playing with your phone. For a while now. So, I thought maybe, maybe, you’re not much in the mood for this after-party,” he paused for a moment, eyes flickering. “Like I am.”
This man could be an audiobook narrator, and Yuma would listen to it all day. His voice was silky, almost ethereal. Like soft silk ribbons. Wrapping Yuma in a mellow airy embrace. He instinctively leaned closer, just a tiny bit.
“You’re not interested in the party?” Yuma raised an eyebrow. “You’re a model, right?” Judging by the height and the visual, this man was 100% a model. Probably Saint Laurent or Gucci.
“Yeah…” The man nodded softly. A bashful smile bloomed on his face. Yuma briefly wondered how someone who literally posed for the world could actually be this shy. “I know what you think. You must’ve thought that all models like parties.” The model smiled wider.
Yuma’s breath hitched at the way the model’s features softened from that smile. With the height, the hair, and the sharp jawline, the man looked a bit rough at the edges if he were to be honest. “Wow…”
The model straightened up. “Pardon?”
Yuma felt like a dumbass, voicing his mind like that. But he didn’t meet someone this God-like on a daily basis. God help him. “Ah, sorry.” He clicked his tongue, disappointed at his own embarrassing act in front of such eye candy. “Did I offend you?”
The model shook his head. “No?”
“I thought all models like after-parties, or at least used to it.”
“Ah…” Another smile broke on the model’s face. By far, this was Yuma’s favourite. Bigger, and wider. Those eyes lit up subtly. “No worries, I get that sometimes.”
Yuma nodded, unable to tear his gaze away. He’s still under the spell of an eye-crinkling smile.
“By the way, pardon me for not introducing myself earlier. I’m Jo.” The model stretched out his hand for a handshake.
Yuma eyed the offered hand. Even his hand was attractive. Long dainty fingers with manicured nails. He took the hand and shook it gently, confirming that it was indeed soft like he had imagined a second ago. “Hi, Jo. I’m Yuma.”
The model, Jo, let out a soft airy laugh, covering his mouth with the hand that Yuma just shook. “Hi, Yuma,” he said with yet another gentle gaze.
Yuma was in awe. Never before did his name sound that… elegant.
“Japanese?” Jo’s english had the slightest accent that’s too close to home to Yuma. He just had to ask.
“Would you be disappointed if I wasn’t Japanese?”
“Huh?” Yuma’s confidence wavered. Had he overstepped? He was usually so calculated, but Jo’s presence was making his thoughts scramble. “Not at all. I just... I felt a connection, I guess. I’m Japanese-American, so I was probably just looking for a familiar face in this crowd.”
Jo furrowed his eyebrows briefly before his face turned into the most nurturing expression Yuma had ever seen. “No need to look so worried. I was just teasing you. I am Japanese—Asakura Jo. I suppose the name is a bit of a giveaway, isn't it?”
“Asakura Jo…” Yuma tasted the full name on his tongue. A perfect name for a perfect man.
“Um… It’s just… I want to keep the conversation alive...” Jo hung his head, looking at the tip of his shoes.
Yuma wanted to lift that face, but he wasn’t sure if it’s the time to be skin to skin yet. Instead, he relished on how that slicked back hair gave him the perfect view of a smooth forehead. He wondered how the model would look with all his fringe down.
Jo was indeed dashing, but he was not just that. He got the aura. It’s fascinating, and Yuma was always up to an exciting challenge. “So you were watching me?”
People said he’s too blunt. Sometimes brutally honest. It’s not like he planned it or anything. He's just like this. And for now, his brain seemed curious about a piece of information Jo might have or might not have accidentally shared earlier.
Jo’s shy hair-tuck and soft gnaw on glossed lips told him that he might have hit it home. He regretted nothing.
“I did…” Jo finally looked him in the eyes. Yuma’s heart skipped a beat. Models and their exquisite visuals. “I hope you don’t find it annoying?”
“Well, I didn’t realise you were watching, so it’s okay. But I wished I did, though.” Yuma grinned, sensing something from the pink tint that wasn’t makeup from the man before him. He might as well make the party more fun.
Jo blinked a few times. “Why?”
“So I could come to you, and we could talk way sooner,” Yuma said, smirking. This was his chance, and he wasn’t interested in letting it slip away.
The model did not react at first, seemingly processing the info. The buzz from the party suddenly died down, as if they were all going quiet just to hear Jo. Yuma wasn’t sure if it was real or only in his head. A few seconds later, the corner of Jo’s lips tugged into a smile. “I’d love that.”
Yuma exhaled a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “It’s alright. We have all the time in the world right now.”
“True.” Jo stepped closer, and now they’re only a step away. “I’ve never seen you around?”
“Because this is my first fashion week. I’m not a model.” Yuma shrugged his shoulders. “Hence, the intense connection with my phone.”
Jo’s eyes went big. It’s endearing. “You’re not a model??”
Yuma laughed. “I thought my height was the biggest telltale?”
“But you are pretty. Like very pretty.”
Yuma had heard it a lot of times, to a point that he was aware of that, but never once he felt an electric jolt just from a compliment. He tore his gaze away from Jo, afraid that the latter would catch on the extra pink on his cheeks. Which should have been okay on a different occasion, not this time. He’s keen to establish the vibe that he was the confident successful star, perhaps a little sassy.
“I thought you were Balenciaga’s new model!” Jo’s boba eyes kept widening. “Are you an actor?”
Yuma bit back a smile. Seemed like the timid Jo had cracked his shell more. “I’m not an actor either.”
“Oh, I did not expect that!”
“I get that sometimes.” Yuma winked, copying Jo’s words from earlier. “Also, maybe we can drop English and speak Japanese instead,” he said in Japanese, faintly wishing that speaking in Japanese would somehow accelerate progress. “I’m a singer, by the way.”
Jo’s wide shoulders relaxed at the use of his mother tongue. Yuma felt a wash of accomplishment just from that alone. “A singer? Are you like an idol?”
“You can say that…”
“Can you sing for me?” Jo asked. His eyes fixed on Yuma.
Yuma did not know where that came from. They literally just met less than ten minutes ago, and now he’s being asked to sing? The irresistible lure from those eyes, on the other hand, made his heart stir in pride. Like he’s worth it.
“I haven’t warmed up my vocal all day, so beware,” Yuma said, preparing. He inhaled a deep breath, let out a small exhale before closing his eyes. “I wished I had a heartbreak time machine…The path we walked together. All the countless traces of crying and laughing. I'll hold them and move forward, be with me. I'd still be in one piece…” He ended the song with a steady opening of his eyes. Their gazes met with an intensity that made his pulse quickened.
Jo’s mouth went into the shape of ‘O’ before he clapped with those glassy deer eyes. “I love it! I want to listen to the full version!”
Yuma’s heart swelled. He had sung in front of thousands of fans before, why was it so different this time? “Well, go to your Apple Music then,” he joked, slipping his hands into his trousers’ pockets. The urge to touch Jo shimmered inside him.
“I will!”
“Oh, well, t-thank you.” Yuma didn’t mean to stutter, but the brightness of Jo’s face blinded him.
The next how-many minutes passed unnoticed by Yuma as they engaged in an exciting conversation. Jo was such a great companion. He talked when he had to and listened to what he said with careful eyes. As if he didn’t want to miss a word.
“Ah, it’s my manager,” Yuma pointed out, his phone buzzing. “Give me a few sec?” He slipped away from their bubble as soon as Jo gave him a nod, answering the call. “Hey, Harua?”
“Yuma, it’s time to go. The fitting schedule for Dior’s event is being pushed up to one hour from now. I’ll see you outside.”
Yuma ignored the pang in his chest. “Oh, okay. Be right up.”
One thing Yuma noticed was how delicate Jo was with his movements. Jo wasn't overly touchy, but there was a magnetic pull in the way he stood. When Jo eventually reached out to steady Yuma or emphasize a point, his touch was light—like a phantom limb or a soft brush of silk.
He was not skittish about skinship per se, but Jo’s presence was so serene that Yuma found himself leaning into it. He kept wishing those long, elegant fingers would stay anchored to his arm, grounding him.
“Yeah, a fitting schedule just got pushed up. I gotta go,” Yuma said as they reunited. The disappointment in his own voice surprised him. And the way Jo’s soft features dimmed, his eyes searching Yuma’s for a second longer than necessary, made Yuma feel an unexpected ache.
“Oh, okay…” Jo smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“See you at another after-party?” Yuma knew he sounded too hopeful, but he did want to see Jo again, preferably soon.
“This is my last one,” Jo revealed. Yuma thought those dark brown eyes clouded over, the spark from earlier vanishing. “I gotta head up to the airport tonight.”
“Where are you going?” Again, Yuma found himself acting not like the usual him. It’s not his business to know where the model was going.
“New York.”
It’s an unfamiliar territory, however he had met his match in a man who could literally look down on him and make him blush. This was it. It could be a one in a million chance. “Give me your number,” Yuma asked boldly, not caring what Jo might think. At least for this second, if the latter decided to slap or stomp away from him for being a creep, it’s another story.
Jo did none of those. He grabbed Yuma’s phone, and from what he could see from his standpoint, the model was saving his number. A few fiddles later, the model handed back the phone. A mischievous grin on his face. Another discovery, and it’s decidedly a good look on the model.
“You have to find my number. I didn’t save it under the name Asakura Jo.”
Yuma grinned, liking this devastatingly handsome model not only because of his looks, but also the quality of his personality. Which said a lot since they hadn’t met that long. He wanted nothing but to learn more about those animated eyes, that close-lipped laugh, and maybe whether his long legs were the only impressive asset. He wanted to know all about this model.
“I’ll find it in a heartbeat.”
“Great, because I expect you to call me right after.”
“It’s so nice to meet you, Jo.” Yuma’s voice was smooth, confident.
Jo laughed, his eyes turning into soft crescents. “Likewise, Yuma-kun.”
Yuma was content with the time they’d spent talking. He wished nothing but more of that later. But then, the air shifted. Jo didn't just stand there; he leaned down—and down, and down—until his soft lips pressed firmly against Yuma’s cheek. The heat of it made Yuma’s cool exterior crumble for a split second. He wasn't used to being the one caught off guard.
Something immediately emerged from deep inside Yuma, demanding attention. It couldn’t just be appeased with cute talk.
“Sorry,” Jo whispered, his head ducking down shyly, though he didn't move out of Yuma’s personal space. “I couldn’t help myself…”
“Damn, what are you, Jo? Why do you make my heart go wild like that?” Yuma asked, his blunt honesty taking over. He reached up, grabbing Jo’s lapel to pull him slightly closer. “You don’t get to kiss me and then just run away to New York. You know that, right?”
“I won’t.” Jo rumbled, his voice dropping into that low, honeyed register. “And that’s why you have to call me.”
The lingering scent invading Yuma’s nose and the low voice spurred him even more. “I will. And as creepy as it sounds, I’ll hunt you down in New York.”
“Please, I can’t wait,” Jo grinned, leaning closer and closer until they were just a breath away. “I like you, Yuma-kun.”
Yuma would totally freak out if it was someone else. Some model who’s basically a stranger, and given his nature, had probably slept with all the men in the room. Hopefully not. But it’s Jo. He didn’t even know his number yet, but he knew the feeling was mutual.
“I like you, too, Jo.” Yuma squared his shoulders. He almost melted there. “Don’t speak with other men in this party. Go back to the hotel or something.”
Jo laughed before straightening up, giving Yuma one last sweeping look before turning to head toward his exit. Yuma watched him go, feeling the phantom press of those lips on his skin.
***
A few hours later, Yuma finally had his phone back. He went straight to his contacts, scrolling past the ‘A’s and the ‘J’s. Nothing. Then, he saw it.
He burst out laughing in the back of the van.
“Jo-in Me.”
Yuma’s thumb hovered over the name. He dialed immediately.
“I thought you said in a heartbeat,” Jo’s voice came through the receiver, sounding entirely too amused. “That took at least three hours, Yuma.”
“My manager is a tyrant,” Yuma replied, leaning his head back against the seat, a grin plastered on his face. “So, ‘Jo-in Me’? Really? That’s what we’re doing?”
“I thought it was witty,” Jo said. “Short, simple... and very clear about what I want.”
“And what is it that you want, Jo?”
There was a pause on the other end. Yuma could almost hear the smile in Jo’s voice. “I want you to join me in New York. I want you to join me in my hotel room. And,” Jo’s voice dropped an octave, a contrast to his usual light airy, becoming that low vibration that made Yuma’s knees weak. “I want you to join me in bed so I can show you exactly why I saved my name like that.”
Yuma felt the heat rush to his face, his confident 'cool cat’ persona yielding. He bit his lip, staring out at the city lights. “You’re a lot bolder over the phone, Jo-kun.”
“Come to New York and see if I’m bluffing.”
Yuma gripped the phone tighter. “Consider it done.”
***
Sequel is up! HERE ^^