Chapter Text
Jo got used to his antics after that.
Not that it was easy. Yuma was relentless. Suddenly grabbing his hand in the hallway, wrapping him in a surprise hug from behind, whispering sweet compliments when no one was expecting it. Jo had started to handle it better, though. The first few times, he’d gone completely stiff, cheeks flaming, words tripping over themselves like he’d forgotten how to speak. Now, at least, he didn’t short-circuit every time Yuma so much as brushed against him.
Don’t get him wrong. He still blushed a lot. His ears went pink almost instantly when Yuma turned the compliments up a notch, or when his teasing sounded just a little too genuine. Sometimes he even stuttered, trying to deflect with an awkward “shut up” or a groan that fooled no one. Yuma loved it. Loved watching that raw emotion bloom across Jo’s face, how unguarded he became when he was flustered. His eyes always gave him away, wide, bright, open in a way that told Yuma everything he wasn’t ready to say yet.
And Jo was starting to expect it. To expect him.
After recordings, for example, he would look at Yuma with those big, searching eyes, almost sparkling, like he was silently asking for confirmation—Did I do okay? Was that good enough? Yuma never hesitated. He’d grin, clap him on the shoulder, lean close enough that Jo had to look away, and tell him exactly what he wanted to hear: that he was incredible, beautiful, more than enough. Every single time.
Still, they hadn’t kissed yet.
And Yuma wasn’t in a rush. He knew Jo. He knew how much space he needed, how careful he was with things that mattered. Yuma was determined to wait as long as it took. Jo was worth it.
But sometimes... God, sometimes it nearly killed him.
During practice, when Jo was focused, really focused, Yuma could barely breathe. The way he brushed his white hair back from his face, sweat sliding down his temple, eyes sharp and narrowed in concentration. It did something to him. The precision in his movements, the quiet determination written in every line of his body, it was breathtaking.
And Yuma could never hide it. His gaze lingered too long, burned too hot. He’d force himself to look away before someone noticed, before one of the others teased him for staring like he was hypnotized. Because that’s exactly what it was. Jo was hypnotic, every line of him pulling Yuma in, leaving him helpless to do anything but admire.
What could he do? He was already gone.
All he could do was swallow down the ache, the hunger, and let Jo catch him staring sometimes. Let him feel the weight of it. Because if Jo’s flushed cheeks and shaky little smiles were anything to go by, he didn’t mind.
Not at all.
The mirrors in the practice room were unforgiving, catching every angle, every stumble, every second Yuma’s eyes weren’t where they were supposed to be.
Which was a problem.
Because Yuma’s eyes were never where they were supposed to be.
They were on Jo.
Always on Jo.
The others had already left for a break, but Jo had stayed behind, running the chorus again and again with the same stubborn determination that made Yuma want to scream into a pillow. His white hair stuck to his temples, his hoodie abandoned in the corner, his shirt clinging to his back in a way that should’ve been illegal. He was so focused, so locked into every movement, that Yuma didn’t even bother pretending to look away.
God, he was beautiful.
Sharp and precise and glowing with effort.
And Yuma couldn’t tear his gaze away.
Jo paused between counts, pushing his hair back with the heel of his palm, breath heavy, chest rising and falling. He looked up—straight into the mirror—and caught Yuma staring.
Yuma froze, guilt flashing hot in his chest. He waited for the usual reaction: the flustered look, the quick glance away, maybe a muttered “stop looking at me” under his breath.
But this time, Jo didn’t look away.
He held Yuma’s gaze in the mirror, steady, unblinking.
Something inside Yuma jolted hard.
Jo tilted his head slightly, one corner of his mouth curving—not a full smile, but something quieter, sharper. Almost daring. His shoulders relaxed as he rolled his neck, and then, without breaking eye contact, he started the routine again.
Yuma’s throat went dry.
Because Jo wasn’t just dancing anymore. He was performing. For him. Every move was sharper, more deliberate, a show of control and power that had nothing to do with practice and everything to do with the way Yuma’s eyes were glued to him.
He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, trying to look casual, but his pulse was wild. Every brush of Jo’s hand through his hair, every flex of muscle, every precise step, it was like Jo was peeling back another layer, showing him something he’d been too shy to before.
By the time the song ended, Yuma was on the verge of losing his mind.
Jo stopped in the center of the room, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his neck. He finally turned, not to the mirror, but to Yuma directly.
And he smirked. Smirked.
“What?” Jo asked, voice low, almost teasing. His cheeks were flushed, but not with embarrassment, with effort. With confidence.
Yuma blinked, scrambling for words. “You’re—” He cut himself off, jaw tight. Too much, too honest. “You’re insane, you know that?”
Jo arched an eyebrow. “For practicing?”
“For… whatever that was,” Yuma said, gesturing vaguely at the space Jo had just commanded like it was his stage.
Jo chuckled, soft, breathy, a little cocky in a way that sent heat straight through Yuma’s chest. “Maybe I was just giving you something to look at. Since you’re so obvious.”
Yuma’s heart stopped.
His mouth went dry again, his brain short-circuited, and for a long second, he could only gape like an idiot. Because Jo had never thrown it back at him like that.
And Yuma loved it.
Loved this Jo, the one who wasn’t hiding, who wasn’t shrinking from the attention but meeting it head-on, like he finally believed he deserved it. Like he knew he was stunning and wanted Yuma to know it too.
Yuma’s grin came slow, crooked, and dangerous. “Careful, Jojo. If you keep that up, I might actually fall for you.”
Jo’s smirk faltered, just slightly, but he didn’t back down. His gaze stayed locked on Yuma’s, steady and intense, and for the first time, Yuma saw it clear as day.
Jo liked this. Liked being seen, being wanted. Liked the way Yuma couldn’t look anywhere else.
Yuma stepped forward, closing some of the distance between them. His voice dropped, teasing but threaded with sincerity. “Actually… we both know it might be too late for that.”
Jo’s breath caught. Yuma saw it in the twitch of his shoulders, the quick flicker in his eyes, but he still didn’t move. He stayed exactly where he was, letting Yuma’s words hang in the air, heavy and unspoken.
The tension crackled, electric and alive.
And Yuma thought, for the first time, that maybe he wasn’t the only one burning up anymore.
The tension hummed, thick and charged, neither of them moving, both daring the other to break it.
Yuma waited for Jo to crack first, for the blush, the retreat, the nervous laugh that always pulled them back from the edge. That was how this went. Yuma pushed, Jo stumbled.
But this time, Jo didn’t stumble.
He moved.
Slow, deliberate steps until he was right in front of Yuma, close enough that the heat of his body pressed against the thin space between them. Yuma’s breath hitched, but he forced his grin to stay in place, even as his pulse went wild.
And then Jo did it, he reached up, fingers brushing Yuma’s damp hair back from his forehead, lingering for a second longer than necessary. His touch was light, careful, but the intent behind it was unmistakable.
Yuma’s body went still. His grin faltered, but not because he didn’t want it but because he wanted it too much.
Jo’s eyes searched his, steady and unshaken, though his ears were betraying him, flushed red against his pale hair. “You sweat too much,” he murmured, the words thin cover for what the gesture actually meant.
Yuma’s throat tightened, a laugh caught somewhere between disbelief and raw want. “What the hell?"
Jo’s hand dropped back to his side, but he didn’t move away. If anything, he leaned in, just slightly, enough that Yuma could feel his breath ghost over his cheek. “You said too late,” Jo reminded him quietly, his voice lower than Yuma had ever heard it. “So… might as well do something about it.”
Yuma’s grin came back—shaky this time, unsteady, his heart beating so hard he thought Jo might hear it. God, he loved his new confidance, the one who wasn’t just taking his teasing, but throwing it back, leaving him speechless for once.
He wanted to kiss him.
He really wanted to kiss him.
But Jo had made the first move tonight, and Yuma wasn’t about to take that away from him.
So he held his ground, let the tension stretch unbearably tight, and whispered back, “Careful what you start, Jojo.”
Jo smirked, small, certain, wicked. “Who says I’ll stop?”
And Yuma swore, right then and there, he was done for.
Jo stayed there, close, his body warm and solid in front of Yuma’s, his eyes steady in a way that made Yuma’s stomach flip.
Yuma could feel the heat rolling off him, the charged space where they almost touched but didn’t. He swore the air itself was vibrating.
Jo’s lips parted, like he was about to say something cocky again, but instead, he hesitated. His shoulders shifted, his throat bobbed with a nervous swallow. And when he spoke, his voice wasn’t sharp or smug. It was soft. Careful. Him.
“Is it okay if I…” His hand lifted, hovering near Yuma’s cheek, fingers curling slightly like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch. His eyes flicked down at his mouth, and then back up, wide and open and so goddamn sincere it knocked the breath out of him. “If I kiss you?”
Yuma’s heart stopped.
He’d imagined this moment a hundred times—hell, a thousand. Usually, it was him making the move, pressing Jo against a wall with some sly line, smirking into the kiss like he’d won. That was how it always played out in his head.
But Jo asked him for it.
It melted him.
Something in his chest cracked wide open, spilling warmth all the way to his fingertips. The grin slid off his face, not because the moment wasn’t funny anymore, but because it was too big. Too much. He didn’t want to hide behind teasing, not now.
“Jojo…” His voice broke on the name, raw and unsteady. He reached up, covering the hand that hovered by his face, guiding it gently to rest against his cheek. The touch burned, in the best way. “You don’t even have to ask.”
Jo’s breath hitched, just enough for Yuma to feel it. His thumb brushed instinctively along Yuma’s skin, tentative but tender, like he was trying to memorize the shape of him. His eyes searched Yuma’s one last time, and when he found nothing but openness staring back, he leaned in.
Slowly. Deliberately.
Yuma’s world narrowed to the inch of space between them, to the warm tickle of Jo’s breath, to the way every muscle in his body tensed with anticipation. His pulse thundered in his ears, loud enough to drown out everything else.
And then Jo’s lips met his.
Soft. Careful. Testing.
Yuma inhaled sharply, his whole body jerking with the intensity of it—even though the kiss itself was feather-light. He melted into it instantly, his free hand finding Jo’s wrist, holding on like it was the only solid thing in the room.
Jo pulled back just a fraction, barely there, enough for their foreheads to brush. His voice was a whisper, breathless. “Okay?”
Yuma laughed, shaky, stunned, wrecked. His eyes were glassy, his smile crooked and so full of love it almost hurt. “Jo, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”
And before Jo could even process it, Yuma leaned back in, closing the space himself this time.
This kiss was deeper, surer, though still soft around the edges. Jo let out a quiet sound against his mouth—half surprise, half relief—and Yuma thought he might actually explode from how sweet it was.
When they finally broke apart, Jo’s cheeks were pink, his chest heaving. But he was smiling. Really smiling.
And Yuma, he just laughed again, giddy and undone, pressing his forehead to Jo’s like he couldn’t bear to let go. “You’re a menace, you know that?”
Jo’s lips curved into a smirk that was ruined by the softness in his eyes. “You started it.”
Yuma shook his head, grinning so hard it hurt. “Yeah. And I’m never gonna stop.”
And then he kissed him again.
Because now, he finally could.
✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦
They didn’t move for a while.
Their foreheads stayed pressed together, breaths mingling, the faint echo of their kiss still humming between them. Yuma could feel Jo’s smile against his skin, and it sent another wave of warmth crashing through him.
He pulled back just enough to look at him, to really see him. Jo’s cheeks were flushed, his white hair damp and sticking up in a dozen directions, his lips kiss-bitten and soft. Yuma thought he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life.
“You’re glowing,” Yuma said, his grin lopsided and uncontainable.
Jo huffed a laugh, rolling his eyes, but he didn’t deny it. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you love it,” Yuma shot back, voice gentle but certain.
Jo’s smile widened, not cocky this time, but genuine. He squeezed Yuma’s hand, the one he was still holding like he had no intention of ever letting go. “Maybe I do.”
That simple admission made Yuma’s heart squeeze so tight it almost hurt. He laughed, quiet and breathless, and leaned in again, pressing a quick, soft kiss to Jo’s temple. Jo didn’t flinch, didn’t stiffen, he leaned into it, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And maybe it was.
They ended up sliding down to the floor, backs against the mirror, hands still tangled together. Yuma stretched his legs out, letting his head fall back with a satisfied sigh. Jo settled beside him, their shoulders pressed firmly together, comfortable in the silence.
For the first time in forever, Yuma didn’t feel the need to fill it with teasing. There was no pressure, no game. Just them.
He glanced sideways, catching Jo watching him with that wide-eyed wonder he always tried to hide. Yuma’s grin softened. “What?”
Jo shrugged, though the pink in his cheeks betrayed him. “Nothing.”
“Liar.”
“Shut up,” Jo muttered, but there was no bite in it. He turned his face forward again, though Yuma swore he saw the corner of his mouth twitch.
Yuma chuckled, letting it go. He shifted just enough to rest his head against Jo’s shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. “You’re stuck with me now, you know that?”
Jo didn’t hesitate. His voice was quiet, steady. “Good.”
And that one word—so simple, so sure—was enough to make Yuma’s heart ache in the sweetest way.
He didn’t need anything else.
Just Jo.