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There’s a reason Otabek Altin is known as the best in the business. It’s the way he captivates a camera, an audience, a catwalk, wherever he is. It’s the way he holds himself, turning heads when he walks down the street.
He’s been published in most major American fashion magazines— GQ, Esquire, Vogue (although he hasn’t made the cover yet, he figures he still has plenty of time). Designers from across the world specifically request Otabek to model their lines. He’s appeared in music videos, TV shows, even a few background roles in movies, and he’s done it all with the grace of someone who's been in the eye of the camera all his life.
Otabek didn’t go to college— straight out of high school, he was offered a job at a modeling agency and he took it. He climbed higher and higher through the industry, from print ads to television commercials, to eventually ending a spot on the runway at New York Fashion Week. Ever since he walked that catwalk, he’s been invited back each year.
By far, Otabek’s favorite jobs are photoshoots. Sure, film captures him in an alluring way, but there’s something about the way that photographers shoot. They can take pages of ideas, scripts, sets, and frame it into one perfectly posed picture.
And today, Otabek gets to do what he likes best, because his agency has booked a photoshoot for an ad for a new line from Korea. It’s something a little softer than he’s used to. Usually, directors typecast Otabek as the stoic, bad-boy type, and— while they’re not wrong— he loves a challenge. He knows he’s good at modeling leather jackets, but put him in a tux with gold floral embroidery, and he will make it come to life.
Which is exactly what he’s wearing today, for the shoot. Today’s director is also Korean, and she’s worked with famous East Asian idols, like Yuuri Katsuki and Seung Gil Lee. Otabek has known about her work for years, and he’d been floored when his agent told him that the Min-So Park was coming to America and had specifically requested Otabek for a shoot.
Otabek finishes adjusting the coat in the dressing room, shifting it a little to try to highlight as much of his chest as possible. The designer for the line is an up-and-coming designer from Seoul, but Min-So had always had an eye for spotting undiscovered talent, and by the way this suit hugs his body, Otabek can tell she is on to something. The suit jacket is buttoned halfway, but Otabek isn’t wearing a shirt underneath. He likes the designer already.
He steps out of the dressing room, and walks over to hair and makeup, scanning the space for his make-up artist. He’s heard Min-So brought her own team all the way from Korea, so when Otabek sits in the chair, he doesn’t expect a tiny blond to walk up to him, and much less a boy.
His make-up artist picks up the face chart that’s sitting on the vanity in front of him, and Otabek takes a moment to study the boy. He’s tall, blond hair falling just above his shoulders, cut in a meticulously straight line. For someone who works in the fashion industry, his style seems a little outdated— designer boyfriend jeans, cuffed at the ankles, a denim jacket, and a black tank top with a gaudy tiger on the front— but Otabek wouldn’t know how to dress if he wasn’t a model, either.
The boy also looks young, probably Otabek’s age, maybe 24, 25, but he’s got the telltale look of a makeup artist. His eyelids are delicately painted with fine gold lines that trace the curve of his eyelid and wing into a delicate point. One of his brows has a notch in it, so precise that it has to be on purpose. And his lips are dark and glossy; he chews on them slightly as he looks over Otabek’s chart.
And then he looks over and catches Otabek staring, and Otabek’s heart jumps to his throat.
Instead of making a big deal of it, the artist just extends a nicely manicured hand with pointy acrylics and says, “Yuri Plisetsky. I’ll be doing your makeup today.”
Otabek shakes it, firm, just like his agent taught him. “Otabek. Nice to meet you.”
Yuri’s hands are softer than he expects, and Otabek would think all of Yuri to be that way if it weren’t for the claws. The nails are a matte black color, with rhinestones meticulously lining the edges.
“I’ve heard about you,” Yuri says conversationally as he ties on a smock. “Min-So told me you’re one of the best models in America. She was dying to work with you.”
Otabek tries to bite back a smile at the compliment. “I mean, I’m hardly the best in America,” he says, trying to look more humble than he feels.
Yuri tests out a brush by pushing it against the back of his hand, watching the bristles fan out with each stroke. His mind seems to be elsewhere, even though he’s maintaining a casual conversation with Otabek.
From his set, Yuri picks out a few brushes and sets them aside. Then, he grabs three bottles of concealer and begins to brush them into Otabek’s skin in tiny lines, like tiger stripes on his cheek. Otabek watches him work through the mirror.
“Um, my agency should have set aside the correct shades already,” Otabek says, clearing his throat slightly. Usually, his makeup artists are supplied with the most up-to-date concealers and foundations that match Otabek’s skin tone. He’s never had an artist test out shades on him before.
Yuri continues his work, anyways. “Mm, I know. I never trust them. My eye is better,” he says, and Otabek shuts up.
Otabek is familiar with getting his makeup done. It’s a part of his work, just like a morning commute. Each makeup artist is different, but they all have the same routine— skincare, base, brows, eyes, touch-ups. He’s run the gamut of looks, from natural make-up to show-stopping colors, and he’s fairly sure today’s look is somewhere on the side of natural, if make-up was a sliding scale.
In some ways, Yuri is the same as the make-up artists he’s had in the past: Precise, focused, quiet. But in many ways, he is different. It’s in the way his fingers tilt Otabek’s jaw upwards on their own, instead of asking him to lift his chin. It’s in the way he squints at Otabek’s face, biting the edge of his lip as he steps back to view his canvas as a whole. (He’s very expressive.) It’s in the way his hair falls in his face and he’s constantly pushing it back, behind his ear, only to have it slip out two seconds later.
Getting makeup done is a relaxing process, but more importantly, it requires trust. Otabek has had artists who manhandle him, treating his face like an unruly canvas, leaving his eyes watering. The best artists are the ones Otabek has worked with for years, who he sees time and time again. They know how to blend on his skin and how to tame his wild eyebrows. They make him laugh even when he’s supposed to be keeping still.
Usually, it takes a while to develop that kind of trust with an artist, but with Yuri, Otabek feels strangely at peace. The brushes are soft but Yuri’s hands are softer, and every touch of his fingertips is as delicate as a kiss. Yuri brushes out his eyebrows, strokes on mascara, blends in the bronzer with a steady hand and a gentle eye.
When it’s finally time for eyeshadow, Yuri grabs a small container of gold glitter and Otabek raises his eyebrow.
Yuri shakes it playfully. “Finishing touch,” he says, answering the unspoken question in Otabek’s eyes. And then, he leans in closely, so that his face is just inches from Otabek’s, and Otabek can smell the tiniest hints of clean peppermint in his breath.
Otabek, on the other hand, forgets how to breathe.
Yuri steadies himself with a few fingers on Otabek’s temple, and then using a round brush, he packs on the gold glitter to Otabek’s eyelid. He takes a few moments to blend it out, and Otabek savors in the feeling of the soft bristles drawing rainbows over his eyes. Yuri doesn’t press too hard. It’s nice.
Otabek’s eyes are closed but he can feel Yuri shift onto the other lid, painting it calmly with black and gold, smoking out the edges into shadowy wings. Yuri taps on Otabek’s shoulder to tell him he can open his eyes, and when he does, he is stunned by his reflection.
He still has to get his hair done, he’d be okay being photographed just like this. Yuri’s brushwork brings out his cheekbones in a subtle way, less dramatic than many others choose to highlight them. It makes them look fuller, and it’s not just his cheekbones. His eyebrows are breathtaking arches, notched on the tail, mirroring the way Yuri wears his. And his eyes— the gold shadow brings out the darkness of his irises, making them look an inky black.
“What do you think?” Yuri asks, almost perfunctory.
“I know I don’t get to choose my looks, but, wow, Yuri,” Otabek says, turning his face from side to side, admiring it. “You performed a miracle.”
“I had great source material,” Yuri says with a smirk, and Otabek isn’t sure if he’s flirting, but he doesn’t mind either way.
“Oh, last thing,” Yuri says like he’s remembering something. He reaches into his apron to pull out a pot of lip gloss, and, using his finger, dips it into the gloss and then smooths it over Otabek’s parted lips.
It would be unprofessional if Otabek wasn’t so into it.
Yuri finishes the application with a swipe, and Otabek resists the urge to lick his lips.
“Looking good,” Yuri says, and then turns away with a twirl, leaving a slightly breathless Otabek in his wake. And then suddenly his hairstylist is there, chatting with Yuri in some other language Otabek doesn’t recognize. They laugh easily, and she puts her hand on Yuri’s arm, and Otabek realizes that they’re probably dating. Figures, considering they practically travel the world together.
It breaks Otabek’s fantasy, the illusion that he was the sole object of Yuri’s affection, even for a moment. But it’s still nice to imagine.
The woman, who introduces herself as Mila, is chatty as she styles Otabek’s hair. It doesn’t need much more than some gel (Min-So wants a clean, slicked-back look with a few flyaways), but Mila cleans up his undercut with an electric razor anyways, shaving tightly around the curve of his ears. She’s much less attentive than Yuri, often choosing to look at Otabek through the mirror in front of them, but she’s good at her job, Otabek can tell.
He also learns more about Yuri as she talks. It turns out the two of them have worked together for years, and they even grew up together. When Otabek makes an offhand comment about how they look “cute” together, she laughs for a full minute, before staring at Otabek’s reflection in the mirror and adding, “He’s more into bad-boy types.”
And maybe Mila’s caught on to something, cause he kind of smiles at that.
Once Min-So approves the final look, and Otabek reverently shakes her hand for the first time, she leads him to the set, which is just a light canvas backdrop. She tells him that they’ll be shooting on scene tomorrow, but for today, he’ll be doing test shots as well as some print work.
Then he meets Min-So’s photographer, an enthusiastic boy named Phichit. Otabek can’t place where he’s from, but he has a different accent than Yuri and Mila, and his skin has a golden brown glow to it.
Apparently, even Phichit knows who Otabek is, and now it’s Otabek’s turn to be humbled.
Since it’s a solo shoot, he takes some time to adjust to the set, running through some test poses and consulting Min-So’s visionary board. She’s very organized, meticulously so, and she has her vision written out and cataloged on a small tablet she props up on a table. And since Otabek has worked with directors whose only direction was in the form of vague gestures and buzzwords, he’s grateful in more ways than one.
It seems like the hair and makeup team is there to watch the shoot, as well, because it’s Yuri who cues up the music, and then the photoshoot begins.
Otabek has never been sure what possesses him, but he’s been told that he transforms in front of a camera. He takes directions in split seconds, adjusting his stance or his expression in the blink of an eye, faster than the photographer’s finger on the trigger. He glides through the space, letting the music fuel him, inspire him, and move his limbs and his fingers. The movements are broken by pauses, waiting for the click of the camera, but Otabek is sure that if they strung all of his photos together, played them back like a movie, he would surely be dancing.
An hour later and he’s finished, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. He doesn’t try to wipe it away for fear of messing up his makeup, but when he steps off the canvas backdrop, Yuri is there with a small towel, stepping on his toes to dab the moisture away. He does it wordlessly, and then steps away with something dancing in his eyes.
“Thanks,” Otabek says.
“No problem. You were great up there.”
“Couldn’t have done it without you,” Otabek winks, but he really means it. Yuri rolls his eyes.
“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he says.
“I’m looking forward to it,” Otabek replies, cause he's just finished a shoot and he’s feeling confident.
Yuri shoulders a small black backpack and, with a wave, heads out of the warehouse.
Otabek watches him walk away for a moment, before Min-So calls him over to review the photos. Phichit has uploaded them onto a computer that’s hooked up to an LCD TV, and Min-So walks him through the photos and chooses the best one, explaining her thought process as she goes.
By 6:00 PM Otabek is finished for the day, and he thanks Min-So for her time, her direction, and her expert critiques.
She nods politely. “We’ll see you tomorrow at the on-site location. You’ll be doing a pair shoot, but it’s the same look as today. Your agency has the address.”
And then she bids him farewell, and she and Phichit get into an expensive-looking black SUV.
Otabek calls an Uber and heads back to his apartment.
—
The next day’s shoot is in a fancy hotel in downtown LA, one of those old buildings that had been rehabilitated for the rich and fancy of Los Angeles. It seems that Min-So’s studio has rented out the place for the day.
Luckily, the building has recently-renovated bathrooms, and that’s where hair and makeup are staged. Otabek changes into his suit, the same one from yesterday, and then sits down to get his hair and makeup done.
His heart quickens a little when he sees Yuri enter the building, this time wearing an expensive colorful bomber and shiny leather pants, the same black backpack from the night before slung over one arm
Maybe Otabek’s excitement stems from his need for attention, the feeling of pure bliss to be the object of affection of someone who seems to flit from person to person like a hummingbird. To have Yuri’s eyes on him, he knew it was special, and that not very few would get to experience it.
Otabek holds onto it like a treasure as Yuri sets to work on his face.
It’s hard to savor the moment when Yuri has his full attention on Otabek, because every moment feels like it’s changing, constantly, and Otabek can’t relish in the feeling of Yuri’s hands cupping his chin because suddenly he’s moved on to tilting Otabek’s head to the side, or using one finger to lift his chin a degree. Yesterday, it was profound, today, it’s thrilling, and Otabek mourns every moment that Yuri turns away to clean a brush or change a pallet.
And today, it’s over too fast, partly because Otabek knows what is coming, and partly because he expects it. He tries to hide his disappointment by getting excited about his look, and it works pretty well, until Yuri disappears somewhere into the building and suddenly Mila has her long fingernails in his hair and is smoothing it down with gel and the sound of her voice, interrupted only by the smack of bubblegum.
Otabek keeps his eye out for Yuri as Mila works, but too soon Mila is finished with his hair and Otabek is brought over to the set, where Phichit is taking test shots and adjusting the lighting.
Min-So greets him with a nod. “We’re going to start with you solo today, and then Yuri will join you for the partner shots.”
Wait a minute— Yuri, as in his makeup artist Yuri? Otabek is stunned for a brief moment. He didn’t know that Yuri was also a model. Why had he never seen him before?
“I didn’t know, um,” Otabek clears his throat. “I didn’t know Yuri modeled.”
“Mhm,” Min-So nods. “He’s been working with me for a year. I actually signed him as a model first, but he prefers doing make-up.”
“Oh. Cool,” Otabek says, a little stunned but still excited.
But then Min-So has moved on, and is outlining the shoot for today. It has a similar mood to the one yesterday, but now, Otabek gets to interact with the space a little bit more— leaning on furniture, posing in doorways— Phichit points out the places where the lighting is best, and then Otabek is given the go ahead.
It takes slightly less time than yesterday, but that’s because today’s shoot is more about the partner aspect than Otabek’s solo shots. They do end up getting some good pictures, and one that Otabek knows is definitely going in his portfolio after this. It’s a shot of him framed by the doorway, the accents of gold on his suit matching the black and gold wallpaper in the room behind him. There’s a lamp hanging above his head that almost makes a halo, but Otabek looks a far cry from an angel.
Min-So likes it too. Just when Otabek thinks things can’t get any better, Yuri comes out of the dressing rooms.
One of the assistants is still fixing the veil in his hair— black mesh and dotted with flowers, delicately laid over his tight bun. His pantsuit matches Otabek’s, but it’s sleeker, with a flared waist and golden buttons. The entire suit seems to be made out of velvet, tailored with the same gold floral detailing as Otabek’s suit. There’s a black sash tied around his waist, but the main event is a lace turtleneck underneath his blazer. Like Otabek, he is wearing his blazer open, but the turtleneck seems to be there only for decoration— there is more skin than fabric, and Otabek can see the tight lines of his muscles underneath it.
He can already imagine how they’ll look together— cool, careless, effortlessly sexy. And then a stylist secures a pair of gold, dangling earrings in Yuri’s ears, and Otabek’s mouth nearly falls open.
Yuri saunters up to the set, briefly whispering something to Min-So as Otabek and Phichit go over the photos. Phichit is excitedly talking about this aspect of lighting and that, but Otabek’s eyes keep drifting to Yuri.
Eventually, Min-So calls the two of them over to discuss the poses and scenes she wants to create. Otabek has done partner shoots before, so he is comfortable, but he’s also a bit nervous, one, having never seen Yuri work, and two, because it’s Yuri .
“We’re going to try to get some organic poses, so try to interact a lot and we’ll catch the in-between moments,” Min-So says. The two men nods in agreement
He sneaks a glance at Yuri while Min-So is talking. His expression is calm, a little bit bored, even, but his eyes are shining. Otabek notices that they’re bright green, the color accentuated by the flecks of gold that have been placed delicately around his eyelid, almost matching Otabek’s makeup.
Yuri catches him staring one of the times, but he doesn’t say anything, just suppresses a knowing smile which makes Otabek flush an embarrassed pink.
“Alright, we’ll begin in five,” Min-So says to dismiss them. Otabek grabs some water from hair and makeup, and then heads back to the set. He offers a bottle to Yuri, who makes a face.
“Water?” Otabek asks.
“What do you think I am, some kind of amateur who doesn’t know how to hydrate before a shoot?” Yuri asks, raising an eyebrow.
Otabek retracts his hand immediately, and fumbles for a response. “I didn’t mean to insinuate— I’m sorry if I offended you—“
And then Yuri starts laughing, which leaves Otabek more confused.
“I’m kidding,” Yuri says. “You’d think a famous model would know how to take a joke.”
And then Yuri snatches the water out of Otabek’s hand and takes a drink. “Thanks, I was thirsty.”
Otabek watches him tilt the bottle up to his lips, his Adam’s apple starkly bobbing up and down. Otabek watches Yuri’s throat as he sips, and he supremes the urge to swallow himself.
Yuri finishes and tosses the bottle out of view of the camera.
“Ready?” He asks. Before Otabek can even answer, he turns on his heel and positions himself on one of the couches, ready to start the shoot, leaving a wide-eyed Otabek in his wake.
Otabek usually doesn't find himself impressed by other models, but it’s something about the way Yuri acts, carefree and cunning, like he's always one step ahead of everyone else. He walks like there is nothing chaining him to this earth, and that if he wanted to, he could simply step off the ground and fly away.
It’s intoxicating, and Otabek gets to model with him.
He walks over to the couch, and the moment he sits down, Yuri immediately falls into character, draping his legs over Otabek, tilting his head, parting his lips into a slight pout. Phichit runs a few test shots with the lighting, and when he gives a thumbs up to Min-So, she cues up the music and starts the first round of photographs.
Min-So told them to focus on the in-between moments, so Otabek tries to be more fluid. Usually, he poses for split seconds like a stop motion film, adjusting his limbs this way or that between each of the camera clicks. Yuri seems to have the hang of it already, though, and moving with him almost feels like dancing.
For a moment, time almost freezes when Yuri lays a hand on his cheek, light and inviting, enough for Otabek to lean into it just slightly, before the camera flashes and the moment is over.
Otabek and Yuri have natural chemistry, it would be easy for any outsider to see, but modeling with Yuri is something different entirely. He has an unmatched energy, this compelling draw, and Otabek spends more time looking at him than the camera.
Which turns out to be okay, because it makes for some excellent shots.
“Look here,” Min-So says after the first batch of photos, tapping her tablet with a stylus. “The expressions here are perfect. This is what I was imagining. Maybe we need to crop a bit, zoom in—“ she draws a few marks on the photo, “—but this will probably be one of the finals. Good work.”
It’s not everyday that Otabek gets praised by a famous director, and even though he is one of the best in America, it never hurts to get an ego boost.
Yuri catches Otabek smiling to himself, afterwards, and points it out with a manicured finger. Otabek immediately drops his smile and returns to a neutral face, which makes Yuri burst out laughing.
And then they move on to some more sets, positioning themselves in between doorways, on chairs, even slumping to the floor for a few pictures. Yuri is alight with energy, and his fingertips feel like they’re bursting with electricity when they trace their way down Otabek’s chest, the back of his neck, his arms. In turn, Otabek does his best to match the shapes and silhouettes that Yuri creates with his body by complimenting them, curving here, straightening there, one hand in Yuri’s soft blond ponytail one moment, the next around his waist.
It really does feel like they’re dancing, and Otabek mourns the feeling when the shoot ends. The high from breathing in Yuri is invigorating, but the drop feels like crashing to the ground.
Otabek doesn’t even need to be in front of a camera with Yuri, he really just wants his undivided attention. The way he glides the soft brushes over Otabek’s eyelids, pressing soft fingers into his cheeks, Yuri’s eyes wide and focused as the rest of the world melts away and Otabek becomes soul inhabitant of Yuri’s universe.
That’s a drug he’ll never stop chasing.
Otabek changes out his suit, and then another makeup artist removes his make-up. Clothes are pressed and hung, zipped into tight black bags, lights are folded and broken down, pictures are analyzed, scrutinized, and selected— eventually, the shoot comes to a close as twilight looms on the horizon.
Min-So’s team packs up quickly, and soon enough the set has transformed back into an old hotel.
Otabek approaches the director’s chair one last time before he leaves for the day, to thank Min-So for the opportunity.
“Really, it was an incredible shoot. I hope to work with you again someday,” he says.
“Thank you,” Min-So says. “You are a very talented model. I wish I could stick around and work with you more, but I’m only through the end of the week.”
Otabek feels a little twinge of sadness at that, thinking about Yuri leaving the country only days after they met, but this was the word of artists, and Otabek knew from experience that people didn’t stay in one place for too long.
He thanks Min-So one more time, and wishes her safe travels home. On his way out the door, he spots Yuri waiting outside, so he jogs over to him.
“Waiting for a ride?” Otabek asks.
“Yup. Uber here is so slow,” Yuri groans, holding up his phone with a 14 minute wait time.
“Honestly, that’s pretty quick,” Otabek says. “I’ve waited for thirty minutes for an Uber pool.”
“Uber… pool?” Yuri raises his eyebrow, and Otabek guesses they don’t have those in Korea. He tries to explain.
“That sounds like a bus,” Yuri says.
“Huh. Guess it does.”
They stand for a moment in awkward silence, before Otabek decides that, since he’s probably never going to see Yuri again, he might as well get in one last goodbye.
“It was great working with you today,” Otabek says, maybe a little too loudly because it startles Yuri. “I mean, you’re really talented. I hope we can work together again sometime.”
“Maybe we will,” Yuri says, tilting his head. “I’m staying in the States for the next six months, in LA. We’ll probably run into each other, since this city isn't that big.”
Otabek’s eyes widen. This almost feels like the best part of the day, the greatest gift he could have received: He doesn’t have to say goodbye.
In a stroke of courageousness spurred on by his blessings from the universe, he grabs Yuri’s phone out of his hand and punches in his phone number before Yuri can react.
“In that case,” he says. “Here’s my number. Want to grab a drink sometime?
Yuri laughs in disbelief and takes his phone back from Otabek, who didn’t realize he was holding his breath until Yuri’s fingers brush his.
Yuri types something into this phone, and Otabek’s phone pings with an incoming text.
“Here’s mine,” Yuri says. “How about tonight?”
“Tonight? I—” and then Otabek pauses, cause he doesn’t have any plans, so what’s stopping him?
Nothing. Nothing at all.
“Let’s do it,” he says, and Yuri smiles at him.
The car pulls up, a gray prius driven by a classic LA-hipster type.
“Great,” Yuri says, with a twinkle in his eye. “Cause I really didn’t want to drink alone.”
He opens the door, and Otabek follows him into the car.