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It was just another day, another hectic shooting that he had not been scheduled for — initially. Actually, this was Gojō’s shoot, the executives had wanted him to work with their VIP client to get the best results for their glam magazine. However, just like so often recently, Gojō had called Yūta in the dead of night, asking him to fill in because he would not be around. Thanks for nothing, he thought silently as he was now setting up everything.
At least, the magazine people weren’t too put off. They didn’t get Gojō Satoru, world-renowned, sought-after photographer and celebrity darling, but at least he had given them Yūta, thrown to the wolves really. Not Gojō but still a whole class better than anybody else they could have gotten at such short notice, or always.
“So, how old are you again?” One of the assistants had tried to make small talk for the last hour, but Yūta was way too tired. He had just returned from South Africa, where he had studied with one of Gojō’s friends. Jetlag was a real bitch, even without your mentor kicking you out of bed at ass o’clock. His nerves were frayed and without coffee, he’d fall asleep within minutes. Together with the magazine people still not telling him who their mysterious guest was, he didn’t want to chatter. At all.
At least he was quickly saved when the creative director arrived, looking all important and arrogant. He really couldn’t stand that guy but so did everybody else apparently. He just oozed that misogynistic alpha male energy. Horrible.
“Are you ready, all set up? Our guest is finished with make-up and wardrobe. We want to start.”
Yūta raised his eyebrows, ignoring the direct tone. Whatever. He was only working here. “Sure, I’m ready.”
He didn’t get another reply as the man already turned around and stalked away, barking commands to his subordinates. With a sigh, Yūta took his camera back in hand, looking over his test shots one last time, contemplating if he should maybe change the lighting a bit…
That was until he saw the guest of honour entering, strolling in next to the director.
The burgundy red suit was hugging him in all the right places without sitting too tight, giving off all the elegance only a tailored piece could offer. Black polished shoes that looked like never worn before and a black shirt finished the outfit, making it the perfect understatement.
To elevate the look and give it the special kick, a thick black line was drawn horizontally over the man’s face.
“Oh, God.” Yūta’s throat had become drier than the desert, making it hard to swallow. But what else was he supposed to do when his very own personal celebrity crush came walking into the room, onto his set. Oh shit, he’d have to take photos of Chōsō.
Chōsō, one of Japan’s best-known actors nationally and internationally. He was the man that had helped Yūta through rough times with every new film he had brought out, masterpiece after masterpiece. Yūta had devoured every single one, multiple times, had never missed a premier day. And now, his dream had come true. Chōsō was standing right in front of him, giving him the most unimpressed look known to mankind.
“Are you Gojō’s assistant?”
Oh, right. Yūta shook his head, momentarily mute from shock.
“You’re a roadie or something? Helping with the equipment?”
Another head shake followed, Chōsō huffed.
“Okay. So can you speak?”
Yūta blinked in reply. “Uhm, yeah… I can. Sorry, hi… My name is Okkotsu,” he finally introduced himself, bowing his head slightly in front of the older man. “I am your photographer today. Gojō used to be my mentor.”
This time, Chōsō’s gaze raked over Yūta, taking stock of his appearance and probably coming to a disappointing result, but that didn’t matter right now. He’d show him his skills.
“Maybe, we just start… So we will first do the cover since we’ll use no props here. If you’d please stand right here,” Yūta passed Chōsō, trying hard not to let his excitement nor his anxiety show, and gestured to the right spot. “We will try different angles, first something more conventional with an ordinary front portrait, then we’ll try some three-quarter profiles, even though I’d rather have you face the camera; so the cover will catch people’s eyes.”
As he hurried back, Yūta noticed the assistant that had tried to speak to him earlier shake their head in disbelief. He hadn’t talked that much all morning, but well, that was before Chōsō had arrived and his nervosity had spiked.
Chōsō on the other hand was a professional, without any more directions, he had already gotten into position, burying his hands in his pants pockets and leaning slightly back. He sent a smouldering look at the camera and for a heartbeat, Yūta simply stared through the lens.
“Are you taking photos? Or should I show you where to press?” Did his lips twitch? Was that amusement in his eyes or were the lights simply playing tricks on Yūta’s eyes? He didn’t know, but the question was enough to spur him into action. He started to snap away, taking picture after picture, and if he took a few more than absolutely necessary, then that was on him.
When they had enough pictures to later choose three for the cover, Yūta directed the crew to bring in the furniture. In this case, it was simply a luxurious leather couch and a low side table that had to be some vintage designer piece from the sixties.
He took in the scene for a second, contemplating how to start best.
“You need help?” Chōsō cocked his head to one side, this time clearly teasing him and Yūta had to gulp, feeling his cheeks turn red. Why did he feel like a child in the presence of this man? He was a professional, even Gojō had praised him and the man was known for his arrogance, so it had to count for something.
“No, I— I suggest we start with you sitting down. First, you can just lean back a bit, one arm on the backrest, yes like that,” he instructed as Chōsō followed each step. “Then you scoot to the corner there, now stretch out one leg, that one, yes, very good. And I don’t want you to look at the camera but slightly to the left of me.” Yūta slowly walked backwards to his camera, unable to take his eyes off Chōsō for long, and nearly tripped over a cable. At least, he didn’t fall. Quickly, he scurried behind the camera, fleeing the amused glance this had earned him. Instead, he busied his hands with the buttons of his Nikon, adjusting the settings to the new position until he was satisfied.
After a few clicks, Chōsō moved on his own, changing positions and really, Yūta was happy the actor had so much experience and didn’t need detailed instructions. He wouldn’t have survived ordering him around for much longer.
It felt both like an eternity and like the millisecond it took a shutter to open, but all in all, it was an exhausting experience. More mentally than physically. Although there was this one situation when he asked Chōsō to sit in the middle of the sofa, thighs spread wide and Yūta sat on the table right in front of him, taking a close-up.
Yūta had thought he’d die just from looking at Chōsō. He had to remind him more than once that his model wasn’t actually looking at him but at the lens, at the countless, faceless people who’d buy the magazine to have a piece of him. He wasn’t looking at boy-faced, nervous Yūta who fumbled with his hands in-between taking photos.
No matter how smouldering the look on Chōsō’s face got, this was strictly professional. And if their legs touched from the closeness, muscled thighs rubbing against his own for the shortest of moments, then that was solely a coincidence. And if Yūta decided not to wash this pair of jeans anymore to preserve that little touch, then that was his secret alone and nobody else had to know about it.
When the shoot was over, Yūta thanked Chōsō profusely but didn’t dare to ask for an autograph. He thought he had done well, so he didn’t want to ruin his image by being immature or to appear like a damned fan. He was sure the actor had his fair share of crazies out there, no need to make him feel uncomfortable while just doing his job. Especially since he didn’t seem to be too fond of the whole photoshoot atmosphere, at least he gave off that impression whenever he wasn’t posing for the camera.
He slowly scrolled through his haul, there were a lot of pictures. They’d only need a handful as well as the cover. Yūta had been told that there was the option for two different covers, baiting fans to buy more than one version of the magazine. He didn’t care, he’d savour all of these masterpieces equally.
“Do you have any favourites?”
Warm breath tickled Yūta’s ear shell as the velvet voice of his celebrity crush whispered just inches from him while he was staring at row after row of said crush’s pictures . He snapped out of his reverie and nearly fell off his stool to look at Chōsō who had bent down to look over Yūta’s shoulder.
“Uhm… that… I mean…” Yūta lowered his eyes and cleared his throat, trying to collect his thoughts (mostly lifting them out of the gutter because, by God, what would he give to hear Chōsō’s voice that close again with way less family-friendly words). He turned back to the big screen, clicking on a few and opening them next to each other. “I mean, for what we’re looking for, these are probably best. The lighting is just right on your hair and eyes, and the posture in this one is the most open, we want to invite the buyers to read your interview.”
Replaying his own words in his head, Yūta closed his eyes for a moment. That was probably Gojō’s bad influence that he now was practically bullshitting his way out of… his own personal fantasy. He was such a wimp, really. But what could he do, flirt with Chōsō? Haha, as if.
The actor was oblivious to his thoughts, he scrutinized the photo in question instead, then looked down at Yūta. “You think I need a photo to make people read the interview?”
Oh shit.
“No, no! Absolutely not, I mean, people will eat up everything you’ll throw their way, you’re Chōsō after all,” Yūta spluttered in a hurry to rectify his plunder.
The reaction wasn’t what he had expected. Chōsō threw his head back and laughed. Now back in his casual clothes, he didn’t look as intimidating. In fact, with the little laughing lines around his eyes, he looked hotter than ever. But also more approachable, more like a human and less like a literal angel.
Cross that , Yūta wasn’t a wimp. I’m a full-ass simp , he thought, mentally rolling his eyes at himself.
“I’m just messing with you,” Chōsō finally said after calming down again. He then leant back over Yūta, his jumper touching Yūta’s shoulder and his cologne fogging his mind — the man even smelled hot, how was that fair. “What about that picture? What would you say about that one?” He pointed at Yūta’s personal favourite that he’d preferred not to give out to anybody else but would probably be wet dream material for fifty per cent of the readers. It was the close-up for which Yūta had sat down on the table. Back then, he had thought he’d never get closer to Chōsō. Well, it seemed he had been wrong.
“That’s a really nice photo,” Yūta said weakly, unable to concentrate much while the photograph was teasing him with temptation while the real deal looked into his very soul. He had to see all the fannish awe that was bubbling behind Yūta’s face which he had tried so hard to hide. “People will love that. That you’re directly looking at them and your expressions are very good, very professional.”
This time, Chōsō chuckled. Yūta thanked all the gods above that he was actually sitting, or he might have collapsed right then and there. Why had he become a photographer and not a cameraman? He could record Chōsō whenever he laughed, he chuckled or just existed, no poses, no masks— no wait, he’d still play his role. The man was standing right in front of him now. He could just keep talking to him.
“Thanks, I get that a lot,” Chōsō sent him a grin. “You’re a very talented photographer, Okkotsu. And it was a pleasure to work with you. If you ever need a model for some portfolio work, call me. This didn’t feel like work at all today, not as exhausting as Gojō’s shoots.”
And didn’t he know it. Yūta sighed before his brain caught up with what Chōsō had just said. Him? Call Chōsō? For portfolio— no job? What the fuck .
“What?” The question came out more croak than actual voice, but he didn’t care. There were more important things to think through right now.
“Give me your phone.”
He didn’t even think about it as he took his mobile out and handed it to Chōsō. In a daze, he registered Chōsō taking his hand and pressing his thumb onto the screen to unlock the device before he typed something into Yūta’s phone. After an approving nod, Chōsō’s phone rang, and he handed Yūta’s phone back.
Another gorgeous grin appeared on his face as he showed Yūta the display of his own phone. Sure enough, Yūta’s number was there, already saved as “Cute Photographer” with a note below it that read “gets a free one”.
Everything that came afterwards, Yūta couldn’t have possibly remembered. His brain had stopped working and was probably in the process of melting. He only knew two things: He had Chōsō’s number, and he was saved in his idol’s phone as “cute”.
***
How could he have been so stupid? Yūta was running up and down in his apartment, checking one last time that everything was orderly and nothing too embarrassing was visible. It already felt terribly intimate to invite somebody over. He had never had guests.
Well, of course, friends had been over before.
But only as a group! They had sat in the kitchen and snacked on nachos, trash-talking the industry and their mentors without meaning any real harm. There had been marathons on his couch with all Studio Ghibli films, they had even held parties here because of the spacious layout. But never, never had he had a single guest.
And never had he thought he’d ever host Chōsō.
“You’re such a moron, inviting him here. Should have booked a hotel room… no, wait, that would have been worse,” Yūta mumbled to himself, stealing a look at the clock. It was nearly time. Surely an international superstar wouldn’t arrive earlier. He had way better things to do. And pretty sure, Chōsō wasn’t nervous. He was only coming over for a shoot!
A more intimate one, yes, sure, but a shoot nonetheless they had agreed on.
Truth be told, Yūta had not intended to make use of the number in his phone, had assumed it had just been some harmless flirting or making acquaintances with a photographer for emergencies. However, sure enough, a week after their magazine shoot, Chōsō had messaged him, asked him if he already had any ideas for the two of them.
Little did Chōsō know of the ideas Yūta did indeed have for them, but none of them were professional in the least.
In quite a bold move, Yūta had invited Chōsō to his apartment then. Mainly for the little setup he had there, and because they could use it without anyone knowing about this arrangement — otherwise the rumour mill would be running wild before they had set foot anywhere. Thinking about it now, he saw how bold he had really been in inviting another man to his very private apartment. Hopefully, he hadn’t sent the wrong idea to Chōsō. He really didn’t want the actor to think he only wanted… wait, no, he was a professional, he didn’t want sex with his client at all. At least not like that. He wasn’t some kind of predator.
Before his thoughts could spiral any further into the completely wrong direction, the bell rang, and Yūta was so grateful he nearly forgot who had just arrived. Well. Here went nothing, only two men doing a private photoshoot in his apartment, no big deal. He could handle that. He could— hide his collector’s edition of all of Chōsō’s released films which were still sitting proudly in the middle of his shelf. With a yelp, he slid them underneath his sofa, ignoring the clench of his heart in the face of this disrespectful behaviour towards his greatest treasure.
There would be time later to make sure they hadn’t taken any damage. Now he had to open the door. Way too energetically, he pulled the door open, gasping a little when he saw Chōsō standing there. The long wool coat did nothing to hide the man’s build, quite the opposite, together with the off-white turtleneck sweater, Chōsō looked very much like a model that had just stepped out of a magazine. In a way, he had. Right, he was here for a shooting, of course he’d look fashionable.
“Are you enjoying the view?” Chōsō leant his head slightly to the side, making the light overhead catch just right on his hair and those ungodly cheekbones. “I tried my best,” he continued with a sly smile and finally, Yūta snapped back to his senses, blood rushing into his face that he could have lit up the hallway all by himself.
“Uhm, very nice… Sorry, please, come in.” He stepped aside to let the actor in. “I’ll hang up your coat.” Yūta held out his hand and was amazed at the soft material as soon as he touched the coat, which also smelled heavily of Chōsō’s cologne. He’d gladly roll up in it if given the chance.
After the awkward greeting, things warmed up a bit, and Yūta led Chōsō further inside. “So, uhm, I have a room for shoots like this, we can just do some portraits, simple works. You have such a presence. We don’t need any props.”
Chōsō didn’t seem to pay attention all that intently as his head and eyes kept swivelling and inspecting Yūta’s flat. He was probably used to much bigger spaces, more luxurious and in a better location. But this was nothing Yūta had to be ashamed of: he had worked hard to afford this place, after all. “You have a nice place,” he finally said and caught Yūta completely off guard. “I really liked the photos you took that weren’t for the cover. I think we could continue there.” Without another invitation, Chōsō turned into the living room as they passed and fell down onto the furniture, smiling up sweetly.
This man would be the death of him.
“Yeah, sure… let me just grab my… camera. My camera.”
He took off in a hurry, nearly falling over his own feet as he stumbled into the other room, retrieving his camera and just a single ring light. He knew he wouldn’t need much more. There wouldn’t be much space in the living room for bulky equipment.
Back in the living room, Chōsō was currently lounging on the couch, curious gaze travelling over the photographs on the walls as well as the shelf with DVDs — Yūta’s collector’s edition prominently missing and leaving an empty spot.
“You have a really nice place. It suits you,” the actor complimented, probably out of courtesy for invading his personal space. Yūta knew Chōsō came from a rich family, had multiple younger brothers and probably not once in his life had he lived in anything less than stellar. Whereas Yūta’s family, despite their own kind of riches, had not been too supportive of his career choice nor of his mentor. In that he hadn’t had any choice, Gojō had just decided one day to take him on.
“Thank you… it’s probably nothing like what you’re used to, but—”
“Actually, my youngest brother has a flat a bit smaller, but his taste is not as good as yours. I also suspect he only cleans when I tell him in advance that I’ll drop in.”
For a very long moment, they locked eyes. Yet again, Yūta felt blood creep into his cheeks. Could he be any more pathetic? How ridiculous.
“Ehm, shall we start? I will just--”
“Pray tell, Okkotsu, you said your favourite photo was the close-up?” He smiled up at him, oh so innocently. A grown man shouldn’t be able to sport such an angelic expression. Actually, it was quite suspicious, but Yūta was too embarrassed to think more about it. “Maybe we try something like that again? After all, you want to show off your own strengths as a photographer as well, right?”
“Oh. Yes, sure. I mean, if you’re comfortable with that. Not many people actually like to see themselves this zoomed in, not a lot of space to hide. Not that you have to hide anything by the way, your face is perfect.” Oh shit. “I mean, your skin is perfectly fine and even, no retouching needed.”
Was he laughing at him? Chōsō’s eyebrows had shot up at his little slip-up and now looked like he might have the show of his lifetime. Well, at least, he didn’t seem to be put off. Yūta though — he had to get a grip on himself again. No way he’d let his lifelong crush get to him like that.
Without another word, he sat down on his couch table and took a few test shots to adjust to the lighting in the room. With his off-white sweater, Chōsō looked like sophistication incarnate in this setting, actually like he belonged right into Yūta’s space. At least he could daydream about that possibility for the next weeks and months to come. After three more photos, Yūta scrutinized his camera display with a frown.
“Is there a problem?” Chōsō leant in a bit, gaze chasing from the device to Yūta’s eyes as if he was searching for something.
For a change, he later realized, Yūta was too deep into his job to be flustered by their proximity. “I didn’t account for the different heights. On the set, the table was higher than the sofa and I had that shot from slightly above. Here I am too low if I want to see where I am aiming at.”
They both fell into silent pondering until Chōsō snapped his fingers, a grin spreading over his face.
“I have an idea, an easy one.” He blinked at Yūta, who already smiled, too entranced by that blinding presence in front of him. That’s how he didn’t see it coming when Chōsō grabbed the backs of his knees and pulled Yūta seemingly effortlessly onto his thighs.
Slowly, Yūta’s gaze travelled down his chest to the place he was now practically sitting in Chōsō’s lap. World-famous, award-winning, gorgeous Chōsō. It took him another breath to realize that his feet had automatically hooked into the actor’s calves to keep him steady.
“See, all good. We’re professionals after all,” the man in question declared without a care in the world as he leant back into the backrest with a smirk.
I’m gonna die tonight .
“Ah, yes! Of course! We’re professionals, and this is not a problem, like at all,” Yūta repeated weakly, trying to keep his thoughts out of the gutter and away from the muscles he could feel through Chōsō’s pants. Despite his rising panic, he had to admit one thing though: this angle really was better.
Like this, they could finally start their — frankly intimate — shooting without further delays. Yūta soon wasn’t that bothered by his seating position anymore, he leant in a bit instead, and when he had to steady himself with one hand on Chōsō’s chest at one point, then he’d stay all professional about it — and also store it for his daydreaming later. The longer they kept going, the more relaxed Yūta felt too, and could even laugh about the occasional jokes Chōsō cracked. Not only was he handsome and talented, no, the man also had a wicked sense of humour. How was that even fair?
Maybe Yūta had grown too comfortable. Maybe he felt a sudden burst of boldness, but at some point he suggested taking a photo with Chōsō looking down on him while he sat between his legs. To be honest, when he said it out loud, the possible insinuation hadn’t even registered with him. He had just thought it would make for a good perspective.
That was until Chōsō raised one eyebrow, contemplating.
“I mean, we don’t have to if you’re not comfortable with anything! Please feel free to tell me if you don’t want to do something. I don’t want you to feel like I am taking advantage of you.” Black sheep, sadly, had been amass in their industry, therefore Yūta wanted to be considerate of his model’s wishes.
“No, that’s fine. It’s not that I am uncomfortable around you. I doubt that could be the case,” another dazzling smile, and Yūta was grateful for not standing right now. Instead, he simply slid off Chōsō’s thighs and came resting on his knees between the actor’s legs. Only when he looked up, he noticed his rather incriminating position.
Chōsō must have noticed his hesitation as he cocked his head to one side, unspoken question clearly visible on his face. Yūta took a deep breath before answering: “All good, now if you’d just… lean forward towards me. Yes, just like that, thanks.”
It was a miracle his hands weren’t shaking from the way Chōsō’s eyes all but seared their way right through the lens. When he turned the camera around to show him, Yūta noticed how close they really were. He could see every last detail usually only his camera could uncover. Chōsō had a few minuscule moles on his cheeks, nearly looking like the faintest of freckles, while his dark eyes glowed like onyx in candlelight.
With a gasp, Yūta broke the intense stare-off that had developed between them. He let himself fall back a bit, dislodging his feet from underneath him and kicking them under the sofa instead.
The clattering noise told him that he had shown some more disrespect to his collector’s edition but he’d have to clean and treat the cases later anyway. Could as well worry about them then.
Chōsō’s gaze had fallen to the floor. No.
Oh no.
Yūta paled when he followed the line of sight to the case of his favourite film. Chōsō’s debut act and the one that had sold Yūta for all eternity.
“What is that?” The question came out soft, dangerously so. Something was not right as Chōsō picked the DVD up. “A fan, are you?” Faint amusement still danced in those eyes when he sharply looked up at him, only to then notice the other cases sticking out from under the sofa. Slowly, all of them were picked up and inspected while Yūta stayed on the floor, watching mutely and wondering what crime he must have committed in his former life.
“Ah, collector’s edition. I see.” Something was absolutely not right. Had there been amusement just a minute before, all the light seemed to have vanished from those dark eyes. Chōsō’s whole face looked… closed-off, outright cold and dread began to settle in Yūta’s stomach. “You must have seen a lot then?”
Yūta felt frozen to the spot, still sitting on the floor, and looking up at that man that didn’t look at all like the Chōsō he had got to know — if he could even call it that without sounding like a presumptuous idiot.
“Okkotsu, don’t have anything to say?”
He blinked away his shock. He had to say something. Yūta didn’t know what this was about nor what exactly was happening. Yet, he knew with every part of his body that whatever he’d say now would decide which direction the evening would take.
Though there was really only one option for him.
“Yes, I’ve seen all your films,” he started quietly, pressing his lips together. “I’ve been a huge fan from the very beginning.” Yūta didn’t even dare look up at Chōsō, glaring at his sofa instead.
“Hm… interesting. So was that the reason why you were so nervous in the studio?”
“Well—”
“Was it?”
“Yes and no. Of course, I am nervous when my absolute favourite actor walks through the door, and we’re doing a shoot where I get all up in your face.” Yūta lifts his gaze, meeting Chōsō’s defiantly. “But also because you are… all that.” He gestures up and down the actor’s silhouette, still situated on the couch. “Handsome, self-assured, successful, witty. And then there’s me.”
“So you thought you’d invite me over? Live out a fantasy of your favourite character in your apartment?” The words sounded cruel, bitter, but at the same time, Chōsō didn’t look like he wanted them to be true. Maybe it was his own illusional mind that played tricks on him.
“No! Look, I think you’re an amazing actor! Yes, you never miss, and all your roles always feel… real. You pour so much soul into them. Tell me how one shouldn’t feel affected by that much power?” Yūta’s shoulders sagged a bit in defeat.
“What’s your favourite?”
Tired, he looks up at his idol. “The first one… Trail Of The Dying Swan.” Yūta sighed. “This might sound cheesy, but it changed my life. Yamada’s resilience gave me the strength to…”
What was he even doing here?
Another look at Chōsō gave him the answer: the necessary. Either he came clean now, baring his very soul, or this man wouldn’t believe him.
“... to fight against my own bullies. They used to torment me at every given moment and made my life a living hell, but your performance in the film was inspiring. You also gave an interview during your press tour then.” His cheeks started burning from embarrassment yet again, a feeling he’d get used to soon enough if he kept going at that. “You were asked what you thought somebody should do in Yamada’s position. If anybody could just overcome this issue… and you said--”
“If people pick on you, then it’s because they are afraid of you and want to keep you down. The best plan is growing your wings and leaving your tormentors in the dust.” Chōsō finished the quote from all those years ago. The quote that had Yūta given the perseverance to become a photographer, to capture all the beauty he could find, and to have everybody see the world the way he saw it.
Only when Chōsō reached out and gently brushed away a tear, Yūta realized that he had started crying. He wanted to pull away, hide his shame and weakness but the actor didn’t let him. He moved from the sofa instead, kneeling in front of Yūta, and wrapping him into a tight embrace.
“Thank you for telling me,” Chōsō murmured into his ear, not easing up. “I am sorry you had to go through that. And that I made you say all this.”
Yūta suppressed the urge to show his confusion. He lowered his face into the plush sweater instead, breathing in the soothing cologne that was so painfully Chōsō. He was drained. All fight and will had left him with his confessional. However, he appreciated Chōsō’s apology and words of comfort.
“I had people see only my roles but never the man behind them. It should be no issue after all this time, but it gets to me, and I have to protect my brothers.” One of his hands settled on the back of Yūta’s head, fingers stroking through dark tresses.
Yūta didn’t know how long they stayed on the floor like this. Chōsō murmuring pretty words of regret, comfort and apology in his ear, those nifty fingers caressing him, he could have spent all evening in this position. He had never thought he’d ever say he enjoyed a hug, a prolonged one at that. However, with Chōsō it simply felt right, like something he had lost a long time ago and just now found again. Yūta didn’t want to let go just yet.
“We should get you off the floor, Okkotsu,” Chōsō finally said.
“Yūta. Call me Yūta, please.”
“Okay, Yūta.” Never had he heard his name spoken this gently, reverently even like it was something precious and something to be kept safe. But it seemed just right that this man should make it work somehow. “Get up with me. The floor is too cold for you.”
Again he made it look like no effort at all when Chōsō got up and pulled Yūta up with him only to sink onto the couch. This time, Yūta didn’t focus too much on his place in his lap as Chōsō bundled him up, strong arms coming around him and holding him close. “Tell me when you feel uncomfortable. I guess you’re not interested in me in that way now? I should have noticed as much when I tried to flir—”
Yūta lifts his head, only the slightest to see Chōsō’s face from the corner of his eye. “You did what?”
A long silence stretches between them before Chōsō starts chuckling.
“Ah. So you didn’t notice?”
“I— No, I mean, I thought you were only teasing me or just your normal behaviour. I wouldn’t have thought I was something… special.”
He felt pathetic. Even his ears must be reddening this time, judging from the burning sensation. Another beat of awkwardness without any words between them ensued before Chōsō let out a deep sigh.
“Oh, Yūta… you must have forgotten what the world sees in you after showing it your vision all the time.” The tone was soft, almost fond if Yūta had anything to weigh in, but it was still hard to process. “Next time we work together, I will take a photo of you when you’re all focused on getting the perfect angle. You’re glowing.”
Without much thought, Yūta buried his face back into the soft sweater, unwilling to show the blush this description brought to his face. Instead, he tightened his hold around Chōsō a bit, showing his appreciation in this way. “You can’t say things like that, I am… combusting,” he mumbled, still unsure how to respond otherwise.
“There is something else I could do to show you, but you’ll have to look at me for a second.”
That was probably the least he could do, that he should do really. No matter how little he wanted to have Chōsō see his embarrassment about the whole situation. Slowly, he lifted his head, meeting Chōsō’s gaze rather shyly. Whatever happened next, he’d later describe as magic simply for his loss of words as well as his brain shutting off for good.
One of Chōsō’s hands gently settled on Yūta’s jaw, lifting his head a bit more, just before their lips met. At first, it was chaste, only their lips pressing against each other and Yūta couldn’t help but stare at the beautiful fluttering eyelashes surrounding heavy-lidded, dark eyes. How could one man be that gorgeous?
He didn’t know why, but as if on an invisible impulse, he opened his mouth just the slightest, granting Chōsō entrance. His tongue soon followed the invitation to explore, map out everything it could reach. Yūta decided then and there to close his eyes and just enjoy the moment, rather relying on his other senses as one of his hands snaked its way into Chōsō’s hair, looking for hold. It wasn’t one of those hasty affairs one could see in films, none of those devouring kisses, but all the same, Yūta felt his heart swell. Maybe this could only happen after stripping your soul bare and revealing it all. Maybe this was just the effect Chōsō had over him.
In the end, this wasn’t their last kiss that evening as they decided to watch a film, order in and just revel in each other’s warmth. They kept exploring each other’s bodies, hands never not touching, eyes never truly fixed on the TV. All there was, was them and them alone. It was them on the couch and later in bed when they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Yūta had never felt more on top of the world, hoping Chōsō would still be there when he woke up, proving this wasn’t just a fantasy.
“Sleep, Yūta. I’ll be there in the morning,” Chōsō sleepily murmured into his hair as if he had read his mind. But embracing that promise, Yūta closed his eyes when a soft kiss was placed on his forehead. With a smile, he fell asleep into dreamless slumber as his biggest dream had already become reality.