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The party was loud. Too loud. Thumping basslines pulsed through the room, rattling glasses on the bar and making conversation an uphill battle. The sheer energy of the crowd was oppressive, a jostling sea of laughter, clinking drinks, and sporadic cheers that swelled every time someone notable entered the room. Kōta Miura could barely hear himself think. It wasn’t much different from being in the ring, he mused—minus the adrenaline rush and the purpose.
He adjusted his posture against the bar, one hand loosely gripping a glass of mojito. The mint leaves floated idly as condensation pooled around the base, untouched save for a small sip he’d taken twenty minutes ago. His manager had insisted on his attendance, citing "networking opportunities" and "brand visibility." But Kōta’s idea of networking didn’t involve sweating under the club’s too-bright neon lights or straining to hear empty conversations over electronic beats.
Instead, he stood there, observing. His calm demeanour made him blend in, though his broad shoulders and lean, athletic frame caught the occasional glance. He didn’t want to be rude, but his patience was wearing thin. His headache—already a faint murmur—was threatening to make itself known.
And that’s when Felix appeared.
He didn’t approach so much as he glided—an effortless motion that reminded Kōta of water finding its way downstream. Felix exuded confidence, the kind of magnetic energy that demanded attention without asking for it. His sharp features were accentuated by the interplay of shadows and neon, his playful smirk framed by his messy, blond-bleached hair.
“Handsome,” Felix said, leaning just slightly against the bar next to Kōta, his resonant voice cutting through the chaos like it was designed for moments like these.
Kōta froze. The single word hit him harder than any jab he’d ever taken in the ring. His ears burned as he turned toward Felix, blinking rapidly, his calm composure suddenly betrayed by the faintest splutter of surprise.
“E-excuse me?” he stammered, clutching his mojito like it was some sort of lifeline.
Felix laughed, low and warm, leaning in just enough to make it feel like they were sharing a secret. “I said, you’re handsome,” he repeated, more softly this time, though the mischievous glint in his eye didn’t waver. “And you look like you’re about one bad beat drop away from leaving this place entirely.”
Kōta blinked again, his thoughts scrambling to catch up. “I… well…” He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. “It’s… not really my scene.”
Felix raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh, yeah? Then why are you here? Obligatory appearance?”
“Something like that,” Kōta muttered, feeling Felix’s gaze linger on him, assessing.
“Figured,” Felix said, straightening slightly. “You don’t exactly look like the kind of guy who thrives on overpriced cocktails and sweaty crowds.”
Kōta gave a small, polite nod, unsure how to respond. The quiet confidence Felix radiated was throwing him off balance.
“I’m Felix, by the way,” Felix added casually, holding out his hand. “And you are…?”
Kōta hesitated for a beat, taking the offered hand. “Kōta. Kōta Miura,” he said simply. He’d assumed Felix might recognize him, but there wasn’t even a flicker of recognition in the other man’s expression. It was oddly refreshing.
“Kōta,” Felix repeated, letting the name roll off his tongue with a certain charm. “Nice to meet you, Kōta. So, what do you do when you’re not stuck at parties like this?”
“Oh, um…” Kōta hesitated, unsure how to explain without sounding self-important. “I… fight.”
Felix’s eyebrows shot up, and he tilted his head, intrigued. “Fight? Like… you’re a boxer or something?”
“Not boxing, exactly,” Kōta replied, his voice soft but steady. “I’m an MMA fighter.”
Felix blinked, then broke into a grin. “Seriously? That’s badass. I didn’t peg you for the ‘beat people up for a living’ type. You’re way too polite.”
Kōta chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “I get that a lot.”
“Well, colour me impressed,” Felix said, leaning back against the bar with a playful glint in his eye. “I thought I had you figured out as the strong-but-silent type who worked in finance or something. Turns out, you’re a total wildcard.”
Kōta smiled faintly, the compliment catching him off guard. “Thanks, I think?”
Felix laughed again, the sound rich and effortless. “You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”
Kōta opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. The heat in his face was undeniable now.
“Relax,” Felix said, placing a light hand on Kōta’s arm. “Come on, this place is a nightmare. Let’s get some air before you implode.”
Kōta hesitated, glancing around. “I… don’t know. My manager—”
“Your manager’s not the one stuck in here looking like they’d rather be anywhere else,” Felix interrupted smoothly. “Five minutes. Promise. You’ll thank me later.”
Before Kōta could protest further, Felix was already leading him toward the exit, his touch gentle but confident. The crowd seemed to part for Felix as he moved, his presence carving out a space where none seemed to exist. His hand had slid from his bicep down to his wrist, long elegant finger pulling him along. The weight was oddly comforting. Something he could get used to as Felix led him out of the hall, down some corridors until they stopped in front of some elevators.
The moment the elevator doors slid shut, the pounding bass and chaotic noise of the party dulled to a muffled hum. The quiet was startling—almost jarring—but Kōta welcomed it. He stood stiffly near the buttons, his hands clasped in front of him while Felix leaned casually against the mirrored wall, one hand tucked in the pocket of his sleek trousers.
Kōta glanced sideways, still unsure what, exactly, he’d agreed to. He’d assumed “air” meant stepping out onto the curb or finding some quiet corner of the building, but Felix clearly had something else in mind. The blond-haired fighter wasn’t used to being swept up like this, especially not by someone like Felix—so self-assured, so at ease.
“So,” Felix began, his voice cutting through the soft hum of the elevator. “Are you always this tense, or is it just me?”
Kōta blinked, startled by the question. “What? No, I—I’m not tense.”
Felix raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into that mischievous smile again. “Mm, sure. The way you’re standing says otherwise.”
Kōta shifted awkwardly, suddenly hyper-aware of his posture. He was used to control, keeping himself composed and unreadable—something drilled into him through years of training. But under Felix’s sharp gaze, he felt transparent.
“I’m… just not used to this,” Kōta admitted softly.
“This?” Felix echoed, tilting his head in curiosity.
“This whole… scene,” Kōta gestured vaguely. “Parties, meeting new people, you know. It’s not really me.”
Felix studied him for a moment, then nodded, his expression softening slightly. “Fair enough,” he said. “But you’re here now. Might as well make it interesting, right?”
Before Kōta could respond, the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open to reveal a quiet, carpeted hallway. Felix stepped out first, glancing back to ensure Kōta was following.
The hotel suite was spacious but minimalist, and its décor was a soothing contrast to the sensory overload downstairs. Warm lighting bathed the room, reflecting off the polished surfaces of the glass coffee table and the glossy black piano tucked into one corner. Felix strode through the space with the ease of someone who belonged there—or at least acted like it.
Kōta hesitated by the doorway, feeling a bit out of place. But when Felix crossed the room and made a beeline for the balcony, Kōta felt a strange pull to follow him.
The sliding glass door whispered open, and the cool night air spilt into the suite, carrying with it a soft breeze that smelled faintly of the city below. Felix stepped onto the balcony, leaning casually against the railing with both arms as he looked out over the sprawling skyline. The glittering lights stretched out endlessly, a vast sea of brightness punctuated by the faint hum of distant traffic.
Kōta lingered just inside, his hands tucked awkwardly into his pockets. But the shift in the atmosphere was immediate. The fresh air, the quiet, the absence of pounding music—all of it worked to untangle the tight knot of tension that had gripped him all night.
“Better, huh?” Felix called over his shoulder, his voice light but carrying just enough weight to pull Kōta from his thoughts.
Kōta nodded, stepping tentatively onto the balcony. The cool metal of the railing pressed against his palms as he joined Felix, though he kept a respectful distance. “Yeah,” he said softly. “This is… nice.”
Felix glanced sideways at him, his playful smirk dimming slightly into something gentler. “Figured you needed it,” he said. “That party looked like it was eating you alive.”
Kōta chuckled faintly, his gaze falling to the lights below. “You’re not wrong. I don’t know why I let myself get talked into these things.”
“Because people like you, Kōta,” Felix said simply, his voice carrying an easy confidence. “You’ve got this presence—quiet, but it draws people in. Even if you don’t realize it.”
Kōta blinked, caught off guard. “You… don’t even know me.”
Felix shrugged, his smile returning with a spark of mischief. “Maybe not. But I’ve got a good read on people. And I’m not wrong about you.”
The words sat heavy in the air, not uncomfortable, but weighty in a way Kōta wasn’t used to. He looked at Felix, his face softening. “You’re really good at this, you know.”
Felix raised an eyebrow. “At what?”
“At… saying things,” Kōta said, fumbling slightly. “I mean, making people feel… I don’t know. Seen?”
Felix’s smile widened, though there was a flicker of sincerity behind it now. “Guess that makes two of us, then.”
Kōta frowned slightly, confused. “What do you mean?”
“You’re not as invisible as you think you are, Kōta,” Felix said, his voice dropping just enough to make the words linger. “Even in that room full of noise and people—you stood out. And not just because you’re stupidly handsome.”
Kōta felt his face flush, and he quickly looked away, his gaze locking on the skyline instead. He was used to compliments about his skill, his technique, and even his discipline. But this? It was disarming in a way he didn’t quite know how to process.
For a while, neither of them spoke. They just stood there, side by side, the city stretching out below them, the air cool and calming. And for the first time that night, Kōta felt like he could actually breathe.
The city lights glittered below as the soft night breeze brushed against their faces. Felix leaned casually against the balcony railing, exuding an effortless charm as he cast a glance at Kōta, who was still standing just a step behind. Felix tilted his head, his curiosity sparkling in his eyes.
“So,” Felix said, his voice smooth and easy, “do you think I could come to one of your fights sometime?”
Kōta blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the request. He studied Felix for a moment, trying to figure out if he was serious. “You… want to watch me fight?”
“Why not?” Felix replied with a shrug, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “It sounds intense. Plus, I’m curious. I’d like to see what you’re like in the ring, all focused and fiery.”
Kōta hesitated, his lips twitching into the smallest of smiles. The thought of Felix watching him felt… strange. Exciting, but strange. He exhaled slowly, letting some of his nerves escape with the breath, before he said, “You’re just saying that because you want to see me half-naked, bloody, and sweaty.”
The words left his mouth, and for a moment, the silence stretched. Kōta immediately regretted it, his ears burning as he avoided Felix’s gaze. But then, Felix burst out laughing—a rich, melodic sound that filled the quiet night air.
“Look at you,” Felix said between chuckles, his grin wide and full of mischief. “Two minutes on this balcony, and suddenly Mr. Quiet’s got jokes. Where has this confidence been all night?”
Kōta tried to play it cool, but the flush on his cheeks betrayed him. “I was just making an observation,” he mumbled, crossing his arms as if to shield himself from Felix’s teasing gaze.
Felix leaned in just slightly, his grin softening into something more playful. “Well, for the record, the bloody, sweaty part isn’t exactly my thing. But the half-naked part? I’m not gonna lie—that’s a solid perk.”
Kōta rolled his eyes, though the warmth in his chest lingered. Felix’s energy was infectious, and even though he felt out of his depth, there was something strangely comforting about the way Felix could so effortlessly break through his walls.
“Do you ever get scared before a fight?” Felix asked, shifting the conversation with an ease that felt natural.
Kōta paused, tilting his head as he considered the question. “Not scared, exactly,” he said thoughtfully. “But there’s always pressure. You feel it in your chest, your gut. It’s there the whole time. You just… learn to carry it. To focus.”
Felix nodded, clearly interested. “And what about the crowd? The noise, the eyes on you—does that ever get to you?”
“Sometimes,” Kōta admitted. “But once you’re in the ring, it all fades. It’s just you and your opponent. Nothing else matters.”
Felix smiled faintly, his gaze softening. “You make it sound almost poetic,” he said, leaning a little closer. “And here I thought it was just fists and adrenaline.”
Kōta gave a small chuckle, feeling a rare moment of ease in Felix’s company. But then Felix’s tone dropped slightly, his voice quieter, more serious.
“You really are something else, Kōta,” Felix murmured, his eyes fixed on him now. “I don’t think you even realize it.”
Kōta swallowed, feeling the weight of those words settle in his chest. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, Felix took a step closer.
The distance between them closed in an instant, and then Felix was leaning in, his eyes flicking briefly to Kōta’s lips before brushing a gentle, tentative kiss against them.
Kōta froze, his breath catching in his throat. His brain screamed at him to move, to do something, but all he could do was stand there, stunned. This was Felix—charismatic, confident, dazzling Felix—kissing him.
Felix noticed his hesitation immediately and pulled back, lifting his hands slightly in a gesture of apology. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his tone soft but earnest. “I shouldn’t have—”
But before he could finish, Kōta moved, closing the distance between them with a surprising burst of urgency. His lips met Felix’s in a kiss that was less graceful but no less heartfelt, his hands instinctively grabbing the fabric of Felix’s shirt to steady himself.
This time, it was Felix’s turn to freeze, caught off guard by the sudden shift. But it only lasted a moment before he melted into the kiss, his hand coming up to rest lightly on Kōta’s arm as he leaned in closer.
When they finally pulled apart, they were both breathless, their faces flushed in the cool night air. Felix was grinning again, though there was something softer in his expression now, something unspoken that lingered between them.
“Well,” Felix said, his voice low and teasing, “look at you. A quiet fighter and a bold kisser. You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”
Kōta huffed a small laugh, his face still warm as he looked away, suddenly shy again. “Don’t get used to it,” he muttered, though the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.
Felix leaned in just slightly, his grin widening. “Oh, I don’t know, Kōta. I think I might.”