Pairing: Jo x Yuma
Vibe: Slow-burn, tease-to-tension, quiet unraveling
POV: Jo's

Requested by stantxtandizone

Jo liked to think of himself as the calm one.

Quiet. Composed. Hard to rattle.

He'd watched other people spiral under pressure—flirtation, tension, emotional chaos—and thought, not me.

Until Yuma.

Yuma was a problem.

Too loud. Too bright. Too close.
And somehow, always circling Jo like he knew something Jo didn't want to admit.

It started harmlessly.

Little comments. Quick glances. Grins that lingered too long.

But now Yuma was leaning on Jo's shoulder during group movie night, "accidentally" brushing his knee, whispering things that meant nothing—except they did.

"Jo," Yuma said one night, voice too close to Jo's ear, "you always sit like you're afraid someone's going to touch you."

Jo didn't flinch. Didn't move.

"Maybe I'm just picky about who gets to."

Yuma grinned like it was a win.

But Jo didn't look at him. He couldn't.

Not when Yuma was that close.

The worst part?

Yuma wasn't subtle. And he wasn't sorry.

He liked watching Jo try to hold it together.

And Jo... let him.

Tonight, it was worse.

They were alone. The dorm was quiet. Everyone else out.

Yuma sat on the couch, spinning Jo's pen between his fingers—like it was his, like everything in Jo's space was something he could touch.

Jo leaned against the counter, arms crossed, pretending to scroll through his phone.

"You always this tense?" Yuma asked, not looking up.

"I'm not tense."

"Mm." Yuma stood, walked closer—slow, deliberate.

Jo didn't move.

"You always act like you don't notice me." Yuma's voice dropped, almost playful. "But you do."

"You talk too much."

"You think too loud."

Jo finally looked at him.

And Yuma was there.

Closer than he had any right to be. That damn spark in his eyes.

"You know," Yuma said, voice light but daring, "it'd be really easy to mess you up."

Jo raised an eyebrow. "You think I'd let you?"

Yuma smirked. "I think you already do."

That hit something.

Something low, slow, dangerous.

Jo pushed off the counter, walked forward until he was nose to nose with him.

"You think this is a game."

"Isn't it?"

Jo didn't blink. "Then what happens when you lose?"

Yuma's breath hitched. Just a little. But enough.

Jo leaned in—slow, deliberate. Close enough to graze, not close enough to give in.

"You're not ready for what happens when I stop pretending I don't notice you."

"Then stop pretending."

Jo didn't move. Not yet. He waited.

Waited for Yuma to make the mistake of backing down.

But he didn't.

He smirked.

"Coward."

Jo's restraint snapped.

His hand shot up to Yuma's jaw, tilting his face up—not roughly, but not gently either.

"Don't provoke something you can't handle."

"Try me."

Jo kissed him like he meant to end the conversation.

Firm. No hesitation. No room left for denial.

And Yuma?

Yuma melted into it like he'd been waiting all along.

When they broke apart, both breathless, Jo didn't pull back far.

Just enough to see Yuma's face. Just enough to speak.

"Still think you're the one in control?"

Yuma blinked.

Then laughed—soft, breathless, wrecked.

"God, I hope not."

Jo smirked. Just barely.

"Good. Because I'm done letting you win."

Scene theme: When the flirty one gets wrecked

Yuma thought he was ready.

After all, he'd started this.

He'd been the one poking, prodding, leaning in too close, whispering nonsense just to see Jo flinch (he never did, but still). Yuma thrived on the tension. On the thrill of almost.

So when Jo kissed him last time—like he wasn't asking, like he knew—Yuma had promised himself he'd take the power back.

Next time, he would be in control.

That was the plan.

It started in the practice room.

They were waiting for the others, Jo leaning against the mirror, water bottle in one hand, unreadable as ever.

Yuma walked in and smirked like it was instinct.

"What, no intense stare today? Not even a dramatic silence?"

Jo glanced at him, expression cool.

"Why? Were you hoping for something more intimate?"

Yuma blinked.

Point: Jo.

But he recovered.

"Depends. You thinking about kissing me again?"

Jo took a slow sip of water. Never looked away.

"No."

Beat.

"Thinking about making you beg for it this time."

Yuma choked on his own ego.

Jo just walked past him, calm and casual, like he hadn't just set fire to the room.

The next time it happened, it was subtle.

Yuma leaned close while they were sitting in the dorm lounge.

Close enough to whisper, "Still thinking about me?"

Jo didn't even turn.

"Always."

Yuma stilled.

Wait. That didn't sound like a comeback.

That sounded—honest.

By the third time, Yuma was spiraling.

Jo cornered him in the hallway. No audience. No warning.

Pressed one hand against the wall next to Yuma's head—not to intimidate. Just to be close.

"You like chasing," Jo murmured, eyes locked on his. "But you've never been caught, have you?"

Yuma's breath hitched. "You think you've caught me?"

Jo tilted his head, leaned in—slow, infuriatingly gentle.

"I know I've slowed you down."

Yuma didn't know what to say.

Because Jo wasn't teasing with words anymore.

He was teasing with intimacy. With soft looks. With a kind of patience that felt like affection wrapped in fire.

And Yuma—

Yuma had no idea how to fight that.

Later that night, he cornered Jo.

His usual tricks didn't work.

He tried pushing. Flirting. Saying something cocky like, "Careful, I might fall for you if you keep this up."

Jo just blinked. Stepped closer.

"Then fall."

Yuma stopped breathing.

Jo's voice dropped to a whisper:

"You flirt like you're untouchable, Yuma. Like none of it lands."

He reached out, thumb brushing Yuma's cheek—light, barely there.

"But it does. Doesn't it?"

And that was it.

That was the moment Yuma cracked.

Jo's teasing was different.

Yuma flirted like a dare—fast, loud, reckless.
Jo teased like he already knew the ending.
Like he was guiding Yuma somewhere deeper than Yuma meant to go.

And now?

Now Yuma stood there, chest tight, lips parted, no witty comeback in sight.

Jo leaned in, voice barely above a breath:

"Still think you're in control?"

Yuma swallowed hard.

"...Not even a little."

Jo smirked. But this time, it wasn't smug.

It was soft.

"Good."

Then he kissed Yuma again—less fire, more gravity.

Like he wasn't trying to win.

Like he just wanted him.

And Yuma?

Yuma stopped trying to play the game.

He just kissed back.

End.