Chapter Text
Reo was shaking as he looked down at the card he’d been given, trying to figure out why the fuck he was making such a big deal out of it.
Ever since he was young, Reo had the keenest ability for finding the beauty in the world. He used to try to explain it to others, to anyone who would listen. Nobody ever seemed to understand or to see what he saw. That was ultimately why he ended up taking up photography. If he couldn’t explain the world’s beauty to others, he could show them. Pictures are worth a thousand words, right?
But Reo quickly learned that photography of the world’s beauty didn’t go very far. It didn’t offer him much in terms of notoriety and it definitely didn’t pay the bills. People were interested in other people. That’s what they wanted to see in photographs. They wanted to see themselves in a beautiful light, or they wanted to see beautiful humans depicted in such a way they could be admired, envied, worshipped, even loathed.
Which was fine by Reo. He didn’t necessarily find humans as breathtaking as what the world had to offer in terms of landscapes, but he had a good eye. He understood what other people found beautiful well enough to get the job done. So, the photography he was passionate about had taken a backburner and become a hobby. Since switching over, he had a half decent list of clients and a handful of positive reviews. He was comfortable, but part of him wanted something career making.
This card might be it.
It also might not be.
He’d been putting off the phone call for half a day already, kicking himself more with every single minute that passed. Surely, he wasn’t the only one to have been handed this card, and it was a direct line. It would have been smarter to move fast, but he was just trying to get his hands to stop sweating and his heartbeat under control first.
Reo had met the model’s manager, Daisuke, not the model himself, at a networking event he’d somehow managed to snag an invite to, and ended up talking to the guy out of a total fluke. But he’d seemed impressed by Reo, and they ended up talking a bit about this peculiar client of his.
“You’re a photographer, you say?” The guy had seemed politely suspicious, the way most people were of each other at such events. It was an unspoken baseline you used to interact with people, to get them to prove themselves to you, to prompt you to prove yourself to them in return. “You’re pretty young. Who have you shot?”
Reo started rambling off his most impressive names, which weren’t all that impressive on a large scale, but got him far enough in the circles where people really knew their stuff. Reo got the distinct impression that this man did not. But alas, he had seemed somewhat impressed regardless. Enough to lift his brows, pursing his lips as he nodded. When Reo pulled out his phone, holding it to swipe through the gallery he had on his phone of all his best work, he knew he’d made a significant impression.
“You know, I’ve got this client that needs some better headshots done,” the guy then told him. Reo smiled politely, fighting off his victorious grin. It didn’t matter whether the job panned out or not. He’d won, and this was the main goal in the conversations that took place in these spaces. “Have you heard of Nagi Seishiro?”
Reo hadn’t. He shook his head, but politely, in a way that invited the indirect introduction.
“Yeah, most haven’t,” the man said, reaching for his own phone. “But the kid’s a real talent. Just a natural.”
When the phone turned towards him, Reo felt like he’d been knocked off his feet. His jaw clenched involuntarily. He did a regular talent scouting session, during which he looked for and cold messaged people just like this, people he knew the world would find beautiful, and he felt frustrated he hadn’t come across this Nagi Seishiro before.
He was beautiful. So beautiful that Reo knew that this wouldn’t only be a painfully easy job, but one that he knew he’d want to have his name on.
But he tried for nonchalance. “Huh. I haven’t seen him before. What’s he done?”
“Not much,” he admitted, almost shamefully, as he continued to swipe through this guy’s gallery. “He’s a little lazy, if I’m being honest. But God, does he ever make up for it when you get him in front of the camera.”
A little lazy, Reo pondered. It wasn’t necessarily a label that anyone wanted attached to them in this line of work, but as he continued to consider Nagi’s face, he began to think it as more of a compliment. A strength. He’s lazy, but he’s so beautiful that a lack of work ethic doesn’t really matter.
“What do you think?” the man asked him.
“He’s pretty,” Reo said. It was a line he often used, but seldom meant.
He meant it this time.
“Well, if you’re interested,” he started, reaching into his jacket’s front pocket. His hand came back out with a card tucked between his first two fingers. “Give him a call.”
Reo was taken aback, and he was sure it showed on his face. He should give him a call? Most models with managers booked through jobs through them, and unless Reo was the one who’d reached out to them first, he wasn’t usually the one doing the calling. The whole situation struck him as very bizarre.
“He likes to book his own jobs,” the man explained, clearly cluing in to Reo’s reluctance. “He only takes jobs that don’t sound like a pain. Or something like that. Doesn’t listen to barely anything I say, but here. He might take a liking to you.”
Reo took the card, and before he could even think of what else to say, or if there even was more to say, the man was giving him some farewell line about needing more cocktail shrimp and left Reo standing alone on the balcony. wondering what the hell had just happened.
He’d collected a few more cards over the course of the night, but Nagi’s was the only one who felt like it was burning a hole in his pocket. It was not only the one that came out of the strangest interaction, but it was the plainest aesthetically. It was yet another boast, just like the lazy label.
Nagi Seishiro
xxx-xxx-xxxx
That’s all it read. No labels, no personalized font, no titles, no logos. Reo wanted to call it as much as he wanted to burn it.
But before he decided which, he needed to do a little internet research.
Nagi Seishiro was an up and comer with a surprisingly healthy fanbase despite the fact that nobody really knew much about him. The guy had more fanart drawn and edited from his photos than he seemed to have photos himself. His portfolio wasn’t massive or even impressive in and of itself, but with what little he had, those who loved him took it and ran with it. He found stats from his manager’s website, but not much of anything else. His social media was dry. He posted only his few modelling photos, infrequently and all without captions. He got plenty of comments, but replied to none.
With everything Reo learned, he only became more confused. He decided the search was coming to a premature close, and he was just going to call the number and see what happened.
It rang so many times, Reo was sure it was going to go to voicemail. He was alright with that; he had a great voicemail spiel. He was inhaling, ready to put on his people pleasing voice, already tasting the hi, Nagi Seishiro, this is Mikage Reo calling… into his voicemail, when there was a click instead of a tone.
“Hello?” Came through the phone.
Reo’s eyes widened. If the entire thing wasn’t strange enough, that greeting was even more so. It’s wasn’t just casual, but it was slow and half-hearted, like he’d woken the person on the other end up.
“Hi,” Reo said, once he’d found his footing. “Nagi Seishiro?”
“Uh huh,” the voice responded. And then, nothing else. Reo tried to be quiet about clearing his throat.
“Hi there. Uh.” Reo wanted to kick himself. He started pacing back and forth through the living room of his apartment, hoping to find his footing again. He seldom felt this flustered. “This is Mikage Reo calling.”
“Hmm,” Nagi responded. Barely a response. He made no effort to ask who that was, or why they might be calling him.
“Yeah,” Reo said. “I’m a photographer. I got your number through Daisuke.”
“Oh,” Nagi said again. He still seemed deeply indifferent. Did he even care? Was this the laziness he’d been warned about, or was this some type of tactic? “Cool.”
“Anyways,” Reo continued, switching the phone to her other hand so he could wipe the first one on the side of his pants. “I’ve heard you need some new headshots.”
“Mmm,” Nagi hummed in some type of agreement. “He has been bugging me about that.”
“Well,” Reo continued, narrowly avoiding his coffee table with his absent minded pacing. “I was hoping I could take them. I’ve seen some of your work, and I could send you some of mine if you’re interested.”
“Sure,” Nagi answered.
“Oh. Okay,” Reo said, suddenly feeling like that was rather easy. “If you have an email address that works best for you, I could send you my portfolio.”
“No,” Nagi said suddenly. “That sounds like a lot of work. You can just take them.”
“Wow,” Reo found himself saying. Out loud. “Just like that?”
“Why not?” Nagi asked.
Reo shook his head, begging himself to just get a fucking grip. He may not be well established just yet, but he wasn’t new to the game by any means.
“Great,” Reo said, not acknowledging the awkward blip. “When works for you?”
“Hmm,” Nagi said, pondering. “How about after my nap? Four, maybe?”
“Oh,” Reo said, very obviously failing to get himself under control. “Today?”
“Does that work for you?” Nagi asked him.
Reo took a glance at his watch. It was only a few hours from then. Getting his equipment together and setting up the space wouldn’t take too long, but he’d have to contact his regular studio and see if they had a last minute opening. He’d never done something this last minute before.
“It might,” Reo said. “I have to call the studio and see if we can get in.”
“Oh, I have one of those I use,” Nagi told him nonchalantly. “I normally just call them and tell them I’m showing up. They never tell me no.”
Reo was once again speechless. All that was running through his mind was who the fuck am I talking to right now?
“I’ll let them know,” Nagi said. It sounded kind. “And text you the address.”
“Sure,” Reo said.
“Okay,” Nagi said. “See you later.”
And then Nagi hung up before Reo could say anything else, including ask him if he could take some extra shots to add to his portfolio. He shrugged it off, deciding he’d just bring some extra supplies, and he’d ask him when they got there.
Reo’s phone dinged with a text message from the number he’d just called, providing the address, as promised. It wasn’t far, but it wasn’t all that close, either. He packed his bags and got everything into the car in record speed, wanting to head over and set up before Nagi got there.
He would not blow this. He absolutely refused.