Chapter Text
the first time jo saw him, it was already annoying.
he walked into advanced visual strategy ten minutes early. the room was half-empty, gray light seeping in through the tall studio windows. dust floated lazily in the air. jo didn’t care. he took the corner seat near the back, dropped his messenger bag to the floor, cracked his neck once, then opened his laptop. no small talk. no eye contact. no mercy.
then came that guy.
loud boots first, stomping the hallway like the main character of a musical. the door flung open like a damn scene in an anime and jo’s shoulders immediately tensed.
“there he is! yuma nakakita, in the flesh,” the guy said, pointing at himself like anyone asked. “sorry, sorry! i’m late! well, not really.”
he tossed his bag on the chair right next to jo’s. of course.
jo didn’t flinch. he didn’t look up either. his fingers paused above the keyboard though. a single brow twitched. it was barely 9 a.m. and already he wanted to punch air.
yuma, who clearly didn’t understand the concept of boundaries or silence, turned toward him with a grin so blinding it should’ve been illegal.
“yo. you’re in design too, right? i've seen you around.” he jabbed a thumb in jo’s direction. “you’re that guy. what’s your name again? jacket guy. moody aura. super tall. kind of looks like he hates everything.”
jo clicked his trackpad once. hard.
“no.”
“no?” yuma blinked. “wait, no what?”
jo finally looked up. dead in the eyes. his tone was ice.
“no, i’m not interested. fuck off.”
yuma’s eyes widened. then, instead of getting offended like a normal person, he actually laughed. “holy shit, you’re even meaner up close. that’s kind of hot.”
jo regretted looking at him. the dude had a lip ring. of course he did. his black hair was messy in a way that clearly took effort. he wore a tight black tee under a tattered cardigan, paired with ripped jeans and scuffed doc martens. art school energy. walked straight out of pinterest with too much audacity and a stupid face that smiled too much.
jo sighed. loudly.
yuma didn’t budge. if anything, he scooted closer.
“do you always curse at people before learning their names?” he asked, propping his chin on his palm. “that’s kind of sexy. you give enemies-to-lovers energy.”
jo stared at him. his face didn’t move. “i’m not interested in being your anything.”
“that’s what they all say,” yuma replied with a wink. “until they fall madly in love with me.”
jo looked down at his laptop again.
yuma still talked.
“so. do you like horror films? what’s your zodiac? are you more of a dogs or cats guy? you got a secret playlist for sad rainy days or are you a white noise person? what kind of cereal do you—”
jo stood up. sharp. fast.
the chair scraped against the floor. his bag hit the table as he slung it over his shoulder. he didn’t even bother packing his charger.
“i’m switching seats.”
“whoa, wait, what? c’mon, i’m not that bad,” yuma said, reaching to grab jo’s sleeve.
jo yanked his arm back before he could touch him.
“if i hear one more word from you,” jo muttered, leaning down slightly, voice low enough for only yuma to hear, “i’ll fucking glue your mouth shut.”
yuma blinked again.
then he bit his lip. grinning. “kinky.”
jo walked to the other end of the classroom without saying another word.
later that day, jo was halfway through an assignment in the design studio. his headphones were in. music on max. his screen was filled with color palettes and wireframes. he was finally in the zone.
then a shadow fell across his table.
he didn’t look up.
“guess who.”
jo didn’t answer.
yuma pulled out the chair in front of him.
jo spoke without looking.
“if you sit there, i’m stabbing you with my stylus.”
yuma leaned his chin on his hand again, smile never fading. “then do it. hard. make it count.”
jo pulled one headphone out and finally stared at him, fed up.
“are you actually mentally ill or just chronically starved for attention?”
“depends on the day,” yuma said, still smiling. “wanna find out which one today is?”
jo stared. deadpan. pure contempt.
yuma just tilted his head and stuck out his tongue slightly.
jo swore under his breath, grabbed his tablet and got up to move again.
yuma followed.
it kept happening.
in the hallway. in the cafeteria. in the print room. every damn class.
yuma popped up like a stray cat with too much confidence. he’d slide into jo’s space like he belonged there, ramble about the most random things, then grin like he hadn’t just violated basic human decency.
jo hated it.
yuma talked too much. smiled too much. walked too loud. wore cologne that lingered.
he wore hoodies that dipped off his shoulder. he chewed on pens. he sat with his legs wide open and leaned too close. he called jo weird nicknames and left drawings on his desk. once, he left a sticker on jo’s coffee cup that said you’re cute when you glare.
jo almost committed homicide.
then came the worst part.
jo noticed when yuma wasn’t around.
one day, yuma didn’t show up for class. the seat beside jo stayed empty. the noise in the room felt sharper without his usual nonsense humming in the background. jo finished the lecture notes ten minutes early. he didn’t even look at anyone else.
yuma didn’t come to the studio either.
jo clicked his pen too hard and broke the tip.
the next morning, yuma was back.
he showed up with an iced americano and a croissant and plopped them on jo’s desk like peace offerings.
“sorry, i had a migraine yesterday,” he said, unbothered as usual. “miss me?”
jo didn’t look up. “no.”
yuma sat down anyway.
by the third week, jo hadn’t punched him. that was progress.
yuma seemed pleased with himself. “you haven’t told me to shut the fuck up today. that’s basically affection.”
jo muttered, “don’t get used to it.”
yuma smirked. “too late.”
jo turned to him then. fully. calmly.
his voice was dangerously low.
“do you actually want to die or are you just flirting with me because you think i won’t snap?”
yuma blinked once.
then he grinned. “little bit of both.”
jo’s jaw clenched.
yuma leaned closer. “you’re fun.”
jo didn’t answer.
he was going to kill him. one of these days. with a pencil.
he needed to reset his brain. wash it with bleach. get exorcised or something.
whatever this was, it was starting to piss him off in a different way.
a much worse way.
- tbc.