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The lights of the Grand Seoul Collection were a chaotic, blinding symphony — a relentless wall of white glare that could make even the most seasoned veteran flinch. But inside the dressing room, the world was a tomb of absolute, curated silence.
Lee Sa-young, the man whose name was whispered with both awe and frustration in the international fashion circuits, sat motionless in a vintage velvet chair. His profile was sharp enough to cut glass, his beauty so striking it felt like a physical weight in the room. To the public, he was a cold, untouchable icon who only accepted commercials and high-fashion jobs he deemed worthy of his presence. To himself, he was simply a man waiting for the only touch he ever permitted.
Cha Eui-jae moved behind him with a quiet, humming efficiency. Dressed in a simple charcoal turtleneck and tailored slacks, Eui-jae carried himself with a natural, understated grace. His sharp features and habitually expressionless face gave off a cool, composed aura that commanded respect without him ever raising his voice. He had the kind of looks that drew eyes in any room, a visual caliber that made photographers constantly mistake him for a new talent.
Throughout the eight years they had been together, countless agencies had tried to scout Eui-jae right from under Sa-young’s nose. Eui-jae always laughed those offers off with a polite, dismissive wave, genuinely believing the scouts were just being courteous to the manager of a superstar. He was utterly oblivious to the fact that his looks were far above average; he was too busy prioritizing Sa-young’s needs to ever glance at his own reflection with vanity.
"Don't move, Sa-young-ah," Eui-jae murmured, his fingers deft as he ensured every dark strand of Sa-young's hair looked clean. "I’m almost done with the left side. If you keep fidgeting, it won't be perfect."
Sa-young’s eyes, usually as cold and sharp as flint when directed at the rest of the world, softened instantly. He watched Eui-jae’s reflection in the mirror, his gaze tracing the focused, serious line of Eui-jae’s mouth. He had been watching Eui-jae like this since before the fame, before the billboards, and before the world claimed a piece of him.
Eight years ago, Lee Sa-young was a cynical youth with no ambition for the limelight. He had been a ‘problem child’ for the agency, a visual genius with a temperament that sent most managers running within forty-eight hours. The CEO, nearing her wits' end, had finally assigned her friend’s nephew — Cha Eui-jae — to the task.
At first, Sa-young was dismissive. He assumed Eui-jae was just another well-connected hire who would crumble under the pressure of his demands. But Eui-jae was different. He was exceptional at his job, possessed of a strange blend of modern efficiency and ‘Confucian values’ that made him incredibly dutiful. Even Sa-young's most absurd, late-night requests were met with a sigh and a quiet, successful execution.
While the longest any previous manager had lasted was a week, Eui-jae surpassed the three-month mark without breaking a sweat. Whenever Sa-young spouted nonsense or acted out, Eui-jae didn't cower; he argued back like a grumpy, principled old man. Their bickering became the highlight of Sa-young's day. He found himself growing curious — not about the Manager, but about the man himself.
One afternoon, the peace was shattered by the whispers of jealous models in the hallway. "He’s only popular because his manager does everything for him," one sneered. "Lee Sa-young is just a pretty face with a bad attitude. Poor Eui-jae-ssi is basically a babysitter."
Sa-young didn't even flinch. He sat there with his eyes closed, the insults sliding off him like water off silk. He had heard it all before and cared very little for the opinions of those he considered beneath him. However, he felt the air in the room shift.
Eui-jae’s shadow fell over the group in the hallway. The manager didn't yell; he simply looked at them with that expressionless, cool aura that made the air turn cold. "If you have time to critique my model's talent, perhaps you have time to practice on your own." Eui-jae had said, his voice quiet but biting.
The hallway cleared instantly. Inside the room, Eui-jae walked back in, looking slightly ruffled but mostly composed. Sa-young finally opened his eyes, feeling a strange, unfamiliar thrum in his chest. It wasn't the slander that bothered him — it was the fact that Eui-jae had stood up for him so decisively.
“Hyung, why did you stay?” Sa-young asked, his voice uncharacteristically small. “What do you like about me?”
Eui-jae paused, looking at Sa-young. 'Your face' was the first thought that flashed through his mind — the raw, undeniable beauty of the boy. But he felt that was too shallow a thing to say to someone who was clearly hurting.
Instead, he stepped forward, grabbing Sa-young’s cheeks and forcing him to look up. "Does that really matter? I just like staying with you. I like the way you are... so just look at me and stop listening to nonsense."
To Sa-young, that wasn't just any answer. It had been a confession. From that day forward, Lee Sa-young decided they were together.
The silence of the room was interrupted by a brisk knock. Jung Bin, the CEO’s right-hand assistant, poked his head in. He was one of the few people who could tolerate Sa-young’s presence, mostly because he had been friends with Eui-jae since their trainee days. Jung Bin was the picture of professional politeness, a stark contrast to the volatile egos of the fashion world.
"Pardon the intrusion, Eui-jae-ssi," Jung Bin said with a small, respectful bow. "The CEO is requesting the final wardrobe check. Also," he paused, offering a faint, apologetic smile, "the CEO asked if you remembered the skincare brand executive? Her daughter was quite persistent about getting your contact information again. She’s hoping to invite you to a formal dinner."
Eui-jae laughed, dabbing concealer on Sa-young’s flawless jaw. "Tell the CEO I’m far too busy managing this brat to have a personal life, Jung Bin-ssi."
"I’m not a brat," Sa-young hissed, his eyes narrowing. "And tell that woman to stop looking at my manager."
Jung Bin remained unfazed, his tone consistently courteous. "I shall relay the message, though perhaps in softer terms. By the way, Eui-jae-ssi, we’re having drinks later? Hong Ye-seong-ssi, the prop manager, specifically asked if you could join. He’s bringing some of the new crew and is quite eager to catch up."
"Hong Ye-seong is coming?" Eui-jae’s face twisted into an unreadable expression. Hong Ye-seong was a long-time friend who often helped Eui-jae source the weirdest requests Sa-young made, but his drinking habit was… legendary in the worst way possible. Just thinking about getting Hong Ye-seong home made his head ache. "I’ll try to make it if we’re not busy," he lied, already planning his escape.
As Jung Bin left with a polite nod, the tension in the room spiked. Sa-young gripped the armrests. "You’re going out? With Hong Ye-seong? He always tries to get you to scout for his team."
"Hong Ye-seong just thinks I'm wasting my potential," Eui-jae sighed. "He doesn't realize I love what I do. Now, stay still."
The door opened again, this time without a knock. Honeybee, a fellow top-tier model, swept in. She adored Eui-jae — mostly because he was the only person who remembered her allergies — but she couldn't stand Sa-young. "Manager!" she chirped. "Can you help me with my makeup?"
Sa-young’s hand shot out, catching Eui-jae’s wrist before he could move. "He’s busy, Hornet. Go find a professional."
"He IS a professional, and drop that nickname, it’s annoying!" Honeybee snapped, rolling her eyes at Eui-jae in a silent 'Can you believe this guy?' look.
Eui-jae patted her hand gently. "I’ll be there in a minute, Honeybee. Let me just finish this."
When she left, the model’s face was like thunder. Sa-young mentally noted that he should just rent the entire floor next time, and made a mental ban list with rankings: 1. CEO (Ham Seok-jeong), 2. Jung Bin, 3. Honeybee, 4. Hong Ye-seong.
"They're my friends, Sa-young-ah," Eui-jae said. "And I’m your manager. Part of my job is being liked."
But the "manager" label was becoming a sharp, nagging thorn in Eui-jae's side. Their "ritual" — the one that had started with a simple paper cut six months ago — had begun to poison his carefully maintained composure.
He remembered that night with a clarity that still made his heart skip. It was three in the morning, the world outside reduced to the muted, blue-grey shimmer of city lights through the rain-streaked windows of their hotel suite. The air was heavy with the scent of Sa-young’s cologne and the quiet rustle of paper. Sa-young had been slumped on the sofa, reviewing a script on thick, sharp manuscript paper, his eyes tired but restless.
"Ouch," Sa-young had suddenly muttered. He didn't look away from Eui-jae as he stared at a thin, bead of crimson blooming on his index finger. "Hyung, I’m wounded. Can you kiss it to make it feel better?" He held the finger up, his voice a low, melodic drawl, his eyes half-lidded and purposefully teasing.
Eui-jae, functioning on two hours of sleep and a heart that had been overflowing with unspoken affection for years, felt his mental fortress crumble. In his exhaustion, the professional distance he usually maintained simply vanished. He didn't even look at the finger. Instead, his gaze was magnetically drawn to Sa-young’s mouth — those lips that always seemed to be mocking him, inviting him, and driving him to the brink of insanity.
Driven by a sudden, delirious impulse, Eui-jae leaned in. He didn't reach for the hand. Instead, he cupped Sa-young's face, his thumbs brushing against those sharp, high cheekbones. Before his brain could catch up to his heart, he pressed his lips firmly to Sa-young's mouth.
It wasn't a quick, apologetic peck. It was a deep, lingering collision — a desperate realization of years of suppressed desire that made the dimly lit room spin. For a heartbeat, the only sound was the frantic rhythm of their breathing and the rain against the glass. Sa-young didn't pull away ; he froze, his entire body going rigid with shock before his eyes fluttered shut, his hand dropping the script to the floor.
When Eui-jae finally pulled back, gasping for air and trembling with the sudden weight of his ‘mistake’, he felt the heat of a massive blush crawling up his neck. "The... the light was dim," he had stammered, his voice a panicked wreck. "I missed. I’m sorry, I’m just tired— "
But Sa-young didn't look offended. He sat there, his lips slightly parted and his eyes dark with a dangerous, beautiful intensity that Eui-jae couldn't decipher. He let out a soft, low hum and slowly raised his injured finger again, a slow, triumphant smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"My finger still hurts, Hyung. You’re going to have to try again."
Back in the present, in the quiet lull before their final commercial shoot, the breaking point finally arrived. Sa-young, like he always did, leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed, waiting for the ritual.
"Sa-young-ah," Eui-jae said, his voice unusually strained. He was holding a powder brush, but his hands were trembling.
"I'm waiting, Hyung," Sa-young murmured, his lips slightly parted in anticipation.
"I can't do the kissing anymore," Eui-jae blurted out.
The silence that followed was sharp. Sa-young opened his eyes, the warmth in them instantly replaced by profound confusion and mounting alarm. He sat up straight. "What do you mean you can't? Did I do something wrong?"
"No, it's not you," Eui-jae said, setting the brush down with a clatter. He looked at the floor, unable to bear the intensity of Sa-young's gaze. "It’s me. I can't keep pretending anymore. I... I’ve realized I can’t keep seeing you as just someone I’m working with, Sa-young-ah. I’ve tried to stay professional, but I find myself wanting something more than that. I… I love you, and continuing to kiss you while I feel this way — it feels like I’m taking advantage of your trust. It feels dishonest."
Sa-young stared at him, his face transitioning from shock to pure, unadulterated frustration. He let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. "You realize... now?"
"I just wanted to be honest with you before things got— "
"Is this just a 'job' to you?!" Sa-young shouted, standing up so abruptly his chair nearly tipped. He threw his hands up in absolute exasperation. "Do you spend three hours every night brushing someone's hair? Do you feed him? Do you let him dictate every second of your life for eight years?! Because if you do that for everyone you work with, we need to have a very different conversation!"
Eui-jae opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He was floored by the sheer volume of Sa-young's indignation. His ears turned a bright, unmistakable pink as the weight of his own denseness finally hit him.
"I've been waiting for you to realize we were dating since the day you grabbed my face and told me to look at you eight years ago!" Sa-young continued, his chest heaving. "I thought that was the confession! I thought every kiss for the last six months was you finally being brave! And you’re telling me that this whole time, you thought you were just being a supportive Hyung? How can someone so smart be so incredibly dense?"
"I... I thought you were just very clingy," Eui-jae whispered, his cheeks deepening into a dark crimson. All those nights Sa-young refused to sleep unless Eui-jae was in the room, the way he only took jobs that Eui-jae liked... It wasn't just random behavior. It was a decade-long pursuit.
Sa-young grabbed Eui-jae by the front of his shirt, his knuckles white and his fingers trembling with the weight of years of pent-up longing. "I don’t let anyone else touch me because I belong to you," he gritted out, his voice thick with a vulnerability he only ever showed in this room. "I’ve been yours since that moment, and you’re just now realizing you might want 'something more'?"
Eui-jae looked at Sa-young — really looked at him. He saw the raw frustration, the exhaustion of waiting, and the absolute, unwavering devotion in those sharp eyes. The realization hit him like a physical blow ; he had been looking for a door that Sa-young had left wide open for him years ago. A slow, embarrassed smile spread across Eui-jae’s face, and his cheeks burned with a deep, bashful heat. "I really am an idiot, aren’t I?"
"The biggest," Sa-young growled, though his grip on Eui-jae’s shirt softened, his knuckles now brushing gently against Eui-jae’s chest, right over his racing heart. His gaze dropped to Eui-jae's lips, his voice dropping low and challenging. "So? Are you still going to stop the kissing because you're 'worried' about me, or are you finally going to do it properly?"
Eui-jae didn’t hesitate. He reached up, his palms warm as he cupped Sa-young’s jaw, and pulled the model down. This time, there was no excuse. It was a kiss that finally had nothing to do with their ritual and everything to do with the fact that they were finally, truly, on the same page. It was deep, possessive, and tasted of eight years of quiet patience and a future of belonging.
When they finally broke apart, both were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other in the quiet room. "If you ever try to pull that 'strictly professional' line on me again," Sa-young murmured, his eyes dark with a new kind of intensity, "I’m quitting the industry and taking you to an island where there are no agencies or other people to hide behind. I mean it."
Eui-jae laughed, and Sa-young wrapped his arms around Eui-jae’s waist, pulling him into a proper embrace. "I think I can manage that. I’ve been saving for years, after all. I just didn't realize I was saving for a boyfriend."
"Husband," Sa-young corrected, tucking his face into Eui-jae’s neck, inhaling the familiar scent. "Give it another year, and you’ll realize that too."
Eui-jae just smiled, kissing the top of Sa-young's head. He wasn't just the man behind the scenes.
He was exactly where he was always meant to be — It was right beside Lee Sa-young.
Extra:
When the door to the dressing room finally opened, Jung Bin was waiting politely by the wall, and Honeybee was leaning against a vanity, checking her reflection. They both froze as Lee Sa-young walked out, his arm clamped possessively around Eui-jae’s waist.
Eui-jae looked like he wanted to vanish into the floorboards. His head was ducked low, and his entire face — from his forehead down to his neck — was a brilliant, shy red. He kept trying to adjust his collar, his fingers fumbling with a sudden, uncharacteristic clumsiness. He was so shy in this new display of affection that he could barely meet anyone's eyes.
"Jung Bin," Sa-young barked, his voice ringing through the hall.
Jung Bin stood up straight, his expression neutral but his eyes widening slightly at the sight of the flushed manager. "Yes, Lee Sa-young-ssi?"
"Tell that sly fox that she can stop her matchmaking immediately. Tell her that Hyung is officially taken. If I see one more blind date or dinner invitation on his calendar, I’m burning the whole agency down."
Jung Bin blinked, his usual composure wavering. "Taken? May I ask... by whom?"
"By me," Sa-young snapped, pulling the blushing Eui-jae even tighter against his side. "For the last eight years. He was just too dense to notice."
"Eui-jae, why?!" Honeybee shrieked, throwing her hands up in absolute horror. "Why him?! You could have anyone! Why choose this moody gargoyle?! There are thousands of people who would treat you well, and you pick the one who needs a babysitter?"
Eui-jae’s face hit a new level of crimson. He let out a soft, embarrassed squeak, burying his face in his hand as his shoulders shook with a shy, breathless laugh. "Honeybee... please... don't say that..." He looked completely overwhelmed, his skin glowing with a deep, bashful heat.
"I'm serious!" Honeybee continued, pointing a manicured finger at Sa-young. "He’s a nightmare! Quick, blink twice if you’re being held hostage! I’ll call the police!"
Sa-young looked down at the top of Eui-jae’s head, a smug, territorial grin spreading across his face as he watched Eui-jae blush even harder. "He’s not blinking, Hornet. He’s staying."
Jung Bin cleared his throat, recovering his polite demeanor with a small, amused bow. "I see. I shall inform the CEO of the change in... status. I suspect she will find this development quite intriguing. Congratulations, Eui-jae-ssi. I wish you... luck."
"Thank you, Jung Bin-ssi," Eui-jae whispered, his voice muffled by his hand as his ears glowed a brilliant, bashful red. As they turned toward the stage, Sa-young reached down and firmly threaded his fingers through Eui-jae’s, locking their palms together. Eui-jae’s breath hitched at the bold gesture, but he didn't pull away — instead, he squeezed back, finally accepting that he belonged exactly where he was.
“Let’s go, Hyung,” Sa-young murmured, his voice laced with a rare, private warmth as he pulled Eui-jae into the light. Together, they stepped out of the shadows, no longer just manager and model, but two people finally walking side by side.