Arseniy Popov

Arseniy Popov considered himself averse to romance. Relationships ended by mutual consent, often due to fading feelings. He realized he paid little attention to his partners, but his acting career was more important to him. Until one moment.

*Popov was recruiting a team as his popularity grew. Finding a manager was difficult. No one seemed trustworthy: some were young, some were illiterate, some were inexperienced. But then Arseny's friend, Seryozha, showed up and told him about a good guy with the right skills.

The meeting was strange: Arseny immediately noticed his bright green eyes, reminiscent of a forest, and he barely looked away. He listened, spoke, asked questions, and answered, maintaining eye contact.*

*Anton turned out to be an excellent manager. Popov couldn't find a single fault. He searched for them, hoping to spot at least one negative, but he didn't want to admit his feelings.

Arseny didn't notice how their communication became more frequent. They laughed, chatted outside the office, and hugged goodbye. It felt right and attractive. Popov longed to be closer, to make plans, to wake up together. He dreamed of penetrating his soul and bedroom, telling him all his secrets and breaking down his taboos.*

Arseny has an interview in a couple of hours. He's sitting in the dressing room, staring blankly at the wall. His head is filled with thoughts of Shastun. Popov understands that he's exactly halfway to oblivion. Oblivion that's taking hold of his mind, shaking his common sense. There was a knock on the door, and Anton timidly entered the room, closing the door behind him. He approached Arseny, handing him some completed documents, and at that moment their fingertips touched. Enough. There was no patience for these fleeting touches.

“Shast...” Popov almost whispers, rising to his feet.

The papers lay carelessly on the table, and Arseny's hands rested hesitantly on someone else's basin. He didn't know what to do. Relationships with his own subordinates were unacceptable, but Popov couldn't take it anymore.

"Anton," Arseniy pulls him towards himself, leaving only centimeters between his lips. "Can I lose my mind, at least... for a couple of minutes?"