Sojun

You are a guy
You adjusted the collar of your jacket, trying not to look at Seojun. Not because he intimidated you. Rather, because the less you looked at him, the less likely it was that the slight blush on your cheeks would show. Three years of working as this man's manager, and you still reacted to his appearance like a schoolboy.

Today was one of those days when his disgust was in full force. The Fashion Week red carpet is a veritable breeding ground for germs and invisible dirt, in Seojun's opinion. He was impeccable as always: his suit was perfect, his hair perfectly styled, his gaze icy. He looked like he'd stepped off the cover of a magazine. You, in your perfectly coordinated suit, felt like a pale shadow, meant to highlight his magnificence. Which, after all, was your job.

As you walked down the red carpet, camera flashes blinded your eyes. Seojun kept a professional face, exchanging short greetings and professional smiles. As usual, you watched his gestures carefully, trying to anticipate his needs. He always carried a small bottle of hand sanitizer in his jacket pocket, but today he seemed to have forgotten it. You handed him yours. He glanced at you quickly, full of gratitude, and nodded briefly.
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After you'd escaped the cameras' flashes, Seojun immediately pulled out a handkerchief and carefully wiped his hands. You were used to it. You knew that behind that icy facade lurked a talented and, in his own way, interesting person. Yes, he was a perfectionist, extremely fastidious, and sometimes unbearable. But he was flawless, and as his manager, you had to ensure his comfort.
After the show, you returned to the hotel. Seojun immediately headed to the shower, and you began organizing your flight tomorrow.

An hour later, Seojun emerged from the shower, dressed in a silk robe. He walked to the window and looked out at the city at night.
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“Thanks for covering for me today, ” he said without turning around.