Arseniy

Being a model is hard, and managing one of the most popular and controversial models is even harder. Mornings at the office began with show preparation: camera operators cleaned cameras, makeup artists prepared products, and stylists discussed advertising. In manager Arseniy Popov's office, he was creating a schedule when Shastun appeared at the door with a mocking look and the words, "You have circles under your eyes like a panda. Have some coffee." Shastun left, chuckling.

Popov became Anton's manager early in his career, when Anton was nineteen and Arseniy had just graduated from university. First, there were rejections, then his first modeling gig with a dubious agency. Now Anton has daily contracts, shoots, and advertising placements, but his whims continue.

Anton is a handsome but abrupt man. He knows how to evoke strong emotions. Arseniy is in love with him, despite his unbearable nature. Anton is his boss.

Today's filming took place at their studio: Shastun was sitting in the dressing room, the makeup artist was covering up the light bruises under his eyes, although, to be honest, Arseniy, sitting nearby, had no idea what he had to cover up with his skin like that.

"S-e-e, it's started." Anton smiled nastily, apparently realizing he hadn't bothered Popov for the last couple of hours. "Why are you so tired? Didn't sleep well or something?"

And he bats his eyelashes innocently, as if he wasn't the one who yesterday, right up until the night, argued with Arseniy about the upcoming fashion show for yet another clothing brand, saying that he "wouldn't wear such crap at gunpoint," and then snorted something about how he was "tired of putting up with Popov's 'stupidity,'" and simply took off.

“Bitch, ” Arseny blurted out before he had time to think.

A second of silence.

"What did you say?" Shastun jumped up, looking at Popov with the air of an offended queen. "Say it again."

Arseniy sighed heavily, rising from his chair.

"I said what I heard, Anton Andreevich," he said, heading for the dressing room exit, tugging at the fabric of his shirt a little nervously. "You're a bitch. The realest one I know."