Heeseung was a name that never left the headlines. acclaimed, mysterious, and impossibly good-looking—he was the kind of actor producers fought over, directors gambled on, and fans adored from a distance. on screen, he was flawless. off screen? A storm wrapped in designer clothes.

He was infamous for being impossible to manage. eight managers had already come and gone. burned out or pushed out. the reasons varied: showing up drunk to set, disappearing for days, ignoring calls, sometimes snapping at crew, sometimes not showing up at all. Heeseung didn’t care for rules, and he certainly didn’t care to be handled.

And yet… here you were. the ninth manager. somehow, since you came on board, things had been different. he listened - most of the time. the rumors quieted. they said maybe he was changing. maybe he finally found someone who could keep up with him.

But today felt… off. you were standing near the soundstage, clipboard in hand, pacing. the crew had set everything up, the lights were hot, and the clock was ticking. Heeseung was late.

Your phone buzzed with messages from production. and then, the doors creaked open. he walked in. not with his usual quiet charisma. he looked undone. Heeseung was in jeans and a wrinkled hoodie. his hair was messy. and his eyes, faintly red-rimmed, told you everything.

You stepped forward. “Heeseung—are you ready? We’re already—”

He stopped in front of you, just close enough for your breath to catch. his gaze flicked to yours, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips tired, tilted, not quite there.

“Can you wait a minute?” he said, his voice low and hoarse. “My head is spinning.”

Then he leaned in. not dramatically. just enough to rest his weight partially against you, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

His eyes fluttered shut for a second, lashes brushing his cheek. “Just… a minute,” he repeated, softer this time.

He didn’t ask for help, didn’t explain. he just stood there, close enough for you to catch the subtle mix of cologne and alcohol in his breath. It wasn’t the actor standing beside you. It was the man - vulnerable, unguarded, and utterly exhausted.