Waste Of Time (Seongjoong)

~8~

|~|

Mingi sat typing away at his computer, tweaking small pieces of the song he was working on. Humming along with the music blasting through his headphones.

I always admired him for how easily he produced music, everything always sounded perfect.

He tapped the spacebar, pausing each line of the song and spinning his chair twords me.

"Alrighty,"
He started.
"So what's up with Hongjoong?"
He asked. I cocked my eyebrow at him.
"What do you mean?"

"Y'know, him being in your house."
I frowned, still not understanding exactly what he was getting at.
"Yeah?"

"Seonghwa, how thick is your skull?"
Mingi asked.
"Uh-"
Mingi quickly cut me off.
"How long have you know him"

"Not ver-"

"Exactly. What if he would've killed you?"
He asked.
"Bro, that was a fucking jump."
I answered leaning back into the black couch in his studio. Mingi sighed.
"I know, I know. But either way, I think you're a dumbass."
I nodded in agreement.
"Never said I wasn't. But he also didn't seem threatening."

"Did you have sex?"
I blinked a few times at him.
"Think over that a couple more times."
Silence.
"You think I would strip in front of anyone?"
I laughed.
"Sadly, no."

"Why sadly?"

"Because I know why you don't anymore too well. And it's sad."
I rolled my eyes.
"It's not. I don't care. And neither should you. Now let me hear the song."

I held my hands out for the headphones, Mingi laid them into my palm, my fingers coiled around them, but didn't let go just yet.
"Just, be careful. Please."
The genuine worry in his eyes rested with me. He feared for me. He always did. I'd never met someone with so much love inside of them, Mingi was one of the few people who I knew thought about what I was doing when we weren't talking. He never missed a chance to ask me how I was doing. And I did the same for him. I wouldn't trade Mingi for anything.

He was perfection in a human.

Everyone truly needs a person like Song Mingi in their lives.

Finally he let go of the headphones, I propped them on my head and closely listened to each note of the song Mingi had crafted.

And as excepted; it was great. Amazing, actually.

"Perfect,"
I said handing the headphones back to him.
"Glad you like it."

We sat in silence.

Mingi clicked away at his keyboard, continuing to tweak the track he was working on.

My phone vibrated against my thigh, the screen lit up with a text notification. A notification from my mother. I swiped it away, not bothering to read it. Her messages piled in my phone, unread, one after the other.

"Was that your mom?"
Mingi asked.
"Huh?"
I hummed glancing away from my phone to the man spun in his desk chair twords me.
"Your mom, yeah? You scowled at your phone,"
He laughed.
"Just assuming though."
I nodded.
"Yeah. It was my mom. Who else wod I be scowling about?"