𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐭 | 𝐦.𝐲𝐠 ✓

Chapter: 5

The hardworking producer seemed to be giving it his all today. It was only 11:00 a.m., and he had already seemingly created 4 sufficient songs.

The music volume, coming from his office, appeared to be turned all the way up for some reason. I'm pretty sure the entire floor of the building was capable of hearing the explicit tunes.

Not to mention the million curse words he deposits in them. All morning I've heard him spit cusses throughout the poetic raps. It didn't bother me. In actuality, I was kind of impressed. It was baffling to me that a person could create such unique melodies and convey profound messages.

Hearing the constant crass verbatim, a respectful smile grows on my face.

Though he's a jerk, the mint haired man is also a genius.

♫

I stare helplessly at my two rectangle lunch containers, not knowing which one to stuff myself with. One containing mango rice and fruit, made by Suji. The other with freshly barbecued beef and rice, courtesy to nurse/chef Jin.

It appears as though the couple has, yet again, competed for my love. And after lots of contemplation and substantial whiffs, I decide that Suji wins this time.

I gobble down the sweet meal with only a couple spoonfuls, filling my mouth completely with each ration. The music in the background adding a nice touch to my mealtime, rather than my usual reading of Peppermint, which I've forgotten at home. Listening to the ongoing boisterous voice makes me wonder. I furrow my eyebrows and finish my last bite. Is he going to eat?

Thinking back to what he looked like this morning, after ignoring my coffee gesture by promenading straight to his office without a glance my way, I recall how slender he had become in such a short amount of time. His once full appley cheeks have transitioned to sunken-in indents. I also have noticed how I can now see his top shoulder bones push through his sweaters. He's even more slim than me.

I cuss at my sudden gallant idea as I peer at the uneaten meal Jin has prepared for me.

Dammit.

Seizing the container, I dawdle past the hallway corner, the music volume increasing with every step, and halt before his door. The same door I had almost kissed by accident a while back.

His rapping finally ceases, and I was about to knock on the wooden door until another wonderful noise commences—that isn't his voice.

Instead, the softly astonishing rings of a piano fill my ears. The sound is so sweet, I start to speculate how such beautifully gentle noises can emit from such a miserably negative being.

My eyelids naturally fall shut as my ear presses against the wood.

This is a moment I hope never ends. Sure, I've heard fascinating piano melodies in the past. But this, this was unreal. It felt as though each note had its own voice and meaning. It's so wonderfully intrinsic, I almost think I've fallen in love with the song.

My hypnotized stature is abruptly interrupted when the wood pulls aggressively from my yearning ear. Shaking my head to reawaken it, my eyes land upon the lean music prodigy himself.

He looks so tired.

The bags under his relaxed eyes, that recall over my features, are now the shade of a dark alley. His appearance virtually scares me. Whatever sympathy I had for him has now heightened to its full capacity.