𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐭 | 𝐦.𝐲𝐠 ✓

Chapter: 10

[a/n]
Still changing the POV to first person so the rest of the chapters are still in second person POV.

"I don't get it."

As the messy-haired insomniac and I amble down the hallway — two containers of food in both of our hands, a cup of bitter coffee in his — I turn my face toward him, allowing a slight judgement to glint in my eyes. Apparently Peppermint was a little too much for him — romance-wise.

"What's there not to get? They're in love. It's not that complicated."

"Love is complicated."

He got me there.

After unlocking his studio door, he signals me in first, patiently propping the door open with half his thin body, adjusting his glasses in the process.

"Besides," he continues, stepping in after me, "Jenny is clearly too independent for a relationship. It doesn't make sense."

I set the stacked containers on the edge of his longer desk, and position myself onto his piano bench.

"What doesn't make sense? She's still in love with him."

"Neither of them are ready. Jenny wants to be by herself, and most of Luca's intentions are fueled purely by the desire of lust. He's too naive. She's too sovereign." Subsequent to setting down his coffee and plopping into his rolly chair, he rolls out his fisted hands in front of him, as if gesturing to something obvious. "A love story destined for tragedy."

Well that's a bummer.

I suppose he's right in a way, even though he makes the novel sound like a nonsensical cliché stuffed into 500 pages. Which it isn't. However, I do respect his analysis, because he took the time to actually read it.

Before I can hesitantly bring up what concerns me most—the sleep ailment that I figure must torment him—a beeping noise begins to sing from the producer's pocket.

As soon as he answers, the voice on the other line is too loud to not be heard.

"Yoongi!"

Namjoon.

"Where is my alb—"

With his calm and collected tone, Yoongi interrupts the loud banter. "One more track boss. Working on it right now."

Our boss's voice suddenly relaxes, low enough to the point of inaudibility.

After a few replies of 'mhm's, Yoongi hangs up, placing the device back into his jean pocket.

He faces me, a certain friendliness — that used to be non-existent — in his expression, as his hands rest in between his man-spread legs.

"You know you could get in trouble for hanging out in here all the time." He spins his desk chair, very slightly, side to side—similarly to how a bored kid would.

"Are you gonna tell him?"

Eyes glazing over me ever so discreetly, he pauses shortly.

"No. But, the phone."

Yes, the phone. The phone that I've answered a whole once in the entire time that I've worked here. It was a pen salesmen.