The microphone felt comfortably familiar to Mingi as he wrapped his gloved hand around it. The cameras, not so much. He didn't think he would ever get used to having his every movement recorded, replayed, edited and analysed. As Mingi prepared to go on stage, his mind wandered to a rather treacherous place.
Would Hongjoong be watching Mingi's performance live or would he wait the thirty minutes it took for the video to make its way to YouTube? What would he think of the performance? What was Hongjoong's favourite song? What colour was his one fingernail painted today?
Mingi shook his head violently, as though it would rid his mind of all thoughts revolving around the pink-haired boy. Or was the colour more of a faded red? Had he dyed it again since that picture? What did it look like now?
The hairstylist huffed in annoyance at Mingi's actions. Mingi bent his knees and lowered his head to let her brush through his dark hair and apply the what felt like the four hundredth layer of hairspray.
How tall was Hongjoong? Would Mingi have to bend down to kiss him?
Things would have been so much easier if Hongjoong had been an idol. Mingi would only have to type Hongjoong's name into google to find out everything from his birthday to his blood type. Although, Mingi supposed that was what made the boy so irresistible to him. Everything about Hongjoong felt like a secret that Mingi couldn't wait to uncover.
'Sixty second warning,' Mingi raised his head at his manager's voice.
'Ready?' The older man asked and Mingi nodded. He was as ready as he would ever be.
Just like every other performance, all of Mingi's thoughts evaporated with the first few beats of the song. This was the part he loved about being an idol. He loved rapping. He loved making music. He loved making his fans happy. Nothing would ever be better than the happiness that Mingi felt when he was on stage. Time passed impossibly fast up there and before Mingi knew it, he was slipping backstage, only to be snuck out of the building in an attempt to avoid being hounded by less than friendly 'fans.'
Mingi had told himself he wouldn't check his phone until he was safely tucked in bed, away from prying eyes and cameras. He especially would not stalk Hongjoong to see if he posted anything about the performance. However, now that Mingi was sitting in the back of a car that remained stationary amongst the usual late-night Seoul traffic, he was seriously reconsidering his decisions.
After all, there was no one in the car except the driver and his manager, the latter of whom was half asleep in the passenger seat. Mingi sighed, knowing he didn't have the willpower to resist checking Hongjoong's account.
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Mingi couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. It was a fresh kind of pride that came with knowing Hongjoong had enjoyed watching him. Without giving the rational side of his brain time to think, Mingi messaged the boy that had been on his mind all evening.
