IQ148 // namjoon ✔️

__MAY__

May ; 2016

If I ever meet god, I would tell him this
That life is coffee that I never ordered
I would grab him by the collar and tell him
Death is an americano you can't refill

Another cup of coffee.

They get blander with every scorch of his tongue.

There was a time when he could relax and enjoy an Americano crafted by a skilled barista. Now, there is no such thing as time for him; he seems to have lost the concept of time somewhere along the way. His clock stopped ticking long ago. There's only now.

And now, he has to be satisfied with whatever instant coffee he can squeeze in between breaks.

It's become a lifeline that he can't cut off.

It's a drug that keeps him from shutting down.

Something that used to be an intermittent indulgence has suddenly become an addiction.
He can already imagine JungMi's disapproval; she would probably say something to express her distaste...

Something along the lines of...

"Tea is a much more sophisticated drink than coffee..."

NamJoon stares at his freshly brewed cup of coffee. The paper cup is filled to the brim. He watches as the creamer he just poured in starts to spread until the dark brown turns into a more appetizing caramel brown.

The heat from the cup, rather than comforting, is actually scorching and painful. But he persists.

But even so, even if he knows that the liquid will be bitter when he lets it touch his tongue, NamJoon finds himself lifting the cup to his lips.

"Why do people do this to themselves?"

The coffee has been leaving a bad taste in his mouth lately; a sort of unpleasant taste like acid.

His impatience to be able to consume more coffee costs him the function of his tongue, which folds in on itself from the burning hot drink which he doesn't wait to cool down.
It's a method of torturing himself.

"I could have sworn I read somewhere that coffee slowly kills you..."

NamJoon chugs the coffee, the liquid flowing right down his throat, until he sees the bottom of the cup.

He feels no enjoyment after having a cup of coffee, at least, not anymore.

Driven to seek this feeling of warmth and comfort after drinking a nice cup of coffee, NamJoon refills his cup to the brim.

He feels JungMi's scrutiny in spirit, but his soul continues to be uneasy.

She would be worried about his body for consuming so much coffee.

She would be worried about his mind and soul, because she would know what he's thinking.
No one else here does.

To them, he just looks like a regular guy getting coffee.

But JungMi knows the danger of what a single cup is capable of.

Are you sure that you're alive
Then, let's prove it somehow
When I exhale, I see my breath
On the window, there's condensation

NamJoon pays his fare and makes his way down the aisle of the nearly vacant bus. He sits in the middle row in the seat closest to the window.

After using public transportation for a majority of his life, NamJoon realizes that bus rides are a metaphor for life: everyone gets on, fully expecting to get off at their designated stop, but they can only look out the window and go along for the ride.