Namjoon was finally able to escape the recording room, going out to seek some private time for himself. Don't get him wrong, he loved the other guys like they were brothers by blood. Still, they created so much noise that he needed to get away at times. If Yoongi was anywhere around, he might have just stayed at the dorm, writing lyrics and sitting in blissful peace with one another. However, to his own misfortune, the other rapper had already slinked off find fresh inspiration. Even Seokjin had gone off somewhere. That left the hyungs, most likely being minded by the Hoseok, and Namjoon could almost feel the headache forming at thinking alone of their antics and wild behaviour.

Since he had been dwelling so much on the activities of his co-workers and friends, Namjoon did not realize just how far he had walked. He had gone at least ten blocks from his home base and his stomach brought that fact to light but gaining his attention through an angry growl. When was the last time he had eaten? He had skipped breakfast, and hadn't eaten dinner the night before. Work was his life and sometimes meals did not factor into that equation. Fortunately for him, there was a coffee shop a couple of buildings ahead, so he made a beeline for the establishment at once.

When he got there and pushed through the front door, a gentle, tickling sound came from overhead. He looked up to see a collection of silver bells dangling above the door on cream paled string.

An effective way to let you know if someone is coming inside… maybe I should put one of these in my room. Save me from having TaeTae giving me a heart attack in the middle of the night.

Namjoon was referring to how the hyperactive "alien" tended to record the other members while they were all asleep. He would do strange things as well, like petting their hair or making the sleeping body put a finger up their own nose. At least he would never get bored with himself, a positive in the light of utter strangeness he held.

Deciding that he was thinking far too much for someone so tired, Namjoon felt a craving for caffeine and Western food kicking in, the smell of those thick, heavy muffins in the display case wafting under his nose and tugging on the strings of his appetite.

The line was significantly shorter than it had been only a few minutes ago, so he did not have to wait long before he had his double espresso and blueberry flavoured snack in hand. He was glad that no one had recognized who he was because he just wanted to feel normal for a day. The downside was that he actually had to pay for his breakfast. Maybe a little conceited, but when people discovered his identity, they took to giving him things on the house in order to gain his affection and favour. To him, it was not kind, but a desperate plea of the hopeful and naïve. He could not befriend every person who showed him kindness, for the number was too great. He wanted to tell people that straight up, however, if he did do that, his company would tear him to shreds with their lecturing.

Politely smiling at the barista and nodding his head to her, unable to bow properly without spilling his drink, Namjoon turned and walked to the nearest empty seat he saw. Someone else was ahead of him a few meters and appeared to be walking to the bathroom, so he risked a glance back over his shoulder to the clock on the wall. He had about two hours before he was needed back at headquarters, so he had better make his morning count.

When he turned back and focused on the table, it dawned on him that he had not gauged the distance properly, the speed of his walking too quick compared to the speed it took him to check the time. In the time his gaze was averted, the woman he thought had been going to the bathroom had stopped at the table, pulled out her purse, and began routing around for money for her drink.

Before he could stop himself, his hard, muscled chest hit her shoulder, and she was sent sideways a few steps. The cup he had resting on the saucer in his hand slip forward, falling as if it was in slow motion, and he let sucked in a breath of horror to see the liquid spill out and splash down onto her clean, white clothing.