✿ seigneur-terraces

(n.) cafe costumers who spends a lot of time at tables but spend little money.

“I am poor, lonely and broke that i cannot even afford to feed myself on a daily basis,” Taehyung would spat out, declare even, despondently every morning when he stands in front of a full length body mirror, hand tapping that nasty bed hair that decided to rest on the pinnacle of his scalp. Showering wasn’t an option. No. It’s only past a quarter to five in the morning, the digital clock on his bed side table invitingly stated.  

 He announces such a thing every single day twenty minutes after waking up, after the liability of putting on pants for ten whole minutes, (it would only take a half awake taehyung wear jeans for two minutes tops, it’s finding the pair of trousers in a mountain of dirty laundry in a room that made it particularly had to adopt to being an early bird.

Taehyung thinks he can fool himself all he wants, that living a live alone would be better, that the solitude is for the best, that being around with people only wears him out and this would be an easier, cheaper life to bear at. He walks the familiar route to his favorite coffee place, He sees the same old faces, it’s the same old environment, hell, he can smell the freshly breed coffee before even opening the door in front of him and he inhales the potential caffeine his body and mind craved for. This is home for him. But every time he seats on his silently acclaimed spot, he couldn’t help but wish. There were countless faceless names he encountered, asking for his name, his number, his sexual orientation. Except he’s wishing. To wish. That’s a wishful thinking. Nonetheless, he’s a dreamer. and he’s hoping.

A stranger would come in and ask why he had a camera hanging on his neck and would be so nice to offer him even a caramel macchiatto. 

For now, he orders the cheapest cup on the menu. “The usual.” He’s lucky he’s at the very back of the room, the chair he’s sat being next to the glass window, his face hindered by the huge ass coffee shop logo and he feels invisible from the outside. He raises  his camera

With a press of a forefinger, he traps another day into the digital box in his hands, he calls memories.