Namjin Smut

The World is Yours to Feast On

Written by: metastacia

Summary:

There are two types of people in the world, Namjoon realises. Those who live on the bright, sparkling streets of Tokyo where everything is beautiful and filled with hope, and those who live in the dark underbelly of the city, where everything is ugly and steeped in despair.

Seokjin stands at the mouth of the dark alleyway, ready to rip the underbelly wide open and devour the world.

_______________________________

There are only two types of people in the world, Namjoon surmises. The ones who struggle, and the ones who don't. Right now Namjoon is one of those that struggle. It's tough being Korean attending a university in Japan, and tougher still living in a dingy little dorm he shares with another student who doesn't speak a lick of English, so when Namjoon struggles to find his words in Japanese, there's nothing he can do but struggle. He rues the day he decided to study literature in Japan. Admiring it was one thing but immersing himself in it was something else entirely. But it's okay, because despite the fact that Namjoon is one of those that struggle, he knows that the fruits of his efforts will be that much sweeter.

Today he decides to continue his struggle in a café he'd never chanced upon before. He'd heard that the coffee was delicious and boy, he hadn't heard wrong. Tucked into a quiet corner of the shop he sips on his cup with one hand and types on his laptop with his other. The quiet thrum of the steam, the mellow murmuring of the other patrons, the low lighting, all sink into Namjoon's skin easily and indulgently. He can see himself returning here, and he can see himself calling this his favourite spot. After his classes, maybe, to continue struggling on an essay or even to unwind and relax. It's quiet and a little further away from his university than other cafes, so Namjoon knows it won't be as busy or as loud.

A bell chimes as the door opens. Heavy boots pad across the linoleum floor. There's the soft murmur again, Namjoon recognises it as just that. Murmurs. He doesn't try to straighten those sounds out until they reach the barista, and their voices grow. "We're from the CCG," one of them says in a low tone. "We're looking for someone. A frequent customer here."

The CCG. Namjoon knows someone in his class has told him about that, before, because those three letters ring a bell somewhere in the back of his mind. He looks up from his laptop and sees the barista, wiping a mug, while smiling at the two men dressed in white trench coats, holding silver briefcases. Those three words, the CCG, rings a bell somewhere in the back of his mind but he can't pull it from there; the men in white trench coats don't help in any way to jog his memory. He feels out of place, again, a Korean man living in Japan with only two years of residency under his belt. It feels like the countless times his friends at university have explained something about Japanese culture or mannerisms that Namjoon knows he needs to remember but unfortunately he can't recall. He returns to his laptop; he'll ask his friends tomorrow to remind him what the CCG is.

"Who are you looking for?" The barista asks, ever-pleasant, ever-calm. Namjoon looks back up, unable to keep his curiosity at bay. He wonders if by eavesdropping he might be able to decipher what the CCG is. He knows he shouldn't, it's not polite, but Namjoon has a hunger for knowledge and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't annoyed that he'd forgotten what the CCG was. He needs to know.

"A young male, perhaps in his twenties. Tall, apparently good-looking. Slim build."

Well. That does nothing to clear up the itch in the back of his mind. Namjoon reaches into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulls his phone out. He absentmindedly finds the chat with one of his more closer friends at school and quickly sends a text asking what the CCG is. He tries to be quick, of course, he doesn't want to miss a second of hearing the conversation between the barista and the men from the CCG, but his fingers aren't yet fully accustomed to typing in Japanese.