SPY GANG

Ch:2-A START ✨

»»—That's How It Starts Always

✦ CHAPTER : 1 ✦

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╰┈➤ The golden light of dawn filtered through the sheer curtains, spreading a gentle warmth across the wooden floor while the soft song of birds drifted from outside. Inside the quiet bedroom, time seemed slower, almost suspended, and Elara stirred gently, her body still nestled in the familiar warmth of Jimin's embrace. There was always a peculiar comfort in walking beside him, as though the world could not touch them here, not yet. She tilted her head slightly and let her gaze linger on his face.

In sleep, he looked impossibly serene, untouched by the weight he carried when awake. That calmness almost seemed like a lie, a fragile mask that vanished the moment his eyes opened to reality. Her fingers brushed along his forehead, smoothing stray strands of hair, and she kissed him softly there before whispering against his skin, "Jimin... it's morning." The words barely carried through the room, more like a secret between her lips and his slumber.

Carefully, she slipped out of his arms, the sheets shifting with a sigh at her departure. The silence of her movements followed her into the bathroom. By the time she returned twenty minutes later, her hair slightly damp and her expression brightened by the freshness of morning, she found Jimin exactly where she had left him. He was sprawled across the bed, buried in the sheets like a stubborn child refusing the day, his face half hidden beneath an arm.

Elara let out a soft laugh as she perched at the edge of the bed and tried to coax him awake again. "Jimin, it's already late," she urged gently, shaking his shoulder. He groaned, one eye cracking open before squeezing shut again as if her words were nothing more than a nuisance. His hand shifted to cover his face in exaggerated protest, and Elara shook her head, amusement and exasperation mingling. "You're impossible," she murmured as she tried to pull his hands away, her touch lingering at his cheek for a moment longer than she intended. "Come on, Jimin..." Still, he made no real attempt to move, forcing her to give up with a sigh as she stood. At the door, she tossed him a playful glance over her shoulder, her voice teasing yet affectionate.

"Get freshened up and come downstairs. I'm waiting." She didn't stay to watch his reaction, but the sound of him grumbling and shifting against the sheets told her she had won this small battle.

The house was quiet until the faint creak of the stairs reached her ears some time later. He appeared in the kitchen, his hair damp, drops of water trailing down the curve of his neck where a towel rested carelessly on his shoulder. Elara was already at the stove, flipping pancakes with practiced ease, but the moment he stepped inside, his presence filled the space like a silent gravity.

Without a word, his arms slid around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder as he pulled her back against him. She startled, just slightly, before softening into his embrace, the familiar warmth seeping into her bones. "You seem unusually free today," she said with a light smile, her voice threaded with a hope she tried to disguise.

He let out a long sigh against her ear, his voice low and tired as he replied, "I wish there wasn't any work today, dear love." For a moment she stilled, her heart aching with the thought of what it would be like if he meant those words. A life where breakfasts were not interrupted, where evenings did not end with him vanishing into the night. But that was not the life they lived.

"I wonder what kind of work always keeps you away from home," she murmured, unable to keep the question from slipping out, though she already knew it would go unanswered.

As expected, he said nothing. He moved instead, slipping from her embrace and taking a seat at the table with a casualness that felt more like avoidance than comfort. The pancakes hissed softly as she lifted them from the pan, the domestic sound clashing with the heaviness in her chest. She set the plates down between them, watching him reach for a fork, and tried to pretend it was enough.

For a fleeting moment, it was almost ordinary. Then his phone rang. The sharp sound pierced through the fragile quiet, and Elara's hand stilled on her own fork. She didn't need to hear the words; she already knew what it meant. Jimin answered instantly, his voice shifting, his posture straightening as if he had shed the softness of this morning and put on his other self.

"What? Not again," his tone was clipped, his jaw tightening. "I thought we secured that location. Fine. I'll check. Just keep your eyes on it." His words, to her, were little more than fragments of a world she was never allowed into, a world that stole him away more often than it gave him back.

He hung up and stood before she had even swallowed her first bite. The heaviness in Elara's chest pressed harder, but she only lifted her gaze to meet his as he shrugged on his coat. "I'm sorry. It's urgent," he said, his voice softer now, almost apologetic. She rose to her feet too, her expression not angry but weary, worn by too many mornings that ended like this.

"I'm used to it," she whispered, forcing a small smile to soften the ache in her words. "Just... try not to get hurt. And if you can... come home early." His eyes lingered on her for a long moment before he reached out, brushing back a loose strand of hair, his touch gentle as he pressed his lips to her forehead. He stayed there a fraction longer than usual, as though the seconds themselves might give them what time never did. Then he turned, and just like that, he was gone.

The door clicked shut, leaving only silence behind. Elara stood still for several moments, the echo of his presence lingering in the air before she finally walked to the couch and sat down. Her gaze drifted to the table where the food lay untouched, steam slowly fading from the pancakes. She clasped her hands together in her lap, her shoulders curving inward as though to shield herself from the emptiness that had filled the room. Her lips trembled as she whispered into the stillness, "I wish... he should always be fine with whatever he is doing." The words cracked at the end, a prayer swallowed by silence. Outside, the day carried on, but in this house, time had stopped the moment the door closed behind him.

[ The "cable" is a highly advanced piece of tech Jimin invented, functioning as a time-manipulation device, essentially a time machine, but not in the traditional sense of jumping through time. Instead, it connects the present to specific moments in the future. Think of it like a temporal cable line, transmitting signals/data/energy across time instead of space. But... if hijacked, it can also rewrite or destroy the future Jimin built it to help humanity—but someone found a way to use it against him ]

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