Gilt • taekook spy au

Two

January 2019. Pasadena

The residential streets of Pasadena are always serene in its unassumingness. Mid-century dwellings with purple bougainvillea blooms climbing over white washed walls. Stray looking mutts with muddy fur nap inside metal fences.

Taehyung wakes up alone, clutching onto an oversized pillow. He blinks slowly, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling with vintage moulding, fragments of a forgotten dream tendriling on the back of his mind.

The electric clock on the wooden end table reads 7:14. He sighs, feeling every cell of his body clamouring for rest, but reality floods back onto his mind, jolting him awake.

The space next to him in bed is empty.

He pushes himself up, and scans the floor. Only his jeans and shirt are scattered about, nothing else.

Taehyung gets dressed. The small window facing the bed is closed, but morning sunlight filters through the vintage glass panes and stream into the room between half open curtains.

Taehyung peeks into the hallway outside, and speaks, "Hello?"

No response, saved for faint chirping of sparrows outside in the distance.

He walks down the creaking wooden staircase at the end of the hallway, and strolls past the kitchen and living room.

Nobody's around.

The realization quickens his heartbeat. Where could Jungkook be? In the garage, out for a coffee?

It's too risky. But this is the first time he's ever had in the house alone, too precious to be wasted. Taehyung gulps, and turns to climb back upstairs swiftly.

The bedroom could use a quick search if he has time after, but the furniture is sparse, doesn't seem promising. Instead, Taehyung heads straight down, to the study at the end of the hallway.

He pauses at the closed door, glances all around the frame quickly, checking for any inconspicuous setup of a seal. Nothing he can notice. Taehyung knocks on the door tentatively, "Hello? Jungkook?"

No response.

The door knob seems deceptively ordinary. Just as Taehyung considers pulling out his keys for the hidden tool to unlock, an idea blooms on his mind.

No way-

His hand reaches in anyways, and with a gentle turn of the knob, the door creaks open.

Taehyung pauses, stunned.

It's not even locked.

His heart thrums nervously against his chest. It's a trap, walk away. But Jimin's stern gaze flash across his mind. There's no time left, he needs to find something, something about him... For the safety of countless agents out there.

Taehyung winces, and steps through the door.

The room inside is neat and orderly. Bookshelves flank walls on both sides, and directly in front of him, under a window overlooking the flowing Arroyo Seco and distant colorado street bridge, is a wooden writing table.

A silver laptop rests closed on the worn out oak surface of the table. Taehyung considers opening it, trying out different passwords for luck, but decides against it. Not enough time.

He scans the desk again hastily - a stack of sticky notes, an empty notepad with traces of faint indents... He pulls open the few shallow drawers absently, eyes flitting between all the objects in the room.