The Double

𝒯𝑒𝓃

"Why are you here?" I demand. Taehyung is sitting in my suite's living room when I come out of the bedroom, dress swinging around my legs as I stop. I forgot to shave them and pray he doesn't look down. Mr. Physical Perfection doesn't need to see that stubble.

He doesn't put down his phone as he sips his coffee. "I have some time so I'm here to run your boot camp."

I grab a coffee for myself, yawning. It was another night of fitful sleep as I ran through my many anxieties. My old therapist used to try to get me to have some perspective on my problems. That worked well enough when all I had to understand was that the world would not end if I returned a phone call Tuesday instead of Monday. My coping techniques are markedly less effective when facing a situation where public disgrace at a global level is a real possibility if I screw up.

"Where's Duna?" I ask.

"Resting."

Although it would be nice to see her, the entire reason I'm here is so she can get a break. "What's on the agenda today?"

"Conversation." From the flat tone, I can tell he's as thrilled as I am to spend the next several hours making small talk.

I try to rally. "Should we start with an icebreaker?"

He doesn't change expression.

"Ice breaker it is." I try to smile. He's making it hard for me to do what Duna hired me to do.

"No icebreakers."

"Childhood memories?"

"No."

"Best vacations? Favorite food? Two truths and a lie?"

I'm on the receiving end of an eye roll that would put a sulky teenager to shame and bit my lips together to keep from laughing.

"What?" he demands.

"Nothing." I walk over to the table. "Tell me what you come up with, then."

We sit. Taehyung's here under duress but it's not my job to make this go smoothly. I blink. That's not something I usually think. Taehyung brings out the worst in me.

Or maybe the best. This isn't my usual reaction, which would be to fuss and worry and fill the empty silence with whatever came into my head.

To pass the time, I take out my phone and check the news, which is bad. An email from Garcia Brothers gives me such a punch my whole body jerks with sudden coldness. I forward it straight to Frank the Lawyer.

"What happened?" Taehyung's attention is on me.

"Nothing. Why?" I avoid his eyes.

He frowns. "You were looking at your phone and yelped like a small dog. It's obvious you had a message you didn't like."

"This is what passes for conversation with you?" I ask. I don't want to talk about the email, let alone with Taehyung.

"It can." He smiles, the slow, predatory grin I remember from binge-watching his dramas and movies. It' intriguing to see it in real life. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't think I do," I say. "That's' the face you get when you're about to fuck someone over."

"It's what?" The smile disappears. "Duna doesn't swear."

"Again, I'm not actually Duna. Your expression. It's the 'you underestimated me and now I'm going to wreak some havoc' look. From your filmographies. You did it before fighting the bad guy in Island, and you did it when you were confronting the man who betrayed you in Vigilante. Oh, and you did it a bunch of times in Vagabond. It was almost a tic."