“I Just Want One Person To Fight For Me. To Make Me Feel Like I’m Worth Never Letting Go. I Need

[lawyer voice] the prosecution makes a compelling argument, but have you considered this *puts middle finger up*

24th april, 2022. 18:22.

’he’s angry because this could compromise things for him at work…’

the half-whispered reassurance sounds more like it’s uttered to justify her father, who just slammed a door shut on the way to the in-home office, rather than something meant to comfort jennie.

the kitchen table doesn’t feel like *home* today. or maybe too much like home.

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Tender is the night For a broken heart Who will dry your eyes When it falls apart?

[ ✿ ] - my muse attempts to cook dinner for your muse. eunwoo & jennie.

it looks like something straight out of a horror movie. hair slick to her cheeks, water still dripping from the strands and it's officially autumn now, if eunwoo hadn't noticed before he surely will now as a drenched jennie shows up by his door at 1:58 am. when it rains it pours, not only in the sense that one tragedy is followed by many others, clearly it also applies to the weather. a late-night walk along the river ended up here, after a keycard was lost and a phone screen shattered. she simply tried to drown out the blues, not literally end up looking like someone who had been too close to drowning.

"i lost my room key." silence, "… and wrecked my phone.."

scared it sounds like an excuse she quickly coaxes up a formerly-functional phone from her pocket, showing it for the man in front of her as if it had been the aforementioned roomkey to earn access ; but to his apartment, rather than the hotel room she rents while her family doesn't want to see her. ( refuses to, if painfully honest )

by now eunwoo has progressed why someone is at the door in the middle of a rainy night. jennie ponders about if he also had been up, listening to the rainfall against the windows, let the blues in, or perhaps slept, when he sighs: 'get in, you're crazy.'

fifteen or so minutes later she sits on one of his kitchen-counters in a borrowed tee and sweats, towel over her shoulders to dry up her hair because it is far too late for either of them to start mopping his floors. a yawn stifled behind one hand, eunwoo struggling not to mirror her while unenthustiastically poking a burnt piece of toast in a most questionable mixture that jennie swears is the correct way of making brioche french toast.

'are you really sure this is how—' he chimes in, a concerned glance in direction up from .. whatever that is .. and towards the still half-drenched woman sitting there. her "yes, i googled it!" is quicker than what sounds trustworthy, especially if having heard jennie admit not having cooked much over the past two years, which recently was mentioned on radio, and she hopes he is unaware of that. yet before they have a chance to argue about jennie's former cooking skills it's——

stuck.

until the spatula forcefully gets underneath burnt bread, flinging it off the pan and straight onto the floor … surprise on both their faces, yet eunwoo stares at the pan in absolute disbelief. this couldn't possibly have happened. and mere seconds later the tiredness is like forgotten when soft laughter fills the room.

"let's just order delivery or make ramen instead..?" probably the first good idea jennie has had over the past 24 hours.

“Come over. I don’t really mind whether we talk for hours, get blind drunk, or sit in silence and look up to the stars. Sometimes, the world down here just gets a bit much, and I need to lose myself in someone’s company for a little while.”

— Beau Taplin

6th october, thursday.

the same hotel ever since returning from usa, it doesn't feel like home.

on second thought, that makes sense. she doesn't have a home anymore. family stern about the issues having to be sorted out before jennie earns another shot at deserving the title as their daughter. and even then it would merely offer a chance of them considering letting her move back in. but is it home? welcoming? no, not anymore. the other home no longer exists either, he is long gone and that is something she feels almost daily. you don't belong anywhere, jennie.

the days have been long and busy, rehearsals for the upcoming tour and she is glad, no one asks there, all concerns drowned out inbetween loud music, focus, and patterns through steps and motion. practice for selling a dream, that they are strong and perfect. worthy of being idols. her manager asks if she wants to come over for dinner late one evening, it's sincere, easily noted in his cautiousness when asking. jennie faces him with tired eyes, the smile polite but with no life in it.

'no, i'm on a diet, remember?'

that earns a dishonest chuckle from him before he merely nods once, repeating the diet part for himself. knows it's bullshit. yet her excuse looks too valid for him to argue with it, she looks drained. much like the times when dieting too hard (or when her heart has been broken, or rumors have been too much, or times when guilt spreads her happiness thin) but what is he to say? she is an adult.

the remainder of the ride passes in silence. by her favourite hotel ( the one with the charming indoor pool that you can see the moon from ! ) jennie lingers with a hand on the door of the car, for an instance he wonders if the barely-heard words only exist in his imagination, but her eyes are a bit sad. no, actually sad. so he knows he heard it --

'.. but thank you.'

the door is shut before any questions can be asked. sometimes he worries that jennie is going to do more than just kill the old parts of herself. they say women with nothing to lose aren't scared of ruin. he has a feeling it will become a fulltime job if she takes the approach her LA friends do, a hedonistic party girl will have a hard time in the eyes of the korean industry.

anyone 6'0 or taller: stands near me

me: [softly] for fuck's sake