You were alone left out in the cold

Clinging to the ruin of your broken home

Too lost and hurting to carry your load

We all need someone to hold

Vancouver Sleep Clinic

Jennie turns her head to shield her eyes from the light coming in through the bedroom window. She groans, they had forgotten to close the blinds again.

Her mind's still foggy so she can't quite recall what exactly had prompted their lack of due diligence this time. Was it exhaustion from a night out with their friends? Exhaustion from a good-and-long-and-deep fucking? Daze from slow lovemaking? Or just general laziness?

"Baby, it's really bright out," Jennie says as she blindly reaches to nudge the sleeping form next to her, hoping to provoke a resolution.

She receives an answering groan but no words or movement accompany it. It's unusual for silence to greet her so it must've been an eventful night. Peeping one eye open reveals the familiar mess of curls splayed across the adjacent pillow. Their sides are pressed together, with Lisa lying on her front. Jennie can feel the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest as light snoring filters the air.

The murmured sounds harmonise in tune with the polite chirping coming from the sycamore trees, as if the critters too were observing the sanctity of Sunday mornings and allowing the inhabitants of the quiet street a few more blissful moments. She can imagine the cardinals and blue jays trying to perform their soliloquies in hushed tones, and wonders if her girlfriend will drag her out later to go winter bird watching with the Urban Park Rangers.

Jennie smiles and closes her eyes again, something to look forward to in a few hours. For now, though, she's lulled back to sleep by the gentle motion of rubbing Lisa's back.

-

The next time Jennie wakes up, there's an arm around her waist and warm breaths hitting the back of her neck. She would press back closer, always enjoying being the front spoon, if it weren't for the body heat that had awoken her in the first place. The moisture collecting in the small of her back had started to become uncomfortable.

Not wanting to soak Lisa's front with her sweating, and not wanting to wake up the notoriously light sleeper, Jennie tries to wiggle her way out of the tight hold. It's a carefully coordinated effort of lifting Lisa's fingers one by one and shifting herself forward by micro movements. Just as she thinks she's created enough of an opening to roll away, the same hand she had painstakingly pried off stops her, landing on her hip this time.

"Five more minutes, love."

Lisa whisper-negotiates still half-asleep, and makes her case by pulling Jennie back in, effectively undoing all of her progress. Jennie is about to protest when she feels the graze of lips against her neck, then a firmer press and a gentle lick of tongue. Her counterargument dies in her throat.

"Mmm, salty. You must be hot," are the words mumbled before Lisa disengages from Jennie completely, rolling onto her back and thoughtfully granting Jennie the relief of cool air.

It's a practised routine and Jennie is all the more grateful for it, needing to tend to her insistent bladder. She turns herself around to tug the blanket closer to Lisa, knowing she'll need to compensate for the missing warmth.

She's about to go alleviate herself but then feels heaviness sit on her eyelids again and thinks Lisa has the right idea of five more minutes.

She scoots forward to wrap around Lisa and be the back spoon this time.

Jennie closes her eyes.

The birds continue their song.

-

The third time she gains semi-consciousness, the warmth has intensified. There's a thigh between her legs and an unruly head of hair against her chest. Jennie cards a hand through the thick curls, mindlessly and out of worn habit. At the soothing motion Lisa noses in closer.

They both sigh into the nuzzled warmth. But before she can enjoy it for long, Lisa shifts unexpectedly, pulling a moan out of Jennie when her thigh inadvertently presses in harder.

Lisa's hands skate up the side of her ribs while her pelvis starts a subtle rocking that Jennie falls into for a few minutes. Her subconscious movements increases the hot sensation between Jennie's thighs. A hand cups her ass and pushes her more firmly into the grind, producing twin moans.

But thoughts of her arousal are put to the side when the pressure reminds her of other bodily functions, and the need to still pee. Jennie opens her eyes and yawns out her wakefulness, gathering the willpower to leave the warmth of their bed and other things.

As she pulls back slightly and looks down, she sees the Columbia sweater her girlfriend is wearing, exposed by the blanket waywardly covering only half her torso. Oddly, there are a few curious paint stains near the collar and on the sleeves. Jennie tries to blink away her confusion, rubbing her eyes with intent.

Huh, when did those get there?

It's not uncommon for her to paint in a fugue state, but she doesn't remember those particular marks. With the way Lisa is burrowed in the sweater, the extra decoration doesn't seem to be an issue. They'd often timeshare the favourite garment, Lisa even making a schedule once so that it's fair co-ownership.

Sundays were Jennie's days, why would Lisa-

Her eyes widen at the realisation, finally lifted out of her fog.

It hits Jennie that this isn't college girlfriend Lisa, despite the insignia of her attire. It's now, and ex-girlfriend Lisa who's asleep in their bed.

The events of last night click into place.

-

After deciding to stay, Lisa shyly asks for more comfy clothes to change into. Jennie is sheepish to admit that she might still have some of Lisa's stuff she can wear. (She actually has a substantial amount of Lisa's wardrobe left over, enough to fill a spare drawer and then some.)

"Wow, I haven't seen this in a while. That's where it is," Lisa says hugging the sweater Jennie's retrieved for her as if reunited with a long lost relative. If she notices the addition of a few extra blotches of paint, she doesn't say.

Decked out in her old college sweats, and with Jennie also sporting more relaxed fibres, they settle on the couch to watch Netflix. It's already late but neither are ready to say goodnight yet.

"How about Black Mirror? It's Jisoo's newest obsession but I haven't seen it yet," Jennie asks while adjusting the shared blanket so there was enough coverage to reach Lisa on the other end of the couch. If she gives herself a moment to think of it, it's absurd how far apart they are sitting like there are land mines planted in the middle cushion.

"Me neither," Lisa says distractedly as she makes darting looks to the shifting blanket as if it would bite her if she doesn't keep a vigilant eye.

"She recommends Sand Jupiter."

"Sure," Lisa agrees, "what's it about?"

"No idea," Jennie shrugs. "I stop listening when she talks about, well, anything."

"Maybe it's a documentary on beaches in Jupiter," Lisa excitedly hopes, her eyes lighting up.

"Hmph," Jennie huffs out as she struggles to stretch the blanket. There's not enough to spread completely across the length of the couch and adequately cover the both of them. "Lis, this is stupid. Come."

Lisa looks up, cocking her head like a puppy and Jennie would melt into the adorableness if she isn't busy fighting with tri-blend polyester plaid. She shuffles herself closer to the middle and opens up the blanket, patting the spot next to her.

Lisa hesitates at first but does accept the invitation, dutifully moving closer into place for Jennie to wrap them up in the blanket. Unthinkingly, Jennie leans forward and across Lisa's body to tug in her right shoulder to minimise its exposure to the cold. She only realises their proximity when she hears Lisa's breath catch in her ear.

"There, better," Jennie says softly. "Ready?"

"Yup," Lisa responds after clearing her throat. She smiles at Jennie, warm and familiar, before they turn their heads to the screen.

A little over an hour later, and they're staring blankly at the credits as Belinda Carlisle's catchy tune rings out in the apartment. By Lisa's expression, the episode was not what she was expecting either. The retro-future love story between two girls questioning the idea of forever hits a little close to home.

Jennie sneaks a glance at Lisa who looks contemplative. They're still snuggly wrapped in the blanket, with little space between them. Jennie is really hot but she's willingly enduring the scorching heat for Lisa's warmth.

"Huh ... so, not Jupiter," Lisa says breaking the silence.

"I like Yorkie's shorts," Jennie offers as commentary while the song's repeating question, Do you know what it's worth?, taunts her in the background. Lisa's fashion sensibility is at the opposite end of the spectrum compared to Yorkie's but Jennie couldn't help visualising her in knee-length khaki throughout the movie. Pulled high on her waist, she thinks Lisa would look just as insanely attractive as her work suits.

"I like her glasses," Lisa says.

Jennie chuckles and nudges Lisa's shoulder, "You would."

Because this has been an unexpected overnighter, Jennie doesn't get the pleasure of seeing a bespectacled Lisa, her customary home-wear, especially late in the day when her contacts would bother her. She looks at Lisa wistfully, imagining the round black-rimmed frames and how they would complete this night's domestic routine.

"What next?" Lisa asks expectantly, elbow gesturing to the screen while holding Jennie's gaze.

"You up for more?" Jennie cocks an eyebrow seeing Lisa rub her eyes. "Aren't they bothering you?"

"I'll just remove them. And squint really hard."

Jennie turns off the TV and disentangles from their cocoon, leaving a confused Lisa as she goes to the bedroom. A minute later, she comes back with her laptop, receiving a wide smile from the brunette on her couch.

"We can continue on here, no squinting necessary." Lisa looks at her with affection for the thoughtfulness, causing Jennie to blush. She deflects, "Go take them off, I'll set us up."

Lisa leans in to kiss her on the cheek, helping to pink it further. "Thanks. Be right back."

When Lisa returns, Jennie re-situates them in the blanket fort and cradles the laptop on their laps. "Claire Foy?"

"Not my favourite set of blues, but she'll do," Lisa garbles past an escaped yawn.

Jennie laughs, if only so she doesn't think about how soft and kissable Lisa looks or how the tingles haven't stopped tingling from the eddying effect of having Lisa so close.

One episode of the Crown turns into two, then three, and by the time Jennie started seeing triple Elizabeths, she knows she can't keep her lids open any longer. Lisa looks similarly just as done in, the droop in her eyes heavy.

Their valiant fight to stay awake and spend more time together ends with Jennie settling Lisa in on the couch with spare blankets and pillows. There's a moment where she doesn't want to part from Lisa, shifting on her feet and entertaining the ridiculous thought of asking Lisa if she could join her, not wanting to leave having grown overly attached to her presence from the last several hours. In the end, at Lisa's release of another yawn, she reluctantly bids Lisa goodnight before retreating quietly to her bedroom.

Drowsy and exhausted as she is, given their emotional night, she expects to drop dead as soon as her head hits she pillow. Frustratingly, the exact opposite happens. She becomes suddenly wide awake, and spends the next forty-five minutes tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep with Lisa just on the other side of the wall.

By the thin acoustics of the apartment, Jennie knows that Lisa too is facing the same difficulties of finding slumber. Every few minutes she hears the rustling of blankets, followed by a thump, presumably Lisa turning her body to find a more comfortable position. Whether it's the lack of adequate springs in the couch or that Lisa is just as distracted as Jennie by the significance of them spending their first night together in four years, neither of them are getting an ounce of sleep.

Eyeing her phone to check the time and seeing 2:48 flashing mockingly back at her, Jennie sighs before making her decision and getting up to put them both out of their miseries.

It isn't as impossible of a task as she thinks it would be to convince Lisa to abandon the couch. Maybe it's ingrained habit from coaxing a tired Lisa into doing what she doesn't want to do, mainly sleep, but it only takes a light prod and some teasing about Lisa's priority of design over comfort coming back to bite her before the tired girl is following Jennie into their bedroom.

To Jennie's surprise, Lisa wordlessly gets onto her side of the bed, tucking herself into position. Jennie's steps falter for a second at the sight of Lisa curled there again. Lisa has no qualms about it though, the girl dozes off as soon as she lies down, breathing lightly. Jennie shakes her head and makes way to her own side. Despite leaving a good amount of distance between them, she nonetheless smiles at the renewed proximity.

It's likely exhaustion and weakened willpower behind Lisa's actions, Jennie thinks as she closes her eyes. But if the irrational trade-off of compromised decision-making is sharing her bed with Lisa again then Jennie can't really complain as she feels the veil of night finally embrace her.

G'night love, she whispers into the covers without realising.

-

When Jennie looks back up from the film of her memory carousel, she sees Lisa has managed to burrow deeper into the blankets, helping herself to fuller coverage, one or two tucks shy of a burrito. She smiles at Lisa's content expression, laughing quietly at her slightly parted mouth.

She doesn't know what time it is but by the strength of the sun they must have slept in. Snow is still falling outside the window but with none of the fervency of last night, lighter and quieter and more subdued, lending to a sacred stillness that washes over the bedroom.

Jennie allows herself a small moment to take the brunette in, for her heart to adjust to the sight. Lisa looks serene and unencumbered by any of the fault lines that had shifted the ground between them during last night's revelations.

The streaming sun, filtering in as soft beams of suspended light, strikes into their bedroom at a particular angle that highlights Lisa's features in entrancing shadows and silhouettes.

Her face is soft, and her hair wild. Always wild.

Jennie chuckles to herself, remembering the countless mornings waking to her vision being filled with the brown mane. A hair tie was only ever a temporary fix for the start of night, but by morning it was predictably lodged somewhere under their pillows while loose curls sprang free. Like an unfair battle was waged in the dark hours, and the humble hair tie, unarmed and outnumbered, had no choice but to surrender.

She longs to bury her hands in the tresses, to run her fingers through them, knead into their softness, untangle the knots, or play with individual strands. To brush back the errant ones, and trace along the hairline with her thumb. As they fall asleep, or the rare times that she'd wake before Lisa, Jennie would sing her a soft tune as her hands expressed the verses in gentle caresses.

There was a period when Lisa was obsessed with Canadian singers from the late 80s and early 90s. The girl could carry a tune when she wanted to but would often belt out Heaven or Summer of '69 ebullient and off-key instead. Jennie suspects the extra shrill was done on purpose to goad her into singing them properly.

She didn't give in to Lisa's antics during the day. But at night, or in the early hours, Jennie would fill the air of their bedroom with tender renditions of the classics.

Verse by verse, she'd draw out subtlety from the stadium favourites, striping the anthems bare with a timbre of warmth and turning them into whispered ballads. As she cradled her girlfriend's head against her chest, hands moved through her hair while Everything I Do lulled them both.

The pop songs fell outside of her usual set list of Elliott Smith and Aimee Mann or Cooke and Redding. But she didn't mind adding Bryan Adams, not with the feel of Lisa's smile against her skin.

What she wouldn't give to be able to release the weight of words through fingertips and minor chords again. The two verses that she wishes she was daring enough to sing aloud, the ones that might start to chip away at the substantial debt she left behind.

Still holding on

You're still the one

For now, the words stay stuck in her throat. For now, she's collecting her bravery and saving the title of the song, Please forgive me, and its refrain for when she feels deserving of any absolution.

But the longer she looks at Lisa, the longer she spends time in this bed, the harder it is to keep the words in, to not reach out.

Instead of touching, she soaks up the scent of vanilla and pine, soaks up Lisa's bespoke blend of comfort and home.

Jennie remembers a difficult morning where she woke up to the realisation that her sheets no longer smelled of Lisa. She hadn't known what was missing until it was gone, hadn't known how intertwined the relationship between scent and memory and emotion was until the sweetness of vanilla and the woody, cedar of juniper left the fibres-left her grasping at the edges of her memory to hold on. She cried into her pillow thinking the lost of smell was the beginning of forgetting.

Having her sheets wrapped in Lisa and her nose filled with that scent again evokes old memories and a vivid reliving of times when Lisa would read to her in bed at night or Jennie would find her at the nook of their window the next morning immersed in the same book, eagerly cheating ahead to the next chapter. Her head would be rested against the window pane and shoulders loosely covered by a bed sheet that was likely Jennie's reject from overheating.

With the morning dew behind her and the haze of sleep still clinging to her eyes, Jennie wanted to drown in the sight and smell of Lisa. Lisa would open her arm without looking up from the page-turner and Jennie would cradle herself between her legs, leaning back into Lisa's front. The sheet would come flying around like a cape in a superman flourish causing giggles as Lisa adjusts and tucks her in 500 thread count.

Jennie would look up to see love and adoration in clear green, and Lisa would kiss her softly before returning to the book. She'd flip back the several pages she had progressed and resume reading aloud from where they left off the night before. Veiled in mist, her voice would carry Jennie back somewhere halfway between sleep and a Victoria world of white gloves and rustling skirts and corsetry impropriety.

In the moment, she aches to be two girls sitting by the window again without a care in the world except for what happens next between Maud and Sue.

A peacefully asleep Lisa in her bed is a more than acceptable consolation, Jennie supposes.

She lets her gaze keep watch over the flutter of Lisa's eyelids, to stand guard over the sweep of eyelashes. Noticing the crease in her brow, a reaction to the streaming light, Jennie carefully adjusts the bedsheet such that it provides a temporary awning to keep the brightness off her face. Doing the little that she can, Jennie feels duty-bound to shelter Lisa, even if it's from well-meaning sunlight.

Soon she loses focus there, moving her patrol onto other delicate features that warrant protection. With a face like Lisa's, it's hard to decide where to stay sentinel when so many things compete for attention. The adorable furrow of her brows, the sculpted brows themselves, the rise of her nose, the way they scrunch in concentration, the drop-off of her cheeks.

Jennie can't even begin to think about those lips. Their fullness and the slight cut in the middle that divides the bottom lip, as if her maker had deemed the minor interruption necessary out of fairness to other faces. But Jennie thinks the imperfection makes them even better, the dip a perfect fit to rest a finger or press a tongue.

If Jennie could choose her nightwatch assignments, she would pick Lisa's eyes to keep her dreams safe. But with regard to a morning shift, she'd volunteer to be in charge of those lips, so that she can be the first on scene when they wake to the day.

The same ones that are now letting out a small cute yawn, as palms come up to rub out the sleep from her eyes. Jennie discreetly inches back a little, not sure how Lisa will react once she keys into her location and position.

Jennie's lying on her side with both hands under her head, holding her breath for Lisa's move. She tracks the incremental changes in her cognitive awakening.

The look up to the ceiling. A slow blinking.

Then the progressive turn of head to take in the surroundings. Window first, then the dresser, then foot of bed.

On cue, the widening of eyes to telegraph Lisa's consciousness of this being her old bedroom.

Another small shift, then a hitch of breath.

There it is.

The realisation that there's someone else in the same bed.

Jennie braces herself.

But the anticipated freak-out doesn't come. Lisa turns on her side, and mirrors Jennie's position, giving her a soft look.

Nothing is said for several fluttering heartbeats as Lisa seems to be scanning Jennie's face for clues of the events of last night that has led to this moment. It's a gentle inquisition, more curious probing than interrogation.

Jennie lets her have the same opportunity she did earlier, to take in the surreality of waking up to an unexpected vision, to an unexpected person. Whatever conclusions Lisa finally reaches must be a positive outcome by the smile that widens and the eyes that soften impossibly more.

"Hi," she whispers.

"Hi," Jennie returns just as quietly, matching her dulcet tone.

Jennie can't stop the tingles. For this to be a reality again-that Lisa is the last voice she hears at night and the first she hears in the morning-she can't stop the butterflies.

"Good morning." Lisa smiles with her eyes, their luminance and the small catch of sleepiness in her voice not helping the fluttering in Jennie's stomach.

"Sleep ok?"

"Yeah, great actually," Lisa says, her lips curling up, "comfy bed."

Jennie laughs and lightly pushes her shoulder.

"Still so smug about the mattress."

"I don't know why you refuse to admit it's a great bed."

"It took us months to pick out! You'd think we were looking for a pot of gold at the end of a very gay rainbow."

Lisa chuckles and says, "It's fairly damn close. Mine in London felt like sleeping on rocks by comparison."

Jennie smiles, bolstered by the easy banter, knowing the topic could have veered into awkward and dangerous territory.

She remembers being just as happy lying atop their temporary bed-made from skids Lisa had found near the shipping yard and with a tatami mat serving as padding-while their hunt for the right bed frame and mattress seemed to have no end in sight. But she'll allow Lisa her long held deep satisfaction that-

"Bringing the hammer this early, I see," Lisa says with a quirked brow, cutting off Jennie's train of thought.

At the confused crease of her forehead, Lisa's eyes subtly shift below, motioning to her bottom half. Jennie looks down and blushes immediately. Somewhere in the middle of the night, she must have stripped out of her pants, leaving her only in her Thor underwear. She curses her body for the rote unconscious act, and not registering that she had a bedmate for the night.

She looks back up to find a light dust of pink on Lisa's cheeks from the sight. Jennie's legs suddenly feel the chill of goosebumps from Lisa's extended gaze. It's a good thing her white shirt stayed on during the night, keeping her at least half decent. Lisa had never failed to voice that sleeping topless was her favourite side effect of Jennie's thermal discomfort.

No use in being shy now. Jennie merely shrugs, proudly owning her love of Marvel. "It makes me feel powerful in my dreams."

"If only Jisoo knew what was under the hood, you guys wouldn't be friends."

They both laugh thinking of Jisoo's extreme allegiance to DC Comics. (Rosé had vetoed naming any of their future children Diana or Harley.)

"Hyuna took me shopping with her for Tyro's clothes once," Jennie explains with a chuckle. "You should've seen Jisoo's face when we got back and Tyro was decked in head to toe in Captain America. I think Hyun did it on purpose just to get a rise out of her. Chu made the poor kid cry trying to confiscate his shield."

Lisa smiles, shaking her head in amusement.

"I picked these up because I thought they were cute," Jennie says shyly. And because she didn't think anyone would actually see them, least of whom Lisa.

Lisa looks to be straining not to take another peek at the heroic briefs in question when she offers her agreement.

"They are."

-

"Hey, if you're up for it, I can whip us up some breakfast," Jennie asks a few minutes later as she searches around under the covers for her pants while Lisa stretches out her back. "We just need to grab a few items around the corner."

While pulling her joggers on, Jennie bites her lip, waiting for an answer. The snow has tapered off enough that they should be able to make a quick trip outside. She can hear the ploughs working hard, but is paradoxically hoping they'd work a little less hard so that she can stretch her time with Lisa.

When Lisa doesn't answer right away, Jennie hurries to retract, trying to play off her disappointment, "I mean, unless you have to go, you can borrow my boots if you're up for trekking through two feet of snow."

"Would anything be open?" Lisa asks after a beat, reigniting a flicker of hope in Jennie.

"Frank & Larry's, probably."

That seems to be the right answer. Lisa's eyes light up. "F&L still around?"

"Still there. Still have Brooklyn's finest selection of produce."

"Must be something in their fairy magic that makes them so green."

Lisa smiles, likely calling to mind the two queens who've upheld Lafayette St to higher hydroculture standards for decades. Part bodega and part urban farm, F&L's was a unique Bed-Stuy institution whose offerings range from hydroponic onions and lettuce to eclectic collections of chewing gum and pantyhose. They offered vintage brands of the latter items, though one was to be more trusted than the other.

"Ok," she assents.

"Ok?" Jennie asks in disbelief even as she has to hold back her fist pump from forming, "Sure?"

"Yeah, let's go. I doubt they have any British leeks but I'm curious if the gum machine still works."

-

Frank & Larry's is like stepping into a time machine, with one foot in the past and the other in the future. At one end, the hydroponics glow under bright white horticultural grow-lights. At the other end, it is as if the 80s and 90s were freeze framed. Pop Rocks and Hubba Bubba sit alongside knee high socks and ten-colours-in-one retractable click pens.

Lisa has been standing on the nostalgia side of things for the last ten minutes, looking wearily at a stick of Beech-Nut dispensed from the gum machine. Her concentration seems to question its perpetual existence decades past the expiry date.

Given her interest in food was only limited to eating it, normally Lisa would be their designated cart pusher during grocery shopping, and Jennie would select and load. She would follow Jennie around, aisle to aisle, looking bored but ready to help on a moment's notice with high-shelf items.

But on entering the shop, Lisa was promptly distracted by the wares near the front door, particularly the bright yellow metal box mounted on the wall that called out to her, in vintage font, "One cent delivers a 'tasty chew'!". Apparently, the false advertising of 'Always Refreshing' was too much for her to ignore.

Jennie wonders if she'll accost Frank or Larry again to pick up the same line of inquiry she had every time they stepped foot in here. ("I know it's a stable product with a long shelf life, but that long?")

So while Lisa fiddles with the gum machine-looking like she's been transported from the future standing under flashing neon lights and next to shoulder pads and woollen and high-waisted pants-Jennie has been busy filling up their basket with the ingredients to make their breakfast.

Jennie smiles, shaking her head at this weekend's turn of events. Running household chores with Lisa in a retro shop, she feels like they've time-travelled into their own version of San Junipero, the near-past resurfacing as a heightened present and more hopeful future.

Certainly, waking up this morning in Lisa's arms-a copy of the original so real, indecipherable between consciousness and simulacrum-makes her yearn for the present to inversely catch up with the past.

Having Lisa several feet away on the other side, knowing she's there and questioning the persistence of the gum machine, Jennie could understand Yorkie's desire to preserve that little place of heaven on earth.

But then, for a terrifying second, standing in the bread aisle out of sight and touch of Lisa, Jennie fears that all of this has been a dream, an elaborate reproduction, that she's plugged in somewhere to an altered state of augmented consciousness-the textures and surfaces and emotions technologically duplicated to such uncanny detail that it's transcendental. A verisimilitude of reconnection and intimacy so convincing, familiar, and enveloping that Jennie might have been blind to the illusion.

The possibility scares her.

Jennie doesn't want this to be a work of science fiction, of intricately arranged pixels and prodigiously-written binary code. She doesn't want an intermediary or surrogacy or pantomime of her desire for a different reality to the past four years.

She just wants it to be real. Wants Lisa to be real.

She turns on her feet, abandoning the sourdough for a moment, needing to have Lisa in her line of sight again, needing to verify her realness.

When she turns the corner and catches Lisa's gaze, who gives her an exaggerated look of incomprehension while waving the packet of gum as if shaking an unbelievable fist in the air, Jennie lets out a wet laugh, breathing a mountain sigh of relief.

Yet still, she needs to touch Lisa, for corroboration purposes. Without a word, she continues her approach, not stopping until she's pulling Lisa into a hug.

Lisa reflexively absorbs the impact and encircles her arms around Jennie's waist, without complaint of the basket pushing into her side.

"What was that for, weirdo?" Lisa asks, with both concern and playfulness in her voice.

"Just needed it," Jennie mumbles into her shoulder.

Despite the confusing spontaneous display of affection, she takes Jennie's non-answer at face value, and teases instead, "Did they run out of organic free-range eggs again?"

Jennie gives her a fake glare at the reminder of her one-time tantrum when the specialty item was out of stock.

Ignoring Lisa's chuckling, she asks into her hair, "About that, fancy or no?"

Lisa thinks on it for a second. Her answer to the recurring question asked during past Sundays would decide the level of decadence of their meal, a simple breakfast or something closer to brunch, and determine whether asparagus or quinoa or ceviche will make their way into the mix.

Jennie waits patiently, head on her chin, while Lisa mulls over the decision before arriving at the predictable, "Fancy."

Both know it would not have been any other case.

After a gentle squeeze to the back of Lisa's neck to acknowledge her reply, she reluctantly detaches herself from Lisa's hold.

"K, just a few more items. Be right back," she says softly.

Jennie bites back the follow-up plea, "Don't go anywhere," wanting to fix Lisa in place so she doesn't disappear on her and prove herself to be a figment of Jennie's imagination or the product of a prescient machine after all.

Reassured by Lisa's nod, Jennie makes her way to the cold aisle smiling. The thrumming of contentment feels real and calms Jennie's heart.

Her smile widens while grabbing a carton of organic free-range eggs (thankfully in stock), when she is reminded of Lisa's first (and only) attempt to cook for her.

When it wasn't fancy at all. When love was young and budding and real.

*****

Four types of eggs. Sunny-side up, scrambled, poached, hardboiled.

Jennie stared confusedly down at the paper plate carefully balanced on her lap. Across from her, sat in a similar cross-legged position, Lisa had an identical setup, though oddly with one less egg portion. A loaf of bread straddled between them where their knees touched.

Her girlfriend had a strange, mixed look of hope and trepidation as she poked warily at her poached egg with the tine of her fork. A smile broke out when orange liquid emerged from the puncture, Jennie wasn't sure what other result Lisa anticipated, a chick to fall out?. Lisa beamed watching the yolk spill out smoothly and with just the right amount of thickness.

Jennie instinctively mirrored Lisa's look of pride but she was no closer to understanding why they were having a minimalist breakfast outside.

The whistling and shouts and scurrying sounds of an early morning soccer game could be heard farther afield. Prospect was buzzing this time of year with the hubbub of activity after the temperature recently calmed from the previous sweltering heat, rendering a mildness and light breeze making the park a perfect venue for extending their weekday lunch dates to the weekend. But instead of their usual avocado toast, instead of a noon hour rendezvous, Lisa had surprised her with a breakfast picnic.

The gesture, though sweet and appreciated, was puzzling given the reductive menu and that Easter had long passed. They had a few dates under their belt already. Maybe this was another one of Lisa's attempts at romance originality to keep Jennie guessing with her creativity. On the other hand, Jennie really hoped this wasn't Lisa going to elaborate lengths for an eggasperating pun.

"You didn't want scrambled?" Jennie asked, the question as random as what was in front of her. She prodded her own cautiously, testing its give and startled by the inconsistent buoyancy. One part collapsed as soon as her fork touched it, like an inverse soufflé, while another part presented unexpected resistance.

"Um, I did. But I sorta, partially, melted the tip of the plastic spatula during my first attempt," Lisa explained sheepishly, eyes still fixed on surveying her handiwork with some degree of suspect. "Then I only had one egg left after."

"Here babe, you can have some of mine." Jennie was quick to pawn off her share onto Lisa's plate, relieved for less to eat. She took care to avoid giving Lisa the remnant tiny egg shells she spotted during her cursory evaluation earlier.

Taking a rallying breath, and putting on her best supportive smile, Jennie shovelled a forkful into her mouth.

"Mmm, it's good!" Jennie exclaimed, her compliment genuine, as was her surprise. It was good, at least the lighter fluffier curds she ate compared to the denser sections she avoided. It tasted soft and creamy.

"Really?" Lisa asked, just as much in disbelief, eyeing Jennie suspiciously for any signs of a lie. When she detected none, she tried some herself. "You're right, it is!"

Her beaming smile warmed Jennie, and made her braver to try the sunny side egg next, impressed by the yolk's run when she cut into it.

"Here," Lisa said, handing her the pepper mill she had taken with them from home. She ripped off a piece of bread to give to Jennie, who took to swiping it through the silky liquid.

"This is great, Lis."

"Sorry we had to come out here. I had it all ready to go in the kitchen but then Rosé kicked me out of the house with specific instructions to take my weird courting practices elsewhere."

Jennie's protectiveness flared. "She's just jealous Jisoo's idea of romance is to spend the evening under the hood of your dad's car and then splitting her protein bar for dinner." Jennie tilted her head forward and gave Lisa a sweet kiss. "Thank you."

"Speaking of Dad, he was telling us the best foundation of a relationship is knowing how your girl takes her eggs."

Ah, now it makes sense, Jennie thought with an endearing smile. But then thinking further of it, "But babe, you already know how I like my eggs."

"But not how you'd like the way I'd make them," Lisa muttered under her breath.

Jennie answered her sappiness by leaning in again, running her fingers through Lisa's hair, then pulled her forward by the nape of her neck to give her another kiss, deeper this time and with a purposeful tongue. When they came out of the kiss, Jennie softly sucked on Lisa's bottom lip then brushed her thumb against it before concluding, "That's my favourite way."

They both returned their attention to their eggs, hearts aflutter while looking blissfully dazed.

As she was finishing up her scrambled egg, Jennie noticed a granola bar by Lisa's side that must've fallen out of her pocket during their makeout.

"Oh, um, in case you didn't like the eggs," Lisa explained when Jennie picked it up. "You've grilled fish and roasted chicken for me, I thought the least I could do was try to fry an egg. But I couldn't be certain it'd meet the same culinary standards." Lisa shifted in her spot on the plaid blanket to pull out another granola bar from the same pocket, and then two more out of the other side, causing Jennie to laugh. "They were my backup plan."

Jennie was about to comment on not needing the contingency when Lisa reached into her back pocket and pulled out a metal spoon. She laughed again, reminded of their first meal together on the bleachers.

"Still carrying it around, huh?"

"Always prepared," Lisa replied and started to tap the top of her hardboiled egg. She had a look of consternation when it didn't immediately crack, but quickly recovered with relief when it eventually did.

Seeing Lisa struggle to remove the shells after, Jennie took over the task, receiving a grateful smile in return.

"If I'm being honest, I'm surprised you knew which knob to turn on the stove," Jennie teased. "It's a fancy spread you got here."

"Rosé might have begrudgingly helped," Lisa mumbled. "Before she decided she no longer wanted to be an accomplice or witness to domestic grossness. Her words."

Less offended on Lisa's behalf this time, Jennie laughed imagining the epic battle of scowl vs pout.

"Lis, you know I'm happy to cook for you, right? I don't expect anything in return."

"I wanted to," Lisa said. "But I hope I haven't set a precedent. This is the most fancy that it'll get. I might've reached my ceiling with this so it's best if I go out on a high."

"Understandable."

"It'll keep my record at 1 for 1. 100% cooking success rate."

"Sure," Jennie humoured her, looking adoringly and trying to keep three words from surfacing. They hadn't said them to each other yet but Jennie felt it with every kiss and look and gesture. It was getting increasingly harder to hold them back but too scary to say them so soon. "Maybe next time, we can do fancy together."

Lisa nodded. "That'll be nice. Eggs was the first thing Dad made for my mom," she told her before launching into stories of Henry' misadventures in the kitchen, much to her mother's chagrin.

Jennie listened enrapt, held captive by the visual of a giant, male version of Lisa floundering over egg whites.

*****

A buzzing in her back pocket draws Jennie back to the egg carton in her hand. She puts it into her basket, and pulls out her phone to see a text from Jisoo, then a successive one from Hyuna.

(Jisoo) 10:03

Sorry

(Hyuna) 10:03

You slept with Lisa?!

Jennie rebalances the basket in the crook of her arm so she can reply to the group text.

(Jennie) 10:03

Giant eye roll emoji.

(Jisoo) 10:04

Jennie, you can't type out the emoji.

(Jennie) 10:04

There wasn't one large enough to capture my reaction to Hyuna's overreaction.

(Jennie) 10:04

And no, I didn't sleep with Lisa.

(Hyuna) 10:05

Chu just told me she slept over.

(Jennie) 10:05

With and over are two very different things, Hyun. And how'd you guys even know?

(Jisoo) 10:05

Rosé. Who else? It's not like you had the common courtesy to text your best friends that your ex stayed the night. I told you about the time I got foot fungus, it's only fair you share.

Jennie ignores the visual. The first part of the text piques her interest, though. The only way Rosé would know is if Lisa had texted her. She wonders if Lisa was in need of sisterly support, possibly having doubts about her decision to stay. Lisa wouldn't have volunteered the information unless it was crisis-driven.

(Jisoo) 10:05

Rosé pulled it out of her when she called to check if Lisa got home safe from the storm.

Jennie's relieved to learn it's because of Rosé's manhandling rather than Lisa's anxiety about an overnighter with Jennie.

(Hyuna) 10:06

I texted Lisa but she's not answering. So, let me ask the important question. Couch or bed?

Jennie sighs. She's regretting answering her phone. Maybe she should follow Lisa's lead to ignore them.

(Jennie) 10:06

Does it matter?

(Hyuna) 10:06

Yes

(Jisoo) 10:06

Yes

(Jennie) 10:06

Couch

(Hyuna) 10:07

Damnit

(Jisoo) 10:07

Yes!

(Jennie) 10:07

Then bed.

(Hyuna) 10:07

Ha! Suck it Chu!

Jennie doesn't even bother asking what the bet is, not worth inviting the trouble. What could they possibly achieve knowing which piece of furniture was used when nothing but sleeping could have happened.

(Jisoo) 10:07

Front or back?

(Hyuna) 10:07

Big or small?

(Jennie) (10:08)

Are we just throwing out opposite words now?

(Hyuna) 10:08

Spoon, Jennie. Which spoon were you?

(Jennie) 10:09

Guys, as fun as this is not, I'm kinda in the middle of something.

(Jisoo) 10:09

Yeah, Lisa's legs. Is that why she's not answering her phone?

Jennie searches for the groan emoji, not to use but to verify its insufficiency. She holds her breath waiting on Hyuna.

(Hyuna) 10:12

Good one Chu! I'm still trying to think of a witty remark while feeding Tyro. Jennie, may I get back to you with my retort at a more convenient time when both our hands aren't busy?

(Jennie) 10:13

No. Middle finger emoji.

Despite their heavy-handedness, she appreciates their unique way of ensuring she's okay after yesterday's big night. Jennie chuckles as she pockets her phone and ignores its continued buzzing.

-

Her amusement, however, summarily ends when she goes to check on Lisa after completing her basket. Jennie isn't sure if her eyes are playing tricks on her. Her eagerness to rejoin the brunette diminishes as Lisa comes into view.

Lisa hadn't left the gum machine. But now, there's another woman standing next to her.

Really really close next to her, almost sharing the same air space.

Jennie blinks several times to shake the vision, but every time her eyes reopen, she's greeted with the same sight of their two figures standing too intimately close for them to be strangers.

A knot forms in her stomach.

The more Jennie stares, the tighter the feeling.

Thoughts of breakfast with Lisa, past or present, are out the window as her brain scrambles to make sense of what she sees, while her heart tries not to self-combust from its too-sudden quickening.

Despite materialising out of nowhere, there's a familiarity to the woman that gnaws at Jennie and twists something inside her, erasing the good mood she has been in.

Jennie's stomach drops when it finally dawns on her that it's the same woman from the gallery. She's shorter without her heels on, but Jennie recognises the strawberry blonde hair. She's an attractive woman, maybe a few years younger than them, Jennie can see now that she has the opportunity to take the then-stranger in more fully. Her head is thrown back in laughter as she engages Lisa in conversation. With their proximity and the familiar way she's got a hand on Lisa's arm, squeezing it at Lisa's presumably charming words, Jennie feels like ice has been poured over her.

She doesn't realise she's got a death grip on the basket handle until Lisa's gaze catches hers. She'd be more concerned for the safety of the basket's contents if not for Lisa's odd expression. Jennie's anxiety gives way to confusion. There's a quiet pleading that sits just at the corner of Lisa's lips. It's one that Jennie hasn't seen in awhile but that she nonetheless understands as a silent call of distress in their shared secret language.

Before Jennie knows it, her feet are carrying her over to the pair, propelled by a wash of protectiveness.

"Babe, there you are!" Lisa exclaims as Jennie nears within earshot, catching both her and the companion off guard, the greeting having an air of endearment too affectionate to be addressing a friend.

Jennie almost stops mid-approach, and has to resist looking over her shoulder or jerking her head side to side to see if there is someone else in the vicinity to whom Lisa could be directing the pet name. But no, Lisa's eyes are lit up, gaze decidedly on Jennie, her smile fond.

"Hey, gorgeous," Lisa says more softly once Jennie's within reaching distance for a tentative hand to brush her hip.

"Hi," Jennie says slowly, her focus torn between the warmth of the smile and the heat of the touch on her hip.

There's a stretched out second where she tries to read the situation in Lisa's eyes, which betrays little to anyone who hasn't been in a relationship with her for twelve years but Jennie can detect the hint of nerves and an entreaty behind their shine.

She quickly masks her puzzlement with a genuine smile to Lisa first, and then a more curt, polite one to the other blonde.

"Hayley, this is my girlfriend, Jennie," Lisa casually introduces.

Jennie's hastily assembled composure would've collapsed hearing of her new special status if Lisa didn't wrap her arm around Jennie's shoulder and pull her closer into her personal space. Jennie subconsciously leans into the hold, needing the anchor to not faint from her shock.

"Jennie, this is Hayley."

"Hi, nice to meet you," Jennie manages to eke out while offering her hand to shake.

The intended recipient doesn't acknowledge it, doing a much poorer job than Jennie at hiding her surprise, and altogether terrible at observing basic manners and social decorum.

"Your girlfriend?" The blonde blurts more than asks Lisa, her mouth comically gaped open like a fish.

"Yes, the artist I told you about."

"I thought she wasn't real."

Jennie wants to scoff, oddly offended. She doesn't know why she's being defensive of a fake relationship, but it never feels good to be dismissed as imaginary. In a strange twist from her earlier worry, the tables have turned and now she's the one whose existence is called into question.

"She is," Lisa defends aloud on her behalf, and for the full effect, tips her head down to kiss the crown of Jennie's hair, "and she's great."

Her small act of affection is followed by a dazed, in-love look. Green eyes peer longingly into hers. With the way that Lisa is looking at her, they might as well be on an island on their honeymoon instead of standing in the candy aisle of a bodega the morning after a snowstorm.

Jennie feels the squeeze of hand from the arm around her shoulder then a thumb brushing back and forth in light circles that somehow has the same impact as rubbing two sticks together to start a fire.

"I'm very flattered that you asked me out again," Lisa recaps, likely for Jennie's sake, looking at the other woman for a fleeting second before hastily turning her attention back to Jennie as if aggrieved to have lost momentary eye contact, "But as you can see, I am very much taken."

Maybe those fangirls in Copenhagen were onto something. Maybe Lisa should have been an actress instead of an architect because Jennie believes her. Her performance is of HBO calibre. If Hayley isn't sold, it's because Jennie has already bought her tickets to the show.

Earlier, Jennie didn't know if her insides would survive seeing Lisa with another woman. Now, they feel jolted to life from the eruption of butterflies. It's a symphony of deafening flight and flutter.

"I am very much real."

Jennie decides to play along. They've been playing house all weekend, this wouldn't be much of a stretch.

She retracts the unshaken hand to instead rest over Lisa's stomach where her parka is unzipped, rubbing it gently. She wants to laugh hearing the hitch in Lisa's breathing, feeling her body stiffen for a split second.

Two can play this game.

And for the full effect, she tips on her toes to land a quick kiss to the underside of Lisa's jaw before snuggling her head into the crook of Lisa's shoulder. (God, smells more amazing from the source than her sheets.)

"I'm sorry, I seem to be at a disadvantage. How do you know each other? Lisa might have talked about me, but she's failed to mention a Hayley."

Jennie pats Lisa's chest in mock reprimand, though her head tilt and raised brow comes from genuine curiosity.

"We work together," Hayley flatly supplies, her posture deflating by degrees of Jennie and Lisa's increasing PDA.

"Hayley's one of our controllers who keeps our numbers and the clients in line."

Lisa moves her hand to rub Jennie's back and then wraps her arm around her waist, upping the ante in their unspoken competition.

"That must be a tall order." Jennie tries to say with a steady voice when she feels Lisa's hold tightening, bringing her almost flush to her chest, laying another kiss to her head. In retaliation, Jennie double-downs her ministrations at Lisa's stomach, sneaking her hand under the Columbia sweatshirt to continue stroking directly on skin.

She realises in immediate hindsight as soon as she makes contact that it was a self-sabotage move. It's her turn for her breath to catch at the feel of warm skin. She can't tell if Lisa is flexing her abs on purpose or she's simply tense from being equally affected, but the evidence that Lisa is still fit has Jennie's brain short-circuiting.

Regardless, Jennie has committed to the act and she will see it through, even if her body is burning enough fuel to launch herself to the moon by the end of it.

"It is," Hayley says, looking weary as to how to read the couple in front of her. It would seem she decides to go on the offensive. "I'm not sure if it's the same in the art world, but in professional offices clients can be a serious handful."

Jennie doesn't miss the emphasis on 'professional' and the underhanded and unnecessary jab at her vocation. It puts the number-cruncher in the red for her, erasing any social goodwill Jennie has to be nice.

She must've slipped into some expression of displeasure or disdain because she feels a soft thumb trace her jaw a silent beat later before it moves up to lightly smooth the crease of her brow, involuntarily causing her eyes to close at the spellbound motion. Her pulse quickens in indirect tempo to the the thumb's gentle movement.

"Baby, you ok?" is whispered, the pet name slipping that startles the both of them for the blurring of fake and real.

"Sorry, they were out of the particular mushrooms I wanted to get. The enoki ones that you love." The affectionate smile she receives in return has Jennie forgetting why Grumpy Cat made an appearance in the first place.

"Jennie's had her fair share of interesting client experience." Lisa comes to her defence again, breaking them out of the hypnotism of being so wrapped up in each other. "But I've been unfairly overloading her with mine."

"She doesn't talk much about co-workers," Jennie says addressing Hayley and can't help but pettily emphasise the word in reprisal, "but stories about clients I've heard plenty." It's easier to pretend when there're grains of truth, Jennie thinks as she looks up to Lisa to ask, "Was it Bill who left you six voicemails in a day once?"

Lisa nods. "He was panicking about a submission to the city. I'd been in meetings all morning, and then left for a long lunch in Brooklyn, and came back to frantic emails and calls."

Jennie notices Lisa lightly blushing and can't understand why until it occurs to her. "Wait, was it that time we met up for lunch?" She asks, her eyes narrowing.

Lisa nods again, accompanied this time by a bite of her lip, the pink of her cheeks deepening. Her other hand comes up to rub the back of her neck.

"Lis, we went for two hours!" Jennie recalls wide-eyed, remembering the cloud nine that she had walked on hours after having spent her mid afternoon break with Lisa. She scolds, "You didn't tell me you had to be back at the office."

"It was sweet of you to pick up my favourite sandwich at that Banh Mi place. My time was better spent at the park with you than hurrying back to whatever kerfuffle awaited in my inbox," Lisa mutters, looking down and away from Jennie's reprimanding gaze, scuffing the toe of her shoe against the floor looking like a scolded puppy.

Jennie feels guilty that Lisa had left her office in Lower Manhattan to join Jennie for a bite and a walk at Prospect. She'd just assumed Lisa had a free afternoon.

"Thanks babe," Jennie says, her gratitude as real as the fluttering in her stomach. She rises on her toes to give Lisa a genuine kiss to her cheek. Neither say anything when her lips catch the corner of Lisa's mouth.

"Anyways, there are only eight hours in a workday. How does he expect me to get any actual work done for his project if I'm always on the phone with him?"

"Um, yeah, that's Bill for you." Hayley tries to join in but her voice is too feeble to be heard by the other two.

"Were you able to get any work done when you got back? Or did he bother you some more? Do I need to call him?" Jennie asks like a concerned wife, no longer a fake girlfriend.

"He did," Lisa confirms with a sigh. "But it's fine. I can't really get mad at him. Even though he's so annoying, Bill's actually one of the nicest clients."

"A nice developer sounds like an oxymoron."

"Honestly, it's not much different to handholding a toddler trying to build his Lego tower. He's just really excited and impatient."

"With your diplomacy skills, I half expected you to go into international relations, become the UN Secretary or something. Not sure if I would be as patient."

Lisa scoffs. "You've got no patience at all," she says endeared with an amusing glint in her eye, "I don't get how you can literally watch paint dry all day but can't wait for popcorn to pop."

"I don't get why you insist on doing it over the stove. You don't even cook. I'm the one who has to stand there and watch it." Jennie pays no mind that they've completely detracted from the topic at hand.

Lisa shrugs. "Tastes a million times better. Don't tell me I didn't change your world at fourteen when I introduced you to stovetop popcorn with coconut oil and cultured butter."

"That your dad made. He changed my world."

They are so absorbed in their exchange of the last couple of minutes, falling easily into their new and old dynamic, and devolving into erstwhile patterns of bickering, they completely forget that they have an audience, that there's a third participant. Not until Hayley shifts uncomfortably on her feet does Jennie realise the charade had bled into reality, an inside conversation full of intimate knowledge of each other.

"Wait, I thought you only just moved into town?" Hayley interjects, confusion and a hint of suspicion colouring her tone. "How long have you known each other?"

"Awhile."

"Long."

They both answer at the same time, both blushing at the same time, their short, vague replies not doing them any favours.

"So, you've been dating for longer than a few months?"

"You could say that," Lisa answers this time on their behalf.

"Anyways, babe, speaking of cooking oil," Jennie deflects, stressing the word and steering clear of the potential rabbit hole if they continued with Hayley's line of questioning. She locks eyes with Lisa, smiling softly, "I've got everything we need. We should get going."

"Yes, we should."

"You really are real," Hayley breathes out, finally addressing Jennie and looking at her with newly judgmental eyes and simultaneously as if she'd seen a unicorn.

"I really am."

"I mean, she talks about you all the time, but I just figured it was some dude. I should've known by the way she-"

"Okay, gotta go!" Lisa cuts her off, and withdraws her arm from Jennie's waist, but before Jennie can miss the warmth, she laces their fingers together and starts to lead them away to the cash till.

"I change my mind I want to stay. The conversation was just starting to be interesting," Jennie pleads teasingly in Lisa's ear.

Lisa ignores her to wish her co-worker farewell, "I'll see you at the office, Hayley."

"Enjoy the rest of your Sunday," Jennie throws in over the shoulder, unable to keep the smug out of her voice.

She doesn't care to find out the reaction, as Lisa wordlessly takes the basket from her, like a dutiful fake-girlfriend, and while still holding her other hand, gives another quick peck to her cheek as distraction. Lisa pointedly avoids meeting Jennie's eyes that are amusingly seeking context of Hayley's comments.

Walking away, they are the picture of a couple enacting a weekend ritual, having rolled out of bed in home clothes, hair mussed, to brave the chill and pick up a few items of groceries before retreating back to their haven and the warmth of each other's bodies.

At least from the deep look of disappointment they leave behind, that's what Hayley is thinking.

-

"And she still didn't take the hint?"

Lisa shakes her head. Jennie grins incredulously at the density of some people.

They're in the kitchen again, Lisa finishing unloading their haul while Jennie starts to prepare the omelettes. Between tasks Lisa retells of the co-worker who had been crushing on her but oblivious to Lisa's gracious let-downs.

"I've tried to be polite and let her off easy. When that didn't work, I tried short and direct, but she still wasn't getting it. So finally I told her there was this artist I've been seeing."

Lisa says the last part shyly while she proceeds to help prep the new items they picked up from F&L.

"Seeing?" Jennie pauses her work in the mixing bowl to raise an eyebrow that goes unseen. At Lisa's silence and eye contact avoidance she decides to let her off the hook, and acquiesces, "I guess technically not a lie."

"Well, it confused her enough to slow down her advances for a bit. I suppose now I understand why, but then again, she knows I'm a lesbian. Why would I be seeing a man?" Lisa's brows furrow thinking on it further, her nose adorably scrunched in distaste at the visual.

"Maybe she thought it was a phase?" Jennie offers, chuckling.

"And saw her opening to try harder this past week to bring me back from the dark, hairy side?" Lisa asks rhetorically.

She shudders throwing her arms up dramatically in defeat, deepening Jennie's laugh.

"How would you know it's dark and hairy?" Jennie goads.

"All hearsay, nothing I can or want to substantiate," Lisa dismisses before continuing to recount her efforts at throwing roadblocks against interoffice romance.

She speaks animately as she finishes quartering the king mushrooms then focuses her energy on chopping the white onions while Jennie beats the eggs in a mix of heavy cream, sea salt and black pepper. Her wrist may have worked a little too vigorously hearing certain parts of Hayley's over-attentiveness.

Apparently the accountant had taken an immediate liking to the new designer. She had volunteered to accompany Lisa to the welcome dinner near the gallery, under the guise of not wanting her to get lost in the neighbourhood, despite Lisa's insistence that it wasn't necessary, being a native New Yorker and all.

It had puzzled Lisa that whenever she stayed late, Hayley would also coincidentally be doing overtime. She didn't clue in until Hayley had asked her out to dinner after one late night. Lisa was expecting a pizza parlour and not the candlelit restaurant they ended up at.

"I told her I was flattered but not looking. She seemed to take that as a challenge."

That has Jennie concerned. "Wait, does she even live in Brooklyn? She wasn't stalking you, was she?"

"No, no. She was visiting family in the area yesterday and got caught in the storm as well. Hayley's actually not that bad. Clueless but ultimately harmless."

"Mhm."

Lisa considers something for a second and then places a hand on Jennie's hip to turn her and gain her full attention. Her gaze is soft when she says with emphatic earnestness, "Thanks for going with it."

Lisa's touch is like kindling, no matter how small it still sparks something in Jennie. The continuous presence of Lisa's hand-absently left there while she tries to read Jennie's true reaction to their earlier pretending-sets her pulse racing again.

There's mild concern under Lisa's gaze that perhaps her calculated risk went too far.

"I would've given you more notice but she surprised me. I thought it was better to show her than tell her." It wasn't too much, was it?, is unasked as Lisa fiddles with the fabric of Jennie's top, gathering it in a bunch and releasing it, then repeating the nervous tic. The intimate action contradicts her concern of breaking an intimacy barrier without consulting.

"It's fine," Jennie croaks out, waving her off with a timid smile, hoping the thud of her heart isn't audible.

How does she tell Lisa that it wasn't a hardship, at all. That to the contrary, it was almost too easy how naturally they resumed their roles, folding into old habits and wearing the cloak of routine like a favourite sweater. That her skin still burns from where she was pressed up against Lisa.

"I chalk it up to doing her wallet a favour and saving her from spending any more money on candles," she says instead.

They both chuckle. Lisa appears relieved by her lighthearted response and resumes chopping the onions as Jennie moves on from the egg mix to grab the leftover ingredients of last night's dinner, adding the leeks and potato thins to Lisa's bowl of mushrooms.

Jennie feels bad that the poor girl might have been racking up debt at Yankee Candle in her ill-advised wooing attempt to appeal to Lisa's penchant for scented candles. If only Hayley knew that Lisa is very particular about her candles that even Jennie would be at a loss about the right essential oils and blend of natural scents.

(No.4 Bloom - A subtle inflection of pine mixed with the tranquil and uplifting notes of lavender for a restorative calm.)

But Jennie can't blame Hayley for wanting to get closer to Lisa seeing as she's guilty of the same. If she was to court Lisa now, it might not be beneath her to sign them up to a candle-making workshop.

-

It isn't until Jennie's distractedly peering into her fridge looking for the gruyere cheese, and thinking about herbaceous and woody notes infusing their apartment, that she realises Lisa has gone quiet after their shared laugh. She returns to the island to find Lisa deep in thought, biting her lower lip.

"You ok?" She asks worried.

"No, yeah, great," Lisa is quick to reassure, but then draws in a deep breath before asking, "what about you?"

"I'm great too," Jennie answers while grating the cheese.

Honestly, she's over the moon. She normally abhors winter for its showmanship but this weekend's meteorological extreme has started changing her mind about the benefits of Mother Nature's incomprehensible ways, especially when snowfall in March puts Lisa in their kitchen and across the island from her. She can weather the emotional highs and lows-as intense and touch 'n go as they've been so far-if it means getting to prep Sunday breakfast together again.

"No, I mean, anyone have their eye on you?" Lisa corrects with a nervous chuckle.

Oh.

Jennie's hand stills over the grater. Despite the talk of Hayley and the natural progression of the conversation, the query still throws her off.

The question of dating and significant others had been hanging over them and sitting in the back of Jennie's mind. She thought it would require army boots and extra military reinforcements to cross that bridge and march across into the unknown.

It certainly felt like she needed her own battalion when Hayley showed up out of nowhere to her Brooklyn bodega. The relief from learning it's nothing more than unrequited attention had put the worry about romantic relationships momentarily to bed.

But it hadn't occurred to Jennie that Lisa might be having the same worries.

Why would she care about my current romantic interests?

Observing her now, her lower lip tucked under teeth while her gaze is newly diverted to the upper kitchen cupboards in pretence of nonchalance, onions forgotten, Jennie realises her anxiety about the topic may not have been one-sided.

"No secret admirer that I'm aware of," Jennie stalls.

Lisa, ever the percipient interpreter of Jennie-speak, doesn't fall for it, looking back at her with a thoughtful but discerning gaze to ask more pointedly, "No boyfriend or girlfriend?"

The air prickles with anticipation of the response to the casual but significant question. Jennie's heart rate increases once more but for an entirely different reason now. Suddenly, the mood shifts with the weight of what she might say, their breakfast activities in suspended limbo.

Jennie bites her own lip, buying time as to how to phrase her answer. If what she and Lisa have been doing over the past two months constitutes as dating according to Jisoo and Hyuna then she hasn't done any of it, with anyone in the past four years. It'd be a stretch to call a random not-even-hookup her boyfriend or girlfriend.

The thought alone makes her queasy.

She decides to keep her answer open for the moment until her nerves steadies and better words come to her.

"Nothing serious."

Jennie can't tell if it's a flash of relief or apprehension that she catches in Lisa's reaction. Maybe both. The soft eyes and imperceptible head nod say the former, while the deeper bite into her lip and the twirling of thumbs say the latter. Whatever the case, Lisa's clearly affected, and conflicted.

She wonders how it would influence Lisa's ambivalence if she is to admit that there has never been anyone beyond a first awkward date, not a single guy or girl of remote interest to her. Not even one night stands.

Jennie had come close on several drunken occasions but when her alcohol-addled mind clued into the situation, likely awoken by the protested beating of her heart, she had promptly put an end to any prospect of more. When kissing someone else's lips felt like dying, Jennie puked up her regret that it might have led to sex.

Because they had been each other's firsts, Jennie came to associate sex with emotional intimacy. Whether it was slow and reverent or quick and dirty, soft expels or breathless panting, sex with Lisa had always been steeped in love.

"You've ruined me for everyone else, Kim," Lisa had told her once while tracing the swells and valleys of her back with feather kisses after they had collapsed into their sheets following four successive orgasms-a competitive night of trying to break their personal bests.

(Two hours and chorused cries of her name later, Lisa proved several once mores to be the victor.)

"It's a good thing then I don't want anyone else, Manoban," was what Jennie had replied, turning on her side and entwining their fingers before pulling her into a lustful kiss that let Lisa know the veracity and in-disputability of her statement.

So, even through the haze of her inebriation, as soon as she'd feel a hand on her that wasn't soft and knowing, Jennie would recoil and sober instantly. And when she realised the sting to her lips wasn't from bee-stung ones, the tears would come streaming down, leaving her never-would-be date or never-gonna-happen one-night stand bewildered until Jisoo or Hyuna could come to collect their inconsolable friend.

They'd walk away with a flotsam of regrets and reassurances exchanged; the best friends to the confused stranger ("Bad breakup, it's not you"), them to her ("It's okay, you're okay"), and most heartbreakingly, Jennie to a non-present Lisa in repeated utterances ("I'm so sorry").

So, no. Nothing serious at all for Jennie.

But she doesn't want to leave Lisa on nothing, on vagueness. Not after last night, not after learning of Lisa's letter and sharing her knitting. Assisted by ink and wool, she thinks they're at a stage now, as fragile as their rebuilt friendship may sometimes be, that she can be-and should be-honest.

Jennie locks gazes with Lisa and braves to say, "I haven't really dated." On the next shaky breath, she clarifies, "There hasn't been anyone since you."

Lisa's eyes widen as Jennie lets the truth of her non-existent dating history ring in the air. She doesn't know what to make of Lisa's expression which has visibly tipped the scale towards apprehension, but now mixed in with confusion.

A pit of dread forms in Jennie's stomach, unsure of how her confession is being received. Maybe it wasn't what Lisa needs or wants to hear. Jennie can't tell. Lisa's face gives nothing away save the continued subtle wringing of thumbs.

In an effort to move things along, Jennie then gives her try at nonchalance, as much as her thundering heart will allow, to ask, "Have you- Do you have someone?"

Again, despite the obvious direction of their conversation, Lisa seems equally taken aback by the question. She looks at Jennie trepidatious. Jennie would worry for the broken skin of Lisa's bottom lip if she isn't concerned with the state of her own.

Talk of romantic partners is something that friends should be able to share with each other, but the sinking stone in her stomach has Jennie second-guessing if she'd be able to digest such type of information, if it'd be too hurtful.

"There was, is someone," Lisa says slowly, carefully, leaving a pregnant pause to let Jennie absorb the info.

Jennie's thankful for the extra seconds to compose herself.

Even if she can't make sense of the jumbled tenses of Lisa's answer, hearing confirmation that there is indeed someone feels like a sucker punch, immediately regretting the terrible idea of asking. She can feel the slight wobble of her chin at the unexpected tight emotion.

Even knowing her actions would eventually push Lisa into another's arms, Jennie feels gutted for the possibility to be an actuality.

Fuck, it hurts.

Then it's somehow worse.

"Her name's Minnie. We met at a work function."

From someone to someone with a name is the difference between falling off the roof of a house and being dropped from the sky without a parachute.

Her throat dries while her eyes sting with wetness.

As Lisa weighs her next words, Jennie is scared to hear more, scared to find out for how long they were together or how deep Minnie's bond with Lisa runs.

She can't help but try to imagine what Minnie would look like, surely a pretty face to match a pretty name. She feels her throat constricting further wondering about hair and eye colour-whether it's a mix of yellow and blue or a matching set of brown;

about pigment of skin-whether she's fair and closer to Lisa in swatches or farther apart in contrast at the other end of the spectrum in rich chocolate tones;

about height difference-whether it's a perfect three inches to be tucked under Lisa's chin and feel safe and protected in her arms or something more negligible to better meet green eyes and slant mouths together without effort of going on tip toes;

about her physique-whether she also runs and is as fit and into sports or she's soft and curvy and inviting for Lisa to smooth her hands over;

about what she sounds like-whether her laugh is more genuine at Lisa's shameless puns or her voice less scratchy in the morning, without the rasp, or if she has an English accent that's swoon-worthy for its proper enunciation of consonants.

When Jennie's mind goes to other possible sounds Minnie might make, caused by Lisa, she knows it's too far. For the sake of her heart and lungs, she can't let herself go there. She shouldn't have started in the first place. It's a masochist exercise in futility to speculate whether Minnie is or isn't the prettiest, smartest, funniest, and most talented woman who's a perfect fit for Lisa.

"Minnie and I," Lisa starts again but then wavers, furrowing her brows. "We are-"

The words land squarely against Jennie's chest. When it had always been, Jennie & I, to hear Lisa place a different prefix in front of the ampersand is more painful than Jennie anticipated. She didn't know the blow that a conjunctive word could deliver until her name is omitted from its use, an absence of connection to Lisa's name, and replaced with another. She didn't know the power of a pronoun to ruin until the We refers to someone other than her and Lisa.

It hurts.

There's a burning sensation behind her eyes.

Though her mind knows that it's within Lisa's purview and her every right to move on, Jennie's heart isn't as enlightened and not at all accepting in the moment. It's protesting louder, more deafening, than when Jennie is drunk and about to make a mistake.

As Lisa mulls over how to finish her sentence, Jennie feels like she's being split open and has to look away, to hide her deepening hurt over Minnie's special status.

Less, as it turns out, hurts so much more. One girl versus many seems painfully more meaningful.

Jennie didn't know what to expect of what and who happened in Lisa's life during their separation but had it been multiple flings or a string of affairs at least that would mean that no one stayed long enough to leave an impact.

One person, on the other hand, as Jennie well knows, can seep into your veins, leaving traces of themselves that become inseparable from the whole of you.

One person who can take up so much space inside of you and expand the universe within your chest, at once too much and not enough, that you feel like you can't possibly contain it.

Someone to whom your every action and thought is tethered, where your happiness is an amplification of their heartbeat.

Is that who Minnie is to Lisa now? Someone to hold, to press against, to kiss? To love?

Her only solace is the hope that, whatever Minnie means to Lisa, she is able to handle Lisa's heart with better care than Jennie did.

"Is she good to you?" Jennie asks quietly, the only question she can bear to hear an answer without buckling under its weight.

Her gaze fixes on the gruyere, the growing pile of shredded cheese. The intensity of her focus would melt it if her eyes weren't glossed over with unshed tears, willing them not to fall.

"She is, very good."

Jennie can only dumbly nod, swallowing past the lump in her throat. With the rush of blood in her ears, she doesn't catch Lisa's next words, "But it's not the same. She's not-," and entirely misses the faint 'you' that falls from her lips.

All Jennie can concentrate on is overcoming the sudden stuffiness of the kitchen, the lack of oxygen. The hotness in her chest and the tightness in her stomach. She feels weak-kneed and must brace herself harder against the island to stay standing.

She's trying to hold it together, to delay her emotional breakdown for later when she's under the covers of her own solitude again. She doesn't want to be the broken girl standing in front of the girl she let go. It's no longer Lisa's job to soothe her so Jennie has to figure out how to do it herself. Lisa deserves better than Jennie shutting down and wallowing in despair because Lisa went and did exactly what Jennie pushed her away to do-have a life without her.

So she tries to suck up as much air as possible, of what is available, and pushes down her pain. But she should've known that Lisa would be keyed in to her silent distress.

The next thing Jennie feels are gentle fingers under her chin, lifting it to regain her attention.

"Hey," Lisa says softly. She puts a hand over Jennie's and pries the cheese and grater from her.

Jennie makes eye contact then, locking onto Lisa's unmasked worry. Two hands cup her face, a sea of green enters her blurry field of vision. Lisa's eyes shine with compassionate warmth, even underneath her minor look of confusion.

Lisa sweeps one fallen tear from her cheek she hadn't known escaped, with more care and kindness than Jennie deserves. She feels wholly unworthy of Lisa's tenderness. Lisa in general. Her softness breaks Jennie more than if she was yelling and throwing things. Despite efforts not to fall apart, it dismantles Jennie with how gentle she is.

Lisa wipes another fallen tear.

"Why are you crying?" She asks kindly.

"Sorry," Jennie whispers, an apology as much for the unbidden tears and breakdown now as for the heartbreaking decision then.

"It's ok," Lisa comforts.

"I'm happy for you and Minnie," Jennie tries to say with a small, gracious smile, "I wish you both well," but failing not to sound like she's robotically reciting a Hallmark card.

"You're happy for us and wish us well?" Lisa asks raising an eyebrow, her confusion deepening.

"You deserve the best, Lisa. I'm happy if you've found it with your girlfriend," Jennie elaborates, the words though genuine scrape her throat on their way out.

"Jennie, we aren't together," Lisa says.

Oh.

"I mean, we were but only very briefly. Minnie and I are good friends now. Wait, did you think I was with her?" She asks.

"No," Jennie meekly answers but her cheeks pinking betray that she might have jumped (leaped over the Grand Canyon) to conclusions.

To her credit, Lisa skates over Jennie's presumptuousness, sparing her of further mortification. Her face has gone even softer.

"I was trying to get over a girl," Lisa continues, making a point to stroke Jennie's cheek, "and so was she. We bonded over our mutual heartbreak. For a hot second, we mistook it for more and tried to date but decided quickly that we work better as friends."

"Oh," Jennie says out loud this time. She feels monumentally daft for nose-diving off the cliff's edge.

"I wouldn't fake-date you if I had a real girlfriend to ward off Hayley. Minnie and I never got past first base."

"I don't know what that means," Jennie mutters abashed, "is it baseball?"

Lisa looks at her with intent and whispers, "It means, I never had breakfast with her. At least, not in that way. I'm particular about my eggs."

For some reason, that gets the tears to come down harder. Maybe out of relief for being so wrong or embarrassment for her overreaction but Jennie can't stop the tap from running.

"Hey, hey, I get it. You've convinced me of onion goggles," Lisa says while brushing her thumbs across Jennie's cheeks and catching more tears, "you've made your point, ok?"

Jennie laughs, wetly and brokenly, but grateful for Lisa's humour. She takes several deep fortifying breaths.

"I'm glad that you had, have someone, Lis," she says after her sobs have quieted, even if more shaky than she had hoped. "That Minnie was there for you."

With her face still in Lisa's hands, Lisa surprises her by laying a kiss to her forehead before hugging her fully. Jennie draws strength from the embrace.

They stand like that for awhile, holding onto each other, absorbing the meaning of their words and actions, now and during the missing years.

Then Lisa's stomach gives a well-timed growl that breaks the tension completely, reminding them of the need to finish their breakfast prep, which by the clock's display is veering decidedly into brunch territory.

-

The scene resets and they pick up where they left off before, Jennie with the cheese and Lisa with the onions and the air not as thick. Hearts more settled.

"No one else?" Jennie ventures to ask. She feels battle-hardened to stay on the topic of dating now that they've come out of the trenches after covering the treacherous ground of significant others (who turn out not to be so significant).

"You mean besides the artist I'm seeing?" Lisa jokes, and then laments, "Afraid not. I seem to only attract the persistent and oblivious kind as of late."

"I'm sure in a city of 8.5 million, there's someone out there waiting for you." Me, Jennie bites back from saying as she expertly grates the cheese.

"Four million, if we're only counting those that'd pass my basic requirement," Lisa amends, finishing up her chopping.

"Have you checked Craigslist? Maybe you had a missed connection, and are just one keystroke away from your soulmate," Jennie propositions, and chuckles at the aghast look she earns. She's happy to ride the new playful wave, glad for the injection of levity back into their chat.

"You were wearing blue jeans and a red stripe sweater. Your beanie was falling. I wanted to reach out and push it back in place for you," Lisa mimics a formal reading voice, "I was going to say hello but then my stop arrived. Late for a meeting, I hurried off but not before looking back to memorise the cute way you pushed your glasses up your nose. Are you my Waldo? Come find me. Lost and waiting at Bushwick L."

"Who wouldn't want to answer that ad?" Jennie asks rhetorically. Again, the Me fights not to come out.

"Modern love is an elaborate ruse by fictional writers having too much fun behind their laptops," Lisa opines, then thinking on it for a second, appends, "or a creepy white dude."

"Gasp. Is that cynicism I hear from someone who once declared that 'if love is weakness, then let me be weak for you'?"

Jennie's eyes widen at what she'd just said but Lisa only blushes, and then mumbles to herself though loud enough for Jennie to hear, "That's because you were making avocado toast. I was referring to the fruit."

"Uh-huh." Jennie lets her have that one though she distinctly remembers a different time when the declaration was made, after Lisa had come hard riding her fingers and collapsed, weak-limbed, onto her. She'd also said that knees were an unnecessary accessory if she was going to be spending all her time being horizontal around Jennie.

"I mean, good for those who've found the one through awkward meet-cutes on the subway. But for the rest of us, I don't know, it sometimes feels like we're at the merciless humour of an invisible fate."

Whatever Lisa is saying rings hollowed compared to how she and Jennie had met, colliding into each other. With Lisa catching her and Jennie leaving a literal stain on Lisa's heart, it had very much been the universe showing its hand-giving visibility to its intentions. At least, that was what Lisa had revealed to her years later about how she had interpreted their first meeting as an inevitability. To go from believing they were kismet to possibly now questioning whether love was a cosmic joke, Jennie shrinks to think of her culpability in Lisa's lost of faith.

"I think your dad might have something to say about that," Jennie mutters instead, under her breath and not catching Lisa's eyes. Before the romantic-agnostic could ask her to repeat herself, Jennie preempts, "Sorry Lis, one sec. Hold that thought. Let me just whip these up."

Lisa hums and goes to set their plates while Jennie works the stovetop. The next few minutes are filled with the sizzle of the skillet and then the smell of egg goodness as the omelette browns and the cheese melts. Jennie stuffs extra mushrooms and chorizo into the half-moon fold of Lisa's portion.

When she returns to the island to transfer Lisa's omelette from the pan onto her plate, she chuckles seeing the dart of tongue reacting to the delicious sight.

"Bon appetit," Jennie says, once situated on her stool, handing Lisa a fork.

Lisa smiles but then her eyes light up as if remembering an important matter, curiously getting up to retrieve something from the cupboards.

Jennie laughs when she comes back to gingerly place the two handmade mugs in front of her, taking great care to angle the lopsided ceramics in such a way as not to tip over. Lisa's smile tilts into a self-satisfied smirk when they're in position, as if she'd adjusted the Mona Lisa.

"I can't believe you still have them," Lisa says while grabbing the orange juice from the fridge, a tilt to her lips.

Jennie pouts thinking of parting ways with the lumpy clay, the uneven glazing, the droopy lettering of LM and JK. To her, they have more value than Da Vinci's work. When the set was first brought home, Lisa made them use the hideous things for every drink-water, juice, coffee, beer, wine-insisting to break them in so they'd feel at home. She'd even taken to eating her soups and cereal out of them to prove their utility and versatility to Jennie, like she had brought home the ugliest pet and wanted to convince her girlfriend to let them keep it.

"Of course I kept them. They're a monument to the rare instance of you not being good at something."

Lisa pauses her task of uncapping the jug to feign affront, "What do you mean? They're masterpieces that belong in MoMa's permanent collection."

"I think the Cubists, and likely the Surrealists too, would have had some objections. Not sure if that," Jennie waves at the monstrosities, "would even make it into Tyro's year-end preschool art show."

Lisa gasps then goes to gently cradle the mugs with both her hands, in a gesture of covering non-existent ears, "You're going to hurt their feelings," before whispering to them in a serious, comforting tone, "she didn't mean it."

Jennie chuckles at her playfulness, fighting to keep the smile off her face. But her battle only worsens when as Lisa pours, she looks down at Jennie in such a way that has her stomach flipping, caught in the mesmerising hold of twinkling eyes that have taken on the glow of the late morning light.

The fluttering must be affecting her cognitive abilities because when Lisa sits back down next to her and clinks their mugs together, Jennie kisses her cheek absently, out of habit, and says, "Thank you lo-" before catching the word just in time, spitting the rest of it into her juice and then partially choking from the effort.

Lisa is quick to pat her back, rubbing it gently, perhaps also out of habit. Jennie bites back her gasp when Lisa's hand moves automatically to lightly massage the nape of her neck. It becomes an entirely different bodily struggle to not melt into the soothing motion.

"You ok?" Lisa asks, concern in her eyes.

"Yup, good. Just down the wrong pipe." Jennie tries to cover and feels equal relief and disappointment when the hand is gone. "Thanks."

Lisa nods then takes a sip from her mug. She licks her lips, catching leftover orange pulp, before assessing, "Mhm, not guava goodness, but I guess it will have to do."

Jennie wishes Lisa would stop doing things like that. She's still recovering from the lingering heat on her back but her cheeks newly bloom from a sudden irrational envy of a citrus fruit.

She redirects her energy to her breakfast while Lisa has already started to consume the omelette as if these are the last eggs on earth.

Fearing for her digestive system by the speed with which she's wolfing down her food, Jennie pats Lisa's shoulder, laughing. "Lis, slow down. There's more."

It's Lisa's turn to blush. She looks up from under her lashes, and says bashfully, in scant defence of her enthusiasm, "S'good."

Jennie's heart thrums at the domesticity of it all, thoughts of Minnie or of Lisa doing this with her or anyone else filed away.

-

"Depends on what you're looking for, I guess," Jennie says after they're onto seconds of their omelettes, continuing the thread of conversation from earlier. "I'm sure there's someone out there who's into lame jokes and exercising, maybe at the same time." She teases, "Must love avocado more than mortgages. Lame, fit, and poor, I'm sure there's a perfect match for you on Tinder."

"Sounds like my ideal woman. Where do I sign up?" Lisa asks with a suggestive raise of her brows but then makes Jennie laugh when they immediately knit together as she goes to append, "Wait, what is Tender?".

"Lis, you can't be serious."

"What, working architect hours, when would I have time to tender anyone?" Lisa defends.

"Ok, luddite. First of, it's called Tinder, and it's a dating app. If you like someone's picture, you swipe right, if you don't, then left."

Lisa's lips curl in distaste. "Well, that just sounds mean," then adds after a beat, "and exactly like something Rosé invented and Jisoo coded into existence."

Jennie chuckles. "They would, wouldn't they? Though their version would be more explicit about disliking someone." She goes on to clarify when Lisa looks at her confused, "Tinder's anonymous. You're notified of a match only when two people mutually swipe right. You wouldn't know if anyone's swiped left."

"Do you have Tinder?" Lisa asks, a mix of judgment and unease. Jennie hides her smile when Lisa lets out a small sigh of relief at the shake of her head.

"Onew showed it to me once, it was after his breakup and before Carter. It was fun for about an hour watching his swipe journey descend into despair. He swiped right on everyone, and only received like two replies. Both very suspicious."

Lisa interrupts, laughing. "Maybe that was when he decided to give the darker, hairier sex a try?"

"Maybe. Needless to say, the app didn't appeal to me, too stressful wondering if I'm right-worthy. And it turns out," Jennie pauses for effect, "artists are also too busy to tender anyone."

Lisa looks to be chewing on something as she breaks from her eating. "Show me."

"What?" Jennie croaks out, almost choking on her juice, again. "You want to try it?" She asks, surprised.

Lisa shrugs while subconsciously patting Jennie on the back, again. "Just curious how it works."

Jennie pulls out her phone. "I'll have to download the app first."

She tries to keep the butterflies in when Lisa scoots her stool closer, their sides brushing so she can get a better view of Jennie's screen. Quiet minutes are spent while Jennie downloads the app, links her Facebook account and sets up her profile.

Lisa offers to help her pick out a photo and draft up her bio.

They mutely go through some of her recent selfies. Lisa stays quiet so Jennie doesn't know what she's thinking. The photos are mostly candid shots snapped by Jisoo or Hyuna more than pictures that Jennie has taken herself. Predominantly, she's ever only sporting a small half smile, doubtful she'd attract any potential suitors. But Lisa takes her time to look at each one, seemingly taking in versions of Jennie-sleepy and grumpy and hungry-she hadn't seen in the last few years.

Jennie feels exposed with the silent slideshow and decides to randomly pick a photo that wasn't awful. Lisa finally perks up then from her haze to tell her to choose the one five photos back instead where there's a hint of the blue t-shirt she's wearing, nicely offsetting her eyes and the sunlight that's hitting her hair. "You're smiling in this one," she justifies shyly, despite the obviousness of her choice.

After she sets the photo, Lisa takes the phone from her to compose the About text. Jennie doesn't know why Lisa is laughing after until she reads it, but should've known something was up with the way Lisa's tongue was poking out while typing it.

Jennie, 29

Brooklyn

Speak to me in vermillion and I'll answer you in apricot and burnt-cinnamon hues. Meet me in the hinterland where green fades into blue. I'll be the one with the paintbrush, you bring you.

"That's terrible! You make sound like an ass, a horrible poet ass," Jennie whines through her own laughter as she shoves Lisa on the shoulder.

"That'll be your first red flag if anyone swipes right to this," Lisa says chuckling.

"I feel like your logic is flawed."

Lisa shrugs as if that's the plan. "We need to weed out the weak."

Their amusement continues when they start to browse profiles for potential matches in earnest. They laugh as they swipe, all left so far if Jennie is counting. She notices that Lisa stays silent on profiles of girls with blonde hair and blue eyes.

"What about this James here?" Lisa asks, poking her side good-naturedly. "He's got good hair game."

"No thanks, I've already had the best," Jennie says without looking up, her eyes widening when the words catch up. "Besides, long walks on a beach? C'mon buddy, be better than that. Hard swipe left."

At one point, Jennie doesn't realise she's accidentally swiped right, momentarily distracted by Lisa's vanilla scent mixing with her laundry detergent. This close, she smells like tumbled softness. Jennie's breath hitches when she sees a hand on her knee, and then feels a squeeze.

"Jennie?" Lisa repeats. "Babe, there's a message."

"Huh?"

Sure enough, when she looks down at her phone again, there's a notification in the speech bubble with a message waiting. Someone named Alec has texted, "I'm colour blind but you're cute."

Jennie has no clue who this Alec is, nor does she care. Lisa, on the other hand, seems to care a great deal and has a stronger reaction to the romantic connection.

"Pfft, not what I would have first texted if I saw your photo," Lisa says crossing her arms, scoffing at Alec's supposed pedestrian opening.

"Oh?" Jennie challenges with an eyebrow that reads, Think you can do better?.

Jennie doesn't expect a serious answer but eats her words when Lisa looks at her and then places a hand on her cheek.

"Change of location," Lisa starts, sweeping her thumb across the apple and smiling smugly at the slight gasp it draws. She looks intensely into Jennie's eyes.

"Meet me where the wheat field ends and the sky begins, I need to know if it's impossibly as beautiful there as looking at you here. I suspect not, but seeking confirmation."

With the tingles Jennie feels from the touch on her cheek to the fluttering in her stomach, she practically wants to flee Brooklyn and skip to that wheat field. But she doesn't want to give Lisa the satisfaction of knowing the effect she has on her.

"Lis," she says, drawing out her name slowly and playing into her game. She puts a hand on Lisa's thigh, making a few gentle passes up and down. She has to hold back her laugh at Lisa's flustered look.

"Yeah?" is followed by a heavy swallow.

Jennie tugs at the hem of her sweater signalling for her to lean in until Jennie can whisper in her ear. She lets a few beats past for the rush in her own ears to lower, as her lips nearly brush the shell of Lisa's, and then whispers, "I think you need to unsubscribe from badpoetry.com."

Jennie laughs when Lisa breaks from their hold with a huff. While Lisa sends her a faux glare, Jennie congratulates herself for not losing her nerve being so close to Lisa and not kiss her.

"Whatever, it was that or, 'Colour me intrigued,'" Lisa pouts.

At the jut of lip which she could never say no to, Jennie concedes that she preferred the first try and would have answered her text.

"How 'bout Alec are you going to answer hers?"

Jennie wants to ask, Who?, having completely forgotten about the match. "I don't know. What would I even say?"

"Do you think she's cute?" Lisa asks, pursing her lips, nervous and expectant.

Jennie wants to draw the bottom lip into her mouth and soothe the worry away with a gentle swipe of her tongue. She holds Lisa's gaze, then slowly shakes her head. Twin sighs of relief come out before Jennie clicks off the message and then closes out of the app.

"See, not really my thing."

"You're right, this is your thing." Lisa spears into the omelette resuming her breakfast.

Jennie smiles and subtly deletes the app when Lisa's not looking.

-

After breakfast cleanup and Jennie has moved on to the next part of their typical Sunday routine, Lisa inquires after a shower, her OCD cleanliness kicking in, not able to wait until she got back to her place. Both are aware but neither points out that the snow has stopped by now and the roads are clear enough that Lisa could well leave to shower at her own apartment.

With the sun reaching its mid afternoon strength, the stranded-by-snowstorm excuse is stretched beyond plausibility as reason for keeping Lisa here. But Jennie happily remains mute if Lisa is as keen as she is to spend a few extra hours together.

Twenty minutes later, Jennie is still hunched over the kitchen counter in intense concentration, in the same position when Lisa had left for the bathroom. Brows furrowed, pout in place.

"Jennie just let me help you."

"No," Jennie rejects the offer with her head still down.

"But if you would just-" she swats Lisa's hand away at her attempt to intervene.

"No, I'm going to get it. I'm so close."

"You said that before I hopped in the shower."

She ignores Lisa's dismissal, then outright startles her a minute later, jumping off the stool and exclaiming, "Aha! Ye of little faith."

It's a good thing Jennie's already off the stool when she at last makes eye contact with Lisa. Her triumphant pump of the fist stops mid-air seeing Lisa back in her jeans and one of Jennie's borrowed tops, hair freshly washed and being air-dried with a towel.

Fuck, she's gorgeous.

Jennie sputters at the sight of Lisa looking so at home and adorable in Jennie's t-shirt with the emblazon, F uck Art.

Lisa doesn't notice her malfunctioning, distractedly looking down assessing the cause for Jennie's excitement.

"Um, babe. It's wrong." The pet name slips out again that neither of them notices in the scuttle.

"What do you mean it's wrong?" Jennie asks indignantly.

"There's already a 2 in that column."

Jennie practically shoves her aside to review the call, and drops her jaw in horror at the rookie mistake. "Noooooo, but I really thought I had it."

The intense concentration returns, pencil back in her left hand as she vigorously rubs out her error. She retakes her post on the stool, zealously hoarding the top left corner of the Puzzles & Games section of the newspaper, trying to will the numbers one to nine to appear out of thin air.

She can hear Lisa failing to suppress her laughter at the image of Grumpy Cat doing Sudoku.

"Here."

Pitying her, Lisa approaches from behind, places one hand gently on Jennie's shoulder, the other reaching forward to point to an empty square. Her lips are close enough to Jennie's ear that she almost grazes it when she says, "9."

"How do you do that?" Jennie dramatically slams her pencil down in disgust, hoping the sound would drown out the gasp she made at Lisa's sudden too-close proximity.

Lisa takes her pencil, and a few jots later, in a matter of seconds, she has all the 3s and 8s filled in as well.

"I thought we covered this already last night. What can I say, I'm good with my hands," Lisa says as she wiggles her fingers in Jennie's vision, receiving a retaliating elbow in the side. She laughs and pokes Jennie in a known ticklish spot before tactically retreating towards the couch out of revenge-striking distance.

Jennie chases after her. When she catches up, they both yelp at the surprise strength she has to topple Lisa onto the couch. They burst into giggles as Jennie tries to tickle her into submission, attacking sensitive ribs.

As expected, her upper-hand is short-lived. Lisa manages to wrangle herself free and somehow flip them so that she is now on top of Jennie. Catches of breath are exchanged for fixed looks until her eyes drop to Jennie's lips.

Jennie can feel Lisa's chest rising and falling against her, and her heart thumps wildly in response, thinking of the many times they were in this exact position on the same couch.

*****

It had been their Sunday morning tradition, Lisa with her crossword and Jennie with Suduko. They would be sitting on the couch, Jennie's back against the arm, and her legs resting leisurely across Lisa's lap.

The May weather had finally brought about the much-anticipated spring, after a particularly brown winter that dirtied boots with sludge and road salt. Green had returned to the leaves and blue to the skies. Migratory birds were back to their perches atop telephone lines and rooftops, providing a pleasant murmur to these early hours. All of which deceptively stretched time in their apartment to an immeasurable breadth.

"What's a five-letter slang word for extremely good, attractive, or stylish?"

"I don't know. What do you have so far?" Jennie asked without looking up.

"I tried L-I-S-A but it doesn't fit."

Jennie blindly reached for a pillow and threw it in her direction.

Lisa expertly dodged the missile. After a pause, she said more seriously, "But there is an L and a E."

"Hmmm, what about FLEEK?" Jennie pondered, and then inflected her voice to take on the cadence of an energetic cheerleader. "Like, your hair is always on fleek?"

"Perfect, that works!" Lisa hummed her satisfaction and made scratches to her newspaper. Jennie felt odd pride at her inner Tween being useful for once.

Not making any progress with her own puzzle, she set it aside on the coffee table, and turned her attention to the familiar sight of an absorbed Lisa tapping her pen against her chin, wholly focused on the half-folded newspaper before her. They were probably the only residents on their block, or in the borough, who still received printed news. But it was a habit that Jennie had never outgrown from her childhood.

Eating a big breakfast, reading the papers, and doing the puzzles were mainstays of Sunday mornings in the Kim household.

("Sundays are for crosswords, Jennie.")

It was her dad's way of ensuring they were a stable unit before the hectic weekdays of meetings and consults and classes and after-school activities would invariably pull them all in different directions. During high school, Lisa (and sometimes Rosé) had joined them, easily folding into the routine, one that had naturally carried forward into college when Jennie and Lisa had moved in together.

She smiled fondly, seeing the tip of that regal nose wrinkle in concentration and the brightness of those eyes moving furtively across the page while calculating strategic placement of letters.

But when the expanse of uninterrupted skin of long smooth legs came into view ("Sundays are not a day for pants, Jennie"), Jennie was suddenly overcome with a desire for a different kind of Sunday activity.

She lifted her legs off of Lisa's lap, and moved to place a knee on either side of Lisa's hips to straddle her. She wordlessly removed the ballpoint and tossed the newspaper to the ground once Lisa stilled her movements after finally cluing into Jennie's new position. Lisa's hand was still in the air, mid-grasp, when Jennie leaned in to whisper seductively, "I'll show you how on fleek you are."

She didn't give Lisa a chance to respond before she grabbed the back of Lisa's neck and pulled her into a heated kiss. Deep and dirty with tongue and teeth.

"I don't think that's how threats work, Jennie," Lisa said through her daze when they came up for air, her eyes darkened and lips bruised. Despite her words, she looked ready to be threatened again. "I'm never going to beat Jisoo at crosswords if you keep kissing me like that."

"Well, if you'd rather think about Jisoo and crosswords," Jennie lifted her leg faking to get off of Lisa.

Promptly, Lisa's hands went to her hips to hold her in place.

"Fuck Jisoo."

"Please don't."

"Never," Lisa declared while tracing the letters of Jennie's F uck Art t-shirt, "I've already got my hands full."

Jennie laughed when Lisa's hands predictably groped her breasts, squeezing for emphasis while waggling her eyebrows.

She leaned in for a sweet kiss which Lisa eagerly accepted but then she seemed to have other ideas on how to preoccupy her hands. Jennie felt them return to her hips, encouraging her into a slow grinding motion. Lisa then slouched a bit before lifting her shirt to provide Jennie with better friction. Jennie moaned, rubbing herself against the hards abs that she could feel through the fabric of her pyjama shorts which were getting damper by the second. The ache was building while intrepid hands went to cup her ass.

Lips then went searching along the column of her neck, sucking lightly at first and more fervently soon after.

"Lis, we can't," Jennie protested half-heartedly while contradictorily craning her neck for better access and weaving a hand through Lisa's bed-head mane to hold her head closer for added pressure. "We'll be late for brunch with your dad," she had no idea what the current time was, and didn't care, but she managed to expel her disingenuous concern for punctuality with the little breath that was starting to deplete rapidly in supply, "he's got some kind of announcement."

"He probably just discovered YouTube."

"It sounded important, I don't want to miss it. Besides, we can't let Rosé and Jisoo beat us there again."

"Challenge," Lisa switched to the other side of her neck, intent on mirroring the hickeys that Jennie could already feel forming, and punctuated the last word, "accepted." With a well-placed suction, she ended her riposte on a smug popping sound.

She lifted her head and that was Jennie's only split-second notice before soft lips were enveloping her once more in a hungry kiss and Lisa's hands snuck under Jennie's shirt to touch skin unimpeded.

A tongue was introduced, Jennie was unsure by whom, at the same time she felt a determined thumb pass over a nipple, then stroked back and forth with increasing pressure, while her other breast was kneaded to match the tempo of Jennie's hip movements. Lisa's quiet panting had Jennie eagerly abandoning any semblance of self-control. She took Lisa's hand, the one not working her nipple under the sweetest torture, to guide it inside her shorts.

Lisa stopped her. Jennie whined but was relieved she only did so to remove both their shorts. She didn't bother taking their tops off not wanting to break their kissing, instead rucking them up to rest above breasts.

They retook their positions and both whimpered when Jennie's wetness painted Lisa's abs as Lisa's hand returned to kneading her breasts.

When long fingers stroked through her, gathering up her soaked neediness to spread across her folds, Jennie had to stop sucking on Lisa's bottom lip for a moment to pace her racing heart. Lisa pulled back slightly too to take in Jennie's flushed cheeks and dilated pupils as she explored while Jennie continued to rock into her.

"So fucking beautiful," Lisa whispered her awe, and slowed down her movements despite the hurried agenda. "I'm so in love with you."

The brunette must be in love because Jennie didn't see how her uncombed hair and her rumbled tee constituted as anything in the neighbourhood of beauty.

"Kindly stop being so damn attractive," Lisa breathed her request as her finger slowly entered Jennie, stroking her gently and stretching her before inserting a second, "It's been over a decade, don't you think that's enough pretty? Have mercy on my poor heart."

Despite what they were doing, it was her words that made Jennie blush.

"I promise to be gentle."

But then, the opposite happened. As if suddenly remembering that they were racing against an invisible clock, within one swell breath, Lisa flipped Jennie on her back to lie atop the couch, and slipped inside again. She somehow had one of Jennie's leg over her shoulder, spreading her wider. Air left Jennie's lungs at the show of strength. Her arms shot out to wrap around Lisa's other shoulder for anchor.

"Not too gentle," Lisa negotiated between pants while pushing in as far as she could reach before pulling out and slamming back in. Jennie bit into her shoulder, avidly nodding her agreement.

Mouths immediately rejoined in a competitive dance of one-upmanship to swallow each other's moans, tongues deepening as Lisa started pushing in and out faster.

With her shirt half ridden, and Lisa's lips and hands insistent, Jennie was happily helpless to the rhythm Lisa had set. They were still more clothed than she'd normally prefer for as much access to Lisa's skin as possible, but she couldn't do anything about their current overdressed situation even if she wanted to. Lisa's commitment to expedite the process demanded her full attention, and left little room for anything else. (They would reserve slow for later that evening when there'd be more time to peel back layer by layer.)

Soon, Jennie had to grab the back of the couch to desperately hang on after Lisa added a third finger, her thrusts taking on a merciless pace, using her shoulder as leverage to drive as deeply as possible. Jennie surrendered to the rhythm and encouraged it with pitch cries in Lisa's ear.

So consumed by the closeness of her orgasm, almost wailing at how near the edge she was, Jennie didn't realise Lisa had withdrawn and scooted down until she felt a tongue replacing fingers.

Lisa tried to make up with speed for what her tongue lacked in reach and girth. Jennie had no complaints especially not with the moans Lisa was emitting as if she was the one in Jennie's position, legs spread and being thoroughly fucked. She nearly blacked out when Lisa's lips sucked on her clit and fingers reentered.

Somewhere between the swipe of Lisa's tongue over her clit and the slide of her fingers, accumulating wetness on the way out that lips then hungrily swallowed, Jennie came with a hoarse cry, flooding herself all over Lisa's mouth and chin.

When Jennie's breathing evened, Lisa withdrew gently, giving her a slow final lick and gentle kiss before she came back up to straddle Jennie again.

She locked eyes on Jennie, waited a beat, then proceeded to suck her fingers, moaning at the taste. Jennie felt a fresh rush of arousal seeing them wrapped in a different warmth.

Licking them only half clean, Lisa looked to Jennie in silent ask, and receiving a nod, pulled her fingers out of her mouth and gently pushed them into Jennie's. Lisa pumped slowly as she started grinding on Jennie's bare thigh.

Their frenzied chase for Jennie's high must have left Lisa soaking uncomfortably earlier going by the wetness on her leg now. Jennie was getting worked up again at the dual stimulation of being orally penetrated by Lisa's fingers while feeling Lisa spread herself in tight circles; her other hand bracing Jennie's shoulder, her eyes closed, mouth opened, cheeks rosy and head tipped back as she moved deliberately against Jennie.

Seeing Lisa covered in a light sheen of perspiration, Jennie couldn't help but think, god she's so stupidly pretty-and was determined to help her fall, if only to see that beautiful face when she tipped over the edge.

Jennie slipped her left hand between her thigh and Lisa's completely swollen lips. She curled her fingers up to easily enter Lisa who immediately began to ride them gratefully. Lisa timed her continuing thrusts into Jennie's mouth to synchronise with every time she came down on Jennie's fingers. She would apply soft pressure to Jennie's tongue whenever she reconnected with her thigh.

Jennie would ruminate on Lisa's multi-tasking talent if only to selfishly prolong her own pleasure, but she knew her girlfriend was close, and needed relief soon. Jennie took Lisa's hand off her shoulder and urged it instead to palm her breast again. At the same time she lifted her hips and squeezed Lisa's ass to bring the lower half of their bodies closer.

Jennie angled her hand to give Lisa as much leverage as possible to rub harder against her palm on the downstroke. She felt herself dripping seeing the bounce of Lisa's breasts from her efforts, shirt still rumbled past to expose hard, pink nipples.

She needed more, and wanted to give Lisa more.

Jennie tapped her wrist to indicate for Lisa to withdraw from her mouth. Lisa complied and opened her eyes, looking blissed and confused.

"Baby, I want to taste you too," Jennie alerted.

She nudged Lisa off her fingers, which induced a laughable pout that turned into an uncontrollable grin when she gestured for her to shimmy up until her thighs were positioned on either side of Jennie's face. Lisa stared down at her with completely blown pupils, straining to hold back her excitement. Jennie nodded and then the next thing she felt was Lisa's warmth descending on her, enveloping her.

She stiffened her tongue as much as possible while Lisa resumed her riding movements. When the speed increased and Lisa started fucking herself using Jennie's mouth with abandon, Jennie couldn't decide what to do with her hands so she split the difference, one hand palming Lisa's ass, the other circling her own clit. Feeling Lisa get wetter as her walls possessively contracted around Jennie's tongue, she pushed two fingers inside herself to relieve the throb.

Jennie pushed in with every moan and whimper she pulled out of Lisa by her tongue.

"Oh god, Jennie." Lisa's eyes were scrunched in pleasure, chanting her name over and over, until she finally gasped out, "Baby, I- I can't hold it anymore."

Jennie somehow managed to open her mouth wider, driving her tongue in deeper while pressing her upper lip hard on Lisa's clit to help her let go. The reaction was immediate, Lisa spilled herself all over Jennie.

"Fuck."

She lifted herself off of Jennie's face and repositioned her body to hover over her, giving her breathing room to recover.

"We just did," Jennie said after taking a large gulp of air. She moved one arm to cover her eyes, panting heavily, and smiled when she felt kitten licks across her chin, Lisa helping to clean up her mess.

"I love you," Lisa said, smiling against Jennie's lips before she collapsed atop her, adding to the heap of loose limbs and wild hair.

"I love you. So much," Jennie returned, with equal adoration.

She tightened her hold around Lisa's shoulders and kissed her temple, when she caught sight of the time and chuckled. Jennie praisingly patted Lisa on the back. "Good job babe. We still got like 20 minutes."

Lisa lifted her head to verify, and then raised her hand in a high-five request.

"Really?" Jennie squinted at her through one eye. "Are you asking for a high-five after sex?" At Lisa's smirk and half-shrug, she slapped the open hand good-naturedly, earning a kiss to the cheek.

They laid there for another five minutes, and Jennie was almost asleep when Lisa stood and stretched a hand out to help her up.

"Let's go shower. I'll just text Dad that we've got plumbing issues and will be 15 minutes late." Eyebrows wag suggestively as she took off her shirt while walking backwards in the direction of their bedroom, before turning abruptly and sprinting towards it.

"Coming?"

*****

The air stills around them as Lisa hovers over Jennie on the couch, knees on either side of her hips, holding her down gently by her wrists above her head.

Thoughts of Sudoku and crosswords are no longer on Jennie's mind.

Their giggles subsided once they grasped the position they were in. But instead of blushing at their proximity, especially coming out of her memory, Jennie is nervous trying to read Lisa's expression that has fallen unexpectedly quiet and pensive. The playfulness of earlier is replaced by a sudden heaviness that's not from the weight of feeling Lisa against her body again.

Her heart thuds loudly in anticipation of what's to come, her anxiety heightened by the way Lisa is biting her lower lip and looking at her as if the answers of the universe is laid before her yet somehow so far out of reach.

"We could have had this," Lisa whispers, gesturing a hand between them and then more vaguely at the apartment though presumably she metaphorically means this weekend and their time together. "Why didn't you want this?" she asks, putting a heartbreaking hand to her chest, fingers splayed out in supplication as much as to steady herself.

Jennie feels her insides twist suddenly, painfully.

"Why didn't you come for me?"

She has to strain to hear the question with how quietly Lisa asks it. When the words do finally reach her ear, the murmured sounds have become a roar and would have knocked her over if she isn't already on her back.

Her chest tightens.

"Lisa," Jennie breathes.

Lisa's gaze is no longer on Jennie but a spot above her head, possibly at their hands. There's a deep swallow before Lisa lets go of Jennie's wrists, and shifts to sit cross-legged on the couch. Jennie immediately misses the warmth but knows the distance is necessary for the conversation. She adjusts her body so that she's mirroring Lisa, who's now looking down at her thumbs.

"I know you said no. But I thought you needed time and would eventually come," Lisa says, her voice quiet and sad.

Jennie feels ashamed about how much time she needed, wasted, before she realised the full extent of her actions. Before it was too late. She's about to answer when Lisa continues, looking forlorn.

"There's this mews, a small cobblestone laneway, near Kensington that I wandered into once when I got off at the wrong station. The painted brickwork caught my eye as I walked by trying to reorient myself. Do you know what my first thought was?"

Jennie can see the strenuous effort Lisa is making not to let tears fall from her eyes that have welled up from the memory, despite staring blankly while telling her story, trying to keep emotion out of it. Though phrased as a question, Jennie knows Lisa isn't expecting an answer, and stays quiet to let her continue.

"My first thought wasn't about the nice brick pattern or interesting example of postwar architecture. It was, would Jennie like this?"

Her voice is steady enough but Lisa lets out a shuddered breath that matches the shake of Jennie's own hands, holding themselves back from wanting to comfort her and doing a better job than the gasp that had escaped.

"It had already been two years since I moved to London. And still, when I should be trying to find my way back to make a meeting that I was already late for, I thought of you. Whether you'd like the different colour facades or would find it too tacky. I was thinking," Lisa pauses to discretely wipe the corner of her eyes, "if there was a two-bedroom flat with a chartreuse-coloured door and cute shuttered windows waiting for you, would you come?"

Jennie's heart crumbles.

Perhaps it's being back in this space, in the microcosm of where their love bloomed and matured and ultimately withered, that it's been such an emotionally unpredictable weekend. They're surrounded by the discarded petals that Jennie had plucked off the bud, and trying to make sense whether they're standing in a graveyard of regret and sorrow, or there's enough scattered seeds to plant a new flower field of hope and happiness.

But of everything that she has put Lisa through in the last four years-ever since the fateful brunch with Henry that she didn't know at the time was the beginning of the end-there is one wrong that Jennie can right, one sprout of truth that she can offer.

"Lisa," Jennie repeats hoping to capture Lisa's gaze this time. It's been minutes since Jennie has seen a glimpse of green. Infinitely too long.

When Lisa finally does look up, Jennie's heart aches in equal measure to the pain that she reads in the gloss of her eyes.

Jennie tearfully reaches out to take Lisa's trembling hand, and sighs a small relief that she isn't reticent about the touch.

"I am sorry, Lisa," she expresses with deep sorrow, a meagre mea culpa that doesn't even begin to convey the depth of her remorse. "I'm sorry for what I did and how I've made you feel." She takes in a deep breath. "But, to fully answer your question, even though it's rhetorical and I'm probably several years too late, there's something I want to show you," Jennie says nervously.

Jennie can see the confusion all over Lisa's face as she stands and stretches a hand out to help her up. When Lisa takes it, she chances lacing her fingers through Lisa's hand and leads them towards the front door, grabbing the couch throw on the way out.

At Lisa's deepening furrowed brow, Jennie clarifies in a soft tone, "It's downstairs. In my studio."

-

In painting, Jennie works with cracks that form slowly by brittle failure of dry paint. Where it's a natural consequence of time and nature, she folds it into her process, plays with the perceptual effects of disrupted paint and the way certain light passages can make visually obvious what has before gone un-noticed.

Bringing Lisa into her studio feels like Lisa is the light and Jennie is the paint.

All of Jennie's vulnerabilities and struggles will be laid bare for her perceptive eyes to see, that to everyone else are just strikes of charcoal and graphite, and swathes of green that have never made it onto her canvases.

For Lisa, it might reveal what the years apart have meant to Jennie, what fault lines have erupted and carved themselves onto tattered fabrics during nights of anguish, what marks and scratches have filled her sketchbooks during empty days when her canvas refused to be anything but vacant, what cracks Jennie hides in her art so that she didn't have to face them in her life.

The studio will be new to Lisa, only ever having shared her workspace with Jennie in their cramped den. It came after Lisa had left for London when Jennie purchased both the upstairs and downstairs space. Usually, they'd enter through the main front door and immediately descend the stairs up to their second floor apartment, never paying heed to the ground floor door around the corner other than when they crossed paths with the downstairs neighbour to say hi.

It used to be an old printing shop, back when the residential street had mix commercial use as well. A graphic designer had rented it out as his live/work space before Jennie had taken over.

When it came into her possession, Dawn helped to transfer most of Jennie's materials for setup downstairs and to convert the small kitchen into her supplies washing station. Jennie had decided to keep the vintage risograph printer that the designer had left behind, using it for small print jobs to help advertise her exhibitions.

The machinery notwithstanding, it's an artist's space in every sense with canvases of all sizes leaned against walls, which themselves are adorned with coloured prints, while buckets of gesso and tubes of acrylic and oil neatly and messily line metal shelves, along with different types of light fixtures and numerous tin cans containing a variety of brushes and charcoal sticks.

In the centre of the room are two large skids that allows Jennie to work on larger pieces on the floor.

"When did Win move out?" Lisa asks as she surveys the room, eyes continually scanning while standing in front of the worktable that she built from discarded doors, and absently brushing her hand against the stained wood.

The table is positioned in front of the large window, next to a set of drawers holding different types of paper and sketches. Jennie's sketchbooks are scattered atop of both surfaces. Two stools, one stationary, the other on castors, sit listlessly as if they had been abandoned on a moment's notice. A third armchair sits between them, looking loved and lived in because Jennie uses it sometimes for her morning coffee but more often for knitting or reading when sleep escapes her.

"Not long after you left," Jennie answers as she arranges the plaid blanket down at an open space on the floor where they could sit and lean against the only free wall.

She decides to forgo the three seating options, needing to be physically closer to Lisa for what she is about to reveal.

(She puts it out of her mind how she had sat behind Lisa on the stool teaching her how to paint, holding the brush for her and holding her breath because they were doing it topless.)

Jennie pats a spot on the blanket, gesturing for Lisa to get comfortable on the ground while she rummages her drawers to locate the desired sketchbook.

Once found, she returns to join Lisa, siting next to her close enough that their shoulders brush as their backs lean against the wall. She pulls her knees up and props the sketchbook on top.

A deep breath.

Silence ensues, except for the turning of paper, as Jennie flips to the desired page. In the spine is an envelope, plain white, standard size, unmarked and unstamped.

For how unimportant it looks, she hands it to Lisa as if transferring a bomb.

Lisa looks at her curiously, a question in her eyes, as she gingerly takes the envelope. Reading its meaningfulness in Jennie's scared blues, she handles it delicately.

"It's for you," Jennie says, not able to raise her voice above a whisper, "it's um ... you'll see."

What Lisa will see when she opens it is the fifth letter Jennie wrote to her but the fifth one she didn't send.

-

Jennie closes her eyes and leans her head back against the wall, hands hanging loosely over her knees, and leaving Lisa to discover the contents. She hears the sharp inhale as Lisa starts to read, and then not a sound after, figuring she's holding her breath line by line.

She tries to stay still, not wanting to disrupt the frailty of the moment. In the letter she had wondered where Lisa would be if the one written before it had reached her. But to have Lisa reading this one, sat next to her, in the studio of their home and after a night and morning spent together, is beyond the future she foresaw when the words leaked out of her porous heart-when the ocean between them had kept Jennie and Lisa on either shores of holding on and moving on.

Next thing Jennie hears is the rustling of paper again as Lisa is likely opening up the folded napkin sketch that accompanies the letter. Jennie knows the one without looking, it's two figures standing in front of Big Ben.

Her heart feels like it's beating out of her chest, sounds of crashing waves fill her ears.

On the same trip as Barcelona, they had spent a few days in the south of Spain. There's a beach there, where the Mediterranean meets the Atlantic, where sea ends and ocean begins. Jennie remembers standing mesmerised on the walkway watching both bodies of water-rough and windy with crashing waves on one side and peaceful and still ripples on the other-and marvelling at the impossibility of such an encounter. Blue and green, warm and cool, co-existing.

She remembers staring at it, so absorbed in her perceptual meditation on where the separation of colours occurs and trying to isolate the exact moment they mix, she had forgotten where she was until Lisa's warm hands wrapped a light scarf around her bare shoulders. ("You'll burn, love.")

She remembers when she turned around to look at Lisa, gathered up in her protective embrace, she saw the deepest affection-the meaning of love-in the colour of her eyes, filling Jennie's vision with dense forest instead of ocean and sea. She imagined then a house by the water amongst the trees and mountains.

Jennie can hear the crashing waves now, and can make out the house, precariously perched on a cliff's edge, windswept and battered but still standing.

Sharing the letter and the sketch feels like she's on the precipice. Of what, she's not sure yet. She's not sure if the tide of truth will pull them closer to the house or farther away.

Goosebumps and the hairs on her arm rise when several silent minutes later, Lisa puts a halting hand over hers. The touch is both anchoring and unmooring.

"Jennie?"

Jennie prolongs the minute as much as she can-an expanded breath of time-before answering knowing that when she opens her eyes and parts her lips things may never be the same with Lisa again.

By the way Lisa is looking at her when she does give her attention, Jennie is thankful for the extra seconds she took to compose herself.

Lisa's eyes shine with held-back emotion and utter confusion. Her knees are drawn up to her chest, the letter balanced on them while the sketch is held shakily in her hands.

"Jennie, I don't understand. The letter is undated but the sketch says June 2017 on the back."

"The sketch wasn't drawn in New York, it was drawn onsite," Jennie says slowly, her voice adopting the tremor of Lisa's hand, the implication hanging for a moment before she discloses, "And the letter was written a month after I got back."

"Got back?" Lisa parrots as a question, letting the words echo in the room while she tries to grasp their meaning. When it comes, she looks incredulous. "You went to London?"

"Yes."

"Last summer?"

"Yes."

"London?"

Jennie nods.

"To answer your other question, I did come for you."