going once, going twice (one-shot)

going once, going twice

Jennie clutches her head and curls up into a ball, her body trembling in unimaginable pain, her nails digging into her scalp, her breathing coming in short, ragged, muffled bursts. She keeps her eyes shut, feels the tears leaking despite her best efforts, bites the bedsheets to keep from screaming.

She's survived this before. She knows from experience that there will be no relief until it's done, no medicine that can help, no one she can rely on to keep this secret.

The pain doesn't come in waves, doesn't give her space to breathe, doesn't offer temporary relief. It is relentless, and it's all Jennie can do to keep her heart beating. Maybe it'll kill her this time. But then, she thinks of Lisa, and Jennie hopes with everything she is that she survives this one more time. She's been waiting and looking for far too long, and now that they're both here, alive and well and so close, Jennie would rather lay here, helpless to the pain, and survive it against all odds than be without her again.

Her mind fills to the brim with memories, moments, and years. The pain reaches a new peak like it does every time this happens, and Jennie couldn't have stopped the tortured yelp that clawed its way out of her clenched teeth even if she tried.

She tries not to break but does her best to remember.

--------------------

They meet much the same way they always do: Jennie breaks a rule.

Lisa had been shy. She barely talked to anyone, and Jennie knew that it was because she didn't have a firm grasp of the Korean language just yet. Lisa always stayed at the back of training rooms and dance studios, trying her best not to be noticed. But when she was called to the front, when the music filled the space in and out of her body, when she thought of nothing but the beat, Lisa was, and still is, enchanting.

Jennie had been shy, too. It took her weeks before she managed to summon all the courage she had just to approach Lisa. She remembered being worried that Lisa would be scared of her like most people are because she doesn't smile all the time, because she's not always happy, because sometimes, she just wants to cry. But Lisa has never been most people because the moment she so much as said hi, Lisa lit up, bright and brilliant, before telling her in a rush of broken Korean that she thought she was amazing and inspiring.

She was taken aback because Lisa looked like she'd been waiting to say that for as long as Jennie's been trying to talk to her.

And then, Lisa began a flustered round of apologies. "I'm so sorry, I don't mean to sound... how do I say... creepy? You're just..."

Jennie had smiled, maybe even giggled a little. She'd known right there that Lisa was worth it. So, without a second thought, she broke a rule.

"Thank you, Lalisa," she'd said in English, softening at the pure awe that overtook Lisa's flustered state. "Don't tell anyone I'm doing this, yeah?"

"I-of course! Please call me Lisa."

"I'm Jennie."

Lisa relaxed as she scratched the back of her neck. "Hello. Would you like to dance with me?" She asked, gesturing at the empty dance studio.

"I'd love to."

--------------------

Here's a secret: that was not the first time they met.

--------------------

Jennie tries to act like her reality is the same as everyone else's. If she didn't know any better, she would have said that that's the hardest thing she's ever had to do. But that's not true – she'd done and survived much harder things.