won't you stay the night | chaennie

seven

It takes some deliberation before Jennie decides on what to bring for dinner to Chaeyoung's that night.

The obvious solution to her indecision would be to call Chaeyoung and ask, but she feels oddly determined to choose herself and hope she gets it right.

She settles on something easy, something she'd seen Chaeyoung order before and sends it to George with a timeline of when she'll head to Chaeyoung's. The rest of the afternoon slogs by in a series of project meetings and a good hour of trying to put a dent in her inbox. It all feels like a slow slide until she sees Chaeyoung again.

When she's finally done and heading home, a small portion of nerves returns to her stomach. She's not sure there's wisdom in electing to spend an evening at home alone with Chaeyoung. The confidence she tried to have earlier about being friends feels like it's retreating inch by inch.

But she forces herself to suppress all of that and focus on changing out of her work clothes into something more appropriate for watching a basketball game with a former fuck buddy turned complicated mess of a friend.

Just thinking of it makes her shake her head at herself in the mirror and pour a calming glass of red wine. Regardless, it still takes her a half hour and sixteen outfit choices before she settles on a casual pair of black jeans and a top.

George picks her up precisely on time and there are two white bags full of hot takeout food waiting for her in the backseat. He gives her a reassuring smile that she tries to return and then dutifully drives her to Chaeyoung's apartment building.

If she lingers a few moments inside the back of the car before entering the building, no one but George has to know.

By the time she's ringing the doorbell, it occurs to her that Chaeyoung's likely not in any position to be walking to the door. Or rather even if she tried to do so it'd probably take her fifteen minutes to get from the bedroom to the front hall.

But before Jennie can think of a suitable solution, her phone is buzzing in the purse slung over her shoulder and she fumbles around with the food in her hands to fish it out.

It's Chaeyoung.

"Hi," Jennie greets.

"It's open," Chaeyoung says. "I'd open it myself, but I don't want you to die out there waiting for me."

Jennie laughs even though Chaeyoung's voice sounds strained and self-pitying as she says it. "Just stay put," Jennie instructs, pushing the door open to the murmured sound of a television.

"I'm on the couch," Chaeyoung's voice calls out both over the phone and through the apartment. Jennie disconnects the call and drops her phone back into her purse, striding through the front entryway towards the living room.

"Hey," Jennie greets, coming around the couch to set the bags of takeout on the table in front of Chaeyoung.

"Ooh, Maxwell's," Chaeyoung says, the smile on her face feeling like a reward for making the right food decision.

"I hope you're hungry," she says, depositing her purse on a side table covered with flowers and well wishes before taking a good look at Chaeyoung.

"Always," Chaeyoung replies, shifting just slightly, but cringing as she does it.

There's what looks like an ice pack inexpertly strapped around her waist and a blanket is slipping off her legs. Without thinking of it, Jennie moves forward, settling Chaeyoung from moving too much with a hand to her shoulder as her other hand inspects the saran-wrap Chaeyoung's used to keep the ice pack at her back.