Midnights In Paris | Jenlisa

Icarus

There always seemed to be a veil of glass between Jennie and her. However clearly Lisa thought she could understand her, she could never really reach for her. Sometimes, more literally than she cared to admit.

She felt the warm water run over her, letting it wash the soap from her hair by itself. Even moving her hands seemed like too much of an effort. A waterfall of problems washed over her as she thought about the everything of the small things and the nothingness of the bigger picture. In spite of every tangible thing that bothered her nights, nothing ever seemed to matter like she did.

That was the realization she had come to: no amount of time, pain or anger could ever stop her from loving her. She was not sure of many things in her life but that, whatever feeling she would not name love because too reducing, would never fade away from her.

She dreamed of her with the lights on and her eyes open. She dreaded having to go to sleep, because no chemical induced hallucination her brain pulled on her would ever amount to the real thing. And Jennie was that, and so much more.

As she let herself dissociate, lulled by the warm water against her skin. Her eyes closed, unvoluntarily, and she let the water swallow her whole as if she was nothing but a part of it.

She dreamed of being in the ocean, its waves rocking her slowly, almost mirroring a mother's embrace. It wasn't that different from how she was truly feeling. Even a flat calm could anticipate a tsunami, after all.

That's why, when a hand traced her spine, her lips parted and she gasped for air. She realized, admist the initial shock, that she had been holding her breath all along.

She didn't turn immediately, and it was almost like she wasn't expected to. She could feel the coldness, rather than the warmth, of the body behind her, pushing her without touching and it almost made her want to shift and make space for her under the water jet.

Again, a hand reached for her. It laid on her hip and her thumb went  to stroke at the iliac crest of her pelvis.
She traced it down with her middle finger too, her touch burning even under water.

Her mouth replaced her prior wondering hand and she placed kisses down her spine. Vertebra after vertebra, she traced them all with her lips until she memorized it with her tongue.

And Lisa shivered under such attentions, never imagining she could feel that secure without being held.

"Jennie..." she whispered, suddenly feeling the urge to talk to her and apologize. She wasn't so sure what for, she just needed her to know that she would do anything to hear her sweet words coming out of her mouth and see, again, the light in her eyes she reserved just for her. And if that implied having to apologize for every fight and every mistake the two of them made, even if it was not her fault. Even if it was nobody's fault, she would gladly do it. Because she had come to learn that Love was not stubborn, nor vendicative. Love was as peaceful and forgiving as the ocean.

That's why, when Jennie shushed her, peppering her neck and her shoulders with kisses, she realized that she already knew. There was no need telling her. She already had her heart.

And when she turned around, with her limbs soft and her feet unstable, and met her eyes, for a splint of second, she felt such a joy rising from inside her, swallowing her whole and threatening, almost dangerously, to escape from her, as fast as it had come.