Summary:
There's just something in missing someone that has you enjoying the sanctity of quiet moments even more.
Notes:
Also isn't it lovely to just savor the beautiful things shared between two people without uttering a word or sometimes in things said between the lines? Do I make sense? No? I know, I'm fucking sleepy that's why.
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She opens the windows. The buzzing of the fan barely audible from the sound of rain against roofs that made her comb through her hair to keep her hands still.
“Is it bothering you?” Jennie asks from the bed and Lisa finds herself smiling at her poor attempt of masking the worry in her voice with a light chuckle. “The rain?”
“Not really,” there’s a sheen of sweat on her shoulders that Lisa finds herself admiring, the pool of blankets not really doing much to cover most of her back, “I feel like it’s bothering you more.”
Jennie smiles at this and continues to read the book she has cradled in between pillows, writing notes on the margins every once in a while. Brows furrowing before she breaks out into another soft smile that creases the sides of her eyes and puffing her cheeks.
“What are you reading?” She settles on a chair, draping her hand behind it, hitching most of the fabric of her t-shirt and exposing a bit of skin.
It gets Jennie to look up and stare.
“Are you doing this on purpose?”
“What?” she asks innocently.
“That,” Jennie shifts on the bed, “Whatever that is you’re doing with the chair and your shirt.”
“It’s called sitting, love.” Lisa says between laughs,
“Well, whatever it is—is distracting me.”
Lisa laughs again, most of it cutting through the sound of rain that filled the room. The coldness doesn’t bother her that much and so she draws little circles on the skin of her thighs, wanting to test out just how long she could keep Jennie’s attention.
“You’re doing it again.” Jennie whispers, voice edging towards frustration.
“Hmm?”
“You should wear something,” Jennie says with a whine, “I don’t know, why don’t you try shorts or pajamas, or something?”
“ You should wear something, love,” she retorts, seeing the red flush that travels the length of Jennie’s back as she tries to pull at covers that only managed to wrinkle and pool around her. “Are you not cold?”
Jennie laughs at this and gives her an amused look, “Really now? You’re asking me that question?”
“I’m going to take that as the Jennie way of saying; the cold never bothered me anyway.”
“Such a wiseass.”
“Only with you.” Lisa bites back a grin, instead pointing out the forgotten book that got lost among the pillows, “Is that something for class?”
“You’re not giving up, are you?”
Lisa shakes her head in answer, smiling the moment Jennie fishes it from beneath cream colored pillows. Lisa loves watching her like this. Doing utterly mundane stuff that has her wanting to take the space beside her on the bed and looking into the little, sometimes unintelligible writing she has spent hours writing on the margins, playing with her hair. Little windows to her thoughts.
