Glimpse of Us | Jenlisa [COMPLETED]

Chapter 20

The door swings open.

Lisa's water-logged brain registers that. (Is there such a thing as alcohol-logged? Her mind feels soggy and useless and- She's drunk. She's just really fucking drunk.)

It's why it takes her so long to raise her head, to be concerned that someone just walked in.

(Deep down she knows who it is, this far gone Lisa can admit to herself that every time Jennie enters a room her very body feels it, that her skin blooms with goosebumps every time she walks near.)

She looks up at her.

Jennie looks like a goddamn angel, her brow twisted, her feline eyes looking down at her, her hair like a halo around her. She looks like a fucking Renaissance painting.

Lisa must look as pathetic as she feels.

Her head feels heavy, like she's in college and Jennie has convinced her to try weed brownies for the first time. She remembers that feeling, her head like an alien's, too heavy for her to rise. She remembers Jennie's laugh. They laughed so much back then.

Her head is heavy now, too. Or is it her heart? Maybe both.

The aftertaste of vodka is strong in the back of her mouth, and Lisa isn't sure she can tell her forehead from her ass anymore.

The thought makes a chuckle escape her lips, and the sound makes Jennie -Jennie's here- jump. Lisa forces herself to stop. If she keeps laughing she'll cry, and she hasn't cried yet. She doesn't want to. She wants to forget there's even a reason too.

She tries and fails to sit up a bit, but her hand slips on the tiles. She's slumped against the...washing machine? Stove? And she can't even sit up against it properly. She bets she can't walk. She couldn't last year. She probably can't now. Who's gonna help her up? Jennie? Lisa lets her chin meet her chest, the weight of her thoughts too heavy to carry anymore.

Suddenly there's movement so much closer beside her, and the hair on her arms stand on end. It makes her jump. She must definitely look as pathetic as she feels.

But there's no judgment in Jennie's eyes as she sits next to her on the cold floor.

Then again, Lisa is so drunk she can barely see straight.

She feels like holding her breath and she doesn't even know why. Jennie studies her, concern...is it concern?... in her features. When was the last time they were this close? The shed? When Jennie had hugged her so close and tight she'd thought for one fucking terrible second that it was all a mistake, that they could move past things, that Jennie could dump her boyfriend and she could stay in the city and they'd love each other again. She can admit it now. She can admit a lot of things when she's this drunk that she'd never let herself consider out loud. Jennie looks beautiful right now. She smells like home. Like a place Lisa misses. Suddenly, Lisa is glad she's drunk. She's pathetic.

And Jennie is here.

Panic seizes her chest.

If Jennie is here-

"Ella-" She tries to stand up, but her hand knocks over the bottle of vodka while she searches the floor for purchase. Its contents feel the room, acrid and sharp, and Lisa looks around in a moment of clarity. Her daughter can't see her like this. "Ella."

"She's with my mom," Jennie tells her, pushing her back down. Her hands on Lisa's shoulders burn.

Lisa slumps back down.

"How much have you had to drink?" Jennie asks.

Lisa looks around, to the bottle next to her, to the glass in her hand. Did she have a few beers before hand or did she go straight for the hard stuff? No, she doesn't have beer in the house -she never liked it, that was all Jennie. Jennie doesn't live here anymore -here is not even home, it's just an apartment, some fucking rat hole she ran to when things got hard, a place she escaped to to avoid talking to her wife at the pinnacle of her cowardice. She hurt her daughter. She pushed away Jennie and everyone who ever cared about her. She hurt Ella. She's still hurting Ella. She's a fucking mess.