𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄 - 𝐉𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐆𝐀 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒

lipstick stain (j.o)

*updated!

i study my reflection, taking in every curve that presses against the fabric of my dress, clinging just enough to betray the outline of my hips, my waist, the lines and shadows that fall so naturally, so unmistakably me. i can feel her presence behind me, her hands moving over the dress with a gentle and reverent touch, smoothing out every forbidden crease, chasing away any sign of imperfection.

"there," she whispers, her voice thick with a french lilt that coats each word like a soft hum. "you're all set for the show, darling." she steps back, her hands drifting from the fabric as if letting go reluctantly. her eyes scan me, inspecting her work with some sort of pride.

"all ready," i murmur in an echo, feeling the words slip out in a breath, as if i needed to say it to myself as much as to her. i watch my own hands, press out the last traces of wrinkle from the gown's front, a slimming midnight-black that glistens in the faint light.

behind me, she gathers her things—a small collection of her own belongings—her purse held carefully in one hand as she leaves behind the larger pieces that will await my return.

"i'll give you a moment before the red carpet, dear," she says as i catch her gaze in the mirror, reassurance lingering in her eyes as she speaks.

i nod, straightening a few last details, feeling her words settle over me like a final touch like a gentle nudge toward the night ahead.

i nod once again, my head tilting softly as though my movements are silent. "yeah, okay," i murmur. i lean in toward the mirror, my reflection meeting me halfway as i adjust my small shimmering gold hoop earrings. the weight of them feels too much, pressing against the delicate skin of my lobes until i loosen them, letting the ache subside with a faint sigh escaping my lips.

behind me, there's plenty others already shifting, rushing to gather stray brushes, folded fabrics, etcetera—all of them having a task at hand.

i watch her in the mirror's reflection, her voice a gentle command, directing the others in quiet tones as if this were her space and her ceremony to arrange. "that's it, run along," her words fade as she stands in the doorway, casting one last look around the room before closing the door with a soft click, sealing me into the silence of my own company.

this isn't unfamiliar; i've been here before. this same small room, shared its same hands and voices and last-minute touches in the past. it's my third oscar's show, isn't it? yes, i think.

tracing the years back, each one is marked by the same certainty, the same calm that fills me tonight. nerves have never been my companion, not even in my first year when the noise and lights and flashing cameras were a novelty instead of a familiar glow.

awards don't bother me much either. if my name gets called tonight, it is, and if it isn't, well, there's no sense in worrying. i already have one gleaming trophy at home, a golden figure casting light across my shelf, tall and proud. the plaque at its base bears my name, the letters catching each thread of light, a reminder of how far i've come and how much i have to be grateful for.

though tonight, there's something different. there's a quiet humming thrill beneath it all. tonight, i've brought jenna, my... well, to the world, she's my costar, a familiar face beside mine from that film we shot so long ago. but to me—oh, to me, she's my secret, my love, my heart held close and safe from the eyes of everyone who thinks they know me. the world can keep their assumptions, they can let themselves think they see everything, but tonight, jenna is here, and she's mine in a way no red carpet or award could ever capture.

it's almost unbelievable how we've kept ourselves hidden and how we've slipped through the cracks of prying eyes and curious lenses. they still see us as close friends, good friends, maybe the kind you'd expect to catch at lunch or premieres, not the kind with secrets folded between their fingertips. somehow, the paparazzi never catch us just right. they never seem to manage to find us in moments when a touch lingers a beat too long or a gaze flickers with something raw enough to tell the whole world who we really are to each other.