Your hand in mine

Season 2 - 6

Jennie wakes up to a dry throat and a pounding headache. A headache that's echoed in each hurried knock on her door. No. That's not right. Each knock on her door echoes in her head, bringing forth a new wave of dull pain and nausea.

Her arm shoots out, blindly searching for Jisoo on the other side of her bed. That's when she realizes she is not, in fact, lying in her bed. She is on a couch, and her sudden movement sends her tumbling to the floor.

And the knocking is still there, growing more and more persistent.

"Ugh," she groans. "Chuu. Jisoo!"

Nothing. Either she is still dead asleep, or it's her at the door. Maybe she went out to get some food and forgot the key. For some reason, that seems so plausible Jennie doesn't even try to make herself look presentable - or at least slightly resembling a human being. She slowly rises to her feet and trudges to the door, rubbing her temples. Her headache is so massive she doesn't even have any energy to yell at Jisoo to stop knocking.

"I hope you got something greasy, because--" it's not Jisoo. It's not Jisoo and the words are lodged in her throat as she freezes after throwing the door open, mouth hanging open.

Y/n stares back, and her gaze is sharp and angry. Seeing her there jostles Jennie awake, fully and completely, and with that, comes a realization. It's still dark outside.

"What..." She clears her throat, still too shocked at the sight of Y/n outside her door. "What time is it?"

"It's almost one in the morning," Y/n informs her in a low, bristled tone. Oh. So only a couple of hours have passed since she went to her and met Kate. And then came back and desperately tried to drown out everything that's rushing in right now with all the alcohol she could find. Which wasn't much. Only half a bottle of wine. Jennie is not really sure if it was a good thing.

Okay. So it's one in the morning. That still doesn't explain why she is here. And, because Jennie is still a little bit drunk and also hungover, she doesn't bother herself with thinking before speaking. "Okay. What are you doing here?"

The sigh Y/n heaves in reply is long and exasperated. While she takes a pause, Jennie gets the chance to study her - mildly disheveled - appearance. Dark jeans and a simple white t-shirt under a black coat. It doesn't clash, but it doesn't quite match, either, and Jennie blinks in muted surprise. She have never seen Y/n wearing something that didn't click . Everything about her clothes is puzzle pieces coming together to form one clear picture. Even wearing Jennie's sweatpants and her undershirt, Y/n still managed to look like a model, ready for a domestic photoshoot. Right now, though; right now she looks like -- she looks good, but she clearly didn't pay any attention to what she was tugging on herself.

She didn't even know Y/n owned sneakers, for God's sake.

Jennie realizes she is taken too much time idly staring at her when Y/n clears her throat with slight indignation. "What am I doing here?" Her gaze bores into Jennie as her voice tilts. She sounds incredulous. And tired.

But Jennie is tired too. And still hungover. "Well, no offense, but you kind of made it very clear where we stood. About an hour ago. You being here is very contradictory." Did she mention she was still drunk?

"Two," Y/n says coolly.

"What?"

"It was two hours ago."

Jennie sighs. "Does it matter?" She is finally fully aware of her surroundings, and she hates it. And, perhaps, for the first time since falling in love with her - or for the first time since she met her, even - she really doesn't want to see Y/n. Because when she looks at her, she doesn't just see her. She sees Kate's hands around her waist and Kate's fingers lightly scratching at her abs and Kate's lips pressed to her cheek, neck, eager mouth, and her heart hurts worse than her head.