A/N: My characters need to calm down and they did! Also, there are only 7 remaining chapters to this first installment. I'm grateful for each of you who have been on this ride. It'll be quite a long one (it had been--sort of). Thank you, thank you!
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"Ugh, that was so embarrassing!" Roseanne cried; her face flustered.
"Than admitting that you were jealous?" Lisa pulled Roseanne's black off-shoulder dress up, inserting the blonde's arms into the puffed sleeves and adjusting the front to align the huge ribbon at the center of Roseanne's chest.
Finding it cute and sweet, Roseanne was almost tempted to kiss Lisa's tip of the nose but when the latter's watery eyes met hers, she folded and instead responded by stroking those tear-stricken cheeks.
After locking the zipper on the side of the dress, Lisa spun the supermodel to dust the whole dress. "All the undressing wasn't necessary. You even gave my lip further beating." Her voice was modulated, unable to get madder or sadder after Top's interruption and the words he left them with.
The corners of Roseanne's lips turned downward, unsure where to pick up their conversation because Top's words lingered in the air. Her eyes landed on Lisa's reddened knuckles and her fingers traced them lightly, checking for Lisa's reaction if she would be allowed to hold that hand.
The next second, they were staring into each other's eyes. They talked that way, without speaking anything yet saying many things. Roseanne's fingers slid down Lisa's beaten hand and the latter did not refuse it, nor did she tighten the hold, and just let their entwined hands hang loosely like autumn leaves in winter before the eventual fall off. The hold placed them in a thermal non-equilibrium again, in need of the other's warmth—the same one that ignited a spark in that studio when they met for the first time.
Their mutual gaze grew deeper. Some strange, exquisite forms of trust, honesty, vulnerability, and intimacy took turns consuming them. The silent breaking down of protective walls occurred in their synchronized breathing, and suddenly, Roseanne was 14 years old again, recognizing her dream and giving in to the feeling.
Her right index finger started making random doodles on the back of Lisa's hand that turned into a repetitive writing of Lisa's name in cursive, then into a heart shape. She was stringing those together to name the feelings she hoped Lisa still shared with her. Looking at the artist like she was a teenager again was to have that hope of a young love that this could last. And nobody would be capable of taking this away from her grasp.
She dreamt this.
Lisa was that dream.
When she saw Lisa's eyes brimming with tears again, Roseanne realized hers were carrying the same. "What?"
"I—I'm s—sorry." Lisa choked the words out the second tears fell down her cheeks. "It was an ugly display of my hurt—I—I don't punch people. The volatility of what you keep giving—what we have is making me release my frustration in a way I never did, and it was wrong. I don't want to see myself do that again, but I'm going to need your help."
Catching Lisa's tears with her thumb, Roseanne's chest ached.
"Your words mean one thing, but your actions say another. If you genuinely want me, then you wouldn't make me bleed for your affection." Lisa wiped Roseanne's tears and gave out a smile that took effort from her hurting heart. "And I need a test shot."
YOU ARE READING
a misty gashed aperture
Fanfic"The Panorama." Artist Lisa Manoban and global supermodel Roseanne Park's first meeting was far from kismet. It was not fireworks going off but finding the sky clear of any smoke. With a stroke of fate, the artist started dreaming again with a futil...
