Oneshot(Jensoo)

Desperation

AUTHOR'S POV

The ocean whispered beyond the veranda, its hush barely reaching the party's echoing laughter and muffled music. White curtains floated gently in the night breeze, brushing Jennie's bare arms as she leaned against the wooden railing, half-sipping the last of her cocktail. Her black polo shirt, half-unbuttoned, resting softly against her chest, revealing the delicate skin of her collarbone and the faint slope beneath. She looked like a painting left outside to breathe.

The party was for Lisa's birthday — a celebration that filled the beach house with laughter, music, and friends gathered under the warm summer night.

She was waiting for Jisoo.

And then came Irene.

"There you are," Irene's voice slurred softly, her silhouette appearing in the sliding glass door like smoke. She had a drink in one hand, and something sharper in her eyes.

Jennie turned. "Hey. I was just—"

"Escaping?" Irene smiled lazily. "I get it. It's loud. And hot. And full of people who aren't worth your time."

"I'm waiting for Jisoo," Jennie said with a polite smile.

Irene stepped closer, heels clicking against the wooden floor. "She's always just out of reach, isn't she?"

Jennie's brows furrowed. "No. She's getting me a drink."

"She's always leaving you to wait," Irene murmured, her eyes trailing down Jennie's shirt again, lingering too long on the bare skin beneath the buttons. "Meanwhile, you're out here looking like... this."

Jennie shifted uncomfortably.

"God, Jennie." Irene's voice dropped, in longing. "Do you even know what you do to people?"

Jennie stayed still.

"I've watched you for years," Irene whispered, stepping close enough for her breath to touch Jennie's cheek. "You walk into a room and I forget how to breathe. You look at her like she hung the stars. But I wonder, has she ever looked at you the way I do?"

Jennie tried to speak, but Irene was already lifting her hand. Fingertips brushed her arm first. A light drag across skin.

Then they rose, up to her shoulder, softly.

Jennie stiffened. "Irene..."

"I just want to touch," she whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from Jennie's face. "I won't hurt you. I couldn't."

Her thumb lingered at Jennie's nape, eyes tracing every detail of her expression like she was memorizing it.

"Do you know what it's like," Irene said, voice shaking, "to want something for so long it starts to rot inside you?"

She didn't wait for an answer.

Her other hand came up, ghosting over Jennie's neck. The backs of her fingers grazed the exposed skin above the collar, barely, but with reverence. Her thumb ran along the hollow between Jennie's collarbones.

"Every time you laugh," she murmured, "I replay it for days. Every time you post a photo, I zoom in, just to see if your eyes still light up for her."

Jennie looked away. "Irene, this is too much. i have a girlfriend, stop it. "

"But I never had enough," Irene said desperately. "I've wanted this for so long,do you get that? Since before she even noticed you."

Jennie took a breath, shaky. But Irene's hands didn't stop.

They moved again—one brushing down the curve of Jennie's arm, the other inching to her waist. She didn't grab. She just let it rest there, palm warm and open, trembling. Her eyes were glassy with something raw.