Jenna Ortega Imagines (2)

Fable - J.O

ib: Fable by Gigi Perez

You never liked churches, but Jenna always insisted on the quiet. Not the pews, not the hymns, not even the creaking of old wood or the stale scent of wax and lilies—just the quiet. She said it made her feel like the world stopped spinning for a second. You didn't argue, not because you agreed, but because it felt cruel to disturb her peace when you'd been searching for your own.

It's late afternoon when the two of you find yourselves sitting on the steps of the old mission church outside Los Angeles. The sun is bruising its way into the horizon, spilling orange and gold across the stucco walls. The stone beneath you is warm from the day, and Jenna sits close enough that your shoulders touch. She's always warm, too—like she carries sunlight inside her despite all the times she's been told she shouldn't.

"You ever think about it?" She asks suddenly, voice low, fingers picking at the cracked edge of her jeans. "The whole heaven thing?"

You glance at her. "You mean... if it's real?"

She nods, eyes fixed on the tiny cross at the top of the bell tower. "If it's real. And if we'd even get in."

You laugh softly, but it's a hollow sound. "You think we're disqualified?"

"I don't know." She exhales, and it sounds like something she's been holding in for years. "I used to pray every night when I was little. My mom made me. I'd ask for stupid things like good grades, a puppy. Then I got older, and I started praying for things that never came. To stop feeling wrong. To stop... wanting."

Her voice breaks on that last word, barely audible. You know what she means. You've felt it too—that gnawing contradiction between what you were taught and what you are. Between the rules of divinity and the law of love.

You rest your chin on your knees. "My mom told me once that love was a test. That God sends us people to see if we'll choose Him or them." You look down at your hands. "I didn't have the heart to tell her I'd already failed."

Jenna turns toward you, eyes dark and deep and full of something you can't name. "You didn't fail."

"Feels like it sometimes."

There's a long silence. The air hums with cicadas and faraway traffic, and somewhere a bell tolls seven. You imagine the sound rising into the sky and shattering against the clouds.

When Jenna speaks again, it's barely above a whisper. "I used to think if I just stopped talking about it, if I hid that part of me deep enough, God would forgive me." She smiles bitterly. "Like queerness was a bad habit I could pray away."

You don't know what to say, so you reach for her hand instead. Her fingers twitch, startled, but then they settle into yours, small and certain. The touch feels like confession.

"Maybe He doesn't need to forgive us." You say finally. "Maybe we were never wrong to begin with."

Jenna looks at you then—really looks. There's a soft ache in her eyes, something between disbelief and hope. "You think so?"

"I think love's supposed to make you feel closer to something bigger. And that's what you do for me."

Her breath catches. "You shouldn't say things like that."

"Why not?"

"Because I'll believe you." She murmurs.

You squeeze her hand. "Maybe that's the point."

She laughs under her breath, shaky and real, and you can tell she wants to believe it. You both do. Maybe this is what faith really looks like—not certainty, not blind devotion, but two people trying to love each other in a world that told them not to.

The sky darkens. The first stars flicker to life above, small and hesitant, like they're afraid of being seen. You tilt your head back and count them—one, two, three—and for a moment, you think of the lyrics that have been stuck in your head all week: Stars blink like my sister's eyes. You never met Perez, but her words have been echoing inside you since the first time you heard Fable. Maybe because she sings the kind of truth that burns quietly, the kind that feels like both blasphemy and prayer.

Jenna breaks the silence. "You ever think... maybe God looks different than we think He does?"

You glance at her profile, soft in the starlight. "What do you mean?"

"I mean maybe He's not some guy in the sky with rules and punishments. Maybe He's just..." She gestures vaguely, eyes shining. "All this. The sky, the music, the way you make me feel. Maybe He's not watching us to judge. Maybe He's just watching us live."

You smile, slow and small. "That's a version of God I could believe in."

She hums, thoughtful. "Then maybe that's enough."

You stay there for a long while, fingers still intertwined, watching the stars blink into existence one by one. The wind picks up, carrying the faint scent of sage and dust, and somewhere a coyote calls. It feels ancient, sacred even, this quiet rebellion of being—of existing and loving and daring to imagine you're not a mistake.

When you finally stand to leave, Jenna hesitates, looking up at the church one last time. "You think He'd hate us for this?" She asks softly.

You shake your head. "If He's love, like they say, then no. I think He'd be proud."

She looks at you like she's memorizing your face. "You really believe that?"

You reach up, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. "I'm trying to."

And then, just before you turn away, she leans in and presses her forehead against yours. Not quite a kiss, but close enough that you can feel the tremor in her breath. "Then I'll try too." She whispers.

The stars blink above you, indifferent and eternal. The air hums with quiet and questions. Somewhere inside the old church, a candle flickers against the dark, and for once, it doesn't feel like guilt—it feels like grace.

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A/N: as a kid, I was a big believer of god but I hated going to church. I think, in my opinion, it's easier to believe in a god that has the power of life and death in his hands and it brings a sense of comfort to you—that if you do good or behave a certain way to get on his goid side and earn his approval for heaven or a longer life. it's always been a conflicting feeling for me personally, and as I got older, I drifted away from him and stopped supporting? I guess. but I know this is a huge, huge thing for a lot of people, the fine line between religion and sexuality is a complicated thing so this chapter was specifically made for you <3