Under (JenLisa AU)

Out Of Control

3 R D PERSON's POV

The weekend should have begun with the familiar rhythm of Lisa's morning routine, but the moment she opened her eyes, the atmosphere felt dense, altered by a shift in the room's pressure.

When she turned to her right, the breath died in her throat. Beside her lay a figure so still, so unexpected, that Lisa's pulse became a rhythmic thrumming against her ribs. The girl was submerged in a deep, heavy sleep, her breathing slow and rhythmic—the kind of state that suggested she wouldn't be surfacing for a long time.

Lisa found herself paralyzed. A part of her recognized this as a suppressed want, a quiet longing finally made manifest, yet the reality of it felt like a trespass. She remained there, motionless, anchored to the mattress like an ornament glued to a page. She didn't dare shift, terrified that even a sharp inhale might wake the President.

The "Queen" tried to summon her usual composure, to force her gaze toward the window or the door, but her eyes refused to obey. She was caught in the gravity of the person beside her.

Finally, driven by a need for air and distance, Lisa began a slow, calculated retreat toward the edge of the bed. She kept her torso rigid, bracing for the move, but the soft give of the mattress betrayed her. As she went to pivot, her hand landed squarely on the person's arm—the very limb that had been tucked beneath the covers, pinning Lisa's exit strategy to the sheets.

The impact of Lisa's fall sent a shudder through the mattress, pulling a low groan from the girl beside her. Jennie's eyes fluttered open slowly, adjusting to the morning light. When she saw Lisa—limbs tangled and hair a mess—she didn't flinch. She simply watched her, her composure a sharp contrast to Lisa's panic.

"What happened to you?" Jennie's voice was the first thing to break the silence of the room. Before Lisa could find an answer, the President softened her expression. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have fallen asleep in your bed."

Lisa could only manage a faint, stunned "Huh?"

She had braced herself for an icy confrontation or a lecture on boundaries. She expected the "Cold War" that usually defined their interactions. To hear a sincere apology from someone of Jennie's stature felt like the ground had shifted again.

"I'm not that rude, you know," Jennie added, reading the shock on Lisa's face. "I apologize when I'm in the wrong."

Lisa remained paralyzed. It wasn't just the apology; it was the effortless grace of Jennie in the morning—composed even in the middle of a mistake.

"Is that really what you think of me?" Jennie asked, a flicker of genuine offense crossing her features.

"You're wrong," Lisa finally whispered. Her voice was steadying, but her gaze was trapped, tracing the lines of Jennie's face. Jennie didn't look away; she met the stare with a quiet, unwavering intensity.

Lisa felt an invisible pull, shifting her weight until she was closer, the space between them disappearing. "I'm just... not used to waking up with someone beside me," she confessed in a low breath.

"That's why I said sorry," Jennie replied. Her voice remained soft, yet it carried the natural authority she wore like armor.

The proximity sent Lisa's pulse into a frantic rhythm. She moved closer still, mesmerized by the fact that Jennie wasn't recoiling. The President held her ground, her eyes fixed on Lisa's with a heavy, expectant stillness. Lisa's focus drifted—lingering on the curve of Jennie's jaw, then her lips.

Her eyelashes brushed her cheeks as she began to lean in, the instinctive urge to close the gap taking over. But just as the air between them vanished, a cold realization spiked through her.