Second Overtime | JENSOO & CHAELISA

Chapter XLII

Irene was already halfway to the door when Jisoo's phone rang again.

The sound cut through the room like an alarm, and Jisoo's whole body jerked toward it, a full-body flinch that sent a fresh spike of pain through her knee. For one brutal, suspended second, hope punched through everything else she felt. Jennie. Maybe Chaerin had called back. Maybe Jennie had woken up, had reached for her phone with shaking fingers and had found a way to call despite everything. Maybe the universe had decided, just this once, not to be cruel in the most theatrical way possible.

Irene glanced at the screen first. Her expression flickered, not the worrying look that came with bad news, but something close to relief. "Lisa," she said.

Jisoo grabbed the phone anyway. "What?" Her voice came out too sharp. 

Lisa didn't seem to care. "Come to my house first."

Jisoo didn't seem to hear her at first, her brain struggling to pivot from terror to confusion. "What?"

"My house," Lisa repeated. Her voice had none of its usual theatrical bounce, no drama, no sarcasm, no bright, chaotic energy that filled every room she entered. "I told my parents most of it. Not everything yet, but enough. They said everyone needs to come here. Mom already called Coach Minzy. She's on her way. Nayeon's coming. Rosé. The others too."

"We're going to look for Jennie. We need to find her."

"I know you want to," Lisa said. "But come here first."

Jisoo's fingers tightened around the phone. "Lisa—"

"No. Listen to me. Just once. Please." Lisa sucked in a breath, and when she spoke again, her voice cracked like ice under pressure. "If you and Irene start running through hospitals without a plan, Chaerin will twist it. She'll say you're unstable. She'll say you're stalking Jennie. She'll use it against you, and then against Jennie. Come here first. Please."

The last word seemed to wake Jisoo up. Lisa almost never said please without joking or deflecting the vulnerability with humor. This was bare. This was real.

Irene held out her hand for the phone. Jisoo hesitated, every instinct screaming at her to move, to run, to do something, then passed it over.

"Lisa," Irene said.

Jisoo could hear Lisa exhale on the other end, a shaky release of breath. "Unnie."

"We'll come."

Jisoo spun toward her. "But Unnie—"

Irene pointed at her with the keys, her expression carved from stone. "We need to go there, now."

"I'm not waiting around while Jennie is—"

"We're not waiting." Irene's eyes were hard enough to crack tile. "We're gathering people to help. There's a difference."

Jisoo hated that she understood. Hated it so much her throat burned with it. But she turned back into her room, grabbed her shoes with shaking hands, and strapped the brace tighter around her knee until the pressure bit into her skin. Good. Let it bite. Something should.

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Lisa's house had never looked smaller.

Usually the place seemed to expand around noise, music bleeding from speakers, Marco's cooking sizzling in the kitchen, laughter spilling into the hallway, shoes kicked off in chaotic piles by the door. Tonight, every room seemed to hold its breath. The porch light cast a pale yellow circle against the rain-damp concrete. Droplets clung to the railing in bright, trembling beads. The air smelled of wet pavement, fried garlic drifting from a neighbor's kitchen, and the sharp, metallic scent that came before heavier rain.