Don't Wanna Be Your Girl || Jensoo

Chapter 20

When Jennie shuffles into her dorm room that evening, feet dragging across the carpet, it's to find Krystal sitting cross-legged on her bed, sorting through the contents of her kit bag.

"Hey," Krystal offers in bland greeting while she shoves a well-scuffed set of shin guards into the main compartment of the bag. She glances up and as soon as she takes notice of Jennie's gloomy expression, her lip curls in mild distaste. "Jesus. You look like microwaved shit."

"Thanks," Jennie replies, that single word dripping with sarcasm. She lets her messenger bag slip off her shoulder, not caring that it hits the floor with a resounding thud. Without bothering to pull off her scarf or unbutton her coat, she flings herself onto her bed and huffs out a long sigh.

Krystal observes her for the span of a few seconds then roots around in the front pocket of her bag. "Here."

A protein bar smacks Jennie square on the forehead.

"Ow! What the fuck?"

At the look of disbelief and affront warring for supremacy on Jennie's face, Krystal only shrugs, "If anyone needs bulking up, it's you."

And, just like that, Jennie's aggravation recedes to almost nothing. There's something oddly, inexplicably... thoughtful about the gesture that she doesn't really know how to process. It's an insult wrapped up in good intentions and as close to showing a shred of compassion as Krystal is capable of.

Even so, Jennie tosses the protein bar back with a droll, "I'll pass."

Brown eyes widen as Krystal gapes at this flagrant refusal of a muscle-building snack. Going by the wildly disproportionate reaction, it's as if Jennie spurned a rare and precious gift. Like an unlimited use 2-for–1 discount code for candledelirium.com with no expiry date and free next day shipping.

With a violent shake of her head, Krystal pushes aside the kit bag, twisting around to face Jennie.

"Fine, I'll bite. What tedious lesbian drama happened to cause," she jabs a finger at Jennie, drawing a circle in the air to indicate her entire demeanour, "this".

When she's met with only brooding silence, Krystal gives a loud, scornful tut and folds her arms.

"Don't tell me you got dumped already? Because, lesbihonest, someone like you isn't gonna land a bona fide sex bomb like that again. I mean, sorry not sorry, but having the misfortune to witness the two of you fingerbanging was equivalent to watching one of those shitty Judd Apatow comedies where the schlubby manchild gets with a stone cold fox and it makes zero fucking sense. And, just so we're clear, you ain't Katherine Heigl in this scenario."

Well. That's just fucking rude.

Any charitable thoughts Jennie had been having about her roommate quickly vanish.

For her part, Krystal either doesn't take the hint or chooses to ignore Jennie's withering stare; she carries on speaking regardless.

"Not that I actually give two shits beyond maintaining the relative civility of our occasional cohabiting situation—which, I gotta say, has been significantly more chill since Jisoo started playing your hairy banjo on the regular—but I'm in imminent danger of being sucked into the four-dimensional space-time vortex that your pout is creating inside our dorm room, you dramatic hoe."

In any other circumstances, Jennie might've been impressed that Krystal's even aware of the existence of space-time vortices, much less that she managed to string that enormous run-on sentence together. On this occasion, she merely rolls towards the wall and grabs a pillow to cover her ears, a futile attempt to block out Krystal's grating voice.