Synonym: effortlessness, no difficulty, no trouble, no bother, facility, facileness, simplicity, deftness, adroitness, dexterity, proficiency, mastery
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3:47 am Seoul
I lay stiff amongst softness.
I had been persuaded to bed. Her bed – under pouty pleads and we've slept together a million times before types of arguments, you can't sleep on the couch, we'll put a pillow between us, it doesn't have to be complicated types of arguments.
Well, guess what Miss soft cheeks and beautiful round lips, it is fucking complicated. And the right side of my body is all crampy, and my arm is dead, and I have an itchy foot and I fucking can't move – I CAN'T MOVE. I refuse to move. It's quiet and unsettling. And I've already shuffled triple the amount Jennie has. I know because I counted – three for her, nine for me.
Nine for me!
That's, well that's not just annoying but incredibly disconcerting. This is exactly the type of behavior Jennie would (if not, should) question.
Like, why is she moving so much? Is something wrong? Are there bed bugs I don't know about? In the time apart was she diagnosed with...bed...twitchism...bedtwitchism. I made that up, it's not a thing, and Jennie would have come up with something much more creative then bed – twitch – ism...I can only blame the illness, both stupidity and sudden illiteracy (particularly within world play) are two of many, many bedtwitchism...symptoms...apparently. Anyway, the point is I'm stuck. Stiff. In this awful position, in this big ass hotel bed, with my gorgeous ex-girlfriend.
Ouch.
Heart.
Ex-girlfriend.
That never gets old. That never not stings.
Ex, ex, ex, ex – fuck, my, heart, ex.
I grumble internally and immediately find myself getting further frustrated. Now my body seeks a tantrum. Goddammit. I internalize a lullaby to chill my blood and sudden case of restless leg syndrome and hope the slow, burning torture tires me out. Knocks me to sleep. If my lullaby doesn't.
Hush little Lisa, don't fucking move, daddy might cut your contract loose, and if daddy cuts your contract loose, he can finally be dead to you --
Jennie shifts – that's four. Though I'm not too sure it counts if you're asleep. No one can help comatose shuffles and senseless bed moving. In fact, one of my favorite things about sleeping with Jennie was waking up in the middle of the night to a sudden weight on my chest, or face, or leg – wherever she ended up. It was...cute.
