I'm almost me again (She's almost you)

Chapter 21

This guest of summer,
The temple-haunting martlet, does approve,
By his lov'd mansionry, that the heaven's breath
Smells wooingly here; no jutty, frieze,
Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird
Hath made its pendent bed, and procreant cradle:
Where they most breed and haunt, I have observ'd,
The air is delicate.

- William Shakespeare, Macbeth (1605), Act I, scene 6, line 3.

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The first few days were hard. Lisa felt like she was floundering, confused by her newfound relationship with Jennie, scared by how right it felt, and just downright conflicted by the feelings within her. But it got easier after that.

By unspoken agreement, she slept in Jennie's bed, marvelling at how strange it was to fall asleep beside someone and wake up to them the next day, feeling safe beneath the pressure of Jennie's arm thrown across her waist as they slept, feeling shy as she stretched herself awake the next morning, pink-cheeked with bleary eyes and wild hair. She went through the motions; showering and dressing in Jennie's borrowed clothes for the time being, wearing frilly summer dresses and finding that she liked it, eating breakfast at the kitchen table or downstairs as Jennie got a headstart on her day's work, folding laundry and tidying up the apartment as the hours slipped by.

They waited until the end of august to visit Busan, on the cusp of the ivy-covered cottage turning crimson and fiery orange, a stunning view that Jennie knew Lisa would sit outside to admire, bundled up in a coat as she watched the swallows leave for the year. They'd be back next spring, but it would feel like an ending and a new beginning at the same time. Jennie could already smell of apples ripening late scented the air as the earthy smell of petrichor suffused everything, the sky a cloudy white more often than blue at that time of year as the full bloom of summer came to a close.

It was still early for it yet, but Jennie would still watch Lisa from the kitchen windows as she scrubbed dishes, taking in the dark haired figure talking with Rosé as she took a smoke break, or sitting by the river reading a book, the wind ruffling her hair and the pages as she basked in the lingering sunlight of late summer. A warmth would fill Jennie's chest as she watched her, an indescribable feeling of joy at the fact that she was still there. Some days, it felt like a dream, like it was too good to be true.

But Jennie was resolute in her stubborn opinion that she deserved this. It was hard at times, watching Lisa buckle under the weight of all her effort, when all she wanted to do was take the burden from her, but they struggled through it, until Lisa could bear it a little easier with a strength Jennie couldn't help but admire. Her resilience was a quality that Jennie couldn't help but sadly applaud her for, as Lisa struggled through the confusing grief of losing so many people that she'd loved.

Jennie could understand heartbreak, the devastating blow of it that left you breathless, the crushing sadness and worthlessness the slammed into you, and she could help with that, because she knew it all too well. It had taken her months to move past the bitter betrayal of her ex's infidelity, finding a camaraderie with Rosé to help bolster her through it, and she still carried the scars of her mother leaving her as a child, dropping her off with her new guardian and never coming back. But Jennie had only ever known the loss of her father, the painful edges of the loss dulled with time and the fading of memories. Helping Lisa mourn for a person they'd both known was something that was beyond Jennie, but it didn't stop her from trying.