Here's To Everything that You've Gone Through ? Jensoo

Chapter Six: Jennie Kim

That one time she was driving her car around the town to get her usual lonely lunch in her favorite Japanese restaurant, just to pass by a girl who caught her eyes, crying herself in front of an abandoned house. And that time she drove her car at the very same day's evening to take herself out to dinner, but she passed the very same girl, still bawling herself out in front of the exact same abandoned house. It drew her out of her zone, as her curiosity was stronger than her will to feel in comfort. There was something so strangely magnetic about that girl that pulled her utmost empathy, more than she ever did, that made her truly wanted to give her comfort, even when she didn't really know how to.

Jisoo managed to get her out of her car that day.

It wasn't even dramatic, really. It wasn't like Jennie saw her and the world exploded into color. It was quieter than that. Softer. Like turning on a lamp in a dark room and suddenly remembering there were paintings on the walls you once bought and made to be cherished because you love them.

There was something about Jisoo's quiet grief. Her quiet hope. The way she held herself like she was both fragile and indestructible. It made Jennie ache.

And ache wasn't something Jennie was used to anymore. Not like this.

She didn't want to scare her off. Didn't want to rush the bloom of something that had barely taken root. She didn't want Jisoo to feel even worse about having to maintain a relationship with her when all she probably was just a little thankful to her. But that night, after the run-in with Jisoo's ex-boyfriend and the yearning goodbye at the bus stop, Jennie couldn't sleep.

The silence of her bedroom felt suffocating.

So, Jennie sat down. She looked across her bed, her own reflection at the mirror on her dresser. There was something she never really saw before. The look of agony and sentiment... for someone else. She often overlooked it, as she indeed felt empathy to the people that she helped but chose to not care about it as much as she didn't want to appear weak in front of them, but ignoring it pushed her to a certain point where she never saw that look of empathy on her own face whenever she was reflecting.

She sighed and decided to move to her couch and open her curtains, revealing her whole glass window as one of the sides of her bedroom.

It was late. The kind of late where the streets outside had gone quiet, and even the city lights seemed to hum softer. For a sleepless city like Seoul, the bare silence seemed a little odd.

Jennie sat cross-legged on her couch, hair still damp from washing her hair because of the earlier rain, a towel forgotten across her lap. Her sketchbook was open beside her, but her pencil had stilled before she decided to sleep but didn't have the sleepiness to lead her into slumberland anyways. Her thoughts had drifted again.

In Jennie's mind, those city lights shifted into someone instead. To a girl with tired eyes and a smile that felt like a sunrise. To a voice she hadn't heard in hours but still echoed in her mind like a favorite song.

She sighed.

Hope was such a slippery thing she couldn't possibly hold on to. It made her stomach felt like sinking, even when her gastritis didn't try to bother her.

Her phone was face-down on the table. She hadn't checked it since she got back. Maybe she was afraid of wanting too much. Maybe she didn't want to look eager. But then, it rang.

The vibration buzzed through the table like a pulse - sudden, unexpected. It was an unknown number calling. But there was this breeze that gave her chills all over her skin. She was made to believe it was someone she was waiting for. She hoped it was her, but she prayed for her so not to call out of an obligation.