Like It's 2019, Maybe (JenLisa)

A.N.:
Okay, so this is basically just the rest of the FTS chapter from a few days ago. LOL. Didn’t expect it to turn into some dream-come-true moment while I was writing that, but hey, here we are. I’ll take any Jennie and Lisa real life interaction I can get. 😂

The funny thing is, we’re all just waiting for the ball to drop. We’ve never had Jenlisa content without some kind of drama right after!

Anyway, I’ve got another chapter to edit, but I’ll post it as soon as I finish because I wanted it to be as close to real-life events as possible. Lol.

~M

~~~

2025, Coachella Weekend 2, Friday

Lisa stood just offstage, heart pounding, sweat trailing down the side of her neck, mic still in her hand like she might need to jump back into the fire at any moment. The crowd was still roaring, her name echoing through the desert night like thunder trapped in a bottle.

She’d just finished her second set but what she was so pumped about was Dream—the most personal song on her setlist. The one she almost took off the lineup because she wasn’t sure she’d survive singing it live. But she had. And tonight she’d even slipped in the change. One tiny word.

'She’s thinking', not 'you’re thinking'.

It felt right. It felt terrifying. But also honest.

What didn’t feel right? Seeing her ex, Frederic.

Lisa swiped at her cheek with a towel and peeked through the curtain again.

Yup. Still there. Still obnoxiously present. Standing front and center like he was headlining, complete with a designer jacket that sparkled every time the stage lights hit it. Lisa squinted—was his forehead glowing?—and fought the weird twist in her stomach.

She wasn’t mad, exactly. Just... confused. They were exes, alright, she might still feel guilt with the way she ended things but he hadn’t told her he was coming and watch. No casual “Hey, break a leg,” no “Proud of you.” Just—poof—there he was, radiating smugness, looking like he was about to pitch himself to a record label exec. He’d always loved public moments more than private ones, come to think of it.

But this was her moment.

And if Jennie saw him there...

Lisa sighed, flopping onto the makeup chair, make up artists all over her face for a quick touch up before her closing set.

She hadn’t seen Jennie yet tonight. Hadn’t heard anything. But she knew her. Jennie would never be front and center. She’d be somewhere hidden, probably in a ridiculous disguise, screaming quietly and dancing like a goofball.

That image alone made Lisa smile.

Her phone buzzed on the counter.

She grabbed it, already grinning at the familiar contact photo—Jennie in the middle of a laugh, eyes squinting, gums showing.

No messages.

Just a video.

Lisa tapped it open, instantly met with the sound of her own voice—Moonlit Floor—and the shaky view of a crowd dancing.

And then—there.

Jennie.

In full desert bandit mode. Hoodie up. Big sunglasses. A bandanna around the lower part of her face. But Lisa would've known her anywhere—the way she danced like no one was watching, the way she tilted her head, swaying like the beat was hers alone.