stay in that lavender haze

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"So," the host of the talk show starts, eyes glimmering with excitement as he gazes at Roseanne over the desk, "your new single. I think anyone here would agree that it felt like a death by a thousand cuts, listening to those lyrics."

There's an applause from the audience and Roseanne lets a smile spread on her face. "Well, Oliver, I may have watched a few people react to it," she admits—truthfully, she spent the previous night on Twitter, giddy with her song on the trending page, reading through the cries and tears and angry keyboard smashes promising to cancel whoever the song's about. I'm gonna call him Bob, she remembers telling Jennie when they started writing it together, Jennie's fingers slipping off the piano keys as she tried to keep her composure. Just Bob. Not even short for Robert. He doesn't deserve that.

"If you don't mind me asking... There's been a lot of speculation online about who the song is about."

Roseanne flips her hair to the other side, trying not to smile. "Uh huh."

"Can you give us an idea? Because let me tell you, I have my torch prepared. We're ready to go to war on anyone who could break such a perfectly good heart as yours."

Roseanne's eyes flicker to the audience. The lights are blinding, making it impossible to see the people clearly, but Roseanne's heart would be able to find Jennie even in wonderland. She smiles and shrugs. "You know, I like to think the name doesn't matter much. Call it what you want, Bob or Ashley or Jane, but I think what's beautiful about this song is that the feelings are universal. Anyone can listen to them and empathize with the pain, whether they've been through something similar or not. And I hope it also helps those who have been through it."

Not the answer Oliver wanted, clearly, but when the audience applauds, Roseanne lets her grin widen. She meets Jennie's figure and gives her a secret wink.

i. Roseanne Park's New Song Shattered Our Hearts, but Who Shattered Hers? 5 People We Think "Exile" Could Be About!

The notification pops up on her phone as Roseanne is scribbling mindless lyrics onto the blank spaces in her notebook.

In a second, her pen drops to the floor as her brows shoot up; she clicks on the link before she can stop herself, lips pressed together in an attempt to hold back her laughter.

"Baby! You have to see this." Roseanne yells inside the apartment and stands up to hunt for her girlfriend. She backtracks into the kitchen when she hears the clutter of pans and finds Jennie leaning over a pan, staring at what looks like a very sad and soggy-looking grilled cheese, an apron around her waist and flour dusting her hair. Roseanne doesn't even want to know what Jennie was using the flour for in grilled cheese; her girlfriend is good at a lot of things, but unfortunately, cooking is not one of them. "J, you know you don't need flour for grilled cheese, right?" she asks as she places the iPad to the side and watches Jennie sigh dejectedly. She turns off the stove and pushes the pan to the side.

"I've figured that out, yeah. I just wanted to cook you something for once." Pathetically, Roseanne feels something in her heart melt into a puddle of goo. She's been with Jennie since she was twenty-two, and still Jennie manages to turn her into a fresh lover. Article forgotten for a second, Roseanne pulls Jennie into a soft kiss and adjusts the crooked apron.

"I appreciate the effort, sweetheart," she says, and Jennie makes an offended noise at the back of her throat; she pushes Roseanne's arms away, though it's quite weak, and Roseanne easily holds her with arms wrapped around her torso like ivy. "But I think cooking should be an exclusively me thing around this house."

"I'm getting better, I promise—"

"Right."

"I didn't burn anything this time."

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