Your Hand in Mine || Chaelisa

Season 2 - 7

Judging by Lisa's wild mane and skewed clothes, she's been doing exactly that. Chaeyoung's heart squeezes in her chest, sharply, when she thinks what could've happened to her on her way there. She knows Lisa would never drive after drinking. She also knows Gustus would never drive her anywhere in such a state. So she must've walked.

Plus, she's soaked to the bone.

What was it Lisa yelled at her for the last time they saw each other? 'Drunk and clearly upset. Walking alone at night.'

Hypocrite, Chaeyoung fumes at her silently and opens the door wider so she can stumble in. And stumble in she does.

"Hey." Her lips are dry and chapped on Chaeyoung's, and they taste like whiskey. Or scotch. Or bourbon. Honestly, Chaeyoung could never tell the difference. She does know that Lisa tastes like alcohol and sorrow, and her heart sinks in reply, beats sharp and desperate.

She pushes her away - gently, keeping her hands on her shoulders to steady her. "Hey. Hey. You're drunk."

"That's the fucking point," Lisa lets her know, before cupping her cheeks in her hands and leaning in again. Come to think about it - she's never seen her this drunk. She's never seen her drunk, period. She's never seen her lose control like this.

Except -- but she didn't lose it then. She willingly gave it up.

"Lisa," she tries again, pulling away. "No, Lisa, you need to stop."

She's hot to the touch. Almost feverish, and her forehead is covered in a thin film of sweat. It could be alcohol. But it could be a cold, too. She doesn't know where Lisa walked from. How much time she spent outside, in the rain. Her shirt is practically drenched.

Chaeyoung tries to ignore the way her hands tremble when she touches her cheek. Lisa's -- Lisa's never sick.

Lisa's staggered away from her as soon as she told her to stop, and her speech is slurred. "Don't you -- want this? Me?" She swallows, and if it weren't for Chaeyoung rushing to her and catching her around her torso, she would've slid down against the door. "Is this not what you wanted?"

Her eyes sting and burn. "No," she chokes out, trying to help Lisa stand upright. It's not an easy task. Lisa's all lean muscle, and she weighs more than she looks. "No. It's not."

She'd like to say that none of this is what she wanted, but that would be a lie, wouldn't it be? She did want to save her father. She did save her father. No matter what she says, in the end, she had a goal and she reached it. And that's the problem.

Why would Lisa believe her when to her, she did get everything she aimed for?

"Wait," Lisa mumbles when Chaeyoung tries to lead her to the couch. "Shoes. Muddy. It's -- rain. It's raining."

"I gathered," Chaeyoung tells her, helping her tug her shoes off. Just like she suspects, her socks are wet, too, and that's bad. She needs to get her into something dry and under warm blankets.

Lisa barks out a sloppy laugh. "Funny," she notes. "Deadpan. I like deadpan. It's -- it's funny."

"Thanks," she says, because what else is there to say? At least Lisa's started to cooperate and she's not a deadweight on Chaeyoung's shoulders anymore. She's dragging her feet as they go, and when they do get to the couch, she plops down on it with a groan, throwing her head back and closing her eyes.

"Your room is spinning," she tells Chaeyoung in a low voice. Well, shit. Although, on the other hand, she might feel better in the morning if she throws up now. Chaeyoung's eyes flicker between Lisa and her bathroom door. Too far.