You Make Me Feel (When I Feel Nothing) | Jenlisa [COMPLETED]

Chapter 8

December, 2020

Jennie is covered in paint. Very rarely does she manage to get this messy, but today, today is different. Not only did she need a new specific series for the gallery, but she also needed a release. A release of the frustration, of her own emotions before it boiled over out of her mouth and into the air between her and Lisa and she says something stupid.

She didn't realize the different variations of Lisa she had been painting until halfway through the third one. It shouldn't be a surprise really; it's what Jennie does when something's on her mind. Something she can't talk to Lisa about.

She doesn't remember where she left her phone, she's sure it's good the gadget is away from her for the time being as she moves back and forth in the room between different paintings because she can't get her mind to focus on just one. She wonders if she'll be able to finish them this time. Normally when she paints Lisa she always feels like they go incomplete, always missing something very important but she can't figure out what that important thing is.

She knows when she looks out the window and the stars and peeking in that she should probably stop and take a shower and go to bed. But her focus is hard to break as she paints the trees, different color leafs, those eyes she can never quite paint right, never get quite as perfect as they actually are.

It's an accumulation of emotion, boiling over and spilling out of her onto a white canvas, ridding it of it bareness and splashing it with all the colors that Lisa is, a variation of greens and blues and yellows and oranges, everything that looks like sunsets and waterfalls and lakes and freshly rained on grass and forest trees.

She clenches her jaw as she works in black around pretty walnut eyes, feeling as if it fits and she wonders, wonders if this will help her finally push these feelings far away from her, down and down until she barely notices them so she can tolerate this. This waiting and patience that Lisa has requested of her, this pain of biting her tongue in moments where all she wants to do is scream her feelings.

She wonders if Lisa ever feels like this. Maybe not.

"Fuck," Jennie huffs when her paintbrush moves off a bit too far to the left, smearing in a way she definitely did not want it too. She throws it down, staring at the painting and staring at the smear and clenching her jaw until it hurts.

She wonders why she can never get her eyes right.

She huffs one last time before she turns away from the painting, exiting the room with the slam of her door and dripping paint down her hallways until she makes it down the stairs and to her room. When she looks in the mirror she almost laughs because of course she was crying too. There's green paint on her cheek, and orange paint on her neck, and a splash of yellow in her hair. How did she get to be this mess? She's not normally the messy one.

She chucks off her white paint shirt, it's got enough holes in it that she doesn't really care what happens to it anymore, turning from her own sad reflection she moves to her shower, turning it on and letting it heat up.

She pulls her hair out of the tie that had kept it up and out of her face and combs her hands through it, fingers catching along the stiff part where yellow stays. Her mind moves back to that night, the press of the door to her back, Lisa's face so close to her own that she can see each different fleck of color in her eyes, even with the room having been so dark.

Why is that moment so clear, so clear like she hadn't drunk a thing, like she was perfectly sober and the world hadn't been spinning at that moment when it truly had? She remembers it like it was a normal Wednesday, like Jennie had just brought Lisa her groceries and Lisa had made her dinner and they were watching their favorite TV show together.