Was I Ever Here? ; jenlisa ff G!P

16

Jennie Pov

It's been over a week since Lisa first drove me home. Surprisingly, Sammies has been running pretty smoothly ever since she took over. Even better than when Ian was running it, I must admit.

Jisoo and Bangchan are becoming familiar faces too. They always sit in the same corner booth tucked into the shadows, drinking whiskey on the rocks while they speak in low tones away from prying eyes. Rosè has kept up the charade of playing the clueless waitress while Jisoo has taken a liking to her, requesting her service on any nights she's working. Knowing Rosè, she doesn't care who they really are, she just likes the attention.

All three disappear into the office at least once a night for long stretches of time. But no one asks any questions. Especially Rosè and I.

Lisa hasn't let up her quest of being annoying about driving me home. No matter how often I try to weasel my way out of it, she manages to catch me before I can slip away, and I reluctantly—or somewhat petulantly—march to her car and let her drive me home.

She hasn't gotten any uglier either which is the one detail that somehow annoys me the most. She hasn't missed any of my shifts since she took over, always sitting at the bar watching me work, if not busy with Jisoo and Bangchan. My skin vibrates the entire time she's near, painfully aware of her deliberate gaze on me as I flit from one side of the bar to the other, serving customers.

But it's her other looks that rattle me most. The ones she thinks she's hiding from me, the ones I see when she thinks I'm not looking. I often catch small glimpses of those looks in the mirror behind the cash register when I have my back to her.
Haunted looks that leave me breathless. On rare occasions, it's of a longing so intense, I have to avoid her entirely until I can shake myself out of how those fucking looks make me feel.

And then other times, her eyes on me trigger this indescribable pinch to my heart, usually quickly followed by a wave of nostalgia so fierce it feels like I'm drowning. Those are the moments I reach for the bottle of gin mid-shift just so the burn anchors me back into place—and the buzz is nice, too. I still can't comprehend why I often feel like this around her, and I flatly refuse to investigate it more closely.

I'm busy closing someone's tab when I notice Lisa lead someone into her office. The man in tow is short and stocky, his head shaved to the scalp, showing off a tattoo of a symbol I vaguely recognise, his traps bulging high up his neck. He looks like a mean bulldog. His attention lands on me and I quickly look away, cold dread prickling at my nape. They disappear into the back and my gaze flits to Rosè near the service bar. She looks as frazzled as me. I walk over, resting my elbows on the surface separating us so our faces are as close as possible.

"Who the hell was that?" she hisses, while stuffing crumpled cash into her waitress pouch.

"I don't know...but did you see that guy's tattoo?" I ask, looking around to make sure no one is listening. "Isn't that from somewhere?"

Rosè's eyebrows scrunch together and then suddenly her eyes widen. She leans even closer to me before saying, "Holy shit, what if Jisoo, is actually Kim Jisoo?" she whispers, waiting for me to react but the name doesn't ring any bell. "Right I forget you've only been here a year," she adds, flipping her hair off her shoulder. "As in The Sin Eaters? They're like the most powerful crime organization in Noxport. The West Coast even."

My stomach sinks with this new information, but it all makes too much sense not to be true. With the way Lisa and Jisoo carry themself—especially Jisoo—you'd think they own this whole damn city. And maybe they do. This realization only solidifies my suspicions. These people are feared. As they should be. And one just so happens to have taken a liking to me.

The next day, I wake up from a nap drenched in sweat. I pinwheel, yanking my sheets off me with my legs. My chest heaves up and down as I try to regain my bearings.

"Fuck," I rasp out loud. The same dream again. Naps always seem to trigger it, and it always feels disturbingly real, too...just too fucking much.

I can never decipher it. And it's never those bizarre dreams either, where nothing makes any sense. No, this one is vivid, like being ripped out of a memory I can only revisit when I close my eyes and drift into sleep.

I lay a clammy palm over my heart and try to calm myself down. It's just a dream. Just a terror inducing fucking dream.

I look around my room and sigh. I fell asleep mid-clean again—a habit I started in my teens. My childhood bedroom always felt like the only place in the house where I had any real control. And when I could feel myself unraveling—when the black void would hover just a little too close above my head—I would stomp up to my room, slam the door shut, and purge.

I'd take everything out from my drawers, then the closet and pile it on the floor. Then, when I'd look around mid-clean, feeling like I had made everything worse, like I would never make it back to a clean and tidy space—I'd crawl into bed and curl myself amidst the mess.

Somehow, the chaos soothed me and I would drift into sleep, breathing just that tiny bit better. Then, I'd wake up rested, relaxed even, and tackle the mess until the chaos in my head no longer matched the chaos in my room. It's now become somewhat of a ritual.

But today, the pile of books and clothes strewn everywhere doesn't feel all that relaxing. It feels like an elephant sitting on my chest. I exhale loudly and fall back onto my pillows. My gaze lands on a random corner of my room while I curl in around myself, my mind eventually drifting to Jiwoo. It's never long before I think of her. Especially when I feel like this. The one person I didn't have to pretend with. I took it for granted.

Here in Noxport, all I do is pretend. No one likes sad girls. And sometimes, it feels like that's all I am. So I fake it, and slip into the fun persona people expect of me. Because what's the other option? It's been established—I'm not ready to deal.

So, I continue to stare at my bedroom wall while I let my heart fall back into a normal rhythm. It's becoming harder and harder to ignore all these pestering emotions swirling inside of me. I much rather the general numbness I typically carry around in the chasm in my chest. I let out a heavy sigh, resigned to clean up the mess I've left around me.