Even When The World Ends

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Rules of Starting Over

The sky was a bruised shade of lavender when Jennie stirred again.

This time, she didn't wake in panic.

No sweat.

No nausea.

No hallucinations.

Just the dull throb of her headache and the quiet hum of the kettle boiling in the kitchen.

She pushed herself up from the couch and blinked. Her legs ached. Her arms felt heavy. But for the first time in a week, she could feel her body again — not through pain, but presence.

The apartment smelled different.

Like soap, coffee, and lemon.

Clean.

Safe.

Alive.

Jisoo was sitting at the table, hair tied up in a lazy bun, glasses on, flipping through Jennie's sketchpad.

Not the broken pages from the last few weeks — those were hidden under beds and in trash bags now — but one of the old ones. The one Jennie always kept tucked behind her bookshelf like a secret diary.

"You found that," Jennie rasped, her voice sandpaper.

Jisoo glanced up.

"I wasn't snooping."

"I know."

Jisoo closed the book and stood.

"You should eat something."

Jennie hesitated.

Then nodded.

They didn't talk much as Jisoo reheated the soup and poured two mugs of hot barley tea. She added a splash of honey into Jennie's without asking — muscle memory.

When she set it down, she didn't sit across from her.

She sat beside her.

And said, soft but clear:

"We need to make rules."

Jennie stiffened.

But nodded again.

Because she knew this wasn't punishment.

This was a lifeline.

"Number one," Jisoo began, "No alcohol. Not even one sip. If you can't handle that, we talk about rehab options together."

Jennie's stomach twisted.

But she agreed.

"Yes. Okay."

"Number two. No pills unless I give them to you. If you feel tempted, you call me. I don't care what time."

Jennie swallowed. Her hands trembled slightly around the mug.

"I... I'll try. I mean it."

"Number three. We tell the truth. Even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts."

That one was hardest.

Because Jennie knew what she hadn't said yet.

The rest of the betrayal.

The blackout.
The memory fragments.
The body that wasn't Jisoo's.
The touch she still couldn't fully remember, but knew happened.

Her lip wobbled.

"There's more I need to tell you," she whispered.

Jisoo looked at her, calmly.

Jennie forced herself to meet her eyes.

"I lied when I said it was just a kiss. That night... I don't remember everything. But it went further. I know it did."

Jisoo didn't speak right away.

Her face barely changed — just a flicker of something in her jaw. Her fingers curled slightly on the edge of the table.

But she stayed.

And that was what mattered.

She closed her eyes. Breathed in deep. Out slowly.

"I knew," she said finally. "I didn't want to believe it. But I knew."

Jennie's throat burned.

"I'm sorry. I was weak. I let the pain win."

"You're human."

"I betrayed you."

"You broke," Jisoo corrected. "And you told me. That's what matters now."

Jennie covered her face, shame thick in her lungs.

But Jisoo reached out.

Held her hand.

Didn't let go.

"Number four," Jisoo said softly. "You don't get to run from this again. Not with paint. Not with parties. Not with fake smiles. If it gets dark again, we sit in it together."

Jennie finally cried again.

Not hysterically this time.

Just quiet, exhausted sobs that soaked her palms and the table beneath.

"I don't know if I can get better," she admitted.

"You don't have to promise that yet," Jisoo replied. "You just have to try."

Jennie looked up, her face wet.

"You still want me?"

"I want the version of you who's willing to fight," Jisoo said. "Not for me. For yourself."

Jennie nodded.

"I want her too."

That night, they cleaned Jennie's studio.

Together.

They opened all the windows, scrubbed the floor, tossed the ruined canvases.

They played soft music — one of Jennie's old playlists — and for the first time in weeks, Jennie sang quietly under her breath.

When they were done, Jennie stared at the fresh canvas Jisoo had set out on the easel.

"I don't know what to paint," she whispered.

"You don't have to," Jisoo said, wrapping her arms around her from behind. "You just have to show up."

Jennie leaned back into her, eyes fluttering closed.

"I can do that."