it's always ourselves that we find in the sea || jensoo

Chapter 7

            When they got home, Chaeyoung took her bag up to their shared room, and Jennie felt the twinge of excitement she got whenever they came back to the big shorefront house with their narrow single beds on opposite sides of their room. It always felt like they were girls again, when every night had felt like a sleepover, and Chaeyoung had taught her poker as they sat across from each other in the empty space between the beds, or they'd huddle up on one bed and watch horror films, Chaeyoung laughing at the gore, while Jennie buried her face in a pillow. She hoped the weekend would hold the same kind of excitement as those nights, when Jennie had known with certainty that she would be a reporter, and nothing would stop her from writing. Now, she was in that same bedroom, a reporter, just like she'd known she'd be - albeit an unemployed one - and no one, especially not Ms. Kim, was going to stop her from writing, which had admittedly been the problem in the first place.

            When Chaeyoung came back downstairs, her footsteps loud in the quiet hush of the house, Jennie was in the middle of pulling two cups out of the cupboard and rifling through the cupboard for some coffee filters, and was stopped short by Chaeyoung, who suggested they go out for coffee, rather than staying cooped up inside the house. Jennie readily agreed, slipping her denim jacket back on and fetching the keys off the counter, before they were both driving back towards town, this time with Chaeyoung winning the fight about the radio and turning it over to some classic rock, which didn't stop Jennie from singing along at all whenever she knew the song. They parked along the main street, heading towards their favourite diner from when they were in school, and Jennie hunched her shoulders as she walked past the new coffee shop she worked at, feeling slightly embarrassed at the thought of one of the staff members drawing attention to her with Chaeyoung beside her, and then they were sliding onto the cracked vinyl seats in a booth near the open window. Perusing the menu, Jennie ended up ordering a latte, and Chaeyoung went for a black coffee, knowing that it could be hit or miss in this place, depending on who was working. Their coffees were soon sitting in front of them, and Jennie carefully measured brown crystals of raw sugar onto her spoon with a brooding look on her face, before stirring it into her coffee.

            "Okay, what is it?" Chaeyoung sighed, setting her mug back down onto the white saucer, the spoon rattling against the china.

            "What?"

            "You've been brooding ever since I got here. You look like you're thinking too hard. I thought we were going to have a fun weekend."

            Jennie blinked in surprise, the slight frown wrinkling her forehead disappearing as her features softened, "we are! I was just thinking about everyone back home. I miss you all."

            Grimacing, Chaeyoung reached across the table to give her hand a quick squeeze. "I know you do. Don't worry, something will turn up soon! I mean, was YG really the place for hard hitting journalism anyway? Fuck that guy. You don't need him anyway! You could start your own blog if you wanted to. And you have your book! How is the book, by the way? You're being very mysterious about it on the phone."

            Laughing, Jennie ran a hand through her hair, letting her gaze travel to the window, taking in the specks of first and the posters taped to them, the corners peeling up and the titles of odd plays and fundraisers happening in town written in fancy fonts, before she let her eyes wander past them to focus on the street outside. People were rushing about their daily lives - buying groceries, taking babies to the park or to the beach, enjoying a quick coffee break before heading back to work - and Jennie found herself lost in her book for a moment. She didn't know how to answer that question. She'd had a stroke of inspiration that evening on the beach, looking at the dark house looming out of the twilight with the haunting piano notes drifting towards her, seeming magical and hypnotic at the time. Immediately she'd put together the image of a mysterious figure - a man, she'd decided - broken and lonely, shunned aside by everyone, because what other kind of person could play such beautifully heart-wrenching music? But since she'd found out it was Lena, she'd been conflicted. Instead of a man, she'd found a woman, not broken and lonely, but content and reclusive on her own terms, and her music was her happiness. Jennie had tried to change the story, sticking with a man - a man with dark eyes that turned to amber in the sunlight, and auburn hair that shone like burnished metal, a man who played the cello, or perhaps the violin. Except, whenever she wrote, trying to piece the puzzle together, she'd picture him, trying to conjure up the man she saw, only to have those amber eyes turn to a dark brown, and red hair turned into long long brown locks. The long fingers that dragged a bow across the strings of whatever instrument she fancied at the time would soon turn into the thing, delicate press of Jisoo's fingers dancing across ivory keys, and Jennie would have to shake herself out of it, Jisoo's quiet laughter ringing in her ears, along with the conjured memory of whatever song had been playing that evening when Jennie went to sit on the sand dunes.