a little bit of black with a little bit of pink

What's your town called again?

A thanksgiving surprise changes Jennie's life forever.

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Jennie doesn't know when they graduated to texting for anything other than a middle-of-the-night booty call. She thinks it was probably Lisa's doing. If she scrolled up on the chat she's sure she'd find a message from out of nowhere asking something mundane like how her day was or what her weekend plans were beyond accidentally finding Lisa at a party and not so accidentally bringing her back to her apartment.

Not that Jennie could figure out the motive of it all. Lisa never pushed it very far, never texted more than a few times a day, never asked a question deep enough that Jennie debated not answering.

She was somewhat of an enigma.

Jennie hadn't found the time to break the code.

When her phone bleeps at two in the morning and Jennie's half on the way to sleep, she knows exactly who it's going to be, opens her half-lidded eyes to see whatever ridiculousness Lisa might've come out with now. She kind of hopes it's another drunken message about how unicorns would make way more sense than giraffes do but we all pretend horses with horns would be insane. She at least expects it to be a continuation of the conversation they were having earlier. It's neither.

Sunshine Manoban (2:04am): I forgot, what's your town called again?

Jennie Kim (2:05am): San Francisco

Sunshine Manoban (2:05am): Cool! Wouldn't have guessed that with how pale you are. You excited for Thanksgiving dinner? My mom's bought two different kinds of turkey and I can already taste how good they're gonna be

Jennie Kim (2:06am): Green beans were always my favourite part

Sunshine Manoban (2:07am): You're a monster but Happy Thanksgiving, Jennie!

Jennie Kim (2:08am): Happy Thanksgiving

Jennie goes to sleep thinking that's it. For all intents and purposes, it should be. It should be a full stop in the sentence of their relationship until the next beginning that starts with too much tequila, Lisa's ass looking insane in tight jeans and Jennie's recent decision to throw caution to the wind.

She wakes up to the sounds of her mother barking orders to her grumbling father about how he forgot the cranberry sauce and he wasn't the only one with a fulltime job, and yet, she didn't forget literally everything else on the menu.

It feels about right for Thanksgiving. She's a little excited for the groveling later that will come around the table – the one that will sound a lot like I'm thankful for my wonderful wife who put all of this together followed by an audible eye roll from everyone else around the table mocking her father for sucking up so obviously. It was tradition at this point.

"Look who decided to join us," Her father says, as Jennie plops herself down at the kitchen counter, hair slapped in the quickest bun she could muster and swaddled in her warmest jumper, and pulls a mug of coffee towards herself. She smiles as he presses a kiss to the top of her head.

"Is it the cranberry sauce?" She jokes, matching her mom's fist bump with glee. She still remembers the first time she taught the woman how to do it. She was very confused about its purpose, incredibly reserved in the way she tapped her knuckles to Jennie. Now she offered them up with abandon like she was about to tell her country club friends she was 'down with the kids'. Jennie would let her.

Her father groans, grabbing his keys and pointing them at the two of them sharply, "I don't need this from both of you."

"Where are you going?" Mrs. Kim asks.