And I remember that fight, 2:30 AM
As everything was slipping right out of our hands
I ran out, crying, and you followed me out into the street
Braced myself for the goodbye
'Cause that's all I've ever known
Then, you took me by surprise
You said, "I'll never leave you alone."
You said, "I remember how we felt, sitting by the water
And every time I look at you, it's like the first time
I fell in love with a careless man's careful daughter
She is the best thing that's ever been mine"
-
With her fitful sleep, Rosie found her temper short and her eyes gritty with tiredness as she slinked about her apartment, trying to avoid bumping into Clare, who she could hear moving about the place from behind her closed bedroom doors. Instead, Rosie sat on the floor, back against the foot of her bed, one of her guitars cradled in her lap and a melody running through her head as her fingers picked it out and applied it to the lyrics scrawled in the journal laying open in front of her. She'd been up since the crack of dawn and had spent all morning writing it, crossing out words with so much frustration that she'd torn the paper with the nib of her pen, her fingertips stained with blue ink and the threat of tears just below the surface.
She wrote for five days. Her phone rang off and on, all texts and messages unanswered, she barely ate a thing, and the only time she left her room was for coffee and to shower. In that time, a song about her parent's separation formed beneath her fingers, about all those times they'd ignored each other right in front of her, in a room crowded with people, avoiding each other right under her very nose. She was angry that she hadn't realised it. Rosie had been so involved in her own career, soaking up the limelight and the success, mingling with other artists and singers and models, that she hadn't even realised her family was falling apart around her.
Shortly after midnight in the early hours of the morning on the sixth day, she was brimming with so much frustration that she couldn't stop herself from pounding away at the drums. Jennie had called her that first day and hadn't messaged her since, hadn't come over too, and her mum was still living at her apartment trying to catch her in one of her quick dashes to the percolator. Clare wanted to talk. Rosie wanted to do anything but talk. Despite her exposed openness in her songs, she'd never liked to be vulnerable in person. Her music was her outlet, to say the things that she was afraid to say in person, to be honest as much as she was willing to be, without having to face the repercussions of her words. In a song, she could make up whatever story she wanted to to hide the real truth, but there was always the raw emotion in the lyrics, whatever it meant.
So she avoided her mum, and Jennie avoided her, and she vented in the only way she knew how. A room in her apartment had been sound proofed for that purpose, a baby grand piano tucked away in one corner, three different guitars, a banjo and a ganjo on stands or in heavy leather cases along one wall. And a drum kit. The room was like her own personal studio, without all the equipment and perfect acoustics that a studio had, but it was always her starting place. It was littered with amps, recording devices, spare drumsticks and trailing wires snaking across the floor.
It was in that room that she holed herself up in in the early hours of that morning, no windows and a single light keeping the darkness at bay, and she sat down in front of the Tama drum kit, mahogany wood polished to a rich shine, thin shells resonating quietly as she gently bumped the snare drum as she took a seat on the low stool. The guitar was her forte, and the piano, having spent hours pouring her blood, sweat and tears into perfecting her techniques with those instruments, but over the years, with lessons from the drummer in her band, from curious questions asked in the quiet moments in the recording studio, she'd picked up some knowledge about drums. The rest she made up herself.
Time slipped by quietly and uninterrupted as she pounded at the drums, brassy cymbals crashing, her curls sticking up on end near her hairline while tendrils snaked down out of her bun, the Chicago Meteors football jersey she was wearing as a nightdress clinging to her chest and lower back as she put every pit of herself into the music. It wasn't even about the music really - when she took the song into the studio, they'd work off the guitar piece she'd written and her music producers would work with her and her drummer until it sounded right, with little regard to the racket she was causing in the room - but she felt better as she created a cacophony of noise.
It was a little after two when she stopped, her phone buzzing on the floor beside her as Jennie's name lit up the screen. It was the first time she'd called in days and Rosie warily stared at the screen, before answering the call. "Hello?"
"I'm at the door."
Without another word, Rosie hung up and walked out into the dark apartment, her footsteps quiet as she snuck through the place like a thief, careful not to wake her mum. She was relieved that Clare was too deep asleep to have heard Jennie's knock as she made her way towards the door, a little out of breath, cheeks rosy and forehead damp with sweat. It was too late to primp and change so she went as she was, dishevelled and messy, and opened the door to reveal Jennie waiting patiently outside.
There was a momentary pause as they looked at each other before Jennie gave her a sheepish smile. "You weren't sleeping, were you?"
"No. I was working on some music."
"Good, I thought maybe my call had woken you up," Jennie softly said, reaching out to touch her arm as she leant in to kiss her.
Jerking back as she flinched, Rosie felt her cheeks turn red as guilt immediately washed over her. It wasn't Jennie's fault, and she silently berated herself before stepping forward and planting a featherlight kiss to her cheek.
"Is everything okay? You haven't answered my texts or calls."
"Oh everything's grand," Rosie said with bitterness, giving her a wry smile.
There was a momentary lapse as Jennie shifted uncomfortably outside Rosie's door, eyes darting around to make sure no one was lurking about after midnight, while she waited for Rosie to let her in. But Clare was inside and Rosie was highly aware of the fact that her mother could appear at any moment, and she cringed at the thought of a woman at her daughter's door in the early hours of the morning. It was one thing for her to tell Clare that she liked women, but another thing for her to bring one back to her place and introduce them. Rosie stayed where she was, blocking the doorway as Jennie gave her a bewildered look.
"What's wrong? Is it because I stayed the other night? Because I've been meaning to talk to you about that-"
"Can we do this tomorrow?" Rosie asked, squeezing her eyes shut as she rubbed her forehead, a headache starting to come on as she got herself worked up. She felt hot and tired, and suddenly spent after whaling away on the drums until she'd exhausted herself. All she wanted was to sleep and pretend that everything was okay for a few more hours. Her voice was hoarse and her eyes were ringed with dark circles from her restless nights.
Jennie frowned. "Tomorrow ? You've been ignoring me for days; will you even answer the door tomorrow? I just- I thought everything was going perfectly and now it just ... it all feels like it's slipping right out of our hands. You won't even look at me."
Raising her eyes, Rosie gave her a pointed look, but her eyes started to fill with tears as she thought about how wrong everything had suddenly gotten, and how Jennie could feel it too. With looming certainty, she knew that this was the last thread of the carefully constructed net she'd built that was about to come undone. They'd had their fun, but Jennie had tired of the secrecy and sneaking about.
"Of course it's slipping out of our hands. Everything is. My mum turned up out of nowhere and told me my parents are separating. I told my mum that I'm gay and now we can't even be in the same room together."
"Wait, what. Why didn't you tell me any of this?" Jennie quietly asked, reaching up to cup Rosie's face in her hands.
Turning her head to the side, slowly pulling herself away from Jennie's touch, Rosie felt her eyes fill with tears as she let out a shuddering breath, anger burning slowly inside her. "How could I tell you? You just- you left the other day. You woke up and it was like you couldn't get out of here fast enough. It's not my fault you fell asleep on my couch, it didn't mean anything. You didn't have to shut me out; you could've just told me."
"Told you what?"
Frustration welled up and hot tears spilt over, tracing their way down her cheeks, and Rosie blushed with embarrassment, her face turning red as she cried in front of Jennie for the first time. She felt silly and childish, crying about her parents and being ignored, but there was so much going wrong that she almost felt sick, her stomach twisting itself uncomfortably every time she was reminded of the mess of things. Rejection was one more that she didn't want to deal with right now, and she couldn't bring herself to stay at her apartment and argue with Jennie in hushed voices while her mum slept a few rooms away, oblivious but so close to waking up and finding them together.
Stepping out into the hallway, almost pressing up against Jennie as she shut the door behind her, Rosie walked away, bare feet slapping against the marble floor as she swallowed thickly. The elevator was just a few metres away and she jammed her finger into the button as she blinked back more tears, listening to Jennie's damp sneakers squeak on the floor as she walked after her in a daze. "I've been left before. I've gone through it all already, the cold feet, the distance, being ignored. I don't want to play games with you."
The doors slid open and she stepped inside the left elevator, pressing the button for the lobby and watching Jennie lunge forward a moment too late to stop the doors from closing, a look of understanding lighting up her face as she gave Rosie a panicked look. It was only as she stood in the elevator, amidst the marble and polished, expensive wood, the gold railing along the mirrored wall at the back, that she realised she was barefoot and swimming in a football jersey, no keys and no phone, with nowhere to go. But she had to go somewhere .
Stepping out into the lobby, she paused as she looked at the street glistening in the faint mist of rain before the elevator behind her dinged and she stepped through the automatic doors.
"Rosie! Where are you going ? You're not wearing any shoes!" Jennie called after her, arm shielding her eyes from the light drizzle as her sneakers pounded on the concrete.
Shivering slightly in her nightdress, a fine mist coating her hair and skin, Rosie swallowed thickly as she blinked back tears. Her shoulders were hunched and she let out a shuddering breath as she braced herself, coming to a standstill on the damp pavement, just outside the doors. Jennie's hand landed heavily on her shoulder a moment later, as if she was afraid that Rosie would take flight again and disappear before she could stop her. Slowly, Jennie drew her around to face her.
Looking down, Rosie met her brown eyes, her own swimming with sadness and heartbreak as her bottom lip trembled. Tutting, Jennie palmed a tear off her cheek before cupping Rosie's face in her hands.
"Hey, hold on," Jennie breathlessly said, a pleading look in her eyes as she looked up at her, brow wrinkled with concern. "Wait, wait, wait. You've got it all wrong. I'm not leaving you."
Jennie's voice cracked slightly with panic, and her shoulders slumped as she softly exhaled. Choking on a small sob, Rosie gave her a confused look,
"Listen to me," Jennie said, her voice growing hoarse and her eyes burning intensely in the darkness. Streetlights brightened the night to a dark grey, shadows forming shapes out of the darkness as halos of white light split the inky blackness, and Rosie ducked her head down as Jennie cradled her cheeks in her warm hands. "We are not your parents. Okay? We're not going to make the same mistakes as them; we'll make our own. And I'm going to stick around to make them. I just- do you remember that night, by the water? I've never felt more safe or more peaceful in my life. I feel like that all the time when I'm with you, and I look at you and ... it feels like I'm seeing you for the first time all over again. I know that you're careful and scared about what this could mean if other people find out, and so am I, but we can't be over yet. We haven't even gotten to the good part."
"No?"
Jennie's eyes crinkled at the corners as a breathtaking smile flitted across her face, and Rosie felt her stomach lurch as she peered up. "Not even close. Because I'm falling in love with you, and that's only the beginning. I don't have cold feet, and I'm not ignoring you, and ... I want to stay over and have it mean something the next morning, and, well ... you're the best thing that's ever been mine."
And then Rosie kissed her. Crushing herself against Jennie, her fingers knotting in the grey sweatshirt, she kissed her boldly, until the tears in her eyes dried up and the coldness inside her warmed beneath Jennie's gentle touch.
She kissed her until there was more happiness inside her than sadness until they were both shivering in the midnight air, Rosie barefoot and damp, Jennie's eyes bright with the thrill of admitting the truth, her eyelashes beading with the spring rain as they stood in the silence of the early morning. Rosie's cheek was pressed against the soft fabric of Jennie's sweatshirt, the faint echoes of her heartbeat audible as she closed her eyes and breathed in the fresh smell of rain, the crispness of the damp air and the smell of motor oil and dust on the pavement, feeling her body relax against Jennie's.
Eventually, they both came out of it in a daze, blinking slowly as they stood in the shadows of the building next to Rosie's, Jennie's fingers tracing the curve of Rosie's cheekbone as they stared into each other's eyes for a moment. Under the cover of night, stars shining like flecks of dust sprinkled across the sky and rain steadily dripping off gutters as drainpipes gurgled, it felt like they were in a dream, everything so calm and serene. It was like magic, and Rosie was entranced by it, never wanting it to end.
Afterwards, she couldn't bare the thought of going home, back up into her apartment, shamefaced and unable to meet her mother's eyes, so she let Jennie bundle her up in her car, a worn denim Jacket slipped on over her jersey, and drive her across town to her apartment. They held hands over the console the entire drive home, and Rosie was blindsided by humour as she wondered for a moment how she could've thought that they were anywhere close to being over, because it was true that they hadn't even made it to the good part yet, and her heart lurched every time that Jennie ran her thumb over the back of Rosie's knuckles. A few months was a relatively short amount of time, and she wanted more. She wanted everything with Jennie, and it scared her just how intensely she felt about her.
It scared her when Jennie brought her up to the third-floor apartment she shared with her friend and co-star, Krystal Jung, introducing them so easily at three o'clock in the morning as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Krystal didn't so much as bat an eyelid, greeting her warmly before she left, on her way to set for an early hair and makeup call. Rosie wanted to be able to so openly introduce her to all of her friends too, to have them act as if it was normal and expected. It scared her when Jennie led her towards her bedroom, their hands linked as Rosie trailed after her, and she shut them into the dark bedroom, streetlights turning the room grey as Jennie quietly moved around in the darkness, before she found a lamp switch and bathed the room golden. It scared Rosie because she so desperately wanted Jennie, and she told her as much as she slipped off the denim Jacket, tossing it over the back of a round wicker chair, and shed her damp jersey.
She woke on Sunday morning to sunlight slashing across her face and pooling on the oriental rug taking up most of the hardwood flooring. Amongst a sea of heavy blankets, some woven in silk with exquisite flowers stitched on it, others made with soft velvet in rich, dark shades, Rosie emerged in a mess of curls, her skin bare against the satin sheets and body aching ever so slightly. She was alone and she lay against the pile of pillows for a moment as she let herself wake up slowly, taking in the bedroom. There was an old vanity made out of dark wood, with an antique chair pushed in and a clutter of glass perfume bottles and makeup on top. A large gilt mirror sat behind it, spotted with black dots and holding polaroids and other memorabilia. A changing screen stood half folded behind the wicker chair she'd thrown Jennie's denim Jacket over and she spotted her jersey flung over the top of the screen, her face flushing as she recalled stripping it off and tossing it aside.
At the sound of gentle singing drifting through the heavy wooden door, she slipped out of the comfortable bed and grabbed a silk robe hanging amidst shawls and coats on a rack, tied it on and poked her head out of Jennie's bedroom. Sunlight streamed into the airy apartment, and she looked around at the exposed beams, the collection of rugs and paintings, mismatched furniture and general clutter, smiling as she found a few things clicking into place. Over the past couple of months, she'd never set foot inside Jennie's apartment, with Krystal usually home and Rosie's apartment offering more privacy, and she found that a few more things about Jennie clicked into place as she looked around.
Wandering over to the kitchen, where Jennie was scrambling eggs in a pan, Rosie leant against the counters as she watched her, the pile of messy brunette locks on top of her head, the strands trailing down to the nape of her neck, the willowy gracefulness of her movements as she seemed to sway back and forth in the kitchen, fetching a sprinkle of pepper, stirring the eggs, lost in the tune she distractedly sang. Rosie had made enough noise for Jennie to be aware of her presence, and she was content to sit in silence, eyeing the terracotta floor tiles and the overwhelming amount of plants that sprung to life around the place, until a plate was set down in front of her and Jennie rounded the counters to kiss her hard, pressing a cup of coffee into her hands.
"Good morning," Jennie smiled, her fingers delicately smoothing Rosie's curls down.
"Morning," Rosie said, her eyes softening as she looked up at her.
They ate in silence, Jennie sneaking in some eggs while Krystal wasn't home - she was trying to stick to their vegan diet, but she found herself cheating at it whenever her friend wasn't home to lecture her - and Rosie was happy to let the morning slip by as she enjoyed to calmness of the morning, feeling more relaxed than she had in days. Jennie lounged in an armchair, reading the newspaper, her legs crossed at the knee and the bicycle tattoo on her foot illuminated by a shaft of sunlight as she sipped at her coffee. Rosie would've been happy to stay there all day, eyeing the delicate bones of Jennie's feet, before they gave way to her slender dancer's calves and soft thighs, the hip bones that jutted out slightly and the ripples of her ribs with the black words written across them. She'd fallen asleep last night to Jennie reading excerpts of Alice In Wonderland to her, while her fingertip idly traced the letters of the quote from it inked onto her ribcage. We're all mad here.
Eventually, she had to go home though. Jennie had the rest of the day off and she drove her home in a borrowed pair of clothes, the white blouse hanging a little too loose on Rosie's stature, the jeans rolled up slightly and the sneakers a size or two too small, but they smelled like Jennie's perfume and laundry powder, and she breathed in the smell as she sat in the front seat of the Audi, her fingertips idly trailing patterns over the back of Jennie's hand as she stared out at the window. It was like the weather was attuned to her moods, last night's downpour reduced to a cloudless sky and muggy heat as Miami bloomed in full spring.
When they pulled up outside of the rise of condos, Rosie stayed in her seat, looking up at the windows reflecting harsh sunshine and feeling her stomach roil nervously. Jennie laid a hand over hers and gave it a gentle squeeze, cracks radiating from the corner of her eyes behind her sunglasses as she smiled. "Do you want me to come up with you?" she asked, so much care and determination in her words that Rosie knew that she would do it if she asked her to.
"No, it's okay," she sighed with resignation.
"Are you sure? I'll come up with you and face your mom and tell her that she's wrong."
Rosie let out a choked laugh, feeling some of the tension inside her dissipate as a warm feeling kindled in her chest. "Yeah? Well she's not home anyway. She'll be at church. Probably praying for her gay daughter's soul."
Jennie snorted and leant over, pressing a quick kiss to Rosie's mouth, before pulling back too quick for Rosie's liking. They'd been sitting outside for long enough to have realised they were alone at the moment, but they weren't willing to be too careless. Still, she wished that she could kiss Jennie properly, brazenly on the sidewalk, and not a chaste peck behind the tinted windows of her car. With a soft sigh, Rosie said goodbye and climbed out of the car, trudging back inside the building and up to her apartment. She had a spare key above the doorframe - a terrible habit for her safety - and she let herself into the empty apartment, feeling better than she had when she'd left. But there was still her mum to worry about.
-
"I remember that night vividly," Rosie murmured, "I was angry and half in love with her and sorry that I was being so cold, but I was hurting so much that I didn't know how to be around someone else. I'll admit, I was embarrassed. I liked to be vulnerable on my own terms, in my own words, after I'd had the time to edit them and to fix it until the meaning was clear ... but when you're angry and sad and heartbroken, you don't have the luxury of perfecting everything before it goes out into the world. All I have are my words. They've defined and created my career, but there are moments when they've utterly failed me and I've said the wrong thing, and I blamed her for this idea that I'd created in my head, that everyone left and she was just like my ex. It's been in those moments that Jennie's always known exactly what to say. I was the writer, but she was the actress who always hit her mark, delivering the right words at the right time."
She fell silent for a moment, and the room was so quiet that all she could hear was her own heart beating and the gentle patter of rain on the window. There was a sombre feeling descending on the room as if the grey skies and her sad story had infused the day with a drab lifelessness, and Rosie almost wished that it would pour down. There was something so comforting about rain lashing the windows that had always made her feel safe, and she found herself growing antsy as the tension in the room grew to almost be too much for her in the flat silence. The only thing she could do was keep talking, fill it up until there was nothing else left to say, and she could escape the stares that pinned her to her seat.
"I don't think Jennie was even aware of how much that moment meant to me, with what she said. To have grown up with no friends, to be bullied all the time and rejected and abandoned. Even my own birth mother gave me up willingly, and it just- well, that really affects the kind of person you grow up to be. All I had was my mum and dad and sister, and our family quite literally fell apart, and then here was this beautifully kind woman, telling me she was staying and that she loved me. No one had ever told me they loved me before."
"But it didn't last."
With a sad smile, Rosie met Nayeon's brown eyes and despite the sadness of the moment, there was a tender look on her face. "Nothing ever does."