I bet you think I either moved on or hate you 'Cause each time you reach out, there's no reply I bet it never, ever occurred to you
That I can't say hello to you
And risk another goodbye
And I just want to tell you
It takes everything in me not to call you
And I wish I could run to you
And I hope you know that
Every time I don't
I almost do, I almost do
Oh, we made quite a mess, babe
It's probably better off this way
And I confess, babe
In my dreams, you're touching my face
And asking me if I want to try again with you And I almost do
-
"I think, really, I just saw what I wanted to see. I wanted Jennie to be fine, because at least that way I'd know it was worth it. There had been a point to her leaving and my sadness. So I looked at those photos and I saw what I wanted to see - and the rest of the world saw it too - but really she was hiding it like I was."
"Obviously you didn't know that at the time. Did it make it better or worse when you realised that?"
Chewing on her lip with a thoughtful look on her face, Rosie paused for a moment, deliberating. Shifting her legs out from underneath her, she changed positions and leant against the arm of the armchair as she brooded. There was a solemn look on her face, her brown eyes grave and troubled.
"Of course it made me feel worse. I've never wished her anything but so much love and happiness. How could I not? When you love someone, you never want them to be hurting, and despite my own inability to move on, I still wanted her to be happy. I thought she was. And I guess that's one of the hardest parts of heartbreak too, knowing that someone else is doing great when you're not fine at all without them. I had this whole picture built up in my head, and it was just ... wrong. It was shocking to realise how wrong I was."
-
Venting her frustration through a new song, Rosie felt marginally better as she wrapped up the end of the Speak Now World Tour. Her last show was in New Zealand and it almost felt bittersweet to say goodbye, knowing that it was the last time she'd be performing regularly for a while. Although, Rosie was excited to record the rest of her new album, it wasn't quite the same as the rush from performing them live. It would be a while before she felt the rush that came from performing for a massive crowd and as she sang her last encore, she almost felt like crying.
The rest of the trip had been uneventful, with Rosie on her best behaviour as she let herself be forced into excursions where photographers were waiting, feeling brief moments of joy as she met fans and stopped for people asking for photos on the street. She'd spent most of her time in her hotel room though, writing songs as she vented her jealousy and found that she was actually angry at herself and not Jennie. It could've been her in Paris with her, instead of Krystal. Yet, Rosie was glad that Jennie had a friend there to be with her.
Likewise, when she went back to Miami, she threw herself into her friendships. Chahee Park was in town, and although they'd met through Jennie, it didn't feel strange for them to get dinner while she was there for a fashion show. Then there were all the hours Rosie was putting in at the studio, where she met Kim Jongin for the first time. She was immediately struck by his mind as they hung out on the leather couches, talking about the music he was producing. They quickly became fast friends.
It made her feel better to be surrounded by people, throwing herself into new friendships in all areas of the industry, to throw dinner parties for them all at her house, drinking wine as she played them some of her new music. She found that she was happy with the new people she surrounded herself with, less lonely, although she still spent her nights pacing around her quiet, dark house instead of sleeping.
The album was coming along well, with more than half of it finished now, as well as dozens of other songs stockpiled for the time being. Things felt like they were getting better, and Rosie could almost start to believe that it was shaping up to be a good summer for her, but the stinging reminders of Jennie always pulled her up short of letting her enjoy herself.
It didn't matter what she was doing, the memories would come out of the blue like a punch to the gut. At dinner with Taehyung after she went to see one of his performances, she found out that Jennie was back in town, and it kept Rosie up at night, envisioning her sitting in that wingback armchair in her apartment with Krystal late at night, looking out at the city as Jennie was wont to do. She'd be buying her groceries and think about the time they'd snuck out together to go to Wholefoods, without telling their managers and publicists, and Jennie had walked home with her. Or she'd think about how Jennie brushed her hair off her shoulders and realise with sudden surprise that she'd chopped it all off and wouldn't do that anymore.
It took everything in her not to call her and find out how she was doing, to ask how the filming had gone and whether she'd missed her. To tell her that she'd finally read Slaughterhouse- Five while on tour and to tell her what she'd thought about it, that she'd held a koala in Australia and hadn't been able to think about anything other than Jennie would've loved to hold such an uncommon animal. Of course, Rosie didn't call her and tell any of that; she didn't call her at all. Instead, she kept her thoughts to herself, until they filled her up and consumed her.
And she didn't hear from Jennie at all, which only further validated Rosie's belief that she'd moved on. It hurt to think, but it only fueled her own efforts to move on herself, as futile as they were. With no tour to keep her going, to bring on the next high, she was left trying to find ways to keep the warm buzz going without jeopardising her career in her team's eyes. They were overbearing at times, constantly checking in on her and keeping her busy with photo shoots and interviews, business meetings and deadlines for her album, and Rosie was too tired to even think about Jennie much when she was alone.
Still, the night her phone lit up with Jennie's name for the first time in months, she froze. Rosie swallowed thickly as she stared down at it, the temptation to answering it rising so strongly within her that she had to look away from the buzzing phone to stop herself from reaching out to answer it. She closed her eyes, letting out a shuddering breath.
The phone eventually stopped ringing, and it vibrated a few moments later with a text for a voicemail. She hated to have to ignore it, but she couldn't bring herself to answer it. There was a part of her that was convinced that it would only lead to another goodbye, and Rosie knew herself well enough to know that she couldn't face that again. It would only break her further, and she was already so lost.
And she knew that Jennie probably thought that she hated her, but Rosie couldn't bring herself to tell her why she couldn't speak to her. Even answering to tell her that, hearing her voice, would be enough to weaken what little resolve Rosie was clinging to. It was like she was walking a very thin tightrope, the threat of falling off either side such a very real threat that Rosie knew it would only take a small nudge to toss her right back into heartbreak of love again. She wasn't sure she really wanted either.
The truth was that she was tired. If she didn't know Jennie wasn't a malicious person, she would almost be able to believe that she was trying to lead Rosie on, giving her just enough time to start moving on, to get over her feelings, only to pull her right back into another whirlwind romance and subsequent heartbreak. Logically, Rosie knew that wasn't true, but she couldn't bring herself to risk it again. It was too painful to keep losing her, especially after knowing how perfect everything could be with Jennie. They just fit. It was so easy, so effortless when they were together, wrapped up in their own bubble. It was when they realised they had to step out of that bubble that the problems occurred.
Rosie couldn't foresee a way out of their problems - not for a long while - and she knew that she wasn't strong enough to answer a phone call off Jennie and not go running right back. She just loved her too much; it was that simple. It was hard for her to hold that love inside her with nowhere for it to go, and Rosie found herself irritable and quiet much of the time, especially when she was alone. There were days when she couldn't stand to be alone with her thoughts.
Still, after an hour of reorganising her office and tuning all of her guitars, she couldn't stop herself from making her way towards her phone on the kitchen counter. Standing a few feet away, Rosie paused, teeth worrying at her bottom lip as she stood in the dark kitchen, going back and forth between talking herself out of listening to the voicemail and biting the bullet and playing it just so that it didn't linger at the back of her mind for the next week.
Eventually, her curiosity and hope won out and she snatched up the phone with her heart in her throat, fingers trembling slightly as she unlocked the phone and quickly called her message bank. Pressing the phone to her ear, she listened to the options and pressed the correct series of numbers before there was a brief moment of static and then a shuddering breath that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up on end. It was such a visceral and strong reaction for something so small, but Rosie felt jolted awake, heart pounding loudly in her chest.
"Hi. I know you probably don't want to hear from me. Obviously."
There was a slight pause as Jennie let out a strained laugh.
"I just- I wanted to talk to you. I hope you're well. Oh! Congrats on the tour as well. Right ... well ... bye."
The sound of her voice made Rosie's throat close up as she was struck with a wave of longing. The temptation to call her was so strong that as she opened her contacts, she had to physically force herself to keep scrolling, desperate for anyone that would be awake for her to call that late at night. Her options were slim, consisting of friends overseas at the moment, and then she stopped near the end of the list and paused at a name, before pressing it and waiting as the phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Jongin, hi, it's Rosie. What're you doing right now?"
"I'm working on some music."
"At the studio?"
"My home studio."
"Oh."
There was a pause as Rosie's hopes deflated, and she drew in a shuddering breath, running a hand through her hair as she started to say goodbye.
"Okay, have a good-"
"Do you want to come over?"
Eyebrows rising slightly, she hesitated, before a small smile curled her lips and she felt the knot of tension inside her unwind slightly. "That'd be great."
"I'll text you my address."
He hung up after that, and Rosie watched as a text came through a few moments later. Pushing thoughts of Jennie aside, the urge to call her under control, for the time being, Rosie made her way to her bedroom to change, before scratching Hank beneath the chin and grabbing her car keys.
Behind the wheel of her car, she started the engine and rolled down the long driveway, driving out through the parting gates, and waiting until they shut behind her before she drove off, following the instructions on her phone. The roads were quiet, given the lateness of the night, and she drove in silence as she did when she was recording a new album. Rosie hated it when she was writing a song, only to find out that she'd been influenced by something she'd heard on the radio and had to scrap the idea and start over. She'd learned a long time ago that it was better to avoid music when she was writing a lot.
Which left her alone with her thoughts as she drove through the darkness, halos of light flashing across the bonnet of her car as she past street lights, brooding over Jennie. It was hard not to think about what Jennie wanted to say to her, to stop herself from calling her to find out, but Rosie didn't cave in. Both hands tightly gripping the steering wheel, she drove all the way to Jongin's townhouse without pause, killing the engine once she'd parked on the side of the road.
Climbing out, she locked the car and walked up the front steps, standing on the stoop as she pressed the doorbell. Waiting outside in the mild evening, the smell of warm stone and the threat of rain hanging heavily in the air, Rosie glanced around at the street, taking in the neat lines of townhouses and the fancy cars parked along the street. The door was abruptly jerked open a moment later and she found herself staring at an alarming Hawaiian shirt.
"Evening," Jongin greeted her, waving her inside.
"Hi," Rosie said as she slowly stepped inside, unsure what she was expecting.
He was a little eccentric, which only fuelled his creativity with music, and as she followed him toward the kitchen, she found that his house was exactly like she'd imagined it. Each wall was a different colour and everything was steel and concrete, framed Andy Warhol paintings on the walls and strange patterned furniture that looked like it belonged in the art deco time period. She looked around with bemusement, finding that she was oddly comfortable in the strange house.
Offering her a drink, Rosie took a glass of kiwi juice with some trepidation and Jongin babbled about what he was working on as he led her up through the levels of the house. One of the rooms on the third floor had been converted into a tiny recording studio, the soundproofed walls covered with acoustic foam tiles, while an upright digital piano, a few guitars - acoustic and electric - a drum kit and a few other instruments were crammed in. One corner had a mic just below the window, and Rosie was waved down onto a stool as Jongin moved around the cramped space with ease.
"I was just fitting some writing in."
Rosie nodded as she sipped at the juice, finding that it was actually quite nice. She knew that Jongin and his band, SuperM, had released an album last month. They were new and up-and-coming, although he'd been working in the industry for years, and their album had created a buzz with their first hit.
"For the band?"
He shrugged, waving a hand dismissively, "no, no, just a personal project. Who knows. What have you been working on?"
Shrugging, Rosie gave him a small smile, "oh, you know, just more break-up songs of course."
With a grave look on his face, he glanced over at her as he shoved a lead into an amp, the static crackle of electricity filling the room for a moment. "I didn't know you were dating anyone."
A spasm of pain ran across Rosie's face as she ducked her head and let out a strangled laugh, the sound hitching in her throat. "Haven't you heard? I'm screwing the whole industry."
He paused behind the amp, fixing her with a confused look as he cocked his head to the side. "Well ... that's obviously not true."
"Far from it," Rosie quietly laughed, giving him a grim look.
"It bothers you though."
Opening her mouth, Rosie quickly shut it again, lips pressed into a flat line as her brow furrowed. A troubled look crossed her face and she raised one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, crossing her legs as she nursed her drink.
"Yeah," she murmured, "I think it does."
Settling down on the stool in front of the piano, Jongin fixed her with his dark eyes, a curiously soft expression on his face as he watched her. "Why?"
"Because it's not true!" Rosie exclaimed, burning anger inside her, "I don't like it when they trivialise my music because they made their own assumptions. I don't only write break-up songs."
"Then write a song to prove them wrong."
"They'll just ignore it because it doesn't fit their narrative," Rosie bitterly replied, "they don't care about my love songs unless I'm blaming someone in them. And okay, maybe I do in some of them, but so does everyone else! It's not-"
Pulling herself up short of sounding like a petulant child, Rosie pursed her lips as she slumped on her stool. She knew that she was lucky, but it didn't always feel like that. It had all felt so wonderful and unbelievable when she'd first been shunned into the spotlight, a literal dream come true for her, but after a few years in the industry, it felt less and less like a dream and more like a nightmare that she couldn't quite escape.
When she'd signed her contract, she'd never imagined it was going to cause so many problems in her life. How would her public image be if everyone knew that she'd only ever dated two people and loved one of them? What would they say about her then, that she and Jennie kept falling in and out of love? Rosie was sure it wouldn't be good; the media never had anything nice to say. Anything and everything would be twisted, and she wasn't entirely convinced that she'd been wrong to refuse to give up her career to come out. She wished it could be easier.
"You write your own songs," Jongin slowly said, "they'll never be able to take that away from you. No matter what anyone else says, at least you don't need fifteen writers to write a mediocre song for you. And if it's a heartbreak song? Write it anyway. Write it as an open letter to the person it's about. It's not for the media; it's a conversation between you and the other person."
"I wish I could just say it to them," Rosie muttered, frustration welling up inside. "I want to call them, but ..."
"Why don't you?"
"We made such a mess of things," Rosie sighed heavily, running a hand over her face and taking a sip of juice. "Twice. And I feel like if I call ... I'll go running back to try again. And I want that, but-"
"But ..."
"I don't know," Rosie said, her lips twisting into a rueful smile.
There was pain in her eyes and pain in her heart, and she couldn't think of a good reason not to call Jennie back, other than the fact that Rosie was scared she'd throw herself back in with such reckless abandon that she was only going to hurt herself when it didn't work out again. But there was that sliver of hope that it would work the next time that kept her clinging to the thought.
"I almost do. Every time. But then I ... don't."
Leaning back on his stool, Jongin reached for a stack of notebooks and picked one up off the top, fumbling around in a pot of pens and pencils on top of the piano, and then held the two items out to Rosie with a stern look on his face.
"Write it down. What you want to say."
"I don't-"
"Write," he ordered, pushing them into her hands and then climbing to his feet. "I'm going to make a sandwich."
Sitting there alone in his little studio with a notepad in one hand and her juice in the other, Rosie blinked in surprise, watching as the door shut, leaving her with her thoughts and feelings. Slowly, she put her glass of juice down on the floor and opened the notepad, holding the pen poised in her hand.
She didn't even know what she would say to Jennie if she had the chance. There was so much. And then as if in a daze, Rosie started writing, because what she really wanted to tell Jennie was why she didn't call her to tell her everything she wanted to say. She just wanted her to know that she didn't hate her. That every time she called, Rosie was just a little bit closer to answering, to begging her to try again. Putting pen to paper, she let the words pour out of her.
-
"I said once that people haven't always been there for me but music had, and nothing has ever been truer in my life. When I lost people, or when I was fighting with them, or dying to speak to them, sometimes all I had was my music. And it would be a relief to be able to say the things I couldn't say to their faces through music. It was a way for me to bare the parts of me that I hid, to show my hand and let myself be vulnerable, without having to have that conversation. Especially when I knew that having that conversation might not be what was best for me."
"You and Jennie were seen together before your album, Red, came out though."
Nodding, Rosie gave her a faint smile, "we were. And she heard those songs before the album came out, heard it before I thought she would, and it still had the same effect. It was a way for me to put all of my cards on the table for her to understand what I'd felt and thought, and I think ... it's always been easier for me to be honest that way. For someone who writes for a living, my mouth has the terrible habit of saying the wrong thing. At least writing it down gives me the chance to articulate my meaning properly. I think sometimes that's helped solve the problems my mouth has gotten me into."
With a wry smile and a sheepish look, Rosie shifted in her seat and let out a quiet laugh. Reaching for the mug of water, she took a sip and gently cleared her throat, leaving a red lipstick stain on the rim before she set it back down. Gesturing with her hand, she shifted in her seat again.
"So of course, she listened to those songs when we reunited, way before the album actually came out."
"Did that help?"
Nodding, a thoughtful look crossed Rosie's face. "I think so. I mean, it's everything I couldn't tell her when we were apart. And I'm sure the fans will go back and listen to the album again in a new light, and I'm sure they'll come up with another timeline for our relationship - they like to do that, they're like detectives - but it really did help shed some light on what we both needed in our relationship."
She paused for a moment and gave Nayeon a soft smile.
"Like I said, music has always been there for me. It's one of two constants in my life."
"What's the second one?"
Fixing her with a piercing stare, a ghost of a smile curled the corners of Rosie's mouth. "That my heart has never belonged to anyone except Jennie Kim. And that it never will."