Remember when you hit the brakes too soon? Twenty stitches in a hospital room
When you started crying, baby, I did too
But when the sun came up, I was looking at you
Remember when we couldn't take the heat?
I walked out and said, "I'm setting you free"
But the monsters turned out to be just trees When the sun came up, you were looking at me
You were looking at me, ooh
You were looking at me
Are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods yet?
Are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods?
(I remember)
Are we in the clear yet? Are we in the clear yet?
Are we in the clear yet? Are we in the clear yet? (Oh, I remember)
-
"Well, now I know that whatever happened here didn't inspire Back To December. That was years before, right?" Nayeon said, her eyebrows raised expectantly.
Rosie waved a hand dismissively, "oh God, no. No, that song was about someone very dear to me who was going through a lot in their own relationship. And in no way connected to what happened three years later. Although, I did write a song about it, yes. Out Of The Woods."
"Ah. Right."
Rosie nodded thoughtfully as Nayeon ran through her memories, trying to dig up information on what lyrics she could cobble together from that song. She most likely had no recollection of it - Rosie had never known if she was being nice because it was her job not to piss off potential interviewees, or if she genuinely did like her music - but Rosie gave her a moment to try and piece it together anyway.
"Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but everyone thought that was about Kim Suho."
"Oh, of course they did!" Rosie laughed in surprise, a smile stretching across her face. "They thought songs that had been written, recorded, released as a single and had a music video before there were even whispers about us were about him. I didn't correct them. Obviously. But, I can assure you, very few songs on my albums have ever been about men. And certainly not in a romantic sense, regarding myself."
"So ... Jennie. Is this when it ended again?"
With a soft chuckle, Rosie smiled sadly, her brown eyes softening with a sorrowful, bittersweet look. "No, not then. I was just- have you ever loved someone so much that you've been scared that you're going to lose them, and it would literally kill you? Because that's how I felt about Jennie. As much as I tried to push it aside, I just- I had this feeling that she was going to leave me. And it wasn't anything to do with her, because she was wonderful and I'd feel so safe when I was with her. Everything was perfect, and we were so in love that it just frightened me even more. I wasn't sure I would survive her leaving me. Not again."
Trailing off into silence, Rosie drew her hands into her lap and fiddled with the rings on her right hand, a clouded expression on her face as a lump lodged itself in her throat. Her blonde hair concealed her face from the camera, although she could see the flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye, between the thin curtain of curls, and knew that the cameramen were adjusting their angle, trying to catch this moment of pensive quietness.
Forcing a wan smile onto her face, Rosie lifted her head, tossing her blonde hair back out of her face, and squared her shoulders as she gave Nayeon a level look, holding her curious stare. Softly clearing her throat, Rosie drew in a deep breath that filled her up and seemed to bolster her slightly. The muscles in her jaw twitched slightly - she could feel them jumping as she clenched her teeth through the smile - and she leant back in her seat, one arm slung over the back in a careless gesture.
"So I did the one thing I could to make it easier for myself. Well, I thought it'd be easier. I tried my very best to drive a wedge between us because if I chose to end it, I thought it'd hurt less."
"Oh ... you-"
"No," Rosie firmly replied, shaking her head as she cut Nayeon off mid-thought. "Jennie saw right through me, of course. She was having none of it. I think ... I think for me, it was- it was the moment I realised that she was committed. She was committed to us in a way that was shockingly real, and I wondered for the first time whether perhaps our relationship was more serious for her than it was for me. I loved her completely, of course, but I wasn't yet twenty-three at that time. I felt foolishly naive and childish so often, despite all the drama I had to endure. I think that added pressure only made me feel even more out of my depth, but I think I realised ... if I had to pick a moment, I would say it was that day. That day was the day that I knew that I was in too deep for it to be a clean break."
-
Things were calm for most of November, with rumours spreading like wildfire and very little to do on Rosie's end of things. The weather in Miami cooled and they spent more time indoors, visiting bowling alleys and theatres, catching dinner with friends or taking yoga classes, and things felt much the same as always between her and Jennie. It was mundane and exciting, the normalcy of their relationship giving Rosie hope as things settled into a routine.
Of course, that all changed very quickly with the growing demands of her latest PR stunt with Suho. So far, they hadn't had to put in much effort, both of them on different continents or opposite sides of the world. Rosie had made a quick trip to Australia to perform at an award show and do some press for her album, while Suho was doing his own interviews in Chicago with the rest of his band, Exo, and there wasn't much to do except play coy when they were asked about each other.
But then their teams coordinated to get them together in Chicago for a few outings, and they lit the fuse on all of the carefully laid plans that their teams had been setting out for them. It blew up in their faces in a way that Rosie could never have imagined. What was supposed to be a harmless publicity stunt to shield her real relationship and career from the detrimental blowback of the press seemed to take on a life of its own that left Rosie exposed and vulnerable like she'd never imagined.
Their first highly publicised outing together was to a park in the middle of downtown Chicago, the second day of December on a grey and windy day. Rosie and Suho walked side by side, dressed casually as they chatted like old friends, ignoring the camera flashes of stunned fans' phones and the brighter ones of paparazzi that trailed after them like shadows. They'd been called in by Hyeri, who had already set up an article with the gossip site for when they published them. Rosie endured it all with a smile as they walked and walked, almost with no purpose, except to be seen of course, before they set themselves down on the concrete steps overlooking a fountain in the middle of the plaza.
It was a cold day and they didn't stay longer than an hour, sitting shoulder to shoulder, knees bumping as they turned towards each other, coming off as intimate and casual, although it was a conscious effort for both parties to keep up the charade. Not that they didn't get along well as friends - that was an added bonus this time around, already knowing a little about each other from mutual parties and events - but it was uncomfortable to pretend to be in love with someone they didn't know that well.
Once the hour was up, they made their way to a black SUV parked on the verge of the street and were met by a few fans clamouring for photos and autographs. Posing on either side of the teenage girls, most of who seemed to be there just for Suho and gave Rosie sidelong glances as if she'd offended them somehow, they smiled and played their parts, before their bodyguards told them it was time to leave. Suho was halfway into the car before Rosie when a fan called out.
"Do you think it's love?"
Rosie glanced back over her shoulder as she clutched the black door, eyebrows raised slightly in surprise beneath her bangs. She thought about Jennie and how it felt to fall asleep beside her, the rising and falling of her voice as she listened to her run lines, the way she made French toast for her in the morning and would cut Rosie off mid-sentence with a surprise kiss, and her expression softened. With a small smile, Rosie inclined her head slightly.
"Yes, it looks that way," she replied, not thinking of Suho at all, before she slid into the back seat beside him and the door was slammed shut.
The tension bled out of them both and they were mostly silent on the drive back to the hotel. It was Rosie's hotel, but for the next few nights, it was commandeered by hordes of young girls as Suho followed her back. They didn't know that they had separate suites on different floors - all the media noticed was the fact that Rosie and her new boyfriend went back to Rosie's hotel and he was photographed leaving the next morning, sometimes with her in tow.
The rest Exo stayed at a different hotel, which only seemed to fan the flames with their new relationship, but while the people who didn't know them speculated about Suho staying the night in her room, and about what they were getting up to, they didn't know that Jennie was upstairs in her room and that Rosie fell asleep beside her every night.
And when they attended the after party for Exo's show at Chicago Stadium, everyone thought that Rosie was there with Suho instead of the brunette actress she spent all night talking to. And when they played I've Had The Time Of My Life from Dirty Dancing, and Jennie excitedly clamoured for everyone to move the furniture to make some space in the middle of the private room at the bar before lifting Rosie with ease as they both laughed, everyone cheered and clapped and didn't think anything of it. Drunk and gullible, everyone saw what the media fed them, and when she left with Suho that night, holding his hand, they didn't think twice about the other hand she held, linking the three of them together.
For a week straight, Rosie and Suho were seen together, while her Twitter mentions were filled with death threats and insults and she was too wrapped up in trying to placate Jennie, guilt eating away at her, to even notice. Of course, she knew that his fans weren't thrilled with the idea of a branded slut dating Suho, but she let it roll off her back as she tried to focus on the breathing room she and Jennie had acquired. It was almost like their trips to Paris, but with a lot more cameras, which meant more a lot more sneaking around and caution on their behalf. Rosie knew that Park Jihyo hadn't wanted Jennie to come on the trip. She'd come anyway.
After flying to New York to perform at the Jingle Ball, the trio flew to London on a private jet and the press couldn't get enough of them. They went out for dinner to celebrate Jeon Jungkook's birthday with a few of his mates, crowding in the back of a pub, they had dinner with Mason and Clare, all of them together, and went to the Lake District to feed birds and do some shopping. And it was almost hilarious to Rosie, because Jennie was there in the back of it all.
She was a few steps ahead of them or lurking back with the bodyguards, and it was like the paparazzi didn't even see her. She never cropped up in any of the stories, and there were no speculations as to why she was always there. It was right in front of them the whole time, but because there was a man shoved into the picture, of course they only focused on that. But they were right there, together all the time, and it felt like it was glaringly obvious to Rosie, like they were glowing, luminescent in vivid colours, while everything else faded to a monochrome, washed- out pallor around them. But nobody noticed.
They were in London for Rosie's twenty-third birthday and Jennie bought her an antique rug, a set of Moleskine notebooks for her music and journaling, and a pair of diamond earrings. Suho flew back to Boston a few days before, an interview already scheduled as an excuse to give them some space for Rosie's birthday, and she spent the whole day with Jennie in her mother's townhouse, before they went out for dinner that night. Just the two of them. It was a welcome reprieve from the endless cameras and reporters, and despite the bustling city, London had an almost peaceful quality to it that night as they opted to walk through the bitter winter weather, arm in arm in their coats and scarves.
And then it was another plane ride back to Miami, leaving them irritable and jet- lagged once more, exhaustion making them snappy whenever one of them spoke in the back of the car. Despite the fact that they were trying to make the most of everything, there seemed to be a strained tension between them that Rosie couldn't quite put her finger on. Things would seem perfect one moment and then she'd have to put on a mask and transform into someone else, holding Suho's hand while she was harassed by people in the street. Rosie was in the spotlight enough to be used to fans hounding her for photos or following her at a distance, kept at bay by nervous excitement as they watched her like a zoo exhibit. But this was something else.
It should've been a relief to get home, but she felt so worn down that Rosie couldn't even feel that as her gate parted and they were driven up to the house at the end of it, greeted by the sight of Irene and Hyeri's cars parked side by side. Suppressing a groan, Rosie deflated in her seat at the thought of business talk right at that moment. Her and Jennie had barely had a moment alone without the prickling fear of being caught, and after flights back and forth different countries, across multiple time zones, all she wanted to do was fall into bed beside her at that moment.
Instead, she warily stepped inside after Jennie and made her way to the kitchen, where a stack of magazines were waiting on the kitchen counters, and the duo were sharing a pitcher of sangria, despite the fact that it was just past ten o'clock in the morning. Two pairs of eyes moved to her face as Hank ran in excited circles around her feet, and Rosie gave them an expectant look as she eyed the scene before her.
Reaching out, Hyeri tapped the top of the stack of magazines and gave her a grim look. "We have a problem."
Sighing heavily, Rosie set down the brown valise and the hard leather guitar case that she'd been travelling with and moved towards them. Picking up Irene's half-full cup, she drained the rest of the sangria, plucked half a strawberry from amidst the clinking ice, and kissed her manager on the cheek, feeling her hand on her back. Fixing her publicist with a weary look, Rosie popped the strawberry in her mouth and chewed without relish.
"What's wrong now?"
"They don't like you," Hyeri slowly said, her words clipped and grave.
Rosie paused for a moment, leaning against Irene as Jennie fussed over the French bulldog, and silence blanketed them. Stomach knotting itself uncomfortably, Rosie set the empty glass back down and softly cleared her throat, before crossing her arms over her chest.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that we were wrong. Kim Suho? Not a good choice."
Quietly scoffing, Rosie had to resist the urge to roll her eyes, the ghost of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Biting back the sharp words that none of the men on their list of prospective beards were necessarily good choices in Rosie's opinion, she raised her eyebrows and ran her hand through her messy hair, a haughty edge to the look of amusement on her haggard face.
"I thought he was."
"Yes, we all did," Hyeri brusquely replied, refilling Irene's glass with more sangria and nudging it towards Rosie, who shrugged and picked it up. "We didn't anticipate ... this reaction from his fans."
From amidst the stacks of magazines, folded up newspapers and other such documents, Hyeri procured a thick pile of paper and slapped them down on the marble counter in front of Rosie. Looking down at the top page, Rosie's stomach lurched and she felt a lump lodge itself in her throat as she took in the screenshot of the tweet, followed by six more beneath it, and countless pages filled with similar comments. People were calling her a slut, a whore, telling her to die and to stay away from Suho, and she felt a strange hollowness inside, the faint realisation that some people really didn't like her. Because of a guy.
"What is it?" Jennie quietly asked, coming up to stand beside Rosie.
Nudging the stack of comments in her direction, Rosie picked up the glass of sangria and set about draining it quickly as she turned away from the three women. Eyes landing on her little orange tree, the housewarming gift off Jennie from a few years back, Rosie walked over to it and stroked the green leaves, the slender branches bare in the off-season. With a brooding look on her face, she listened to the shuffling sound of paper and stood stiffly before her tree, staring out the windows of the French doors and taking in the stretch of lawn and scrubby trees shielding her house from sight.
"Well, it's not the worst thing anyone's ever said to me," Rosie muttered, a wry twist to her lips as she turned around with a strained smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Remember that money- hungry nobody from that gossip site who called me a cunt because you didn't send him free tickets to my show? Whore is hardly scandalous."
Her flippant attitude was a feeble attempt to brush off the stinging words, and there was a stubborn set to her jaw as she looked at Jennie. There was a pitying sadness in her brown eyes that made Rosie flush slightly, before giving her a wan smile, aiming for reassuring but falling short. Despite the fact that Rosie played everything off as harmless, her skin wasn't as thick as she would've liked, and one of the sore spots for her were the digs at relationships that weren't even real. It shouldn't have bothered her, but it did.
"They're just- they're little girls. They're spiteful and upset because they're not going to grow up and be me and get to date a boyband member. There's nothing more to it," Rosie said, scowling as she waved her hand dismissively. "I can handle catty girls; I went to school with them, remember?"
"And how popular were you at school?" Hyeri flatly asked.
Pressing her lips into a flat line, Rosie clutched the glass tightly in her hand, so tight that her knuckles turned white and for a moment she thought she might shatter it in her grasp. A dull ache flared up in her chest, a testament to the lasting scars of years of bullying at the hands of such girls, and Rosie tried her best to shrug it off, an almost lazy roll of her shoulders as she walked back over to the trio arranged around the pile of offending media.
"Well you already know that answer, or you wouldn't have asked."
With a faint sigh, Hyeri fixed her with her dark eyes and gave her a pointed look, "and if you become unpopular that's your career down the drain."
"I thought even bad press was still good, because at least they're still running stories about me."
"Come on, love, even you know that there's only so much negative press your reputation can handle before it's done too much damage. I know we predicted a bit of backlash in the wake of this, but I think Suho's team, and, well, I hate to admit it, but me too, underestimated his fanbase a little."
"Well, now what?" Rosie huffed, throwing her hands up in exasperation, sangria sloshing dangerously in her glass, before she took another sip and fought the urge to scowl and sulk like a child. "One minute I'm being ordered to get a boyfriend, because God forbid anyone know I'm a bloody lesbian, and then the next minute my fake boyfriend is causing problems. Which one is it?"
Irene reached out and ushered Rosie closer, and despite herself, Rosie slowly moved to her side, her bristly demeanour soothed by her manager's light touch as she rubbed Rosie's arm and gave her an understanding look. Jennie was silent, head ducked down, foot lazily swiping back and forth as she wound the dog up, and Rosie looked to her for help and received nothing but silence as Jennie avoided her gaze.
"All we're saying is ... well, perhaps we should consider other options, babe," Irene softly suggested.
Gritting her teeth, Rosie set her glass down and raked her fingers through her hair, eyes burning with tiredness and her skin feeling flushed and itchy beneath her sweater. "And then what? They're right and I'm even more of a slut for moving on so quickly. For breaking his heart. I'm just using him to write another album. God, I've heard it all before. I know what they say, okay? I'm not oblivious - I check my mentions and comments, even when you tell me not to. It's going to have to carry on for a few more months, isn't it? Or else that will be bad too."
"I know it's frustrating-"
"Yes, but you don't have to live with it. It's annoying for you to have to find these men for me, sure, but you pull the strings behind the scene and I have to deal with what everyone says. And I said I'd do it, and that's fine, but I'm not going to add fuel to opinions of me by making them think they're right, okay? Suho and I will just have to suck it up for a bit longer."
Hyeri let out a heavy sigh and threw her hands up in defeat, "fine. If you want to do it this way, then we'll keep at it. But we might have to look into an end date for this, is all I'm saying."
Closing her eyes, Rosie pinched the bridge of her nose and then shook her head, the sour taste of wine in her mouth as she blinked rapidly, feeling the heaviness in her limbs. Shrugging carelessly, she set a hand on Irene's shoulder and gave Hyeri a grim look.
"Fine. You look into that; I'm going to bed."
"Get some rest," Hyeri gently urged her, "you've got your parents coming into town in a few days."
Nodding, Rosie gave them both tired smiles and mumbled agreements that she would rest, and then put her arm around Jennie's shoulder and herded her out of the kitchen, leaving their belongings where they'd deposited them.
It was warmer in Miami than in London, but they still wrapped themselves up in each other's arms, Rosie brimming with irritation, while Jennie was uncharacteristically quiet, and they fell asleep in the stifling silence of the bedroom, the sun seeping in through the heavy curtains. It didn't matter to them, they were both so jet-lagged that they fell asleep soon enough, while Rosie's manager and publicist ran scenarios and stories back and forth in the kitchen, commandeering the parlour and the coffee machine for the rest of the morning.
Waking late in the afternoon, Rosie felt marginally better, especially after a shower and a change of clothes, and left her room to find her fridge fully stocked and a list of text messages in the group chat with Irene and Hyeri. Ignoring them for the time being, Rosie whipped up a stack of toast smothered in jam and filled the French press with fresh coffee grounds and carried a laden tray back to her bedroom.
Jennie stretched awake as she entered the room again, giving her a sleepy smile as she brushed tousled hair out of her face, and they watched reruns of Golden Girls on the flatscreen as they ate their way through the mountain of toast and came alive with the hum of caffeine in their veins. It was a slow day, and quiet. Neither of them said much and there was the oppressive feeling of tension hanging between them that made Rosie wonder what Jennie was thinking and why she felt like there was something wrong.
The feeling stayed with them over the following few days, while Rosie was left playing host to her mother as she paraded herself and Suho around the city in full view of the paparazzi that had been called on them. They had a ski trip to Utah planned for two days' time, and Rosie found that she'd never felt less like skiing in her life, but the thought of spending a few days in the secluded snow-capped mountains of the ski town was too good of an opportunity to pass up, even if Suho was scheduled to meet her there too.
Rosie had expected the tension to bleed out of everyone once they reached the mountains, as if the surrounding nature and the bite of cold in the air would be a soothing presence, but it was still there. Irene didn't have any family, so she came with them, while Hyeri stayed in Miami to spend some time with her son, Jiyong, which left Rosie on edge around her manager. Jennie was still quiet and coiled like a spring, while Rosie was cooler towards Suho, even though they still had a relationship to present, and Clare wouldn't stop looking at her daughter expectedly, which made for an uncomfortable atmosphere at the lodge. Rosie was almost tempted to just go home, but the thought of enduring more photo op's in the streets, hand in hand with Suho, deterred her.
So they went skiing instead, and the invigorating cold and steep slopes of the snowy mountains made Rosie's stomach drop and soar, her spirits lifting slightly as she resolved to just enjoy herself. Bundled up in thick clothes, they toured the small town with its coffee shops and boutiques, restaurants and a solitary club, and took the time to appreciate the less congested streets where people didn't stop and gawk quite as much, and at least felt enough shame to take photos on the sly, instead of thrusting phones in her face.
But, of course, the peace didn't last. It was almost funny in hindsight that it was a snowmobile accident that was somehow the last straw for them, in that argument, but at the time, it was frustrating and maddening and they both felt so helpless. It seemed almost comical, but it had felt anything but when they'd been racing through skeletal trees thrusting up through the bed of fresh snow, nearing the bottom of the mountain and coming to a gentle stop. Or at least Rosie did.
Jennie, for some inexplicable reason, slammed on the brakes and went head over handlebars, launching herself on a patch of rock slick with ice, instead of gliding the rest of the way to the shed to return their snowmobiles. It almost seemed to happen in slow motion as Rosie glanced over her shoulder to watch her, eyes widening behind the ski mask she was wearing as she watched her girlfriend soar in what was a considerably graceful arc, before slamming down hard onto the ice paved ground.
Under other circumstances, Rosie would've laughed, but she heard the thud of the impact and knew that it was painful. Yet, the sight of blood smeared a vivid red over Jennie's chin as she gingerly touched a hand to it made Rosie's stomach lurch as Jennie struggled up to a sitting position, pale and cursing.
"Shit," Rosie softly swore, scrambling off her snowmobile as she slipped and slid her way across the ice, boots clunky and big as she tripped over her own feet in her haste. "Jennie!"
"I'm fine," came the muffled reply, the words shaky and thick.
Falling to her knees at her side, Rosie reached out and then recoiled as Jennie jerked away from her touch. Rosie couldn't help but feel wounded by the way she moved out of her reach, her face crumpling with hurt and confusion as she took in the blood pooling over the edges of Jennie's gloved hand, dotting the ice with rich, red droplets. She wanted to cradle her in her arms and see how bad it was, but Jennie was already turning away, face eyes hidden behind her ski mask.
"First aid office is this way," she mumbled, before setting off across the icy lot, leaving Rosie to follow after her in silence, a forlorn expression on her face.
By the time they reached the first aid office, Jennie was sniffing as she quietly cried, and Rosie felt tears freeze on her cheeks as she started crying too, worried and confused and anxious about the amount of blood that seemed to be seeping from Jennie's split chin. They stepped inside the wooden cabin and she soon found herself piling into a small hospital room, with the sharp smell of antiseptic, a narrow bed, which Jennie was herded onto, and a mint green curtain on a rail to pull around it.
Rosie sank onto a vinyl chair in the corner, beneath a series of laminated posters about washing hands and the first few steps for when someone injures themselves. Pale and sweating in her ski gear, Rosie watched as Jennie's beanie and mask was slipped off, revealing a tangled mess of brunette hair and a startlingly white face, made even starker by the dark blood freeze-drying on her chin. On the edge of her seat, Rosie watched as a doctor carefully wiped the blood away and disinfected the wound, making Jennie hiss with pain as fresh tears slid down her cheeks.
She needed stitches in the end, twenty in all, and Rosie dug her nails into the palms of her hands as a needle was poked into the split skin, numbing the area, before she couldn't take it any longer and moved to Jennie's side. Contract be damned. Holding her hand, feeling Jennie squeeze the life of it, the woman threaded the needle through the skin, neatly bringing the edges together one stitch at a time, before covering it with gauze and some tape.
In the greyness of the afternoon, Jennie looked washed out and slumped with exhaustion, and she was given painkillers and warily released with the instructions that Rosie was to wake her every two hours, in case she had a concussion. The doctor didn't think so, but on the off chance that she did, she'd cautioned them to come straight back, even in the middle of the night, and Rosie assured her that they would.
Hand brushing the back of Jennie's puffy coat, Rosie trailed her back to their hotel, the cherry wooden shingles beckoning them with the idea of a warm fire and hot chocolate, yet each step felt foreboding and filled her stomach with dread as Jennie refused to slow down. There were no cameras around, but Rosie wouldn't have cared anyway, her stomach knotted with worry and her mind focused solely on Jennie.
Back in their shared suite, Jennie shed her puffy coat, tossing it over the back of the loveseat set before a crackling fire, and Rosie watched as she disappeared through to their bedroom. Sweat prickled her lower back as she stood bundled up in her layers, ski mask hanging limply from her fingers, and she slowly sed her own clothes, before calling room service to bring them some hot chocolate and fresh cinnamon rolls from the patisserie in the lobby. She could hear the shower running and made herself comfortable in front of the fire, waiting for Jennie to emerge from the bathroom.
Rosie was writing away in a journal, the pages fanned and full of polaroids, ticket stubs and other such momentous, the room service kept warm before the fire, when Jennie finally came out, hair damp and a pair of warm pyjamas on. Sitting up straighter, Rosie patted the space beside her and gave Jennie a concerned smile as she dropped down beside her, slumping against the pillows.
"How do you feel?"
"Tired."
Reaching out, Rosie gave her knee a gentle squeeze and climbed to her feet. "Lay down. I'll get a blanket."
She moved into the bedroom and grabbed the cashmere blanket folded over the arm of an armchair, before making her way back out to the sitting room and draping it over Jennie. Nudging a mug of hot chocolate piled with marshmallows into her hand, Rosie sank down onto the floor at Jennie's feet and passed up a plate with a cinnamon roll on it, her eyes roaming Jennie's face as she took in the brooding look and patched chin.
"Jihyo's going to kill us," Rosie solemnly said after a few moments.
Jennie hummed in agreement, holding her cup in her hands as her plate balanced on her stomach, a distant look in her brown eyes that made Rosie think that perhaps she was concussed. Reaching up, she gently brushed the back of Jennie's hand and was given a small smile in return as Jennie reached out, her fingers grazing Rosie's cheek. Her touch was warm and Rosie closed her eyes, a line of cold left behind on her skin where she felt the absence of Jennie's fleeting touch, and she felt her chest ache slightly.
"Jihyo's going to kill me anyway. She didn't want me to come."
"You said she changed her mind."
Pausing for a moment, Jennie picked at her cinnamon roll and then meet Rosie's eyes, a sheepish look on her face. "Okay, so I might've ignored her warning. But she's not the boss of me! She can't tell me what to do, and I had to come because-"
Trailing off, Jennie picked up the cinnamon roll and shoved it into her mouth, slinking down on the sofa as Rosie gave her an expectant look. There was a question in her eyes, but Jennie refused to look at her and acknowledge it as she chewed her mouthful of icing and dough, cheeks bulging from where she'd crammed so much in to avoid pursuing the subject. But Rosie was patient, and she sipped at her own hot chocolate, twisted around so she was glancing up at Jennie, and waited for her to swallow.
"Go on," she said, a challenge in her voice, "you had to come because ..."
With a sigh, Jennie sat up straight, mug carefully held aloft to she didn't spill any of her drink from the movement, and she fixed Rosie with a troubled, apologetic look. "Because I didn't want you to have to do anything that you don't want to."
"I'm not," Rosie sighed heavily.
"See, you say that, but then Irene and Hyeri whisper their little words into your ear about how you're walking on thin ice, and you'll think that you have to do what they say or else that's it."
Rolling her eyes, Rosie turned towards the fire, staring into the cherry red coals of a split log charred black, the sofa pressing into her shoulder blades, and cupped her hands around her mug, leaching the warmth from it.
"I might have to do it, but I want to do it too."
"And what about what they're saying about you? I know it bothers you."
Squirming slightly, Rosie rolled her shoulders and tossed her hair out of her face, knees drawn up to her chest, and lightly ran a finger around the rim of her mug. Staring into the flickering flames of the fire, they fell into silence, the hiss and crackle of logs splitting and shifting on the ashes filling the grate, giving off a warm ambience in the dimness of their suite, and Rosie felt tense as she watched the icing on her cinnamon roll slowly drip off the sides of it, heated by the heat radiating from the fireplace.
"And?"
"It bothers me too!" Jennie exclaimed, legs swinging over the side of the sofa, fuzzy socks digging into the thick rug as she climbed to her feet, swaying slightly before she set her plate and mug down and fell to her knees beside Rosie.
Giving her a sideways glance, Rosie slowly reached out and set her own drink down, before turning her body towards Jennie. Looking into her brown eyes, she was met with sadness and a deep ache in the depths of them that made her heart ache, and Rosie's stomach jolted with fear. The tension was thick, and the cosy aroma of chocolate, cherry wood and the smokiness of the fire couldn't cut through it as they faced each other on the floor.
"It bothers me, what they say about you," Jennie said, the sharpness fading from the words, a soft, weariness left in its stead. "I don't know if I can bear it, to sit around and watch them- watch them call you all those names. It's not fair, Rosie. We both know it's not fair, and it's not healthy either. You deserve better."
Rosie's eyes prickled with tears as she met Jennie's glassy stare, her mouth dry and a constricting feeling in her throat. Drawing in a ragged breath that inflated her, she softly exhaled and gave her a thin smile, reaching out to brush her fingers against her cheek.
"I have you. There's nothing better than that."
"That's not enough," Jennie firmly said, her cheeks pink and eyes bright, bottom lip trembling slightly as if she was about to cry. "It's not enough to say that we have each other when you're just- you're letting them put you in positions that hurt you! I can't bear that. I'd rather us not-"
Blanching, Rosie jerked away from her, eyes mournful and owlish, looking as if she'd been slapped across the face by Jennie's words. She swallowed thickly and stared down at the rug, running her fingers through the soft weave of it as she sniffed and let out a short laugh, no trace of humour in the sound.
"Go on. Say it."
"Rosie-"
"You'd rather us not be together?"
"I love you too much to watch them tear you down for something that- that's not even real! He's not even your boyfriend!"
Teeth clenched and a spark of anger burning within, fuelled by the hurt that rocked Rosie's emotions and ached in her chest, she looked up at Jennie with a dark look in her eyes. "I know."
"Then just-"
Abruptly climbing to her feet, Rosie dusted her hands on her thighs and swallowed the painful lump in her throat, eyes brimming with tears as she stared down at Jennie with confused hurt. But it was painfully clear to her at that moment that now would be the best opportunity to let it all fall apart. They'd been built for this moment, slowly moving towards it with the impending dread of finality. Rosie had felt it from the very beginning, even as she tried to push the nagging thoughts aside, and now was the moment to pull out the lynch pin keeping their fragile relationship together.
"If it's too much for you," she slowly said, chewing on each word before she let it fall, picking her words closely to try and minimise the damage. "If it's too much then I- you can go. I'm setting you free. I don't want to put you through something you can't handle."
"That's not what I-"
"I know. But it's easier this way, right?"
Even as she said it, Rosie felt her heart break, the words like ash on her tongue, choking her up. She didn't believe it one bit, and she didn't think Jennie did either as she scrambled to her feet, chin patched up and eyes silently begging her to stay. It was never easier when they were apart, but Rosie couldn't shake the feeling that they were a bomb waiting to go off, another train wreck waiting to go off the rails. Surely it was better to slam on the brakes now and deal with the heartbreak and pain before it blindsided them and left them incapacitated.
"I should go and tell my mum that dinner's cancelled. You need to rest."
Without waiting for a reply, Rosie turned and made for the door, stepping out into the cool hallway and feeling her skin prickle beneath her sweater. There was a shaky emptiness yawning open inside her and she drew in a rattling breath as she put one foot in front of the other, down the hallway to Clare's suite, where she numbly knocked on the door and burst into tears the moment it opened.
Startled, Clare ushered her inside and held her as she cried into her shoulder, while Rosie managed to blurt the series of events out in between hitching sobs. Once Rosie had calmed down to the occasional silent shudder, Clare left her to go and check on Jennie and make sure she hadn't gone for a wander in her possibly concussed state, before coming back and scolding Rosie.
"What in God's name is wrong with you, girl? You spend all this time pining over her, and when you have her, you try and call it off?"
Rosie blinked in surprise as she looked up at Clare, her eyes raw and bloodshot, face blotchy and lips parted in surprise. She knew her mother liked Jennie and had gotten used to the idea of Rosie dating a woman, but she'd never imagined Clare convincing her to not break up with her. It was the smart choice for her career, even if it was the choice that every fibre of Rosie's being didn't want to make, and for once, she had someone telling her to pick her heart over her job.
"It's not that simple," Rosie cried. "Mum, you know what it's like for us! It's not going to get easier; it's just going to get harder!"
"Shouldn't you at least try and work through it, though? I thought that was the whole point in that boy you've got following you around."
"It is, I just-"
Clare stood with her hands on her hips, a stern look of contempt on her face as she looked down at her daughter, haughty and tall and making Rosie feel like a child. "You're being a coward. You can write misleading songs to your heart's content, but when you have a chance to be honest with the person they're about you fold? How can someone with so much courage fold now?"
Biting back a sharp retort and a sigh of impatience, Rosie gave her a look of betrayal. She'd expected Clare to be on her side in this - her mother was always on her side, even when it was the wrong side - and Rosie supposed that in a sense, she was , but it wasn't the side Rosie wanted her to be talking her towards. She wanted her mum to tell her that she was young and stupid and nothing good would come of her relationship with Jennie. That they would never be together forever, no matter how hard they tried to overcome their obstacles. But Clare didn't.
"Do you honestly believe that we'll be together forever?" Rosie asked after a moment. "Honestly."
Opening and closing her mouth, Clare gave her a pitying look, face grim and shoulders slumping slightly. She made a move to sit down beside Rosie on the sofa and reached out to tenderly brush her daughter's hair out of her face, giving her a small smile.
"Honestly? No. I think- I think that she wants more than you can give her. And maybe one day you'd be able to give it to her, but not right now, or anytime soon. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't try and prove me wrong. You've always managed to get what you wanted. What were the chances of a small-town Australian girl making it this big, hm? Of winning album of the year at the Grammys, or having two albums sell a million copies in their first week? You're good at proving people wrong. Maybe ... maybe you'll prove us all wrong with this too."
"And what if I don't?" Rosie asked, her voice breaking slightly as she wiped at her eyes.
"Well ... that's okay too. But you should at least fight for her if you love her, instead of rolling over."
Spluttering hopelessly, Rosie found herself speechless, without any argument to fire back at her mother, and she deflated in her seat, seeming small as she hugged her arms around herself. Clare rubbed her back and kissed her head, before climbing to her feet and mumbling something about ordering dinner for them, giving Rosie a little more time to mull things over and pull herself together so she didn't look like she'd been crying.
Picking at her lamb shanks, she had no appetite to eat, heartsick and spent from the exhausting day. Her mind was occupied with thoughts of Jennie as she sat at the dining table with her mother, wondering if she'd eaten and if she'd taken the doctors advice and rested. A part of her was seized by fear at the notion of Jennie packing up her belongings and leaving before Rosie could talk to her, crawl back and apologise for her rash words, and it took every bit of her to stay seated instead of rushing to check. Clare assured her that she'd told Jennie she'd talk some sense into her, and it placated Rosie enough to make her sit through the rest of dinner.
Once her mother had finished eating, Rosie balled her napkin up in her fist and discarded it on the table, before pushing her chair back and climbing to her feet. Quickly kissing her mother on the cheek, Rosie excused herself and rushed out of the door without further delay, forcing herself to walk down the hallway instead of run like a madwoman.
She had her keycard in the pocket of her jeans, but she still knocked first, feeling like she should at least give Jennie some warning before she walked back in. The door handle flashed green as she swiped the card and she stepped into the room to find her girlfriend already on her feet, moving towards the door.
Jennie paused when she realised it was Rosie, arms crossing over her chest as she ducked her head down and scuffed her foot across the wooden floor. Rosie felt her eyes burn with the urge to cry again, choked off by a lump in her throat that made it hard for her to breathe, and she stood silently inside the doorway as the door swung shut behind her with a soft click and the quiet whirring sound of the locking mechanism.
The fire was still crackling merrily and Rosie's cinnamon roll was a sorry sight on the coffee table beside her barely touched hot chocolate, and she shifted from foot to foot self-consciously as she twisted her hands in front of her. Guilt ate away at her as her chest blossomed with fresh hurt, and she let out a wispy sigh as she finally plucked up the courage to move towards Jennie. As she moved, Jennie moved towards her too, as if there was a gravitational pull that made them incapable of being apart, and Rosie gave her a pleading look as Jennie met her eyes.
A scant few feet separated them, and Rosie moved in closer, slowly reaching out to take Jennie's hand in her own, feeling the thin warmth and fine bones of her fingers as she cradled it in her own, before bringing Jennie's hand to her chest, to press against her heart. Jennie gave her a look of devastated confusion that wrenched Rosie's heart some more, before Rosie drew in a shuddering breath.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean- I wasn't thinking clearly. I don't ... I don't want you to go."
Jennie let out a shaky laugh as she rubbed her eyes with her free hand, before giving Rosie a strained smile. "Good, because I wasn't going anyway."
Choking on her own laugh, the sound hitched in Rosie's throat, and she closed the rest of the space between them, pulling Jennie into a fierce hug as she buried her face into the side of her neck. Strong, familiar arms wrapped around her and held her just as tight, and Jennie's hand cupped the back of her head as she gently stroked Rosie's hair.
"Don't ever go. Stay. Just stay. I know it's hard- I know it's not ... it's not perfect, but I love you. I don't want to lose you."
"Neither do I," Jennie breathed, "but I'm scared that I will. It feels like there are so many things trying to tear us apart."
"I know," Rosie miserably mumbled into her shoulder.
She felt the warm graze of Jennie's lips of her forehead and let out a shaky sigh, melting in her arms. "But they're not real, unless we let them be real. They're nothing."
Rosie pulled back and Jennie cupped her face in her hands and pressed a hard kiss to her lips, leaving them both breathless and tingling, cheeks flushed and body humming with the warm reassurance that they were both there. They were there and they weren't going anywhere and it was all Rosie could do to not burst into tears again as Jennie told her that she loved her and she told her the same.
They went to bed early that night, after Rosie made sure Jennie had eaten and taken more painkillers and burrowed up beneath the heavy blankets, she wrapped her arm around Jennie's waist and pulled her close to her chest. It was a solid reassurance of the fact that she was there and real, and Rosie didn't sleep at all that night as she lay beside Jennie in the grey darkness of night, feeling her breath and the faint drumming of her heart almost audible when she nestled up close to her shoulder blades. Rosie gently nudged her awake every two hours, satisfied that Jennie wasn't concussed every time she came to mumbling consciousness.
The night felt like it dragged on, and Rosie was distracted and restless, until she could see the sliver of sky between the heavy drapes lightening to a deep grey. Slowly, but surely, the sun started to rise and dawn broke, and when she looked at Jennie's sleeping figure, she found that she wasn't asleep. She was awake, and she was looking at Rosie. Reaching out, Rosie brushed her messy hair out of her face and felt the tension bleed out of her as Jennie's lips curled up into a tired smile. There was nothing to be afraid of in the privacy of their room, no matter how many things changed outside the door. It was just the two of them, with a bandaged chin and eyes ringed with dark bruises, quiet as they looked at each other while the sun rose outside.
-
"You know, for a moment there, I thought we could overcome anything," Rosie said with a short laugh, falling flat as she gave Nayeon a faint smile. "There seemed to be some sense of invincibility by toeing the line and coming back from it, and I thought that my mum was right. I'd prove her wrong; we'd prove them all wrong. For a while, I believed it."
"But you were still so young. Both of you."
Rosie shrugged as she shook her head helplessly, a sad twist to the set of her lips as she grimly reminisced about the things that had kept her up at night, had made her cry and ache with sadness. The things that she'd thought she'd never be able to get over, because surely things that stung so much and made her chest feel like it was caving in wasn't something she'd be able to forget about so easily. Love is so short, forgetting is so long was a quote by Neruda that she'd always loved and had even included in her letter in her album Red, but looking at it all now, she knew that no matter how long it took to forget, the pain dulled. She still thought about Jennie every single day, because she'd never forget her, but it didn't hurt so much these days.
Bringing it all back up was like flaying the muscle from her heart though, and Rosie realised that no matter how much time passed, she'd always be able to access that sadness and pain, all the moments she regretted most, and the ones that she wished she could forget. No matter how much happiness and love doused the aches and faded the scars, they would always be there. Even if Jennie wasn't.
"One day you have to grow up and leave Wonderland."