Did you think we'd be fine?
Still got scars in my back from your knives
So don't think it's in the past
These kinds of wounds they last and they last Now, did you think it all through?
All these things will catch up to you
And time can heal, but this won't
So if you're coming my way
Just don't
Oh, it's so sad to
Think about the good times
You and I
'Cause baby, now we've got bad blood
You know it used to be mad love
So take a look what you've done
'Cause baby, now we've got bad blood, hey!
Now we've got problems
And I don't think we can solve 'em
You made a really deep cut
And baby, now we've got bad blood, hey!
-
"Sometimes biding my time to have the last word was the only thing I could do. I was never allowed to air things public, not back then. Perhaps that was ... for the best. I mean, it didn't exactly turn out well when I did that."
She let out a short laugh, stunted and lacking any real amusement, her lips twitching as if she was about to smile. Rosie had made her own mistakes in terms of social faux pas, too eagerly jumping at the chance to bite back and defend herself as people online took advantage of the opportunity to join the bandwagon hatred.
"There's only so much one person can take though, you know? Even when I wasn't allowed to publicly make statements about false claims, it would build, all these things that people were saying about me, until it became too much. Songwriting was my only outlet for it."
"Did you write a lot of songs in retaliation to rumours and the like? I know there are a few on your albums, but I imagine that there were a lot more that no one's ever seen."
Nodding in agreement as Nayeon finished speaking, Rosie's mouth turned down slightly at the corners as she tucked her hair behind her ears, a faint crease puckering her brows as a cloudy expression darkened her features. She looked solemn and stoic as she lounged in her armchair, arms draped over each side, an almost casual air of nonchalance enveloping her as she brooded.
Lips pursed in a slight pout, Rosie let out a quiet snort of laughter, her eyebrows rising and falling in an exasperated look of wry humour. "There are hundreds of them. Some were never finished. Others were ... dark. A lot just didn't suit the sound and story I was trying to weave together in the album at the time. When it came to writing a new one, it just ... well, they were old grievances by then. It seemed better to leave them buried. Until one fateful April."
-
The weeks passed by quickly and Rosie had thrown herself into her tour rehearsals with exhausting fervour. Her every waking moments were taken up by choreography and rhythmic
beats of drumming, the easy way her fingers ran through chords and notes on her electric guitar and costume fittings and discussing the stage layout. It was time-consuming and exciting, and Rosie grew impatient with excited anticipation, awaiting the arrival of March and the first tour date of the Red Tour.
Of course, she didn't want to leave Jennie. They'd even made jokes about her coming on tour with her and carrying her bags, but it was never anything more than jokes. Their days before they were torn apart once more were numbered, and despite the business of Rosie's life, she spent every spare moment with Jennie. They spent Valentine's Day together, buying each other roses and chocolates and perfume, indulging themselves in a sweet moment of ordinary romance, a three- course dinner cooked by their own hands.
The rest of February passed by quickly with interviews and photo shoots and TV show appearances. Rosie was back and forth LA, Chicago and New York, in between her rehearsals, and she was careful to cherish the mornings she got to wake up with her face squished up against Jennie's shoulder blade or with a heavy arm thrown across her waist. Soon enough it would all be gone, with infrequent visits and stolen moments beneath the oppressive micromanaging of their teams as they watched them like hawks.
March came far too soon for Rosie's liking, although she was excited about hitting the road again for her latest tour. She just wished Jennie could come with her. It would all be perfect then. But it was an unrealistic expectation, not only because their relationship was a secret, but because Jennie had her own career to think about too.
The weeks leading up to Rosie's departure were full of her attending auditions and running lines, and Rosie knew she'd been offered a few blockbuster roles, but Jennie always seemed to turn them down, assuring her that she'd pick the right role when she found it. With the early critical acclaim and academy attention from her childhood stardom, Jennie had the liberty to take work when she felt like it, and not because she needed it. Still, Rosie was riddled with restless guilt as she thought about Jennie sitting at home and twiddling her thumbs while her girlfriend played sold-out arenas and venues to massive crowds. She wished she would take a role just to know that Jennie wouldn't be alone, stuck waiting for her to come back on her breaks.
Rosie never told her that, of course, and never pushed the issue with her, but she grew agitated the closer her date of departure loomed. It was an inevitable parting of ways, a slow, mournful march towards the eleventh, when Rosie's flight was booked and she would have to say goodbye for an indefinite amount of time. She would have breaks, of course, but Jennie had her own life that didn't revolve around Rosie's scattered schedule. They were hopeful that they'd be able to coordinate with each other, to steal a few days here and there, but there was the lingering resignation to the fact that it might be a while before things lined up.
Still, they were confident in the security of their relationship. There were no doubts about where they stood, what they could handle and whether they could stand the distance, and it was with an air of delightful surprise that they realised that they'd soon be approaching their first anniversary. The first one they'd ever made it to without some sort of chaos and fraying at the seams unravelling their entire relationship. Bolstered by the fact that they'd have that at least, that they'd be able to see each other then, in a gap in Rosie's touring in April, it was somewhat bearable to say goodbye again.
Wishing that they could say goodbye in the departure lounge of Miami Airport, to hug each other tightly and share a kiss, before Rosie left and Jennie waved her goodbye when she looked back over her shoulder once more, they said their quiet goodbyes in the stillness of the grey pre-dawn morning.
Rosie slipped out of bed and quietly got ready for her flight, leaving Jennie fast asleep in the big bed, wishing she could stay there with her for another five minutes. Her suitcases were already set near her front door, as was her guitar, and shunning the idea of a hasty breakfast as her time with Jennie dwindled down to a handful of minutes, she gently woke Jennie.
"I have to leave in a bit. The car will be here soon," Rosie murmured in the darkness of the room, feeling an ache in her chest as she smiled sadly down at her girlfriend.
Mumbling incoherently, Jennie struggled to sit upright, fighting her way out of the cocoon she'd made from the blankets, and rubbed at her tired eyes. "Oh. Okay. You're all packed?"
"Yeah."
"Did you eat breakfast? Do you want me to make-"
Reaching out to brush her hair out of her face, Rosie quietly chuckled, her eyes burning with the urge to cry. She was going to miss her more than she thought, miss the nurturing way Jennie loved to look after her, the way it felt to laugh with her over the silliest things, and how it felt to just be with her, both of them doing their own thing. Rosie hadn't known how just being in someone's presence, absorbed in her writing as they dwelled in silence could make her so happy.
"I'll eat at the airport."
"Okay. But make sure you do; plane food is awful."
Ducking down to lightly kiss her cheek, Rosie smiled against her warm skin, "I know. I promise I will."
Climbing out of bed, Jennie shadowed her through the dimly lit house, a silent spectre as Rosie put her shoes on, went to check she'd packed her favourite perfume, forgot her journal in the kitchen and then fussed over Hank, who would be staying with Jennie until she was back.
A short while later, the car was pulling up, crunching gravel and idling quietly outside, light cutting through the windows. The driver didn't honk, and Rosie hovered in the foyer as she stared at Jennie, bathed in the harsh light of the headlights washing her out in monochrome greys, clinging to the moment for just a second longer.
But eventually, she had to go, pulling open the door and feeling cool air wash over her skin. Carrying her bags outside, she handed them off to the driver, who turned his back to stow them in the trunk, and Rosie turned back to engulf Jennie in a tight hug. She could feel the lines of her pressed up against her, the bones beneath and muscles shifting, warmth radiating from her as Jennie returned the embrace.
Kissing her once, twice, and then a third time, Rosie pulled back, softly smiling up at her, feeling the heavy press of longing and sadness already weighing on her heart. Reaching up, she brushed the back of her fingers across Jennie's cheek and gave her a reassuring smile, touching their foreheads together for a brief moment.
"I'll see you soon," Rosie whispered.
"Knock 'em dead."
"I love you."
"I love you too."
And just like that she was gone, whisked away in the dark interior of the car, dozing against the window as streetlights on the highway flashed past, making it seem like day and night were coming and going with alarming speed. They finally winked out of existence as they neared the airport, the sky gunmetal blue and streaked with lilac clouds as the car came to a stop outside the front doors.
Irene and Hyeri were there, along with her security, and Rosie was quickly rushed inside, past a smattering of paparazzi who lay in wait for her and a few bleary-eyed passengers who blinked owlishly at the sight of the pop star. Herded through the busy airport in the privacy of hallways made for the convenience of the staff, fluorescent lights humming overhead as the frigid air made Rosie's skin prickle with goosebumps, the small retinue was taken to a secluded lounge to wait until their flight was called.
As promised, she ate a breakfast burrito that Irene picked up from one of the café's around, washing it down with black coffee and orange juice, and leant her head against the wall and tried to rest before her flight. The opening show to kick off the tour was in Omaha, with back to back concerts, and she was giddy with excitement, yet quietly thoughtful as she made mental plans for her and Jennie and how they were going to navigate being apart again.
Their anniversary was at the start of April, and Rosie had a little over a week off from touring, intending to go home to Miami and dote on her girlfriend for their first ever anniversary. It made Rosie feel light inside, like they really stood a chance, because they'd almost made it a year, and that had to count for something. It was difficult and constricting, sneaking around or pretending to love other people, but Rosie wouldn't change things for the world.
The flight was long and she slept through most of it, and when she landed, Clare was waiting for her in Omaha. Rosie found herself happier than she'd thought she'd be to have her mum with her, seeking comfort in their trip into the city to visit antique stores and drink matcha lattes the day before her first show. It was a tradition for them, making her feel young, like she was a teenager needing cheering up after a bad day of school. In a way, it was a comfort to Rosie as she brooded over missing Jennie, cheering her up in that respect.
And then the next evening, the tour started. Jungkook was her opening act, and listening to the crowd scream from her dressing room made her body course with adrenaline, nervous butterflies in her stomach as she was dressed in her first costume, white shirt, a pair of high waisted black shorts and a bowler hat, her lips painted red and giving off the same vintage vibes as her album booklet. Appearing at the top of a red staircase, she opened with State Of Grace and let the music take over.
It was an endless stream of shows, of glittery ringmaster costumes and tulle skirts along a narrow raised stage, violin solos and the gentle plucking of her guitar as she performed an acoustic cover. There were flashing lights and people chanting her name every night, and Rosie felt drunk off the thrill of it, meeting fans afterwards, her hair damp from a hasty shower and a quick call with Jennie. She relished every moment of it, the thrill of performing dimming everything else, making her body sing as she travelled to places she'd been before, and places she was seeing for the first time.
So wrapped up in her shows, and missing Jennie when she spoke to her in between, Rosie thought that her first scheduled break would never come. Of course, she was enjoying herself, but she was itching to be home again, to rest for a week and bask in the company of the one person she wanted to see most of all. But it came eventually, with one last show and a meet and greet afterwards, and then she was on a plane straight back home to Miami, unable to wait until morning, even.
Landing in the early hours of the morning, Rosie was picked up from the airport and arrived at Jennie's house as the sun was starting to rise, the early April weather warmly caressing her skin as she stepped out of the car, quietly shutting it behind her. Her luggage was pulled out of the trunk and she quietly thanked the driver, her voice scratchy and eyes burning with tiredness, and she closed her eyes for a moment and breathed in the earthy richness of the garden with its sycamores and daffodils, the inside of her eyelids painted a deep red as the tangerine dawn split over the foothills. She could almost smell the desert on the air, sandy and ensconced in memories of summer.
Exhaling quietly, she smiled to herself, excitement kindled in her chest, and hoisted her bags and suitcase, before making her way to Jennie's front door. Rosie rang the doorbell and waited, knowing Jennie was expecting her, and the door was pulled open almost immediately, before warm arms were wrapped tightly around her.
Stumbling inside, Rosie laughed against Jennie's shoulder, clumsily letting her cases clatter to the honeycomb tiled floor as she picked Jennie up, legs wrapping around her waist, and hugged her close. Her t-shirt was thin, worn cotton, the freesia of her laundry detergent making Rosie's heart ache and soar at the same time, never even realising how she could miss the smell of laundry detergent so much. It was like a knot of tension that she hadn't even realised was there suddenly loosened, coming undone and making her whole body feel slack with relief.
She was home. Home and exhausted, feeling so limp that she almost felt like sinking to the floor with Jennie in her arms, as if she'd been hanging on for this moment alone. In a sense, she had been.
"I've missed you!" Jennie breathed against her neck.
"I've been waiting for this since the moment I left," Rosie quietly groaned, pressing her face into the side of her neck, lips brushing her neck, right over where Jennie's pulse was jumping beneath the skin. "God, that felt like the longest three weeks of my life."
Setting her back down on solid ground, Rosie gave Jennie a tired smile, taking in her cheeks, rosy from sleep, and the pattern of her crumpled sheets marked on her skin. Blinking owlishly in the faint early morning glow, Jennie's face split into a wide smile and she reached out to cup Rosie's cheek in her palm, giving her a scrutinising look.
"You look exhausted."
Rosie let out a faint laugh, blinking back the burning in her eyes, feeling the tiredness down to her bones. Dehydrated from her show, hungry from the flight, and all but dead on her feet, she wanted to collapse into bed and sleep for a week. But they had better things to spend that week doing, and she gave Jennie a small, tender smile, before stepping in closer. Kissing her slowly, savouring the moment for all the times she'd dreamt of it, Rosie smiled against her lips and felt a sense of rightness settle over them.
"Come on, bedtime," Jennie mumbled against her lips, laughing into her mouth when Rosie protested, shivers running up and down her arms.
Her laugh was a tangible thing, so real and close that Rosie could feel it reverberate through her chest, as if she could reach out and cradle the sound, the feeling of it, in her hands and hold onto it. It didn't feel the same over the phone, the staticky, lagging video calls an endless cause of frustration and yearning. But she was here now, and she didn't have to worry about any of that for the next week, at the very least.
Giving in to Jennie's gentle persuasions, Rosie let her go and locked the door behind her, a narrow beam of light slanting in across the terracotta tiles from where the door hadn't drifted shut properly upon her entrance. Leaving her bags in the entryway, Rosie let Jennie take her hand and lead her to the bedroom like she was in a dream or a trance, unable to control her own body, powerless as sleep nagged at her, blurring the edges of her mind.
Kicking off her shoes and dragging off her burgundy chinos, Rosie flopped down onto the bed and felt the mattress jolt as Jennie climbed on beside her, worming her way up against her back. With a smile curling her lips, Rosie felt the comforting weight of the blankets settle over her and Jennie's arm wrap around her waist, and was out like a light before she could say a word more.
When she woke, the sunlight outlining the curtained windows was bright and buttery yellow, and Rosie squinted as she turned to bury her face into the pillows. Her body felt leaden and head heavy, and she wanted to curl back into a ball and dive right back to sleep but forced herself to open her eyes to the late afternoon sunshine. The clock read four in the afternoon and she bit back a quiet groan, realising she'd already slept through most of the day, leaving Jennie to her own devices.
Wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, Rosie dragged herself out of bed and padded through the house, drawn to the aroma of coffee like a bloodhound sniffing out prey. In the bright, open kitchen, Jennie was sitting at the table, Hank curled up in her lap, a cup of coffee steaming before her as she held a book in one hand, the spine cracked as the front cover curved around the back, clamped into place by her hand.
Rosie softly smiled at the sight of such peaceful tranquillity, her girlfriend turned golden by the sunlight spilling across the table, and her heart twinged gently with a sudden rush of love. To wake up to such a sight was a small gift, and Rosie took a moment to think about how she wanted to do that every day of her life. There would come a time when all was said and done, when she'd spoken her truth and righted her wrongs, and afterwards, she'd wake up beside Jennie and come home to her, and no one would tell her otherwise.
She clung to that ordinary fantasy as she stepped into the room, blanket dragging on the floor, and watched as Jennie looked up from the page, joy blossoming on her face as her brown eyes shone with warmth. Hank struggled to his feet on her lap, short tail wiggling back and forth, and they both laughed as Rosie reached down to scratch him behind his eyes, crooning at him as he licked the inside of her wrist.
"Good morning," Rosie murmured, leaning over to kiss Jennie as her dog settled back down. She could taste the coffee on her lips and pulled back, reaching down for her half-empty mug and taking a swig, giving her an innocent look.
"Did you sleep well?" Jennie asked, setting her book down and scooping Hank up in her other arm, before setting him down on the floor to run around in excited circles.
Climbing to her feet, Jennie reached out and gently touched Rosie's arm, her fingertips brushing her warm skin as she swept past, moving over to the kitchen cupboards and fetching a clean mug. She filled it with coffee from the French press on the counter and slid it across to Rosie with an exasperated look of amusement.
Swapping the mugs, Rosie leant against the counters, clutching the blanket closed at her neck as she cradled the cup of coffee in her other hand, and she blinked back the grittiness in her eyes. "I feel like I could do with another twelve hours, to be honest."
"Have something to eat and then go back to bed," Jennie said, a solemn look darkening her face as she reached out to Rosie, "and give me back that coffee."
Quietly chuckling with laughter, Rosie moved the coffee out of her reach, a mock look of horror on her face as her eyes shone with humour. "My coffee, Miss Kim? How dare you."
"Okay, okay," Jennie laughed, waving her away, "but go and sit down. I'll make you some food."
Fifteen minutes later, Rosie was making her way through the grilled cheese sandwiches Jennie had made for her, washing every mouthful down with her never-ending cup of coffee as she kept topping it up with more from the French press. She could feel the caffeine humming through her veins, slowly waking her up and chasing away the fogginess in her mind, and she smiled at Jennie as she ate beneath her watchful gaze. They didn't talk much, but even just sitting at the table together made Rosie restless with excitement.
It felt like they had the whole world at their fingertips - for the next eight days at least.
Most of all, she was giddy with the thought of their anniversary in three days' time, thinking about the dress she'd bought for their dinner date, the flowers she'd ordered for Jennie and how she still felt so wonderstruck and enamoured by her, yet felt as if she'd known her her whole life. It was a rush of searing heat that set her body on fire with such burning intensity that Rosie would've gladly let it consume her, as long as Jennie was right there beside her.
They wasted the rest of the day in the privacy of Jennie's home, watching movies in bed and catching up on everything that they'd forgotten to tell each other about. As the evening wore on, they ordered takeout and gorged themselves of Chinese food, and Rosie fell asleep against halfway through her carton of Chow Mein. She dreamt of soft lips caressing her forehead and whispered affections as she was cocooned in warmth, and when she woke the next morning she not entirely sure if it actually was a dream.
As much as Rosie wanted Jennie all to herself, and to do nothing more than cherish their numbered days before she left again, the next couple of days were spent catching up with friends. She barely had a second to rest as she went for brunch and coffee, barre lessons and pilates classes. Visited new restaurants and art shows, attended birthday parties and business dinners with brands who wanted her to be the face of their products.
Jennie was there for most of it, sharing the same friends, for the most part, drinking buckwheat shots as their damp hair dried from a workout, or whipping up strawberry daiquiris in the kitchen for dinner with Jisoo. It was tiring yet left her feeling full and warm, loving the feeling of being able to go places with her, even if there were three extra people tagging along to provide a buffer. Rosie would've let her entire friend group tag along if it meant being able to step outside the confines of their homes with each other. It was just exhilarating being able to walk down the street with Jennie, their hands brushing on occasion in a gesture that looked purely accidental but was a stolen moment of comfort.
And then eventually, the day they'd both been looking forward too, almost jittery with nervous anticipation the evening before, sharing coy smiles as they double-checked plans. Rosie woke up with the sun on the day of their first anniversary, sneaking out of bed without disturbing Jennie as she made her way to the kitchen and donned an apron. She was whisking eggs in a large metal bowl when she heard the bedroom door open from down the hallway, followed by quiet footsteps creeping towards the kitchen.
Eyes widening, Rosie stopped whisking and quietly set the bowl down on the counter without a sound, a wary expression on her face as she froze, waiting. It was a moment later that an equally trepid Jennie poked her head into the kitchen and froze.
"What are you doing?"
Rosie gave her a sheepish look at being caught, "I'm, uh, making you breakfast."
"Shit," Jennie softly swore, biting her lip as she smiled helplessly, "I was going to get up early to cook you breakfast."
They both paused for a moment before laughing at their planned surprises that had gone awry, and Rosie founded the island counter and moved towards Jennie, cupping her face in her hands and tilting her head slightly as she kissed her sweetly.
"Happy anniversary."
Jennie held her by her waist and her shoulders went slack as she deflated with contented happiness, "happy anniversary."
Brows drawing together in a thoughtful look, Rosie couldn't stop the smile that curled the corners of her mouth as her eyes crinkled at the corners. "It feels like we've been trying to say that to each other forever."
"Well, we finally made it," Jennie chuckled, pulling her closer and kissing her again as they swayed slightly on the spot. "I love you, my London boy."
Scoffing with laughter, Rosie gave her a dour look and gently swatted her arm, before pulling back, "I love you too, my ... Miss Americana."
"What?"
"I don't know! You put me on the spot and it was the best I could come up with this early in the morning. Now, how about we make breakfast for each other together?"
Moving around the kitchen with the ease of two people who had cooked together often, they produced a spread of food that could feed a small army, making freshly squeezed juice and strong coffee, fluffy pancakes and fresh berries sprinkled with sugar and lemon juice, crispy bacon for Rosie and a mountain of scrambled eggs. They went overboard in their excitement, exchanging kisses as they brushed past each other, arms bumping and backs brushing against chests as they reached up into cupboard's, even though the kitchen was spacious enough for them to both cook without so much as coming within a foot of each other. They made excuses though, giving each other side glances, cheeks dimpling with smiles.
They tidied up the kitchen once they'd finished eating, and then Rosie made them some jasmine tea as they sat down to exchange gifts. From one of her guest rooms, she procured two rose bushes. They were of the peach Ghislaine de Feligonde variety, and Rosie liked the thought of buying Jennie flowers that would endure, much like the mandarine tree she'd received as a housewarming gift a few years back, still flourishing in the early spring. She also gifted her a silver necklace with a diamond set in it and a new song.
Jennie bought her diamond earrings, a bouquet of two dozen ruffled tulips and a video she'd cut together from all the footage they had of them messing around and laughing together. It made her eyes sting with tears as she watched them dance around in the kitchen, laugh beneath the covers of their bed and kick up sand as they spun around in circles on an abandoned beach. It was a supercut of their happiest moments together, a carefree air about them as they smiled at the camera, showing the life they could have if things were normal. Rosie treasured it more than any expensive gift they could've given each other, even though she loved the earrings too. Things she couldn't buy herself struck a note with her more sentimental side, and she suspected the song she'd written held the same value for Jennie.
They spent the rest of the day going around the city, do special things that would come off as normal if they were spotted together. First, they went to the movies, sitting in the dark, intimate theatre, knees touching as they shared a bucket of popcorn and furtively held hands, then they visited a spa, enjoying the hot springs and deep tissue massages, clay masks and mud baths.
Once they left, skin shining and clear, wearing floral dresses and radiating happiness, it was already mid-afternoon, and they made their way back home to lounge in the shade of Rosie's veranda and then cook dinner together. Making fresh fettuccine together, they dined on wide bowls of pasta, and Jennie opened a bottle of wine, which Rosie had only a single sip of to toast their anniversary, with one last surprise in mind that she'd had to hint at so that Jennie didn't fuss over whether she was feeling okay.
Long after they'd shared the poached fig and cardamom cake they'd whipped up, sipping espresso in the encroaching dusk as cicadas sang and the wind sighed, Rosie ushered Jennie to her feet and grabbed a blanket from over the back of a sofa. In the front of her car, she put on a playlist of their favourite songs and drove them out of the city.
Jennie didn't have to ask where they were going as the city receded to an orange glow behind them, a stretch of flat roads and sandy scrubland reaching out to the velvety darkness of night painted ahead of them. Windows down to let in the desert air and smell of hot sand, they blasted the music and let the headlights illuminate the way, a lightness in Rosie's chest that made her never want to let the day end.
Parked in the middle of nowhere, they turned the music down to a quiet crooning and sat on the warm hood of the car, shoulders brushing as they shared the blanket draped around their shoulders.
"Look up," Jennie murmured, her breath tickling Rosie's ear and making her shiver with pleasure as she looked up at the sky.
Stars were scattered across the sky like innumerable tiny jewels, shining so bright that Rosie was mesmerised by the sight of it, the vastness above her making her feel small and big all at once. It was just her and Jennie, and the secrets of the universe were too big for her, but they were made of the same matter, and she felt so real and present at that moment that she couldn't bring herself to speak, so aware of the heat radiating from Jennie as she pressed up against her, of their twin heartbeats thudding, alive at the same time by some miracle. She had the urge to kiss her and did so, cradling her face in her hands and feeling the hot flush that crept into Jennie's cheeks.
Breathless and almost shy with how open and vulnerable she felt, Rosie raised her eyebrows in a questioning look of hope. "Dance with me?"
The blanket slithered off their shoulders and Jennie climbed off the hood of the car, a crooked smile on her face as she held her hand out. Rosie took it and climbed off too, and she was pulled into Jennie's arms, her chin resting on her shoulder, arm wrapped around her as Jennie held her close too. Swaying to the quiet music enveloping them in a moment where time seemed suspended, they let the wind tousle their hair as their hearts beat in unison, chests rising and falling as they carved a shallow path through the sand.
Jennie was a good dancer, having grown up taking lessons, and Rosie felt clumsy and shy in her wake as she let herself be led, doing her best to not trip over her own feet, but it was such a tenderly soft moment that she just basked in the comfort of being held by Jennie as love songs washed over them, speaking their feelings.
Eventually, the hour grew late and it was time for them to go home, the fragile spell broken by the unfortunate circumstances of reality. The rest of Rosie's break flew by, and she clung to the magic of that night like a lifeline to tide her over to her next rendezvous with Jennie. And just like that, she was gone again, with another goodbye and another flight, another show and another night spent sleeping alone. Her heart felt torn in two, for wanting to be with Jennie but wanting to tour and play her music to crowds of fans that she felt indebted to. Both brought her a cause for joy and both were different avenues of constants for her, and at times it felt too much like she was choosing, and Rosie could never tell if she was making the right choice or not.
It was barely a week later when things blew up in her face, and it completely blindsided her. It wasn't Jennie, and Rosie knew they were strong enough to pull through it, but it was a mess that her team didn't take lightly to cleaning up, and Rosie couldn't help but feel like she'd been the one to light the fuse on it, even if it had taken a few years for it to explode.
Lounging in her hotel room, she was rudely interrupted by Hyeri's intrusion. With no announcement, her publicist swept in with an ashen look of fear on her face that made Rosie go rigid, all droll remarks about privacy dying on the tip of her tongue. Her skin prickled with unease as she moved slowly, setting down her journal and pen and climbing to her feet with the wary caution of someone facing a predator who was coiled to attack.
"What is it?"
A tablet was thrust towards her, and Rosie heard the door open and close again with the arrival of Irene, who must've been on the receiving end of an emergency meeting alert. Rosie paid her no attention as she looked down at the article on the screen, slowly sinking back down onto the sofa as a cold sweat covered her body and made her stomach lurch with nauseous fear.
Roseanne Park is in a new relationship...but it's not what you expected
The article was posted on a trashy news site with a photo of her and Jennie leaving a place called Dominick's after dinner the summer before, and her eyes widened with disbelief as her expression hardened the more she read. It was mostly fabricated lies, but there was a mention of her dating Bae Suzy and Rosie felt her whole body go cold with understanding. Very few people knew she'd dated Suzy, and none of them would put out a story filled with such lies, except for the one person who had reason to hate her.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Rosie softly snarled, her face surprisingly soft with rueful amusement as she set the tablet down beside her and straightened up, "that conniving little cow."
"What?"
Closing her eyes, Rosie let out a shuddering breath, feeling bitter anger well up inside as she reopened old wounds. Her blood boiled, almost as if it sprung forth from the wounds she'd thought she'd gotten over a long time ago. She thought that she had gotten over it too, especially considering the fact that she'd only ever manipulated Rosie. Apparently this was just another petty attempt at discrediting her, and it was a weak blow at that.
"Bae Suzy," Rosie tightly replied.
Hyeri gave her a sharp look, "what does she have anything to do with this?"
Blinking in surprise, realising that she'd never admitted to that relationship, Rosie felt her whole body go slack, a defeated slump to her shoulder as she gave her manager an ashen look. "She knows. She's always known. She was my first-" she trailed off, swallowing thickly, before her expression darkened and she felt frustration towards herself bubble up inside, "I should never have written those stupid songs."
"Hold on," Hyeri said, holding up a hand to silence her, a dark look on her face, before she slowly pointed an accusing finger at her, "you're telling me you dated Bae Suzy and didn't fill us in on it?"
Seeming to shrink in her seat, Rosie braced her elbows on her knees and hunched forward, chewing on the inside of her lip as she tried to collect her thoughts and words. She could feel the anger and irritation radiating from Hyeri in waves, and she didn't imagine Irene would be a huge help in that moment, her job having become more difficult over the course of the past five minutes, yet Rosie felt it unfair for them to question her honesty when so much of the truth was steeped in pain.
"It was before you knew," Rosie curtly replied, steepling her fingers as she bounced one leg in a nervous manner, "and we weren't- it wasn't long, or really official. It wasn't good. I wrote a few songs calling her out, and, well, she's clearly mad about it and finally firing back because she's, I don't know, heard a rumour. Connected the dots about how much time Jennie and I spend together. I mean, she knows I'm a lesbian, for Christ's sake, it wouldn't exactly be hard for her to figure it out."
"Which is why you should've told us," Hyeri snapped, clenching and unclenching fists as she paced back and forth and then stopped, "if we'd known about this, we could've done damage control before something like this was made public. Now, we'll just have to get them to take it down and hope that it's quietly dismissed. You , on the other hand, need a new boyfriend."
Shooting to her feet, Rosie scowled as she gave her a look of defiance, "no, I don't. I'm back on tour now anyway, so I can't see Jennie. Throwing a new boyfriend into the mix for me just makes it look suspicious."
"Mm, she's right," Irene murmured, a thoughtful look on her face as her teeth worried at one of her nails, a crease puckering the skin between her eyebrows with a serious look. "We'd be better off just taking it down and letting it blow over. No more public outings with Jennie for the time being. No more photos on Instagram or tweeting each other."
"Wha- but I'm flying home in four days to see her!" Rosie protested.
Irene crossed the space between them and gentled settled a hand on Rosie's shoulder, urging her back down onto the sofa and taking a seat beside her. Giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, she gave her a sympathetic smile.
"Look, I know that this isn't fair, and it's not your fault. I know that, okay? But we need to contain this. I'm not saying don't see her, but ... maybe just get out of the city. Go somewhere private where neither of you will be seen. Go visit her mom, or just- I don't know ... go to Botswana on a private safari. I really don't care. Just keep it private and remote, okay?"
Rosie scoffed, fighting the urge to roll her eyes as amusement lanced through her, "Botswana? Please, you wouldn't let me out of the country right now."
"Rosie-"
"Okay. Okay," she muttered in defeat, a despondent slump to her shoulders as she looked up and gave her silent publicist a morose look. "And what about the article?"
Hyeri met her gaze with a level stare, mouth turned down at the corners and irritation flitting across her face, before she forced a tight smile to her lips. "Leave that to me."
-
"The article was taken down, and, well, it wasn't too much damage, but it did go semi- viral. Not enough to make giant waves in my private life, but it was enough of a cautionary tale for us to be more secretive with our relationship."
"And how did Park Chanyeol take it?" Nayeon asked, a searching look in her eyes as she leant forward in her seat, elbows on knees and head cocked to the side.
Rolling her eyes, Rosie gave her a rueful smile, hands running over the denim of her thighs, "oh, well, you know ... about as good as you'd expect someone intent on keeping you in the closet to take it. There were threats, bribes, even a bit of begging, for me to end it with Jennie. I refused, of course, because I was stubborn and I thought that nothing could break us up at that point. Not even being forcibly outed by a vindictive ex."
Trailing off, Rosie sat for a moment and then let out a heavy sigh, full of bitterness and nostalgia, chagrined at the mere mention of those old memories that had caused so much resentment between her and her label. It was around that time, with spats over her relationship issues that didn't involve anyone but her and Jennie, and everyone's opinion on her music that Rosie first started to feel caged and restless with her label.
It was a slow decline and many a dispute in the privacy of meetings in lavish boardrooms before Rosie found that she didn't like being signed to PCY Records anymore. She didn't like it at all. But it was only the beginning of her displeasure, only the first glimpse of how controlling Chanyeol could be, and how willing he was to threaten her with ruin if she didn't cooperate. Sometimes, Rosie regretted not walking out, but she'd been naïve in thinking that she was Park Chanyeol's daughter he'd never had at that point in time, and all the silly arguments within her team felt like familial disputes, and nothing more. At the end of it, they always came out on the same page.
It was no different after the drama with Bae Suzy either. Hyeri shut down the rumours as quietly and quickly as she could, Irene soothed Chanyeol's fears, and he berated Rosie with what little he could once she'd made it clear she wouldn't budge in her relationship with Jennie. They worked it all out, like always, and there were whispers, but not nearly enough to tarnish her image like they'd worried.
"So I did what I do best, and I wrote a song about it. About that bad blood between Suzy and I, and how she knew exactly where to hit me to weaken me, because she knew how frightened I'd been as an eighteen, nineteen, year-old, and she exploited that weakness in the hopes of getting back to me for a song I'd written after one of the worst times of my life. It took me a long time, and meeting Jennie, for that harm she caused to be undone, but there were still scars, and it just ... it felt like salt in the wound for her to try and ruin my career so many years after I'd written a song to let her know why I'd stopped replying."
Swallowing thickly, Rosie looked down at her lap and smiled, no humour to it, and none in her eyes as she looked back up at Nayeon. "And you know ... the worst part was that I was to blame. To the public, I was starting a feud over nothing, because that's all they think women do. They think we scheme and stab each other in the back and are catty, but it was- it was because someone I'd trusted a long time ago had badly used me and played around with me when I was still a child. It was wrong and it took me a while to realise that afterwards, and the second time around, when she attacked my relationship with Jennie, I knew better. I knew what she was like, and I wasn't afraid to call her out and I'm not afraid to do it now."
"Would you say a lot of your newfound, uh, candour comes from having to keep quiet for so long? I mean, you're effectively saying there was a gag order through your label, right?"
"Oh, absolutely! It was essentially a don't say anything unless provoked first. And then they only wanted it to be through song so that people would scramble to listen to it and spend their time picking apart the lyrics. His greed, quite frankly, was disgusting. But I'm not sure I would be so open if it wasn't the purpose of this entire interview."
"No? Why's that?"
"Because there are a few things I've said and done that I'm not proud of," Rosie admitted, a lump getting caught in her throat as a pressure built up behind her eyes, "and soon, I'm going to have to talk about it. And I really hate talking about it."