She scrubbed her eye languidly. She was bored, and she knew this because her body kept creating small issues to either distract her or make her feel like she wanted to leave. Earlier it was this odd itch on her thigh, then this small cramp below her back. Then her ear had this irritating itch near her lobe. Now it's her eye.
She has learned to accept these things over time. Psychosomatic, she told herself; that it's just her instinct to get herself to leave this place. She's starting to feel cramped, overwhelmed. Maybe suffocated.
It doesn't help of course that it's the place she grew up in, the home of her parents. She didn't want to seem ungrateful, but simply put: this wasn't her home anymore.
"Are you tired?" Her mother asked, and the way she quickly shook her head made her feel guilty. If her mother could see she's distracted, she's not doing a good job pretending.
"I'm alright, there's just something in my eye," Lisa lied. "You were saying something about another condominium?"
"Your dad was saying to give up the one you have for rent and move to another one across the Han River. It's much more premium, he says."
Lisa irritatedly rubbed her temples. "Why not just have that new one just go straight to rentals instead of this?"
"He's saying you might like this new one more."
"That's novel considering he never asks what I want in the first place."
"Lisa," Mrs Manoban sighed, her exasperated tone not the first time she used for today. "Can you just sort your issue with him, please? You don't tell me anything, and then you make these incredibly stubborn retorts and then shrug it off again. I thought you said–"
"We don't have to talk about it, it's fine."
"It's clearly not if–"
"No, please. Mum. I'm fine."
Mrs Manoban assessed her only child again, obvious wonder on her face for the nth time when exactly she lost her daughter to her stubbornness. Was it after adolescence? Was it when she became an adult? But Lisa grew up too fast and never quite stayed too long being a teen, and Mrs Manoban has forever wondered if there's anything she could have done to get her child back. The one who openly adored and trusted her and was not particularly worried about forming relationships with people.
Mrs Manoban poured another refill of raspberry and lemon tea on their glasses. It was the weekend and like the ones before it, coaxing Lisa to come over meant bribing Rosé to push her best friend to respond to her. The house felt too big, as always, with their voices echoing the empty halls. She has always wondered what it would be like to have them filled with children's laughter again.
She looked at Lisa and frowned. Her daughter being gay wasn't even the hurdle to that dream unlike most parents imagined; she knew that the bigger issue to address was the fact that her daughter has become commitment-phobic over the years. Unless Lisa magically decides to be a solo parent, it would take a lot of convincing for her to even become open to remotely discussing the idea of families.
There goes her hope for little Lisa grandbabies.
The older Manoban woman grabbed a handful of berries and placed them sporadically on top of the cream cheese. Lisa slumped a little on the kitchen slab she was sitting on and grabbed a few berries to help place on top of the pie her mother was designing.
"Do you need the canned cream now?" Lisa asked quietly.
"Not yet, but you can get the extra strawberries from the chiller and you can help slice them up for these."
Lisa nodded as she jumped off towards the refrigerator. She brought the pack to the chopping board beside her mother and worked quietly to slice them the way her mom typically would.
She picked a plump red strawberry and pressed it absently with her fingers. The juice that seeped on her skin made her shiver, recognising how this fruit was tainted in her brain now.
She closed her eyes and willed the image away. So much has happened since, and she's not exactly sure where she's at with her emotions at the moment. Even the way her body reacted to memories was tinted warmly, with a lot more...affection than she's usually allowed herself.
Her head didn't just go to the teasing and seducing and yearning; it also went to a certain limbo, back when she woke up early in the morning and found a sleeping Jennie snuggled beside her. It went to how she lay there, frozen upon realising this new development of finding a woman in her sheets and not wanting to kick her out of the bed. How she observed Jennie's body partially wrapped in her duvet, naked except for a skimpy light blue underwear that clung tight to her seemingly frail pale skin, and her heart sank in this awareness that she's already lamenting she won't get to feel her neighbour's skin on hers again for days.
Of how she gazed at the woman, vulnerable in her sleep, and softly traced and eased the creases on Jennie's forehead as the latter seemed bothered in her slumber. The softness she has when she's not on guard; even the soft baby hairs that were growing near her temple.
Of how Lisa thought I wonder how she smells in the morning and found herself recklessly leaning to snuggle closer as an impulse to just fill the need to her curiosity: that Jennie smelled of her natural musk and hint of floral shampoo and found that it was warmer and more comforting than she imagined.
And as she gingerly placed a soft kiss on Jennie's temple, and as the woman hummed approvingly in her sleep, she felt her heart plunge towards the depths of anxiety she couldn't quite fathom yet.
And that there was a throbbing low ache in her chest.
The start of pain.
Her thumbnail pressed a little too hard on the strawberry.
"Are you okay?" Mrs Manoban's voice was faint, careful about pulling Lisa from her trance. The blonde just swallowed and started slicing through the strawberry.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
She was met with more silence. Mrs Manoban plucked the strawberry slices from the chopping board. "I feel like this isn't about the new flat anymore."
The knife rhythmically hit the wood and surrounded them.
"Is it about a girl?"
The knife halted with a pregnant thump before Lisa resumed slicing. The obvious two-second pause was all Mrs Manoban needed to confirm her suspicion.
"Sweetheart, there's nothing wrong about caring for someone. You know that, right?"
The blonde quietly plucked two more strawberries from the pack.
"There's nothing wrong with being vulnerable and opening up yourself to them."
The slicing picked up a little. The sizes were a little more irregular.
"You won't get hurt by trusting people around you."
Heavier slices. Little heavy thumps echoed in the room.
"You won't hurt them either—"
An accidental heavy thud of the knife echoed around the room. It spoke of what Lisa's head was screaming without verbalising it: stop.
Lisa took a deep breath. She doesn't usually lose her temper--more so around her mother--but there was something panicking about being asked things she didn't know the answer to. She was going through emotional turbulence and she was not happy at all with this; exacerbated by the fact that she was inside her parents' house which she has long disdained visiting. The elements in her head just weren't stacking up well at the moment.
She uttered a quiet apology before she started slicing again. She could never bear to be impolite to her mother; especially in moments when she knows her mom's just concerned.
Mrs Manoban pried Lisa's hands away from the chopping board. She lovingly wrapped her hands on Lisa's face, easing her daughter into placation.
"Sweetheart, I'm just here and you can always talk to me, okay?" Mrs Manoban's thumbs smoothened Lisa's locked jaws. "I know you're not a child anymore, but that doesn't mean I don't know you first and foremost, and you are at your core a sincere person who cares quietly but greatly."
Lisa grimaced. It felt fraudulent, these words from her mother--it didn't feel like her.
"I know you're trying to avoid pain. I don't think there is anything in life that could stop that, sweetheart, but the more you learn about people, the more you understand how to take care of them and the better you can manage the pain that goes with it, too."
"Why would I wish pain management on anyone at all?" Lisa derided. "Why not simply remove the pain that comes with emotions and deeper relationships?"
"Then why do you remain to be best friends with Rosé if relationships hurt?"
Lisa was taken aback. "What do you mean? We're friends. We know we'll be there for each other and I promised that I can't ever hurt her."
"And that's exactly what I mean, Lisa," Her mother gently responded. "Remember when Rosé once flew back to Australia for the summer? And you were quite upset that you were left here in Seoul alone, but do you remember what Rosé did?"
Lisa nodded but remained confused. She did remember that summer, but she didn't think it was anything special.
"She messaged you daily on Kakao, even if you were being stubborn sometimes when you're entertaining your anxiety, thinking she may have forgotten you. One time, you refused to go out to dinner with me to that new restaurant you've been wanting to try because you were so sure your best friend was going to call. You had so much faith."
"Mom, I'm not sure what the point of this whole thing is, but Rosé and I are just—"
"You trusted her when she said she won't forget you. And she made sure of that by calling you every night and chasing after your stubborn self."
"I was 18 and in University, Mom. I don't think this is as big an issue as you're insisting."
"I think we both know you didn't exactly get better with relationships as you grew older, Lalisa."
Lisa felt her throat constrict as some memories flitted.
"You managed that pain of her being away because you had something to hold on to until she came back," Mrs Manoban called her attention, tilting her face to peer into her eyes. "Trust that people can be sincere, in all aspects."
Lisa swallowed. "I'm trusting myself to not hurt people by leaving them alone."
"You don't hurt them, but how about you?" Mrs Manoban paused. "How about your heart?"
Lisa faced away. She started placing the strawberry slices on top of the cream, finding a pattern in the seemingly random positions she had planted. She only breathed once she found symmetry in her work.
"I'm not important," Lisa whispered.
Mrs Manoban gathered the weight of her thoughts. "You know that's not true."
"The people I care for are more important to me."
"That could be true for you," Mrs Manoban replied. "But that doesn't mean you should assume for them how they should be loved."
"Are you saying people don't deserve to be loved as they should?"
"I'm saying people are allowed to gauge for themselves if the love you're giving is the love they deserve," Her mother laid the last few strawberry toppings along with the blueberries on the cream, finishing the cheesecake. "Loving isn't just on one person's terms, and not by any means something you can simply control."
"Trying not to hurt people isn't controlling them."
"It means you don't think they're capable of you."
Lisa frowned. "Maybe they aren't."
"You know what you would have called that in corporate?"
"...what."
"Micromanagers."
The two shared a chuckle. The berry cheesecake looked nearly done, but knowing her mother, she'll find a way to make it look more elaborate. Lisa fidgeted with the plate thoughtfully with a finger.
"You sound like you've met my previous managers."
"I've heard enough from your previous woes to know that your biggest issue then was they didn't trust you enough to take on bigger things." Mrs Manoban opened the refrigerator and produced a can of whipped cream. Lisa averted her eyes, stifling a Pavlovian response. "And when you were finally given a better manager who was transparent with what the both of you can do? You started loving your job. And you've never considered moving since."
Lisa silently studied her mother deftly drawing little cream icings. There was something therapeutic about the whipped cream pump producing perfect cream peaks.
"I didn't know you were taking note," Lisa muttered almost like an afterthought. "I don't even remember that time anymore."
"When you're happy you usually forget about what hurt you," Her mother looked at her pointedly. "Except maybe when you're letting your anxiety get into your head."
"You said I don't have stress with my work, but clearly I used to."
"I never said you weren't stressed. I said you weren't unsure. Even then you were upset but you were so sure of what you wanted. You wanted growth so aggressively, Rosé was practically the only one stopping you from quitting."
The cake finished beautifully as the older Manoban garnished the last pieces of strawberry and blueberries on the icing. Lisa's gotta hand it to her mother—she was effortless with making things charming. She eyed the remaining unused strawberry slices.
"Here," Her mother placed a clear dome plastic cover on the cheesecake. "For this weekend."
"That's too much for me."
"I'm trusting you to do whatever you like with my love," She set aside the cake with a wink.
The blonde rolled her eyes. She pumped a whipped frosting on a strawberry slice and popped it into her mouth. "Not all loves are made of cream and strawberry, you know."
"Why, would it make loving easier if they came with cream and strawberries?"
Innocent as her mother's question may seem, Lisa couldn't help but smirk inwardly as she savoured the combined sweetness in her mouth. If she only knew how skewed that question was. "Isn't everything better with cream and strawberries?" Lisa feigned innocence, sucking her fingers clean as she amusedly reminisced about how she's done these foods dirty.
They were caught off guard by the close of a door. Lisa jumped, looking like deer caught in headlights as she sharply hissed, "I thought you said he won't be home."
Mrs Manoban glanced confusedly at the front door where a big masculine build shrugged himself out of his blue Harrington golf jacket. Attention stuck on a mobile phone in his hand, the man remained oblivious to the eyes on him.
"He said he will be golfing so I'm not sure why he's here," Mrs Manoban started preparing some cups for what Lisa presumed would be for tea. "Why don't you stay a bit? You both can talk about the condominium while I get us something for drinks."
"Mom, I really don't want to be here too long."
Her mother looked at her sternly. "Do you have work?"
"No, but—"
"Do you have a girlfriend to go to?"
Lisa's jaws tensed as her lips flattened, not exactly happy with her mother's humour right now.
"Then you stay for a bit."
"Mother, this is—"
"Lalisa."
The gruff voice occupied the room in a low, creeping manner. It rounded the walls, enveloping, stifling.
If Lisa felt suffocated earlier, it was nothing compared to the way a simple call of her name made her feel choked up and wanting to rip her head off.
Her eyes followed the looming presence. It was unavoidable, how he commanded the room with certainty.
"Father."
This was his household after all.
Lisa dipped her head slightly, her acknowledgement polite and stiff. They have played this game a hundred times in the past, and for every single one of them, Lisa simply bowed down. The stakes for her were higher, riskier. Shit she would never allow him to know and understand.
His brows twisted, seemingly concerned. "You've lost weight. Have you been eating?"
Sometimes she allows herself to believe in his sincerity, but she tells herself he never really is.
"Yes, I do."
"Your mother says otherwise. She says you only have alcohol in your refrigerator."
Lisa flinched. There were things she wished her mom just kept to herself if she could.
"That's an exaggeration but I'm keeping healthy," And then feeling like she needed to break the awkward silence, she added, "I'm just a little stressed at work is all."
"Oh? What happened?"
Her father slipped into a dining chair. Although a big man he was rarely brusque; often he moved cat-like, more like a jaguar, if you will. This was a man who knew how to work a crowd, charming in most aspects, and didn't need to be loud. He rarely blended in and it was evident in how he carried himself: both in his tone and his imposing manner.
Because he sat there quietly and yet all Lisa could think about was wanting to run away from the room just so she could breathe.
"Nothing I can't handle."
She regretted adding more than required. She should have just stayed quiet.
Her father studied her for a beat too long. "Your talents are better off with us instead of wasting time, you know that Lalisa."
"She's still happy in that company, don't push her, Marco." Mrs Manoban playfully chided. She came in bringing a big pot of what Lisa assumed was Early Grey tea, his father's staple. She didn't even notice her mother had left the room. "She'll be fine. She has always been fine."
"She could be fine now but she could be great with us, Chitthip. Of course, I'd rather have her build an empire instead."
"Your empire, Marco," She nudged her husband lightly. "Don't make it Lisa's."
It hasn't escaped Lisa that her mother doesn't seem to see the tension in the room, but like before, Lisa chalked it up to a tension that she sees in her head.
The cake caught her attention. She tucked it tentatively, using it as a scapegoat.
"It's nice to see you again, father. Mom. I have to go. Thanks for the cake."
"Lalisa."
She paused, caught slinking out just when she was midway to the door. She could feel her jaws grinding hard from trying to stop herself from talking back.
When there wasn't so much as a breath heard, she gritted out a response: "Yes, father?"
"I want you to move to Hannam."
Lisa stiffened, back still unturned. A teaspoon clinking a mug echoed around the kitchen.
"I bought a new unit at Nine One," Her father continued. "I will have it furnished by next month. You can move in immediately after."
Lisa closed her eyes, stifling rudeness that was bubbling underneath. "I just moved. I think I'd rather stay in my current place."
"Nonsense. This is the best out of all our properties."
"And I don't need it."
"I'd rather have my child living in the best property I have."
"And your child," Lisa finally faced them, unable to help the outburst in her chest. "specifically says she doesn't want it."
"I've already listed your current condominium for rent," Her father studied her calmly, unknown to Lisa if he was gauging her reaction or if he disapproved of her uncharacteristic outburst. His words were languid, deliberate. He released them knowing he has already won the argument, like a card he deftly hid as he bluffed his way through niceties and small talks. "I have set a tentative in about two months."
The heat in her skin was palpable, her head full of sharp adjectives despite the haziness suddenly clouding her senses. The immediate numbness that took over her body was so intense she had to move her fingers to feel something.
There was a pain in her nails, apparently from her fingers digging in too hard clamped on the cake container.
She wasn't sure where she was angrier with: was it the part where she was removed a choice again in the matter? Was it the part where she's functioning as a marionette for her father again? Was it the part where she will have a limited time being neighbours with Jennie now?
The last one made her dial back a smidge: Jennie factoring in the few triggers she has was a surprise she didn't anticipate and definitely something she can't allow herself to think of at the moment. She didn't want to muddle the idea of Jennie with her father when they were at different ends of the spectrum.
"Marco, don't force her into decisions," Her mother interjected kindly, trying to disperse the tension between the family. "Sweetheart, it's a beautiful place. Maybe you can consider it? Just have a look at the area."
Lisa throttled her anxiety. She wanted to scream, to get angry. To lash out loudly. But her father sat there studying her, like a science project he kept prodding to gauge her limits.
Being her father's daughter was not an easy feat, but she has played this game a hundred million times and while she's tired of it, she wasn't going to back down.
Suffocating the quiver in her hands and lips, she steadily faced her parents. "I will think about it, Mother," And a slight sharpness of the word, "Father," before giving a stiff nod. "I'll have to go. Thank you for the cake."
She left immediately, no longer allowing her parents to have the last word. She was already annoyed, confused, and hurt, but losing her grasp of her persona wasn't something she can afford. She's already disoriented and admitting that wasn't something she was about to do.
She swallowed thickly, forcing herself to slip into her shell as she left her parents' house. The aftertaste of strawberry and cream on her tongue now suddenly left a bitter tang in her mouth.
—
OST while writing the first parts of this: Perfume by Mehro. Sorta perfect for all the pining.
–
Hello! I wondered for a bit where the influx of my readers came from until someone very kindly pointed me to a tiktok that listed TGND as a Jenlisa fanfic suggestion. Thank you for everyone's kind notes in both the tiktok and in the comments section here.
To those who might be new here, I used to write as pinkbyproxy in both wattpad and ao3, so if you're keen for a few more short stories, feel free to drop by.
To answer some of the questions: no, TGND is not yet ending, lol. We still have a long way to go, and I apologise if it's taking too long. I honestly thought I would have some time to write this August as I took a sabbatical, but I didn't foresee the power of life derailling my plans + procrastination hitting me hard in the first parts lol. I'm also writing this from scratch, and my process IS kind of long and it does take a LOT of reviewing before I publish, so please bear with me. Hopefully the quality is at par and worth every update so far.
Thanks again and see you guys on the next update! Comments as usual here: http://curiouscat.live/pinkbyproxy or twitter here: twitter.com/pinkbyproxy
And to the filos reading this: salamat guys. Jenlisa pa rin lagi, charot haha
PPS:
I didn't want to use this platform again to scold, but just reminding everyone that fanfics and ships are not real life. Please learn to have that distinction. We have this platform because it's supposed to remind us that there are places where we're allowed to explore fiction, but going beyond that is disrespectful.
Everyone's afforded privacy, whether or not it's real or fabricated. Breaching that via hack, blackmail, fabrication etc is a gross disrespect of people's privacy. And whether or not this is real, everyone deserves respect. You're not due an update of people's private lives to begin with.
So yes, if you're out there spewing hate on Jennie, or any of the girls, or even anyone connected to them, here's your friendly reminder: shut the fuck up and learn to be human.
Thank you.