The artist sees her painting evolving with pleasure.
She's content with the traces, the colors, the textures. She feels full, all the time, like in a dream.
Elizabeth and Jennifer talk.
They do so quietly, so as not to disturb the painting process.
They discuss art, culture, and politics, and sometimes they derive to neutral topics like the weather.
One day, Jennifer speaks with her voice tinted by insecurity.
"I'm not sure about the result of the portrait. Not because of your skills, of course, but because of...well... my face".
Elizabeth takes her eyes off her work and looks at the shortest girl with a shaking intensity.
"You are perfect", she answers simply.
Jennifer is left speechless.
"Your eyes are sharp, fierce", Elizabeth continues, her voice velvety as she begins to paint traces once again, "your nose is small and delicate. Your cupid's bow is deep, inviting, and your mouth is rich and lively. Then, your cheeks, prominent, giving a sense of innocence that contrasts with the cut of your cheekbones. There is nothing not to like about your face. I'm not painting you like a goddess. I'm painting you, and you look like a goddess".
The shortest girl blinks away the tears in her eyes as she keeps her hands from shaking.
When she catches her breath again, the warm feeling blooming in her heart is still there.
"Thank you, Liz. You are... like a dream".
Elizabeth smiles, feeling accomplished.
She can't even complain about her new nickname.
-
One day, however, a week and a half into her portrait, Elizabeth can't paint.
She's stuck again in a lack of inspiration, despite the constant buzzing in the pad of her fingers.
The scenery is there, just in front of her eyes, and she can almost outline every feature needed in her head.
But as she puts the brush closer to the canvas, everything fades away.
She is left huffing lightly, then, with an annoyed expression under Jennifer's perplex state.
"Everything alright?", the shortest girl asks. She's been in the same position for twenty minutes, but Elizabeth hasn't painted a single line since.
The tallest girl fights the urge of pouting.
"No. I'm... stuck".
Jennifer allows herself to sit straight in the armchair.
"Is it... am I doing something wrong?"
"No!", Elizabeth explains quickly, "it's just... It happens sometimes. I can't come up with anything good. I'm shitty like that".
Jennifer frowns.
"You are not shitty, Liz. You have been painting non-stop for days. You probably need to rest for a while".
Elizabeth runs her hand against her face.
"Yes, you are right, I'll probably-"
"Do you want a glass of wine?"
The tallest girl stares at Jennifer in slight surprise. She's gazing back at her calmly, her body resting against the back of the armchair.
"Oh... I-sure".
The shortest girl smiles then, and stands up to walk to the kitchen with ease, gracious, almost as if teasing.
Elizabeth merely follows, feeling enchanted.
"You can sit on the living room as I gather the wine. Oh, red or white?"
"Whichever you like the most", Elizabeth answers.
Jennifer looks at her, a grin still plastered in her beautiful features, and lets her find her way to the beige couch in the living room.
Elizabeth sits on her own for some moments. She licks her lips nervously and tries to calm herself down. She has always been composed, nonchalant. There is something about Jennifer's whole aura, however, that makes her insides shake with waves of impulse.
Jennifer comes back with two cups full of red wine and a still relaxed expression. She sits beside Elizabeth carefully and hands her one of the cups.
The painter is quick in drinking at least a quarter of the liquid in short sips.
Jennifer doesn't comment. She merely smiles and drinks as well.
Elizabeth understands that the silence should feel awkward. Instead, it is surprisingly soothing. The easy atmosphere mixed with the taste of the expensive wine and the sweet scent that Jennifer emanates, the painter suspects, naturally, makes the tension in her shoulders diminish slowly.
After some extra moments of silence, Jennifer clears her throat.
"Have you ever wanted to be a painter?"
"Yes", Elizabeth answers, "I knew since the moment I drew a house with sticks for the first time".
Jennifer chuckles, and the artist smiles as well.
"That's good. That certainty".
"Yes. It helped a lot. Although it didn't make it easier to tell my parents".
The shortest girl hums.
"They wanted me to marry a rich man and have children".
"And you are not fond of marriage?" Jennifer asks.
Elizabeth ponders on how honest she can be.
"Not fond of men nor marriage, no".
She waits in slight tension until she hears Jennifer chuckling again, clearly not deeply affected by her declarations.
"I see".
"What about you? Have you always wanted to marry your rich man?"
Jennifer's mouth twitches slightly and Elizabeth is about to apologize, but the shortest girl speaks first.
"Yes, and have children, too".
There is such a deep sadness suddenly interlacing with Jennifer's tone that the painter frowns, confused.
"And why don't you have one?"
The shortest girl sighs then, and her lower lip trembles almost imperceptibly.
Elizabeth feels like slapping herself.
"Chinhwa is not on fond of children. He never was, really... but I thought... I don't know. I thought he would change".
The painter feels the urge to reassure the shortest girl as quickly as possible.
"He might change his mind".
Jennifer blinks quickly as an attempt to remain composed.
"He won't. He said that he could never love a child".
Elizabeth puts the glass of wine on the coffee table and leans her body back, all in silence. Then, as a desperate attempt to show support, she puts her hand on top of Jennifer's left thigh.
The girl seems unfazed, but keeps her eyes on the floor.
"I know it's silly, but... I've always... I don't know, thought that I could be a great mother. That I could raise a nice, happy, intelligent child. Give them all I never received when I was young. All the love, all the toys, all the secrets. It's all I've dreamt of. Family love".
She stops for a second and raises her eyes to look at Elizabeth, clearly embarrassed. In exchange, the tallest girl squeezes Jennifer's thigh gently.
"I'm sure you could, Jenn. Let's not lose hope, alright?"
The shortest girl keeps looking at the painter, and a soft smile begins to grace her features.
"Jenn?", she asks teasingly.
Elizabeth tries to take her hand away from Jennifer's leg, yearning to recover her usual neutrality, but the shortest girl doesn't allow it. Instead, she interlaces her own fingers with the painter's, her grin still on place.
Elizabeth feels like her heart might bust right there.
This is so wrong. So, so wrong. This is probably just a friends-sharing-secrets moment and here I am twisting it up like the disgusting-
"I like it. Nobody calls me that".
The tallest girl tilts her head in honest curiosity.
"How do they call you, then?"
"Jennifer", the girl shrugs.
Elizabeth hums and, still holding the shortest girl's hand, moves her body forwards to hold her cup between her fingers.
"Tell me a secret", Jennifer requests.
"A secret?"
"Anything. Something nobody knows".
Elizabeth smiles, feeling powerless under the girl's sharp stare, and tells her about the time she painted the wall of her room and blamed neighbor she hated the most.
In exchange, Jennifer tells her about the time she tried her mother's most expensive hanbok and stained it so bad that she had to throw it away and pretend it didn't exist.
They spend the whole evening talking, their faces soaked in sunlight, giggling with their hands intertwined, allowing their eyes linger on each other until the tension becomes too much, too dangerous, too tempting.
When Elizabeth gets home, she starts to work on another project.
Every trace is delicate but firm, teasing and magical.
She is not able to get Jennifer' smile out of her heart.
Through window, an imperceptible female figure is observing her with disinterest.
This is creepy as fuck, Jisoo thinks, and boring.
-
Elizabeth watches at the rain pouring against her window with a feeling of helplessness. Her painting materials are besides the front door, ready to be taken under the tall girl's arm. The only obstacle is the awful weather.
The painter pouts. She might not be able to go to Jennifer's today. It's already late. Very late. If the sun was shining, golden lights would be coating the room. The storm, dark and wild, shows no signs of stopping anytime soon.
The thought of not working makes her sad because, well, she will have to quicken her pace in the following session, but also... she misses certain light jokes. And certain cat-like eyes. And a certain teasing smile. And certain-
She's fucked.
As simple as that.
Elizabeth lies on her bed -a mattress on the floor- and covers her eyes with the palm of her hands.
She keeps pouting.
-
Jisoo observes everything with renewed interest.
It's clear that the human has already fallen in deep for the other human, so all she can do is... to push it a little.
She knows that she's not supposed to use extra powers, but, isn't it a way of helping?
A consequence-less way of helping!
So she looks at the sky and concentrates for a moment, internally hoping that a part of her remains actually Ethereal.
And like that, it stops raining.
Jisoo smiles. They say she isn't supposed to be egocentric, but how not to, considering the extent of her powers?
-
When the rain stops smashing against the glass of her window, Elizabeth frowns in confusion.
The way the storm quieted was... sudden.
She stands up in a rush, deciding that she doesn't have plenty of time to think.
It's already late late, the light already faint due the heavy clouds is disappearing at a quick peace, so she gathers her painting stuff and runs towards Jennifer's house.
-
The shortest brunette opens her front door with her face scrunched in confusion. Her features immediately brighten up at the sight of the painter.
"Oh, Liz! I thought you wouldn't come!"
Elizabeth smiles big, still painting, as Jennifer lets her in.
Once both girls are secure under the roof, the rain starts again.
Elizabeth furrows her eyebrows, impressed by the sudden weather changes, but turns towards the shortest girl to speak.
"Yes, sorry... the rain... I know it's late".
"Oh no", Jennifer protests, "I'm so glad you are here. I'm flattered that you decided to come despite the hour".
"Well, I wanted to go on with the portrait. I feel inspired today, and I want to take advantage of that".
"Oh", Jennifer answers, and the slight disappointment faint in her voice makes Elizabeth widen her eyes.
She offended her.
"And to see you, of course. And... to talk".
The shortest girl smiles lightly, in a thankful gesture that doesn't reach her eyes.
"Truly! You are so interesting, and open, and gentle. I missed you".
The last phrase is blurted of out her mouth in a rush, and the painter feels a wave of heat covering her cheeks.
However, she is rewarded with another smile, a new one, that makes a dimple at the side of Jennifer's cheek become more prominent. Elizabeth's pads tingle anxiously. She wants to paint the girl in whichever facet she's kind enough to show.
"I missed you too", she lets her eyes linger on Elizabeth's, "should we start then?"
"Yes", the painter answers.
She licks her lips in an anxious gesture.
They move to the bedroom.
"It's dark", the painter murmurs.
There is a silence characteristic of the late evening that lingers like a spell, making them both breath heavier.
"Should I light some candles?"
"Let me help you".
They work together, mindful of their personal spaces as they had never been, feeling the slight tension common in their encounters becoming tighter. When they finish, the whole room is illuminated by yellowish, faint spots.
"Is this alright?" Jennifer asks.
It takes a few minutes for Elizabeth to realize that she's referring to the setting.
"Yes. It's different, but I like it. A bit more... sensual".
The smile that crosses Jennifer's features as she takes her usual spot at the armchair makes the painter shiver.
She begins working.
It's different.
It's different because the lights on the corner are creating shadows in Jennie's soft and sharp features that make her look simply ravishing. Her long, bright, chocolate hair falls on top of her shoulders, going past her exposed collarbones. With her legs raised, her hanbok is stuck above her knees, leaving a part of her thighs visible, coated by honey.
It's different because Elizabeth is buzzing with inspiration, with impulse, and with another feeling that she doesn't recognize and is scared to try to name. Jennifer stares right at the painter, her cat eyes moving up and down as if she was analyzing her features, so she squirms and frowns to keep herself focused.
Elizabeth paints. She draws lines and colors and mixes and textures, and sometimes she bites her lower lip, unaware, when depicting the tiniest of the details.
It should be getting easier, it really should. But it isn't.
Elizabeth wonders faintly if the burning of the candles could be heating up the room.
"Jenn, could you please put your legs a bit higher?"
The shortest girl blinks as if awoken of a dream. She moves slightly.
"Like this?"
"A bit higher".
Jennifer tries again.
Not quite, Elizabeth thinks, and stares at the scene for a moment.
"Lightly at the side? Sorry, I'm awful at directions".
The shortest girl smiles nevertheless, and tries again.
Elizabeth stands then, thinking that it might be easier to show rather than tell. She kneels in front of Jennifer carefully, trying not to alter the girl's position more than necessary.
She presses her indents in the flesh of Jennifer's thighs softly, as gentle as possible, and swallows. The tenderness of the girl's skin, her engulfing scent, her quick breath, everything becomes too much and she needs to pull away, she really needs to pull away, but Jennifer's stare is blazing in hers, keeping her in place, unable to leave.
So she breathes deeply, as subtly as possible, and presses more. Jennifer leg moves under the pressure, and Elizabeth finds the pad of her fingers brushing higher.
The shortest girl gasps.
"Liz", she murmurs, and the girl looks up again, a quick apology ready to leave her lips.
Jennifer doesn't let her.
She moves her body forwards almost as if pushed by an unstoppable force and takes Elizabeth's mouth in hers, her hands desperately grasping her shoulders.
The painter's resolve crumbles down.
She feels a soft growl leaving her throat as she kisses Jennifer as deeply as she's always wanted since the moment she let her eyes fix on her plump lips, since the moment she saw her standing still for the first time, absolutely gorgeous.
Under the golden light of the half-consumed candles, everything becomes messy.
The girls stand up together, eager to be pressed against each other, their mouths still joined in a doomed promise. They push and pull to the king-size bed, panting between open kisses, throwing undeserving clothing here and there, and Elizabeth manages to lie the shortest girl on top of fluffy cushions first.
Jennifer doesn't put up a fight. She opens her thighs for the painter's body to fit right in between and closes them again, eager to feel the ardent connection once again.
They move together, against each other, rushing every moment as if afraid of being too late. Jennifer lets foreign sounds escape past her open lips as Elizabeth discovers each magical spot. Whenever she's is able too, whenever she's not melting around the painter's fingers, Jennifer explores Elizabeth's limits as well. It's blissfully high, and pleasantly low sometimes, and each thrust, each bite, each pinch is enough to send them both again in an ecstatic spell.
When it's over, when their bodies are too numb to follow the force of their attraction, both girls fall asleep at the sound of the rain, still connected.
-
Outside Jennifer's house, under the storm, Jisoo is still trying to shake the disgust out of her body.
"Bloody humans, they can't just..."
Well, at least her job is done, isn't it?
She touches her back. Nothing. She agitates her left hand over her head. Nothing.
"Come on after that? You've got to be kidding me".
Silence.
Jisoo tilts her head up and curses one more time.
-
Jennifer wakes up with the almost-noon sun hitting her eyelids mercilessly. She frowns, annoyed, and even pouts a little before turning her body around.
Despite her efforts, consciousness is slowly raising. With her eyes still closed, she hazily goes over the events of the day before. She had breakfast. She cleaned the house. She had lunch. She read a book. She waited for Elizabeth, and then the rain, and then...
She fully wakes up in a subtle gasp, her heat hammering against her chest.
She knows, at the back of her mind, that an overwhelming guilt should be cursing through her veins.
It doesn't.
Instead, all she can think about are lovely lips, and lovely hands, and lovely stares.
Her chest warms up. She wouldn't mind to do it all over again. She would actually very much like it to do it all over again.
As she reaches with her hand to the other side of the massive bed, she realizes that she can't. She's alone. Elizabeth is gone.
The initial emotion that alters Jennifer's features is confusion. Then, the hints of shame.
She wakes up hastily thinking that maybe Elizabeth is rounding the house, working on her painting, making breakfast, anything, anything that can tell the shortest girl that she hasn't been used, that she wasn't so unexperienced, so naïve, so awkward that the other girl had to run away.
She doesn't find her anywhere.
Jennifer is left in her own kitchen, trying to fight against an insistent prickle in her eyes.
-
Elizabeth comes back two days after.
She carries her stuff under her arm, as she always does.
Jennifer welcomes her with a smile, as she always does as well.
The painter has spent enough hours observing the girl to notice that her eyes doesn't sparkle as they are supposed to.
Jennifer sits on her armchair, puts her legs up and lets her chin fall on the palm of her hand.
Elizabeth begins painting silently, methodically, telling herself over and over again not to think about the softness of the skin she's depicting.
Suddenly, she hears a muffled sound. She peeks at Jennifer once again, worried, and the sight at her eyes makes her heart shatter in two.
The shortest girl is crying.
Elizabeth gasps, feeling her plans, her beliefs, her convictions all fading away at the idea of Jennifer's distress.
She stands up without a thought, and moves closer to her model with her eyebrows furrowed.
"Jenn, what's wrong?", she murmurs, and lets her fingers catch the girl's tears, one by one.
"Was it that bad? Am I just a game for you? Is this something you do often?"
Jennifer spits her questions with a self-deprecating tone. Elizabeth gasps, and feels her chest constricting.
"No. Of course not. It was perfect".
"Then I'm just another girl".
Jennifer starts to sob softly, and Elizabeth can't help but to wrap her tiny figure around her arms, putting her closer.
"You are not another girl. I've never done this before".
The shortest girl stays silent for a moment, trying to turn her breathing back to normal.
"Why did you leave me, then?" she speaks with a small, broken voice.
Elizabeth pulls away, but keeps the girl's face close to hers, her fingers pressing against fluffy cheeks.
"Jenn, you are committed".
Jennifer's eyes darken in a way the painter is not sure she's ever seen before. She looks at her intensely, almost angry.
"He's committed to his money. I'm not committed to anyone".
Elizabeth parts her lips in surprise. The certainty in the girl's voice takes her aback. There is new flame growing in her past sadness, and the painter can feel it in the way the atmosphere gets warmer.
She gives in.
She gives in in the way Jennifer is looking at her defiantly, mouth agape and cat-like eyes half-lidded. She moves forwards to catch the shortest girl's lips in a wet kiss, her body buzzing again with an overwhelming joy.
Jennifer answers in the same manner, her finger threading in waves of deep chocolate as she tries desperately to take everything in.
Elizabeth pulls away for a second, breathing heavily, feeling powerless and the most powerful at the same time.
"Take me again", Jennifer murmurs hotly against her open mouth. She feels fingers pressed between her thighs. "Take me as many times as you'd like".
The painter sighs loudly and attaches her lips to the shortest girl's neck, letting her pads search for a warmer spot. She hears a muffled moan.
Elizabeth follows Jennifer's orders impeccably.
-
The following days feel like a pipe dream.
Elizabeth goes to Jennifer's house with her heat chanting against her chest.
Once the door is opened, an eager kiss awaits for her.
Sometimes, if the buzzing in her pads is too strong, she goes straight to painting. She lets the brush dance in the canvas delicately, each feature planned and pampered.
Sometimes, Jennifer feels playful. She brings a bottle of wine and two cups to the living room and they laugh, and lean in for a deep kiss, and giggle again, and talk about the things they've never talked with anybody else before.
Sometimes, their greeting kiss stings a bit more, their hands search a bit deeper. Sometimes Jennifer is forced to close the front door in a rush before Elizabeth starts to undress her right there, unable to stop herself. Often, make it to the bedroom. Occasionally, the painter's creativity is put into test. She succeeds every time.
In one of the days when the pulling is too strong, when Jennifer doesn't feel like sipping on expensive wine and Elizabeth can hold her creative cravings, they are pressed against each other on the silk fabrics of the king-size bed.
The painter is pressing open-mouthed kisses against Jennifer's torso, who is letting out a humming sound. Elizabeth goes lower, eagerly, and then lower, carefully, just as she discovered that the shortest girl likes the most.
"You are my muse, my orchid", she murmurs between breaths, "Gorgeous, dreamy".
Jennifer is melting, delighted, feeling her thighs trembling in the midst of a long high. Once there is no higher to go, she is left breathing heavily.
"I love you", she murmurs, her mind blank.
Elizabeth stops in her tracks. She looks up at the girl, but her surprised expression turns into disbelief.
"I do", Jennifer protests, more conscious this time, her eyebrows furrowed.
"You can't", Elizabeth answers simply, and sits on the bed, feeling the shortest girl's skin suddenly burning under her fingers.
"What do you mean?" Jennifer asks, sitting straight as well.
Elizabeth tries to remain strong despite the hurting reflected in the girl's tone.
"You simply can't".
Jennifer feels her lower lip trembling.
"You don't love me?", she asks, vulnerability dripping from her voice.
Elizabeth breathes heavily, as if she couldn't make the air reach her lungs.
"I can't", she says, and moves away from the bed.
"Liz!", Jennifer calls her, but Elizabeth is already putting her clothes on in a haste.
"What are we going to do when he comes back, Jennifer, huh? Keep up with our rendezvous? Have sex behind his back? Pretend we are normal people? This is not meant to be. This is a mistake", the painter tells her, a feeling of doom hitting her bones in waves.
She knows that Jennifer is crying. She can hear her sobs. But she can't turn away, because if she does...
She'll stay.
"I would leave it all for you", is the last one Elizabeth hears as she opens the bedroom door and runs away from the house.
-
Jisoo stares at the whole scene with her mouth agape in outrage.
Humans are so stupid, so stupid, she thinks, and stomps her feet on the ground.
She tries to ignore the slightly uncomfortable feeling in her chest.
-
Elizabeth spends the following days lying on her mattress, crying.
She feels her heart sinking deeper and deeper in the middle of her chest.
She has told the truth. She doesn't think that they are meant to be.
And yet...
She turns around in rage, in pain, in fear.
And yet she feels her heart breaking in a billon pieces.
Because she misses her, already. Knowing that she can't go back, knowing that she won't see her smile again, smell her sweet scent, kiss the pads of her fingers.
And also, because she hurt her. She made her cry. She spat horrifying truths at her face like it was nothing, and then she didn't even have the decency to say that she was sorry, terribly sorry, that she feels her world crumbling down at the sight of pain flickering in her cat-like eyes.
Elizabeth sobs against her old cushion.
She didn't even tell her the whole truth. The most important truth. The most terrifying truth.
She loves her back.
The painter grits her teeth.
She loves her back and she knows it instinctively, because she has never felt something alike before. She knows because her heart blossoms at the sight of her delicate features, chants when at the sound of her small chuckles, feels like bursting at the feeling of insistent indents being pressed against her skin.
She loves her and she just knows it, like she knows which color will be the most appropriate for a landscape, which brush will play better in each canvas. She loves her in the way she loves art, naturally, without a second thought.
But they are not meant to be.
Elizabeth sighs and tries to sleep.
She can't.
-
Staring through the window, Jisoo fells like pulling her hair out.
Seeing humans suffering is somewhat distressing, especially because the truth is right there, as clear as the thread that joins the girls' ring fingers permanently.
The angel sits on the floor, reflexively.
She needs to make the human understand, but she knows that she can't knock on the glass of the window and tell the girl that she's about to let go the love of her life. It would freak her out forever.
Besides, it's sort of outside the rules. Not that she hasn't broken them before.
She can speak to Elizabeth. She can subtly prompt her to go and fight for her girl because she is not getting anything alike ever in her life anymore.
But that will mean interacting with humans, and well...
She could just send a signal.
Jisoo's eyes light up.
That would be perfect.
Al little push for Elizabeth to stop being a complete idiot and beg Jennifer for forgiveness, because honestly, abandoning her was a rather stupid move, no matter the motives.
The angel stands up, the first toothy smile since she arrived to Earth adorning her features.
She has it all sorted out.
-
Elizabeth stares outside the window with a blank mind and a blank expression.
She hasn't slept for days, so her body is drifting off without permission.
She doesn't care, really. The buzzing in her head somehow overlaps with the pain in her chest.
Suddenly, something happens.
A strong breeze opens her window, surprisingly, given the fact that the weather seemed pretty sunny and calm just a minute ago. It takes Elizabeth some minutes to react. When she's reaching out to close her window again, a flower carried by the wind enters through it to lie on top of her desk.
The breeze stops, but Elizabeth doesn't notice. She looks at the flower with a perplex expression, and gets closer to it as if it would bite.
When she holds her carefully between her fingers, Elizabeth begins to tear up.
An orchid.
The painter looks at it for a moment.
Is that a signal?
She feels her heart chanting against her chest.
It is, it is.
Elizabeth holds her flower close and leaves the apartment in a rush.
-
Jennifer hears a knock on the door.
She ignores it, putting the book that she has been pretending to be reading for two hours closer to her nose.
The knocking intensifies.
She huffs, wondering who could be stubborn enough not to realize that there is no one in the house, at least no one with enough will in their bodies to open the door.
The noise stops for a moment.
Jennifer relaxes her shoulders.
And then it starts again.
The short brunette walks to the door in quick, uncharacteristic steps, and just as she's reaching the doorknob, she hears the voice she's been meaning, fearing, waiting to hear for days.
"Jenn, I know you are there. Please, open".
Jennifer hesitates, feeling the shame and pain she felt the day that the painter abandoned her cursing trough her veins once again.
"Please, please", she hears in a broken voice.
The girl opens the door.
At the other side, Elizabeth stands with a desperate expression, clutching at the most beautiful bouquet of flowers Jennifer has seen in her entire life. She looks pale, and there are dark shadows under her eyes, and she shortest girl can't help but to think painfully that she looks stunning nevertheless.
She lets her in, mindful of her neighbors, but keeps looking at her with a stern expression.
She can't pretend that it's all alright, she can't-
"I love you", Elizabeth says, her coffee eyes burning in Jennifer's cat-like stare.
"What?", the shortest girl asks, taken aback.
"I love you. I love you so much that I can't stop thinking about you. You drive me crazy. You make me feel like nobody else has made me feel in my entire life and it's terrifying. I don't even- I don't think I can breathe properly when you are around, but it's all joy, it's all beauty. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was such a stupid idiot and had to ruin us, but everything felt so impossible, so surreal that I just had to run away. And it was too late. You are so deep in my heart I don't think I could take you out even if I wanted to. And I don't. I don't".
Elizabeth concludes her speech breathing heavily, almost crushing the flowers under her hand.
Jennifer stares at her silently, her eyes full of tears, before taking a step forwards.
"It took you long enough, you damn idiot".
Elizabeth opens her eyes in a moment, and in the next one, she drops the bouquet to the floor to wrap Jennifer in a searing kiss. The shortest girl answers with equal enthusiasm, her skin tingling at the idea of being pressed against her love once again.
"I love you", Elizabeth murmurs again against Jennifer's open mouth. She presses kisses against her jaw, feeling more free than ever, "I love you".
"Mhh, I love you too", Jennifer answers and tilts her head to the side, claiming more kisses, "but you crushed my flowers".
"I'll buy you more", the painter murmurs against tender skin. She unwraps the shortest girl's hanbok. "As many as you'd like, love".
"Good", the girl answers, a sudden wet feeling on her chest making her mewl, "you have...some making up to do".
She closes her eyes in bliss, her eyelids fluttering.
"Anything. Anything for you".
"Good then", Jennifer grabs a fistful of brunette hair and pulls her up softly. "Take me here. And then on my bed. And then in the bath", she murmurs against Elizabeth's ear.
The tallest girl chuckles lowly.
"Anything else?"
"Then, you will make lunch. You'll paint me some more. And you'll take me again. As many times as I wish".
Elizabeth feels her fingers trembling in desire.
"Yes", she says, and lets her lips search for the shortest girl's mouth, suddenly desperate, "yes".
She complies with every single one of Jennifer's wishes.
-
Jisoo sits in front of Jennifer's house. She knows better than to stay close enough to hear what's happening inside.
Once the humans have finally, finally confessed their love, there is only one more thing to deal with.
The husband.