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When she first told Seulgi about Jennie, she laughed and told Wendy she has a type.
Which on face value, was probably true.
Wendy couldn’t help but fall for the kind of girl that everyone falls for.
The type that walks into a room, and demands respect, not with words, but with their sheer presence.
The type that all eyes are naturally drawn to, but still look like they’re above it all.
They’re not.
As Wendy found out with Irene.
-
Wendy remembered the day she had first told Irene that she was falling for her.
It was a late night, after a long schedule, and it was just the two of them, again, quietly cleaning up and waiting for the others to finish their showers. Irene waited because she was the oldest, she was the leader, and Wendy waited…
Well, Wendy waited for Irene.
That how it always was, for as long as Wendy could remember.
Wendy could barely remember a time where it wasn’t Irene taking care of them, so Wendy had taken it upon herself to always look after Irene.
For as stern and powerful as the girl was, or appeared to be, inside lived the spirit of a child, who needed to be coddled, and kept safe. A girl who needed to be treasured. And loved.
And as the years of Red Velvet went on and on, it was Wendy and Irene, Irene and Wendy, who picked up the broken pieces together, who stayed up late for each other, who were always looking out for each other.
Wendy couldn’t pinpoint where the care turned into affection. Perhaps it had always been love. This intense desire to care for Irene, for all her loved ones. It was something that felt so natural, such an extension of her being.
And Irene was someone she could not help but love. A dizzying combination of ice and warmth. Forever the queen among mortals. Perpetually the damsel that Wendy was always watching. Wendy loved Irene for her strength. Wendy loved Irene for her weakness. Eventually, Wendy loved Irene for everything in between. Eventually, Wendy loved Irene wholly, fully, with every motion of her being.
It scared her for a bit, having so much of her soul invested in someone else’s. But it became a comfort, then a strength. Such so that Wendy was ready to tell Irene, ready to bare her soul to the woman she trusted the most.
She had grasped Irene’s arm, and like most times, Irene recoiled as she would with any physical contact. Then, as she comprehended who it was, she relaxed, and Wendy could feel her muscles untense.
It’s just me.
“Joohyun.”
Irene looked up at her slowly, a gentle smile playing on her lips.
“Seungwan.”
Irene’s eyes were impish, playing the game they had always been circling around. And on any other day, Wendy would gladly indulge. But in the moment, the gravity of what she was about to do overtook every other feeling.
“I have to tell you something.”
Perhaps sensing the magnitude Wendy was tracing her words, Irene’s expression grew serious. Looking back, there was the slightest bit of trepidation in her features. Wendy wished she could have seen it back then, read the way that things might go.
But that was Wendy back then, even now. From trainee to senior, never once did she not think giving it her all. When she loved, she loved fiercely and fully. She couldn’t help it.
“You can tell me anything Seungwan.”
The waver in Irene’s voice was there. The signs were there. Never once did Wendy consider that Irene, Irene who knew her better than herself, would know where Wendy’s feelings lay. Knew her response, like the back of her hand, like a curse. All that mattered to Wendy at the time was the surrender to the fall, the shifting on Pandora’s box. The lid teetered on the edge, the words threatened to spill from her lips.
The thing was, that was where the memory gave way to silence. Wendy held onto the past like songs, tracing the lyrics of life, hearing the melody bend and weave its way through every moment she treasured, every shame she recalled. But when she thought of what she said, the words that burst from her mouth like flame, she could not tell you exactly what she said.
Instead, it was the change in Irene’s face that burned itself into her mind. Watching serenity change into shock. Watching shock turn into fear. Watching fear turn itself cruel and cold. There were two different people that Wendy spoke to in that conversation. One was gentle, for Wendy as much as she was for herself.
The other was callous. Pragmatic, Wendy would later think. The one that held the world in her hands, and knew exactly the part she needed to play. That was Wendy’s weakness really, she was a child of passion. Joohyun, no, Irene, was her opposite in that way. Wendy never thought that the difference would ever cut as deep as it did that day.
Because to whatever confession Wendy had somehow managed to utter, Irene said this.
“No, you can’t love me like that.”
And no words had ever made Wendy feel so alone in her life.
In that moment, a thousand worlds were conjured and destroyed in Wendy’s mind.
Realities where they could have been together. For better or worse.
Wendy had never really considered what might happen after she confessed to Irene. Of course, fantasies were fantasies. Some had them hiding in secret, gleefully sneaking kisses, sharing moments only they knew together. Some had them brave, declaring their love for each other in a world that may not have wanted them too. Some weren’t so happy, but they felt right. Because in all of them, in all of the future that Wendy had ever thought, she had thought at least she’d have Irene by her side, no matter what happened.
None of them played out how reality did.
Because Irene did what was best. What was best for the company. What was best for Red Velvet. What was best for herself. Separated herself from the tangled grasp that was Wendy’s affection, drawing from friend, from acquaintance, from stranger.
Every day, Wendy was with Irene, saw her. But she had never felt so distant. They barely spoke. They barely touched. Even Wendy’s stares were glaring lights to Irene, dipping her head to avoid even the slightest hint of eye contact.
And it burned Wendy, even if it was for the better. Maybe especially so, the notion that this was what needed to happen. All of her love, vanished in a few words on a quiet evening, burning a engulfing flame that was hidden behind curtains. Here she was, grieving something that had never come to be. Falling in love with the notion that Irene loved as much as she did, that she had meant as much as Irene had meant to her.
It took a long time for Wendy to reconnect the dots, to realize it wasn’t her affection, her nature, that burned. For most of the desolate, lonely expanse that she felt after that day, she had assumed it was her that was the fault, the failure. If she was a little more, if she knew how to love better. Maybe Irene would have let them both fall that day, instead of letting Wendy dive into the abyss alone.
She would eventually hear it from Jennie, then begin to believe it for herself.
Sometimes, you just learn the wrong lessons from the wrong people.
-
Wendy remembered the day she had first told Jennie that she was falling for her.
It had been another difficult, awful day. Another day of physical therapy, feeling like there was no progress. Seeing her career go up in flames, watching it from the window. The fall had taken more than just her physical wellbeing from her, it had taken her hope as well.
She had never thought of herself as perfect, but she couldn’t help but feel like she was undeniably broken. More than just the doctors were telling her, more than she could simply heal. Because how do you heal when every love is stolen from you? Parts of her soul were missing. She couldn’t sing, she couldn’t dance. She couldn’t be loved. Not by the world, not by the people closest to her.
Not by Irene.
Wendy wanted nothing more than to scream for her in those days, beg to feel something of the past. Instead, she watched the departing shadow that was her figure, as they spoke less and less.
In some ways, Wendy could understand. It would hard seeing her like this. The light leaving her eyes just a little bit more every day. The longing would rub raw on Irene just as much as it burned her on the inside. But the immense hole within could not be ignored. Wendy had spent so many of her years loving Irene, that she barely knew herself without it.
At first, Jennie was a distraction.
It was during that time, an odd mix of perfect timing, that led Jennie to first coming to the Red Velvet house. Yeri talking to Nayeon talking to Jennie. The latter had an odd lull in her schedules, that was what led to her being invited by Yeri to stay with Wendy at the house. Pretty girl therapy, Yeri had called it. To be honest, Wendy’s first thought was that she already had enough pretty girl problems for it to work.
But Jennie…
Jennie was different.
Despite how many jokes Jennie now made, Wendy didn’t think the other girl was completely up herself based of their little encounters throughout the years. Just presumed it was the haughtiness that everyone had from time to time, unluckily snapped in photos and scrutinized by thousands. But Jennie wasn’t like that at all. Jennie was chill. Jennie was casually loud, had an opinion on everything. Jennie cheered for Wendy every time she came back from physical therapy, which Wendy had first thought was mocking, but later realized it was Jennie’s unreserved support.
It was that one evening, watching awful comedies on Netflix, Wendy’s head lying on Jennie’s lap, when Jennie’s hands found a particular spot on Wendy’s scalp that set something off in her brain.
“Oh my god I love you.”
It was almost a reflex, the words barely meaning anything to Wendy.
Still, it had her going pink, half with childlike embarrassment.
The other half was shame, remembering the fateful night, years ago, when Wendy could recall exactly the way her heart had been fractured since.
Mere feet away, she could feel the feelings again, the inadequacy she felt back then spilling into the incompetence she felt now. The days were long, the fruit was little, and she had let careless words slip her into the sadness again.
“I’m sorr-“
“Don’t apologize babe.”
The pet name had Wendy pulled out of the miasma of her own head, jerking upwards to see the most infuriating smirk playing across Jennie’s face.
“You’ll get used to falling for me. Everyone does.”
The scoff that naturally came from Wendy was harsh, almost malicious in its intent.
Because here she was, another girl casually holding her world in their hands, as she was tossed by the waves of life once again. Didn’t they know she was fragile at this point? That the shards that were the jagged edges of her, they were cruelly sharp, cruelly learned?
Then, Jennie’s hands began tracing over her shoulders. Light, like gliding over grass. Calming the storm. Releasing the tension, the breath that Wendy only now realized that she’d been holding.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me.”
Wendy could barely even tell if it was still a joke that Jennie was making. All that she knew was that somehow, Jennie knew. Not everything, not anything, but enough to stop her from swirling beneath the tides.
-
Jennie was the complete opposite of Irene.
At least, that was what was Wendy grew to first think.
Over time, the space that Jennie had in Wendy’s head grew and grew. More than just a person doing a mutual friend a favor, more than just an acquaintance that Wendy was learned more and more about every day. She was more than a caricature, more than initial impressions and strong traits.
Jennie was calming from time to time, idly stroking Wendy’s hair when they watched dramas in silence. Jennie was reserved in ways Wendy didn’t expect, chaste kisses on the forehead when Wendy was exhausted from just living past the accident. Jennie listened when Wendy had things to say, had the strangest thoughts to release.
She eventually found about Irene, first in the distant puzzle pieces Wendy felt comfortable to share. Didn’t pry or grow frustrated. Just let Wendy take her time opening up, letting the scars flesh over before baring them. But she did find out, everything in fact. More than Wendy had ever shared with anyone. Even the dark thoughts that she scarcely found the courage to whisper to herself, scared of bringing them to life.
But with Jennie, it was different. The girl didn’t take the burdens like Irene used to do. Instead, she reminded Wendy, in the simplest of ways, of how much stronger she was than her inner demons.
And it was in that way, that Wendy began to heal. Began to believe in the metamorphosis that this period was. Felt the pain she did before, but as shedding skin. Revealing pure flesh, ready to brave the world again. Ready to try again.
Because for the first time, she began to truly believe that she deserved it. Not because of anyone else, not even Jennie. The girl helped her, but helped her to stand for herself. She felt deserving of the love that was being given to her, the support that sprung from every corner of her life. She felt like she deserved a second chance, that the mistakes of the past weren’t the damnations of the future. She felt like she deserved the love that she once poured from herself like water, cascading down the falls like rain.
-
The second time she had told Jennie she was falling for her, she meant it.
It always seemed to be those few square feet where it all happened. This time, the lights dimmed, sitting on opposite sides of the dining table, tension building in Wendy’s very being.
Time had passed, Wendy was well on the way to recovery. She had even started to go back to the company building, started to think about the future. Let herself start dreaming again, imagining all the possibilities that the future could bring.
Jennie was busier than ever, jetting from country to country, winning hearts here, photoshoots there. Yet still, she managed to come back, long after Yeri had stopped needing to ask her to.
Months later, and it was them still. Linked by chance, which every day to Wendy felt more and more like fate. Jennie was the mooring, as much she was the waves. Steadying Wendy. Challenging her. Letting Wendy to come to her for rest. Never letting her settle for what was just good enough.
Wendy had never really had someone like this before. For the longest time in her life, Wendy was always chasing or guiding. Always, ultimately alone. Either tracing the path that legends before her had forged, chasing the shadows of something, someone that was far beyond her reach. Or teaching, stretching her hand down to pull another up the surface to breathe.
Jennie wasn’t like that. Jennie didn’t need Wendy to breathe. Jennie wasn’t out of Wendy’s reach. They were peers, they were equals. Pushing each other along, Encouraging the self as much as the partner, taking the mountain on in equal strides.
Wendy could feel herself approaching that edge again. This time, more familiar. She’d close her eyes and she’d see Jennie. She’d wake up in the morning and want to know where the other girl was. More and more, her first thought was the girl, in every situation.
But unlike last time, there was more than just the call of the void. There was the trepidation. There was the memory, Irene’s harsh eyes, her freezing winds capturing Wendy’s heart. Wendy could have never imagined Irene could hurt her like that. Who was to say that Jennie wouldn’t, when Wendy once ventured her heart out into the open again?
All her fears pooled at the bottom of Wendy’s stomach, weighing her down. But not stopping her. If there was anything that Jennie had taught her, it was despite everything, she should remain herself. And Wendy knew herself. She still believed in magic, in romance, despite knowing how foolish that was. Still believed that somehow, in this ugly, boring thing called life, there was still yet beauty in it. And she was made to revel in it, chase it down to whatever ends that led her to.
And in this moment, it led her to the girl sitting in front of her, dinner long finished, talking animatedly about her trip to Paris.
Jennie was a world Wendy lost herself in. With Irene, it had always felt like falling into a hole. Searching deeper and deeper into some great expanse, trying to follow desperately, wonderfully. Jennie was an explosion of detail, vivid stroke after vivid stroke, that Wendy grew more enchanted by the more she explored.
Jennie finished one of her stories with a giggle, and then a lull of silence came. Both of them warmly smiling at each other, the moment comfortably breathing. Settling over Wendy briefly, until the words finally felt right to come out.
“Jennie?”
“Yeah honey?”
“I need to tell you something.”
Jennie sat forward, the slightest smirk appearing again.
And the words Wendy spoke might have been the same as what she said to Irene. Might have been simple, or everything she had on her mind. To be honest, she didn’t remember. Or chose to forget. All that mattered was the way Jennie had reacted.
Which she didn’t. At all. Which at the time drove Wendy crazy, but in hindsight was exactly, perfectly Jennie. She took Wendy’s words with delicate care, and at the end, smiled, and said this.
“I know.”
But every inch of her smile screamed I love you too.
-
Wendy remembered her first kiss with Irene. Her last kiss with Irene.
They had dancing around each other for months. Both figuratively and literally.
Wendy had never known such perfect hell.
Like grasping for the perfect fruit that her arms were plainly to short for.
Like chasing for a star that incinerated her very reach.
Every day she’d lie in bed, wonder why her life was playing out like this, know exactly why things turned out the way they did.
It’s all your fault, the Irene in her head whispered, you didn’t have to say anything.
No, you can’t love me like that, the Irene of the past said.
The real Irene didn’t say anything to her at all.
Still Wendy waited every moment still. Hung on every word not addressed to her. Tried to care in her own way, tried not to break down every time they feigned ignorance at each other’s presence. What was she supposed to do, when everything she wanted to do was nothing that she should?
The silence was worst at home.
Waiting for the other girls to shower first, the sound of the running water the only space that separated them from complete and utter silence. It was deafening in Wendy’s ears, the reverberating space consuming where Irene’s gentle voice had once stood.
Coming home was like returning to that moment. Just before all the good memories stopped being good memories. Wendy relived it all, every second. The long, brutal days were the hammer. And the memory was the nail, driven into Wendy again and again.
Sometimes, she would catch Irene staring at her. And Wendy used to know what every stare of Irene’s meant. Or at least, she thought she did. She thought that they had meant something. Now, she doubted even those glorious times. Was it all in her head? Was every trace of romance imagined?
That would be crushing more than anything. That there was nothing to destroy in the first place, that Wendy was simply too starry eyed to notice.
It was suffocating those days, the way that Wendy had no way of knowing what was right, what was wrong, what was crippling, what was normal?
She had long since accepted that her life was a privileged one. That hardship wasn’t the defining story that she had to overcome. But did all hurt cut this deep? Or was she merely glass, fundamentally unfit to the falls that life had to offer. Wendy didn’t know. These were the fears that Irene used to quell.
Irene had left Wendy to her own devices, and Wendy was realizing that she never really had any to begin with. Her strength was Irene’s, her hope was Irene herself. Without the other girl, she was a stranded sailboat, left windless and lifeless, waiting for anything to destroy her.
It was these thoughts that were with her as she mindlessly wandered backstage after an awards show, feeling too miserable for herself to even notice where she was going.
Vaguely, backstage lights gave way to bathroom fans, and somewhere in the immediate distance, Wendy registered another girl crying.
She wasn’t sure whether it was the floral scent or the figure she recognized first, but all she could think was the same echo in her head.
Irene, Irene, Irene.
Eventually Irene’s head rose from her bent over frame over the sink, turned to look at Wendy, and a series of emotions played over her features. Wendy watched like a movie, felt like an ocean pooling over her head.
Irene first glared with all the venom of a cornered animal, some creature desperately guarding the last of its dignity. Wendy could almost relate, if she had any fight left in her. Instead, the gaze left her boneless, weight wanting nothing more than to fold itself into the floor.
Then Irene’s gaze softened, and if Wendy could swear it was regret that crowded Irene’s features next. Wanted to believe so badly that it was, that Irene still felt something, anything for the wreckage she had left behind. Even if it was Wendy’s doing that all of this destruction happened, she wanted Irene to feel something as she left Wendy further and further behind.
Wendy felt her own guilt stab a little at her with those thoughts, the notion of wishing Irene ill will causing her pain.
Finally Irene’s face steeled itself, as much as it could, the wobbly determination in her shaking lip, pressed in a straight line. It held for moment, and then in one swift motion, Irene threw herself into Wendy’s arms.
Wendy watched herself in the mirror as she encircled her arms around Irene, the older girl sobbing in her arms. She barely even felt herself, a voyeur in this strange situation the past few months had bubbled into.
Having Irene back didn’t feel like victory. It didn’t feel like burning.
It didn’t feel like anything at all.
All Wendy felt was confusion, and a bone tiredness blurring her judgment beyond belief.
Should she have been blamed for feeling something stir within her when Irene finally lifted her face to meet her gaze?
Her body was closer than it had been in so long. Her face was so close to Wendy’s. Her lips…
“We shouldn’t.”
Irene’s voice was unsteady, her will even more so.
Wendy nodded, yet the motion drew her lips closer to Irene’s.
“We shouldn’t.”
Wendy agreed.
And then she kissed her.
Wendy first noticed that Irene was cold. She shivered with the touch.
She could taste the tears, that salty wetness that soured the scent. All of this wrong. This wasn’t affection. This was two lost souls, blindly pushing against each other for some form of solace.
She could feel Irene moving underneath her, pressing against her, the insistence. Irene, desperately searching for something that she wanted.
But it wasn’t real.
None of this was right.
So Wendy broke the kiss first.
And Irene looked so beautifully painful in that moment, her shimmering eyes fixed on Wendy.
Then she left again.
-
Wendy remembered her first kiss with Jennie.
It was their second date, and Wendy was struggling not to get ahead of herself.
After the release of her solo album, she rode that high all the way to asking out Jennie for the first time. Joy had said it didn’t count as a first date if Jennie practically lived in their house whenever she was in Korea, but Wendy didn’t think about technicalities like that. She just wanted to make it perfect.
And Wendy was discovering that perfect meant more than just what she used to think. Back then, Wendy had believed that perfect mean that everything had to go exactly to plan. That because things were fated, they would happen in the most fantastical and dramatic of ways.
But Jennie had changed that. Life had changed that. Wendy now thought that you couldn’t go through life thinking like that. Sometimes, things didn’t go the way you wanted them to. And that was how you knew it was real. Fate was the unstoppable hope in the middle of the storm. It came in many forms, not always pleasant.
So when it rained halfway through their picnic, Wendy laughed the whole way to the bus stop for cover. Giggled as Jennie tried to convince her that rain was the ideal sauce for Wendy’s sandwiches.
Wendy liked the way Jennie thought about things, like how she could never really know what Jennie was about to say, but could understand her. And feel understood, like no-one else did. Like when Jennie was with her, all of her being was directed at Wendy. Wendy had never felt so seen by anyone before, never felt so treasured.
So it wasn’t a surprise when it was Jennie’s turn to take her out on a date, and it was just…
Perfect.
They had a quiet dinner at home first, the warmth of the many times shared finally blotting out the inky blackness that the building once had been filled with. Jennie cooked, or at least tried to, before Wendy had to intervene.
Not that she minded, especially when Jennie called her a hero and kissed her on the cheek.
They had gone for a walk after that, where Jennie had somehow organized for a string quartet to show up where they usually sat by the lake.
They sat there for a while, slowly watching as a crowd gathered to watch the spectacle. Jennie began to tell stories about the strangers that stopped by, their mundane, their messes, their masterpieces.
Wendy was entranced by it all, the worlds that sprung from Jennie’s head, the tapestry that she had weaved through all her careful planning.
Eventually, they moved on, made their way to a noraebang, and sung their hearts out for a few good hours. Wendy was high on it all, high on Jennie. It was an invigorating shot to her body, the night was proof of the other girl’s effect on her.
Finally, they made it back it to the house, still speaking in low tones. Wendy sprawled out on the couch while Jennie cleaned up the kitchen, feeling nothing but warm contentment, love and affection blossoming out of her in the slowest, gentle of ways.
She lay there on the couch, eyes closed, as she extolled the beauty of the string quartet, when she was silenced by something brushing against her lips. Something that made her heart stop. She barely wanted to believe it, never had she wanted to believe it more.
Jennie kissed her first. Drew away as quickly as she came in.
That impish grin on her face again, dangerously close.
“It’s not that I found you boring or anything, I promise.”
Her voice grew deeper. Wendy could feel the universe open up just a little more in the hanging space.
“You were just so pretty like that I couldn’t help it.”
Their lips met again.
And Wendy was never so grateful that it was Jennie first. Jennie affirming that she was deserving. Jennie giving her heart on a platter, just like Wendy had felt she had done herself so many times before.
She wanted to reward that affection.
She dove back into this kiss, tipping Jennie backwards onto the other side of the couch. Pushing into Jennie. She wanted to feel her, completely and fully, commit every part of her to memory.
She wanted to love unreservedly, wholly.
And she trusted Jennie to let her.
-
That was the thing about Jennie. She had all of these amazing things about her that Wendy got distracted by, and then when she was least expecting it, Jennie gave her more. Jennie was unpredictable, as much as Wendy could see the course she was charting.
Jennie was passion, driven to do exactly what she wanted to. But what that was wasn’t just straightforward, headstrong. Jennie was always thinking, always evaluating the world, evaluating herself.
It could be frustrating at times, Wendy knew that. Sometimes the girl would act rashly, sometimes she would come across strong. But as much as it frustrated her it would fascinate her too. Jennie was a mystery of her own to be endlessly discovered, never to be fit in a box that Wendy could hope to keep her in.
But still, above all else, Wendy could trust her. More than anything. More than herself. Jennie was for her, and that was a truth above all else. Though it may have been nothing more than lucky timing that brought them together at first, it was the unfailing promises they reforged every day that would hold them steady.
-
The thing about Irene was that there was always two people fighting for control.
There was Irene, the strong leader of Red Velvet. The one that had to be strong, when no-one else was. Wendy had spent years protecting Irene the best she could, falling for her. Falling for the way that she knew Wendy like no-one else, falling for the way she cared for Wendy like she was the most precious jewel.
There was Joohyun, the quiet beauty that entranced like no other. The one that spoke in gently offered teas and secret murmurs that only Wendy could her. Wendy was mesmerized in the way Joohyun could say so much in so little, got lost in reading all the little signs in her glances, the quirks of her brow.
It was Irene that dealt the first blow to Wendy. Not even maliciously, but out of pure pragmatism. Red Velvet might not survive the consequences, and that was not a chance that Irene was willing to take at all. There was more at stake than just their happiness. It wasn’t an easy choice, but it was one that was made easily.
Irene had severed Wendy from her like a puppet on strings, with not even the slightest hint of regret. Wendy was unmoored, lost without the guiding hand of a strong leader. In those moments that followed, Wendy felt like a threat, something Irene casually disposed of for the greater good. She had wanted to scream, wanted Irene to feel something, anything, but it was a fruitless cause.
It was Joohyun that tore the shreds that remained of Wendy. All the expressions, all the meanings in her gaze, were wiped clean. Every time Wendy would look at Joohyun she would see nothing in return. Only be reminded of the gaping hole that was left behind, the blank pages that were once ready for the story. Now their emptiness spoke volumes.
Joohyun cut the story in Wendy short. It was so hard to find sense in the senseless world. There was no connecting string, no semblance of a narrative that Wendy could find. And that was how she found the faith to continue on. The notion that there would be something that would have things align the way they were supposed to be.
The notion that this pain meant something. But all the pain felt was self-fulfilling, and Wendy was reminded of that every time she just missed Joohyun’s gaze.
Joohyun and Irene, Irene and Joohyun, they swirled around Wendy like a blizzard storm.
Wrapped in their embrace, Wendy could not see the world outside. Instead she spent her time stumbling around, cursing the cold, marveling at every snowflake that brought her closer to her end. There was no end in sight, no warmth to hold, and in the end Wendy could see nothing else but herself to blame. Still she blessed the days, knowing nothing more comforting than staying in what she had mired herself in years before.
-
There was only one Jennie. But that was not to say what you saw it what you got. Jennie was more than just her pretty face, or her cold demeanor. She was a person, with her own ambitions, own loves, own fears. She cried, she smiled, she comforted, she needed. She was more than just being perfect, being simply one way, one thing. Jennie was warmth, and drive, and beauty, and light.
Jennie was the summer, bright and exuberant. No-one could deny her presence, least of all Wendy. But where some would see harshness, and particular bluntness, Wendy saw honesty. Wendy saw truth. Wendy could believe the compliments that came out of Jennie’s mouth as much as the brutal honesty, because it was all distinctly and absolutely Jennie. Wendy reveled in that, the freedom of a doubtless lover.
Jennie was an unstoppable force. You either had to get out of the way, or ride with her as far as you could. And Jennie held out her hand for Wendy to hold on. When Wendy was at her weakest, Jennie was relentlessly for her. Pushing her, just forward enough for Wendy to find her pace. Moving along, just quick enough for Wendy to chase. But never too far ahead. She wasn’t infallible. But Wendy was more than happy to provide her fair share of motivation, a thousand debts to pay each other.
Jennie was beautiful. No-one could deny that. Her figure, her eyes that sparkled endlessly. Wendy could do nothing but watch her and be content. But the way she thought, the way she saw things of the world, that was even more entrancing to Wendy. Jennie was always thinking, always feeling, never stopping to take things as they were. Everything was evolving, everything was growing. Everything carried as much momentum as she did. Wendy was swept up in it all, carried by the winds of Jennie.
In Jennie, Wendy could see the world. She was a masterpiece in herself, she was a reflection of everything that made her. Everything around her. Wendy saw things differently now, because of Jennie. Saw that the world was more than just straight lines and perfectly told stories. It was the lines zig zagging, coalescing. Forming something that could not just be understood at face value. An adventure, waiting to be unwrapped, explored. Wendy wanted nothing more than to spend her life discovering more of Jennie.
Jennie came down in her life when it seemed like there was nothing left to give. Jennie was the pelting rain, the shocking cold in the humid heat. Rousing Wendy out the mires, forcing her to breathe in the present, live in the moment. Jennie was the fierce lightning, the low rumbling thunder. Overwhelming the senses, bringing Wendy to awe. Jennie was the warmth of the concrete. Jennie was the love that poured from the heavens. Jennie was the path out of the past, into the brilliant future. The water that broke the drought, flooded the land. Jennie was a summer storm.
And Wendy would find her place in the rain.