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Jhoanna had finished eating minutes ago, but she remained seated in her chair while absentmindedly staring at the empty plate in front of her. Her apartment was dim, lit only by the light slipping through the gap in between the curtains since she didn’t bother turning on any of the light switches when she woke up.
Her mind refused to settle, continuously racing through multiple thoughts — how everything had fallen apart, how it became this, and whether this was really the decision she saw for them.
How had it even come to this?
Nothing ever felt like it would crumble down to this. Every moment and memory she shared with Gwen was steady, it was warm and certain — easy. Both of them had been fine, everything was. Yet somehow, they reached an end to something that she never once thought was falling apart.
Jhoanna let out a heavy sigh as she pushed herself off the chair. She gathered her plate and moved towards the sink to wash it. Her movement was slow as she rinsed the plate, her mind still too loud to ignore. Then, a sudden gush of wind brushed against her wrist.
Jhoanna stilled. Because for a brief second, she swore she saw something — someone — at the edge of her vision. A familiar silhouette of Gwen.
But when she turned to it, there was nothing. Only shadows and the dust fluttering around the room.
Jhoanna exhales and forces herself to continue rinsing the plate. And when the weight in her chest settled deeper, her shoulders sagged lower.
After turning the sink off, she dried her hands on a nearby towel and made her way to the couch, letting herself sink into the cushions. Her body barely relaxed as she stared at the clock mounted on the wall.
Three o’clock in the afternoon. A time they had agreed on.
Gwen said she’d be here to come back for the rest of her things. But this felt entirely different. Because this made everything between them feel final.
Their cat.
They had found it together, small and fragile, somewhere along the street. And they decided to take it in, to take care of it together. Lately, it had just been Jhoanna taking care of it as Gwen moved out. But the routine of taking care of their cat became so unbearable. Every time she stared and held it long enough, she was reminded of everything they were
And it hurts each time. Now, it would’ve been gone also.
She watched the hand of the clock tick. Jhoanna wasn’t supposed to be here in the living room. They had agreed that she would stay out of the room to avoid unnecessary interactions with each other. But as the seconds passed, Jhoanna remained unmoving on the couch. Stubborn and exhausted, she stayed slouched.
The sound of keys at the door came. It was unmistakable that it was for her apartment’s door. Yet Jhoanna still didn’t move.
When the door opened, it took her a second before turning her head to it. Uncertain if she should have or shouldn’t. Regardless, it was already too late to take back her decision. Guilt settled in immediately on her face as she saw the person at the doorway.
Gwen stood there, tense but not entirely surprised. If anything, she expected this. She knew the woman enough to know how she would be. Still, the way Jhoanna looked at her — too vulnerable — made something in her chest tighten. She was worried, but said nothing while she focused on the cat carrier that was coincidentally in the living room, also.
She moved carefully across the floor, each step quiet and measured. Jhoanna’s gaze followed her. It felt heavy against her back, but Gwen ignored it and kept her eyes forward.
She barely even had the chance to reach for the carrier when a hand wrapped around her arm. Her grip was gentle, but it could’ve easily been mistaken as weak. It made Gwen pause.
Jhoanna’s fingers tightened ever so slightly, not enough to make her stop completely, but enough to ask her to. Then, before her body could even react, Jhoanna stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Gwen’s frame from behind.
The embrace was a mix of everything — desperate, unsteady, and trembling. It took a second until Jhoanna buried against Gwen’s shoulders, chasing the warmth she had missed while also holding on like it might steady everything threatening to fall apart.
Gwen inhaled sharply, but adjusted just as they stumbled, steadying both of them. Jhoanna’s hold only tightened against Gwen’s body. Fingers curling into the fabric, desperately refusing to let go.
Her hand came to rest over Jhoanna’s, patting it in a slow, comforting gesture. She didn’t say anything, so she let her touch linger. Hoping it would say everything she was leaving unsaid.
After a shaky exhale, Gwen carefully shifted within the hold. Not to pull away but to turn inside the embrace. It took a second until she faced Jhoanna fully, the sight making her heart break.
Jhoanna looked like she tried to hold everything together, only to finally shatter into pieces. Her eyes were glassy, tears spilling despite her efforts to hold them back, and her expression was caught between feeling hurt and guilty.
Gwen’s own vision started to go blurry. And without thinking, her hand came up to cup Jhoanna’s cheek. Jhoanna leaned into it immediately, letting habit take over as she closed her eyes once her skin settled onto Gwen’s palm. More tears slipped free, though, her breath hitching as it became uneven. Breaking apart every time she tried to steady herself.
Her face softened as every broken breath Jhoanna took, her heart broke into tiny pieces. Gwen’s other hand lifted to frame her face, her thumb brushing lightly against the damp skin as if she could undo every pain she was feeling and soothe her.
Jhoanna opened her eyes, forcing herself to get a proper look of Gwen despite how tear-filled her eyes were. But seeing her also quietly breaking made the tightness in her chest grow worse.
She slowly leaned forward unconsciously, closing the distance between them until she stopped just short. Their breaths mingled in. Both close enough, but hesitant.
Gwen noticed. Of course, she did. And her gaze flickered. To Jhoanna’s eyes, to her lips that lingered longer than they should before returning to her eyes that remained glassy. Her own hesitation started to slip, lingering long enough to remind her why she shouldn’t close the space between them.
But Jhoanna didn’t move, she didn’t pull away. She just stayed there, waiting, but not directly asking for anything.
Gwen let out a soft exhale, her resolve slipping through the cracks. Her grip on Jhoanna’s face tightened, her thumb pressing in just a little harder on her cheek, trying to ground herself before she lost it completely.
Then, a final crack, Gwen leaned in.
Slowly, carefully. Giving Jhoanna time to pull back or stop her. She doesn’t.
Their lips met — soft, familiar, and so achingly gentle. There was no urgency from the both of them, no attempt to hold on longer than they should. They simply let it be, the moment settling quietly between them, something they didn’t seem ready to define.
Jhoanna’s hand curled against Gwen’s shirt tighter, anchoring herself. Gwen held her through it steadily. Her touch ever so careful.
For a single moment, it didn’t feel like everything fell apart.
And somehow that made it hurt differently.
When Gwen pulled back, she did so slowly until she settled her forehead against Jhoanna’s. They stayed there in that space, neither of them chasing for more.
Jhoanna’s eyes lingered on hers, something fragile flickering in her eyes — hope, maybe. It made Gwen’s chest tighten painfully. Because she knew she couldn’t give what the woman wanted now.
Her thumb brushes beneath Jhoanna’s eye, catching a tear just as it fell. She hesitates there for a second before leaning forward again. But not to her lips.
Instead, Gwen gently tilts Jhoanna’s face down so she could press a soft, lingering kiss on her forehead. She stayed there longer than necessary, as if letting that touch say something she couldn’t put properly into words.
When she pulled away, her hands stayed a little longer on Jhoanna’s face before letting it fall back to her sides slowly, as if she was still holding something fragile. Neither of them spoke nor moved. They stayed there looking at each other more carefully, silently memorizing each other’s features.
Only then did Gwen turn, bending down to lift the carrier. The cat inside shifting slightly before letting out the faintest sound — small and barely breaking the silence, but it was enough for something in both of their hearts to ache the same way.
Regardless, Gwen doesn’t look back as she walks toward the door, stopping just before it. She didn’t turn back, but she stayed there longer than expected.
Her shoulders dropped slightly before she reached for the knob and stepped out.
The door closed softly behind her.
The apartment fell quiet.
Jhoanna stood there unmoving in her spot as the faint sounds of footsteps faded away. She exhaled, her breath still shaky and uneven.
Her gaze dropped to the floor, then to her hands. Jhoanna notices them still trembling, seeming like her body is only now catching up to the events that have happened.
She closes her eyes, trying to calm herself as much as she can. But the warmth on her forehead lingers where a kiss had been, quiet but persistent, refusing to disappear just yet. Her shoulders rose with a deep breath. Not steady, but enough to stay standing.