Y/N's throat burned. Her own tears threatened, but she forced them down, forced herself steady. She rubbed slow circles along Jennie's back, her voice a low hum against the storm.
"Shh. You're okay. I've got you. Just breathe with me, Nini."
Jennie clung tighter, face buried in the curve of Y/N's neck, her breath hot and uneven against her skin. Nothing about her looked like the woman who had walked away, the woman who had left Y/N bleeding. This Jennie was small, devastated, unraveling.
Rosé and Alison sat quietly on the couch across the room, their eyes shining with worry, but they didn't interfere. They didn't need to. The truth was written all over the scene, Jennie didn't want them. She wanted Y/N.
Minutes stretched. Jennie's sobs ebbed into hiccups, her grip loosening fraction by fraction as exhaustion seeped in. She murmured one last, broken "I'm sorry," before her body sagged in Y/N's arms.
Y/N held her until the weight grew slack, Jennie's breaths evening into sleep. Carefully, gently, she shifted, laying Jennie down against the pillows. She tugged the blanket up around her shoulders, brushed a damp strand of hair from her face, and lingered, just for a second, watching her, raw and defenseless in sleep.
Then she forced herself to stand.
She crossed to the couch, lowering herself beside Rosé and Alison. Her hands were trembling, her chest aching like someone had hollowed her out with a knife. She didn't trust herself to speak.
Across the room, Jennie slept, her tear-streaked face turned toward the window. And Y/N sat in the shadows, her own heart breaking all over again.
By morning, it was as if none of it had happened.
The hotel buzzed with the usual rhythm, luggage wheeled down the hall, staff trading bleary good mornings, coffee cups in every hand. Jennie emerged from her room with Alison close behind, sunglasses already on though they hadn't even left the building yet. Her expression was smooth, untouchable, not a trace of the girl who had clung to Y/N hours before, begging her not to go.
Y/N's chest tightened, but she said nothing. She didn't even look long. She was already moving, falling back into step beside Jisoo, who looped an arm through hers with bright chatter about finding a good hot pot spot for lunch.
It was easy, with Jisoo. Light. Safe. They ordered too much food, laughed when the broth bubbled over, snapped a selfie that Jisoo threatened to post later. For a few hours, Y/N could almost forget the night before.
Almost.
Because every time her phone buzzed, she half-expected it to be Jennie. Every time Jisoo ducked into the restroom, she caught herself scanning the restaurant windows, as if Jennie might suddenly appear on the other side.
But Jennie didn't.
She was across the city with Alison and a bodyguard, photographed slipping in and out of boutiques, a shopping bag hanging from one arm. Y/N saw the updates when staff group chats lit up with links from fan accounts. Jennie looked flawless, controlled. A world away from the trembling hands and broken apologies that had unraveled her the night before.
And that was the cruelest part.
The way Jennie could fold the night into nothing. Pack it away, same as a dress in a garment bag, and walk through daylight like it never existed.
Y/N stirred her broth, the steam fogging the glasses she wore. Across from her, Jisoo hummed happily as she picked at the vegetables, none the wiser.
The truth sat heavy in Y/N's chest. It felt like they were playing pretend again, like they always did after getting too close.
The paddock in Milan was chaos in its own way, not the echoing corridors of an arena, but open air and dust, the sun beating down as crews shouted across scaffolding, sound techs tested bass that made the earth vibrate beneath her shoes.
Y/N kept her focus sharp, phone in one hand, Jisoo's schedule tucked in the other. Professional. The way she had to be.
Until she saw her.
Jennie stepped out from the styling room, bangs grazing her lashes, hair falling in soft waves down her shoulders. It hit Y/N like a punch to the chest, not just because she looked flawless, though she did, but because Y/N remembered. Paris. A half-muttered whisper, tossed over like it didn't matter "Bangs."
Jennie had heard her.
Y/N's heart stuttered, then slammed into a frantic rhythm. Her face didn't move, not even a flicker, but inside she was gutted. Because it meant Jennie had taken that moment, and carried it with her.
She forced herself to look down at her phone, thumbs scrolling over notes she wasn't reading.
Professional. Untouchable.
But Jennie didn't let her keep it.
Later, during rehearsal, Y/N passed her, dress swaying around her knees, a rare choice, something lighter, cooler, because the Milan heat was unbearable. Jennie's voice brushed past her ear, low, meant for no one else.
"Didn't know you owned anything that wasn't black or white. It's cute."
Y/N froze. It wasn't cruel, not even teasing. Just pointed. Close. A reminder that Jennie still noticed. Always did.
She didn't answer. Couldn't. Her throat had locked around words that would only betray her, so she walked on, keeping her face set, like it hadn't slipped under her skin. But it did. It burrowed deep, needling where she couldn't reach.
And then the concert.
The stage rose from an open paddock, the ground beneath them packed with thousands of bodies, the air so thick with heat and sound it vibrated in Y/N's chest. Fans had been screaming hours before the show even started, and now their voices rose like a living storm, cresting and breaking against the stage.
The girls laughed through their ments, breathless and shining, trying to speak over the noise. Jennie took a small step forward, mic in hand, smile flashing under the lights, flawless, magnetic, every inch the idol the world adored.
But then her voice shifted. Softer. Her smile eased into something smaller, less polished.
"I just feel home, I don't know… you guys make us feel at home."
The crowd exploded, screams shattering the night air. The paddock trembled with it, a thousand voices returning love louder than any single person could bear.
But Y/N barely heard them.
Because Jennie wasn't looking at them. She wasn't looking at the cameras angled from the pits, or the fans waving their banners high. She was looking at her. Right at her, tucked between the barricade and the stage, the phone hugged to her chest like it could shield her from impact.
The smile Jennie gave was soft. Too soft. The kind of smile you don't waste on strangers. And Y/N's stomach twisted. Because she knew. She knew in her bones that it wasn't for the fans. It was for her.
Her chest squeezed so tight she thought she might forget how to breathe. Why? Why would Jennie do that here, in front of thousands, in the one place where Y/N's job depended on keeping her face unreadable? Why offer her something tender when she'd spent months ripping it away?
Confusion cut sharp, tangled with longing she couldn't kill no matter how she tried. She was tired. So tired. Jennie pulled her close with one hand, shoving her away with the other. A push and pull so relentless it hollowed her out.
And yet, staring at Jennie's soft smile, hearing the words drown under the crowd but burn in her chest, Y/N hated herself for the way hope still flickered, stupid and stubborn, refusing to die.
She hated how much she wanted to believe it.
The days between Milan and Barcelona stretched thin with silence. Not clean silence, pointed silence. Jennie stayed close to Alison, laughing with the dancers, always surrounded, never drifting Y/N's way.
And yet, Y/N felt her everywhere. A flicker of bangs in a reflection, a laugh caught down a corridor, the weight of eyes she couldn't quite catch. Every time she turned her head, Jennie was already looking away.
By the time Barcelona came, the tension was unbearable. Three shows, days of pretending, of acting like the night in Paris and the softness in Milan hadn't happened.
The concert itself was another blur of lights and noise. Jennie flawless on stage, happy. Y/N in the shadows, adrenaline still pulsing long after the encore confetti had been swept away.
Hours later, the hotel was hushed. Jisoo already tucked in, managers asleep. Y/N sat at her desk, laptop open but her eyes unfocused, mind circling the same thoughts it had circled for days.
Her phone buzzed. One name lit the screen.
Jennie.
Come to my room.
Y/N froze. The words shouldn't have meant anything, not after all the distance. But they did. Her thumb hovered uselessly over the keyboard, her pulse too loud in her ears.
Finally, she typed.
Can't Jennie. Not tonight.
The screen stayed still for a beat too long. Then, three dots. Bubbling, vanishing, bubbling again.
Please.
Just one word. But it gutted her. Her chest clenched, breath catching. She stared at it until the letters blurred, until she hated herself for how much that single word still undid her. Against her better judgment, against every wall she'd tried to rebuild, Y/N stood. Slipped her shoes back on. And went.
Jennie's suite was dim when Y/N stepped inside, the city humming faintly beyond the glass walls. Jennie was waiting, not with the storm Y/N half-expected, but with two glasses of wine on the low table, her hair loose around her shoulders, bangs shadowing her eyes.
"You came," Jennie said softly, almost like she didn't believe it herself.
"Why did you call me here, Jennie?" Y/N cut straight through, not touching the wine, not sitting.
Jennie blinked, her lips parting. For a second, she tried deflection. "Tour's catching up with us—"
"Don't." Y/N's voice was sharp, her arms folded like armor. "Why am I here?"
Jennie's throat bobbed. Her hands fidgeted with the stem of her glass. And then, finally, it cracked out of her.
"You're still angry about OA."
Y/N's laugh was bitter, hollow. "Angry? Jennie, you left me. Not just as your manager. You left me. You didn't even give me a choice."
Jennie flinched, her voice low. "Because you would've said yes. And then I would've ruined you."
The words hit like a slap. Y/N's fists curled at her sides, her chest burning.
"You ruined me anyway."
The silence after was jagged, dangerous. Jennie looked up at her then, eyes already wet, and the dam broke.
"I didn't want to leave," she said, voice splintering. "I didn't want to, Y/N. You think it was easy? You think I just walked away because I stopped caring? I loved you—"
"Loved me?" Y/N snapped. "That's what you call what you did to me? After all the time together, everything we built? You didn't just leave me out of a contract, Jennie. You cut me out of your life. One night you said you couldn't do this anymore, and the next day you were gone. Like I didn't matter. Like none of it ever mattered."
Jennie surged forward, desperation cracking her composure. "I loved you so much it terrified me. If you'd come to OA, if you'd stayed by my side, it would've destroyed you. The secrecy? The pressure? The way everything I touched turned into fire. You would've given up everything for me, and one day—" Her voice broke, ragged. "One day you would've hated me for it. I couldn't let you."
Y/N's vision blurred with heat. Her nails dug into her palms, because she couldn't touch Jennie, couldn't go near her, not when every word still pulled.
"You don't get to decide that for me," she hissed. "You don't get to shatter me and call it love."
Jennie's breath hitched, tears slipping unchecked. "I thought, if I stayed away, if I killed it clean, you'd have a chance, move forward. At least one of us would survive. But I can't—" She pressed a trembling hand to her chest, shaking her head. "I can't stop. I don't know how."
Y/N's heart twisted so sharply she almost couldn't breathe. She wanted to scream, to sob, to grab Jennie and shake her until she understood. Instead, her voice came out sharp and broken all at once.
"You say you loved me so much you had to leave, but look at me, Jennie. Look at what you left me with. You didn't save me. You ruined me."
Jennie's face crumpled, her sobs clawing out. "I loved you too much to keep you. I thought I was protecting you—"
"Protecting me?" Y/N spat. "No. You were protecting yourself. You were scared. And now you're standing here, trying to rewrite it like it was mercy. But it wasn't mercy. It was cowardice. You gave up before we even had a real chance to try."
The silence that followed was brutal. Jennie's breath shuddered in the dim, her tears streaking unchecked.
For a heartbeat, Y/N almost softened. Almost reached for her. But then she remembered the nights alone, the silence after Jennie disappeared, the way she'd had to stitch herself back together from pieces Jennie left behind.
Her voice was final, cutting. "You don't get to call this love. Because all I see is you were loving me wrong."
Jennie's lips parted like she had more to say, like she wanted to beg, to explain. But Y/N was already moving, her chest so tight it hurt to breathe. She didn't look back.
The door slammed so hard the walls rattled, the sound ripping through the suite.
Inside, Jennie collapsed where she stood, knees hitting carpet. Her glass toppled, wine bleeding into the rug. Her hands shook as she pressed them to her face, sobs tearing through her like she couldn't hold them back anymore.
Alison came running from the room next door, Rosé on her heels, both wide-eyed. They stopped at the sight, Jennie crumpled on the floor, shoulders heaving, whispering through the wreck of her tears.
"I thought I was saving her. I thought I was saving our hearts."
Rosé moved first, kneeling at her side, rubbing her back in slow circles. "Jen—" Her voice cracked, soft with helplessness.
Jennie shook her head violently, as if the touch might unravel her further. Her hands clutched at her hair, fingers twisting. "I loved her," she choked. "God, I loved her so much. I still do. After all this time, I still—" Her words broke apart, collapsing into sobs that left her trembling. "And I ruined it. I ruined everything."
Alison crouched down too, catching Jennie's wrist gently, grounding her. "Jennie, breathe. One thing at a time."
Jennie's eyes lifted, wet and hollow, but full of a raw honesty she couldn't cage. "I just wanted— I just wanted her to be happy, to save her the pain of being with me. And now she can't even look at me. I don't know how to fix it. I know I can't. But I wanted—" Her breath rattled, breaking on the confession. "I wanted her to—to be friends at least. Just, to not hate me."
The room was heavy with silence, broken only by her sobs. Rosé pressed her lips tight, tears in her own eyes, because there was nothing she could promise. Not for Jennie. Not for Y/N.
Minutes bled into an hour before the storm eased, exhaustion pulling at Jennie's body. Alison fetched water, tissues, tucking her beneath the blanket once the worst of the shaking had passed. Rosé lingered, stroking her hair back with sisterly tenderness.
Jennie's voice was hoarse when it came again, barely above a whisper. "Ali"
Alison leaned closer. "Yeah?"
Jennie swallowed, eyes closed, face damp and pale. "Can we change the schedule?"
Alison blinked. "You don't want to join the others in London?"
Jennie shook her head against the pillow, her voice small. "I can't keep hurting her. I just— I can't." A long pause, broken by a shaky breath. "Let's use the invitation. Maybe if I'm far enough away, I can—" Her voice trailed off, but the unsaid words hung heavy maybe I can stop bleeding over her.
Rosé and Alison exchanged a look above her, both seeing the truth she couldn't admit aloud. She was running from Y/N. From the wreckage she had made of the only love she'd ever really known.
And as Jennie finally drifted into a restless sleep, her tear-stained face pressed into the pillow, the room stayed quiet. The kind of quiet that wasn't peace. The kind that comes only after something has already broken.
Next morning, the news came as a text.
Not a phone call. Not a conversation. Just a casual text from Alison in the manager group chat at 9:12 a.m.
Jennie decided to spend the next few days in Ibiza with some friends, promoting "JUMP" during one of the DJ sets, will rejoin before the next concert. Flights sorted. Enjoy your time before the next shows, everyone.
That was it. Professional, tidy. Like Jennie's absence was just a logistical update, no more remarkable than a catering change or rehearsal reschedule.
Y/N stared at it until the screen blurred.
Her own fingers hovered uselessly over the keyboard, caught between typing What? and nothing at all. In the end, she didn't reply. None of the other managers did either. A few thumbs up reactions blinked on screen, business as usual.
But inside her, it wasn't usual. It was the same wound splitting wide open all over again.
Less than twelve hours ago, Jennie had been trembling, sobbing. Less than twelve hours ago, she'd whispered I loved you too much to keep you.
And now? Ibiza.
Y/N's chest caved in, but she kept her face blank as she set the phone down. She had a meeting with Jisoo's stylist in twenty minutes. Notes to prepare for London press. Always something to keep her hands busy, something to keep her mask in place.
But the truth pressed hard, louder than the work, louder than the noise of the hotel around her. Jennie hadn't just left then, years ago. She was still leaving. Still choosing distance. Still running the moment things became too real, too hard.
Y/N sat back in the desk chair, her knuckles white around her phone. She wanted to scream. To throw it across the room. To demand why do you always run from me?
Instead she breathed. Her heart didn't care about allowed. Her heart only knew the raw truth, that Jennie had chosen to spill her heart in the dark of her hotel room, then vanish by morning like it meant nothing.
Of course Jennie had run. She always did.
The day blurred itself into exhaustion.
Jisoo's shoot had run long, a rotating carousel of makeup touch-ups, staged laughs under blistering lights, last minute changes to the interview script. Y/N kept her head down, her hands moving, her notes precise. Busy was safe. Busy meant there was no room for Jennie.
By the time they returned to the hotel, the corridors were quiet. Y/N slipped into her room, shut the door, and for a moment just stood there, her head pressed to the wood. The silence pressed too close.
She dropped her bag, kicked off her shoes, sat at the edge of the bed. Without thinking, she reached for her phone.
A reflex. A mistake. It hit instantly.
A fan repost, tagged and re-tagged into her feed.
Jennie.
Her hair was loose, bangs framing her face like some perfect editorial spread. She was laughing, throwing her head back, clinking glasses with strangers. Another clip with Jennie behind a DJ booth, music pounding, her arms in the air, body moving wild and free.
Free.
Y/N's stomach clenched so tight it hurt.
Two nights ago Jennie had been tearing her apart with explanations, saying she had destroyed them on purpose, because she thought it was the only way to save them both. And now this? And now she looked like none of it had ever happened. Like Y/N had dreamed it.
The phone slipped from her hand onto the sheets. Her palms pressed hard against her eyes, hard enough to spark stars, but the images stayed burned into her skull. Jennie laughing. Jennie dancing. Jennie shining like she hadn't spent months dismantling Y/N piece by piece.
It felt like betrayal, but worse, because Jennie wasn't just betraying her. She was betraying them. All those nights, all those whispers, all that love that never got spoken out loud. Jennie was out there pretending she was weightless, while Y/N was still dragging chains.
Her chest ached with something she couldn't name. Not anger. Not jealousy. Something uglier. Something like standing in the ruins of a house she'd built with her own hands, watching the other half dance barefoot on some rooftop miles away, glass of champagne raised high like nothing had ever burned.
Frustration boiled up, hot and useless. How could Jennie do this? How could she beg Y/N to understand only a few nights ago, spill all that pain and guilt, and then vanish into another life like flipping a switch? How could she leave Y/N behind to choke on silence, to pretend it didn't break her, while Jennie slipped into another life as easily as changing an outfit?
Y/N wanted to scream. She wanted to throw the phone, to smash it into the wall, to shatter the image of Jennie's smile. Instead, she lay back, staring at the ceiling, her throat raw with everything she couldn't let out.
The video kept looping in her head, mocking her. She didn't cry, not this time. She just let the hollowness spread, swallowing everything she had left.
Some time later a knock at the door came. Soft, hesitant.
"Y/N? It's me."
For a second, she considered pretending to be asleep. But her body betrayed her, carrying her to the door anyway.
Rosé stood in the hallway, hoodie pulled low, two bottles of water clutched in her hands. Her eyes flicked to the nightstand inside, to the frozen video frame of Jennie in Ibiza, mid-laugh, and then back down, as if she hadn't seen it.
"Can I come in?"
Y/N stepped aside without a word.
The room was dim, curtains drawn against the city. Rosé perched on the edge of the bed, twisting the cap of her bottle, while Y/N sat stiff against the headboard, arms crossed like armor. The silence stretched.
Finally, Rosé spoke, careful, almost tentative. "Maybe… she's just trying to stop hurting."
Y/N's head snapped toward her. Rosé didn't meet her eyes, just kept rolling the bottle between her palms.
"It's stupid," she admitted, voice low. "Messy. But maybe it's the only way she knows right now."
A bitter sound broke from Y/N's chest, half-laugh, half-sob. "By drinking shots on a beach? Pretending none of this ever happened?"
Rosé's shoulders tensed, but her tone stayed soft. "Pretending's easier than bleeding in front of everyone. Maybe that's all she's doing, trying not to bleed where the world can see."
Something in Y/N cracked. The words came out sharper than she meant.
"You're really defending her right now?"
It landed like glass shattering. Rosé's gaze lifted at last, wide, startled, hurt flickering there, though she smothered it quickly. Silence swelled, heavy and sharp between them.
Y/N's chest heaved. A few tears slipped hot down her cheek before she could stop it. She swiped them away fast, as if Rosé hadn't seen.
Her voice dropped, ragged. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"
Rosé shook her head, quick, cutting her off. "No. I get it. You don't have to be sorry." Her fingers worked the bottle cap until it squeaked. "I just— I think she doesn't know how else to carry it. Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt you. Doesn't mean it's fair."
Y/N leaned back hard against the headboard, throat tight, words trapped where they couldn't escape.
Rosé hesitated, chewing on her lip, as if weighing something. The kind of thing that wanted out but shouldn't. Her mouth opened, just barely "You know she still—" She stopped herself. Looked down fast, twisting the bottle in her hands.
The unfinished words lingered anyway, humming in the air like a ghost. Y/N didn't ask.
Couldn't.
And Rosé, torn between the two people she loved, between what she knew and what she could say, just sat there. As if she understood that sometimes the only thing you could give someone was not leaving.
When Rosé finally left, the silence folded in like a tide. Y/N stayed by the window, arms wrapped tight around herself though the night was warm. The city outside glowed with streetlights, buzzing with life, cars threading down the avenues, laughter carrying up from the bars below. Alive in a way she wasn't.
Her phone sat dark on the nightstand, but it didn't matter. The images were etched into her anyway. Jennie's face buried in her neck in Paris. Jennie's voice breaking in Barcelona. Jennie's laugh in Ibiza, head tipped back, free and careless, as if none of it had ever touched her.
Her chest pulled tight, as though every memory was stacking, pressing down until she could barely breathe. The realization wasn't sudden. It was slow, merciless, the kind of truth she'd been circling around but never wanted to name.
Jennie was her soulmate. That much had always been clear.
The one who knew every corner of her, the scars she never spoke of, the shadows she carried in silence, the softest parts of her heart she had never dared to hand to anyone else. Jennie had taken them all without asking, had seen them, held them, and for a time made Y/N believe she was safe in that kind of nakedness.
Jennie was the only one who could unravel her with a single glance, a single word, a laugh that spilled too easily in the dark. The only one who could make the world fall away until nothing existed but them.
But she was also the stranger who broke her.
The one who walked out without goodbye. Who chose fear over them, over everything they had built together with trembling hands. Who turned her back when Y/N was silently, desperately begging her to stay.
Jennie didn't turn. She just kept walking.
A soulmate, yes. But a soulmate who was never meant to stay.
The realization hollowed Y/N out like a blade. It carved through her with brutal precision, cruel lines etched into a heart already split too many times. She pressed her forehead to the cool glass, eyes burning, but no tears would come. There weren't any left. There was only an ache.
She had fought this truth for past weeks. Fought it in every way she could, with anger, with denial, with the desperate pretense of hate. She told herself she was over Jennie. She told herself she had buried the love deep enough to rot.
But the truth pulsed in her veins, relentless and undeniable.
She still loved her. She always would.
And Jennie would never be hers. Not in the way she wanted. Not in the way she had once believed they could be.
It wasn't the kind of heartbreak that split open once and bled clean. This was different. This was the kind that lingered, that kept festering. The kind that left you standing in ruins you didn't know how to leave.
So she gave up.
Not out of weakness, but out of survival. Because if she didn't, if she kept holding on, she would never crawl out of the wreckage Jennie left her in. She would be trapped forever in the ghost of something that used to be alive.
Her breath hitched, raw and broken. She forced another one in, then another, steady even as it scraped her throat.
Survival. That was all she had left.
She would bury it deeper. Bury the love that never left. Lock it away deep, behind walls and steel and silence. Cover it with everything Jennie had taken from her, the nights alone, the silence after the goodbye that never came, the way Paris itself still hurt to breathe in.
Maybe one day, it would be gone. Maybe one day, she would wake up and the sound of Jennie's laugh wouldn't rip her apart. Maybe one day, she could walk Paris streets and it would just be a city again, not a graveyard of memories.
But not tonight.
Tonight, she was still in love with the girl who left her. Tonight, she was still hollowed out by the one person who was supposed to stay. Tonight, she pressed her head against the glass, and for the first time, she stopped asking the universe why.
She already knew the answer.
Jennie was her soulmate. But some soulmates weren't meant to be forever. And Y/N would have to learn how to survive that truth, even if it killed her a little more every day.