At Your Mercy | Jennie×FemReader (On-going)

19

Jennie's POV

'I am born to be alone' is what my uncle always says.

From childhood to adult, I've been alone ever since, and I was fine with it; I'm used to it, always have been for the whole 19 years of my existence.

I don't give a fuck, my life is fucked up anyway, so what can I do?

Life is a bitch.

It's not like I can do something about it.

But now, as in right at this moment as enter my penthouse,

it felt... weird.

It was eerie silent and... empty.

Just the usual.

So it should not suppose to feel like this. Like what said, I'm used to this usual silence, being alone and coming home to literally no one.

It shouldn't feel like this.

Absent-mindedly, my hand makes its way to my chest, rubbing it as if it is in pain when in fact it was just trying to ease this uncanny feeling inside.

And I have been feeling this way for exactly 82 hours; the time being of her absence.

But instead of being happy, I find myself yearning for someone who could stay by my side and do the things that Lisa had been constantly doing.

Or maybe it is Y/n that I have been longing for.

Shut up mind

Tired from work, I made my way to the living room with some take-outs on hand. I never learned how to cook, so take-outs and instant foods are always my meals for my everyday life.

My maids? I fired them long ago.

Sitting on the couch, I slumped comfortably, turning the television on to fill in the silent atmosphere.

Though comfortable and well, my stomach couldn't seem to digest the food, my appetite is long gone as everything just reminds me of her, my mind replaying every second spent with her.

Take this can of soda in my hands as an example.

---

"Hey, Jennie?" Y/n sat on the couch beside me with an expression full of curiosity. "What is that?" She points at the can of cola that I was holding.

"Coke" I say plainly as my eyes remained glued on the television, too engrossed with what I was watching.

"What's... a coke?" Though I can't see her expression, uncertainty was in her voice.

I faced her, surprised. Who in the world doesn't know a coke?

"Haven't you had one of these?" She only shrugs, shaking her head as a 'no'

"Go get one on the fridge if you want" She quickly rushes to the kitchen, coming back with a can in her hands.

She was examining it, brows creased as she flips the can up and down, probably wondering how to open it.

But before could tell her how, she roughly shook the can, biting it open. Then it burst.

The soda spits right onto her face, scaring her. Out of impulse, she points and threw the can to me which, to my disappointment, wetted my whole face with it.

We bathed in coke and it was her fault, but to my surprise, didn't feel any hint of frustration. Instead, I kind of find our situation funny-she was clumsily funny.