a misty gashed aperture

shan't cry

A/N: As an angst writer, I find it very, very hard to write fluff so I will give you maybe 2 chapters of it and ruin them. Jk. :D

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"You have to eat the rest," Lisa spoke softly, gesturing at the unfinished smoked salmon salad and chicken and courgette on the tray that lay between her and Roseanne. "Please?"

Without looking up, Roseanne mumbled, "Okay."

Lisa watched the blonde fork a chunk of salmon. Her eyes lingered on Roseanne's face, slowly taking a bite before swallowing. "You look well."

"Do I?" The supermodel muttered weakly, still looking down as a derisive chuckle made it out of her lips. When she tried to fork a slice of courgette, her grip slipped at the force when her wrist was still wobbly, but Lisa reacted quickly.

"Uh, let me." Lisa swiftly forked the slice of courgette and fed it to the supermodel.

Nibbling slowly as if forbidden to make a sound, Roseanne looked out the window doing her utmost to bring her gaze as far as she could from the woman in front of her. Minutes ago, she had all the words to push Lisa away and was certain there were more but all of them disappeared the moment the artist kissed her. She despised herself for kissing back without an ounce of guilt and a little too much honesty.

"Last two bites. You're really doing well." Lisa patiently waited for Roseanne to turn her attention back to the food, if not to her. When it seemed like the blonde did not hear her, she brought up her hand to tip the face she adored back to the front.

Roseanne did not object despite the slight touch piercing her chest the way it did when Lisa tied those strings of balloons around her wrist. That morning was as bittersweet as that memory in Tokyo where her acute awareness of the longing for that kind of person in her life was paired with the pain it could bring. The touch was pricking her more than the needles attached to the back of her hand. "I'm done."

"Okay." Standing up, Lisa was about to remove the tray from the bed when Roseanne held one of its legs.

"I don't think I want this anymore." Roseanne's eyes did not leave the untouched slice of lemon meringue pie when she said that.

"I'll keep it in case Hyeri wants it—"

"I meant this." Gasping for breath, Roseanne had to pull some courage deep in her gut to bring her eyes up but failed to hold the artist's gaze that long, so she had to close them at once.

Letting out a sigh, Lisa sat back down on the bed. She placed a hand on Roseanne's cheek, caressing it with her thumb. "What's wrong with this?"

Flipping her eyes open, Roseanne placed a hand on Lisa's that was on her cheek and feebly removed it. Her upturned, almond-shaped eyes lacked emotions, appearing uncaring. "You can't pretend that what I did was okay. And don't give me sympathy just because I'm sick right now."

Lisa caught the change in those eyes. "You can't pretend that this didn't mean anything to you when you were planning to fly back home this morning."

That struck Roseanne that the mask she wore almost dissolved. Quickly recovering with a shift in her breath, her eyes went back to showing nothing. It was years of walking the runway and longer years of not allowing anybody in. "But I didn't."