it's always ourselves that we find in the sea || jensoo

Chapter 1

Jennie's cheeks burned as she ducked her head down, walking through the office with a cardboard box full of her things, Mr. Yang's words still ringing in her ears. She avoided Chaelin's pitying look, staring down at her notepad, a few words scrawled down for the story she'd been working on, her favourite mug with the little chip on the rim, a few pens and a framed photo of her, Chaeyoung and Lisa. Struggling to push the button for the elevator, her arms full and her shoulder weighed down by her satchel, Jennie waited for the doors to part, feeling the burning gaze of everyone in the office.

After what felt like far too long for the elevator to make the ride from the ground floor up to the top, the doors parted, and Jennie quickly climbed in, fumbling for the button for the ground floor. Just before the doors shut, she looked up, furiously blushing as she caught everyone looking at her, grateful for the quiet clattering noise as the doors blocked her from view and she began the lurching descent to the bottom floor. She couldn't help but wallow in her misery with each floor she passed, feeling angry and bitter and wrongfully treated. The story had been important, and maybe she shouldn't have gone behind Yang's back and published it herself, but he should've listened to her in the first place. Losing her job was a hard blow, she wouldn't deny it, and she had to blink back tears as she shamefully walked through the lobby of YG, feeling like a failure. All she'd ever wanted was to write the truth, and that's what she'd tried to do, and now look where it had landed her.

Standing at the bus stop, Jennie couldn't help but feel miserable, watching businessman and women in expensive suits and dresses take breaks, or the hotdog vendor and the guy selling newspapers from the stack at his feet. None of them were unemployed. Even more embarrassing was the fact that she was holding all of her work stuff in a box, for everyone to see, a universal sign that someone had just lost their job, and Jennie could almost feel the pitying or judgemental looks shot her way, although she never actually saw anyone paying her any attention. Left alone to her misery, she waited patiently for the bus to arrive - she had nowhere else she needed to be right now - and took a seat by the window, her belongings rattling around in the box with each bump of the bus, while Jennie stared out of the dirty window, watching everyone go about their lives.

She got home to the sound of the TV drifting through the door, frowning as she fished her key out of her bag and unlocked the door, pushing it open to reveal a pile of bags near the door. Blinking in surprise when she realised that the blue duffel bag was hers, Jennie kicked the door shut behind her and walked over to the kitchen counter to set down her box of stuff.

"Tae?" she called out, taking in the apartment, which was considerably more empty than it had been when she'd left this morning. Gone were her books and framed photos, her trinkets and decorative pillows for the sofa. Left behind were the sports trophies and signed baseballs, the Xbox, and a stack of video games haphazardly lined up on her empty bookshelves.

The sound of footsteps from their screened off bedroom reached her ears, and a moment later, Taehyung was standing in the opening, one of her flannel shirts held in his hands. "What's all this?" Jennie slowly asked, gesturing vaguely around the room.

"I didn't think you'd be home until later," Taehyung slowly replied, a guilty look on his face as he stared at her. He had that lost, innocent look on his face that he always did when he was trying to shun the blame off himself, and Jennie was already drained from her confrontation with Mr. Yang at work, and the subsequent firing, and was in no mood to deal with whatever Taehyung was skirting around telling her.

"Why is all my stuff packed up?" Jennie asked, her voice dangerously low as she gave him a hard look.

Sighing, Taehyung folded the shirt in half and walked over to the sofa, sitting down and setting the shirt down beside him, wearily running a hand over his stubble. Jennie hated it, but no matter how much she tried to get him to shave, he wouldn't. He wouldn't do anything for her. She did the cooking and the laundry, even when he was unemployed and had done nothing but play video games all day, and now, even when his shift had finished, he was always hanging around the dive bar they went to. They barely even saw each other anymore, working on opposite schedules, both of them too tired to even try and make more that small talk when they got in from work, and Jennie knew what was coming. She wasn't an idiot, and just like a box of a few office belongings meant she'd been fired, she knew her packed bags by the door meant she was being dumped.