Jenlisa One-Shots

020: Empty

Jennie sat in the dim light of her apartment, her eyes fixated on the empty glass of wine in front of her. The city outside was alive with the hum of late-night traffic, but in here, it was silent. She hadn't felt this way in months—this unbearable emptiness that was slowly swallowing her whole. She knew it wasn't healthy, but nothing else seemed to matter.

She was alone, again. But it was a different kind of loneliness than the one she was used to. This wasn't the loneliness of being physically alone in a room, this was the loneliness of losing someone who was never truly hers. Of loving someone who couldn't love her back.

Lisa.

She had tried to move on. She told herself she didn't miss her, didn't think about her constantly. She told herself that she wasn't still in love with her, that she didn't regret walking away. But as the days passed, it became harder to convince herself. She could still hear Lisa's voice in her head, still see her face in the crowd. It wasn't just the memories—it was the realization that, no matter how much time passed, no one else could take her place. No one could fill the empty space Lisa had left behind.

Jennie had tried everything to fill the void. She had thrown herself into her work, gone out with friends, even dated a few people. But nothing worked. No one came close. She didn't think she'd find it, but she still kept searching for that spark, that feeling she had when she was with Lisa. The way Lisa made her feel alive, made her feel seen. But now, she was left with nothing.

She reached for her phone, scrolling aimlessly through messages she never sent, pictures she never posted. There was a draft she had written, a confession, one she never had the courage to send. "I miss you," it started, but she could never finish it. She couldn't bring herself to admit it, to confront the truth that she still loved Lisa. She had made her choice. She had walked away, thinking she was doing the right thing, thinking it was for the best. But now, sitting here in the silence, all she could do was wonder if she had made a mistake.

She had tried to move on, told herself she was better off without Lisa. But in the end, she had only been lying to herself. The truth was, she couldn't make Lisa love her. And maybe that was the hardest part. Lisa had never truly been hers to begin with.

Lisa, on the other hand, was trying to survive without Jennie in her life. The decision to distance herself from Jennie had been just as painful. It wasn't that she didn't love Jennie—she did, more than she could ever put into words. But Lisa had always known she wasn't the type to settle down. She had always pushed people away before they could get too close, too attached. She was a loner, and she always would be.

But Jennie... Jennie was different. Lisa had always been drawn to her. She had seen something in Jennie that she couldn't let go of, even after everything that had happened. She remembered the nights they spent talking, laughing, the way their hands would accidentally touch and send sparks through her entire body. She had never felt that before. But she had let it go, pushed Jennie away when it became too real, too overwhelming.

Now, with Jennie out of her life, Lisa was adrift. She tried to fill the space Jennie had occupied with work, with fleeting relationships, with distractions. But nothing worked. She could still hear Jennie's laughter in her ears, still see the way Jennie's eyes sparkled when she smiled. It haunted her, reminding her of what she had lost.

She was lost in the emptiness too. Every night she would drink, do anything to forget, but in the back of her mind, she could still hear Jennie's voice calling out to her. But she knew it was too late. She had made her choice. She had pushed Jennie away. And now Jennie was gone.

Weeks passed, and the emptiness only grew. Jennie was still waking up every day with that same ache in her chest, that same gnawing feeling that something was missing. It wasn't just the absence of Lisa's presence, it was the absence of everything they could have been. The future they never got to share.

She remembered the way Lisa had looked at her that night, the night they had fought, when Jennie had told her she was done. Lisa had looked broken, and Jennie had tried to convince herself that it was for the best. That she had to let go. But now, every moment of her life felt like a hollow echo of what could have been.

She missed everything about her: the way Lisa would mess with her hair when she was nervous, the way she always made her laugh when she needed it most, the way Lisa would look at her with those eyes that seemed to say everything without saying a word. She missed the feeling of being held, of being loved.

And now, every night, Jennie lay in bed alone, staring at the ceiling, wishing that she could turn back time, that she could fix things. But she knew she couldn't. She knew that even if Lisa was standing right in front of her now, there would be no words left to say. No more chances.

One night, unable to take it any longer, Jennie decided to go to the one place she knew she might find solace. The bar. It wasn't much, but it was a place she and Lisa had shared memories—quiet nights, simple conversations, a few too many drinks, but it had felt like home in a way.

When she stepped inside, the familiar scent of alcohol and wood filled her senses. The place was nearly empty, save for a few patrons scattered around the room. She stood at the bar for a moment, staring at the familiar face of the bartender, Jero. He offered a sympathetic smile when he saw her. She gave him a small nod in return, before her gaze fell on the door, half expecting to see Lisa walk through it.

But of course, she didn't.

Jennie's heart sank. She knew Lisa wouldn't be here, wouldn't be coming. The thought of seeing her now only made the ache in her chest worse.

The bartender slid her drink across the counter, but Jennie didn't take it. Instead, she sat there, staring at the empty space before her, the weight of everything crashing down on her.

As the night wore on, Jennie felt the alcohol start to take hold, but the pain in her heart was too much. She couldn't keep pretending.

She pulled out her phone, her fingers trembling as she typed out a message to Lisa. I miss you. I miss us. I don't know what I'm doing anymore without you.

But before she could hit send, she deleted the message. She couldn't send it. Not after everything. Not after she had walked away. Not after they had both hurt each other in ways they couldn't undo.

But still, in the silence of her empty apartment later that night, she realized the truth: Lisa was the only one who could fill the space inside her. The space she had spent so long trying to ignore. The space that would never be filled by anyone else.

And maybe, just maybe, Lisa felt the same way.

But neither of them would ever know.

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A/N: Actually! I'm heartbroken! Please, Let a miracle for Jenlisa happen! I have so much high hopes! By the way, Thank you for reading!!