Handlebars
2025, April 11 Friday (Coachella)
It was Friday afternoon, the kind where time felt both slow and fast—sound checks bleeding into final fittings, nerves tightening in Lisa’s chest like an ever-looping beat drop.
The desert sun was high, the crowd was already wild, and in just a few hours, Lisa would be standing center stage at Coachella, alone but not really.
She always prayed before a performance. Not always in a traditional way—but a quiet, focused moment where she shut her eyes, calmed her breath, and asked the universe to help her give everything she had. No distractions. No noise.
And Jennie knew that.
Which was why Lisa hadn’t seen her all day.
But she felt her.
When her assistant Alice handed her a warm cup of ginger tea, Lisa took one sip—and smiled.
“Is this from who I think it’s from?” she asked, eyes already softening.
Alice just grinned. “She told me not to tell you.”
Lisa rolled her eyes with affection. “Of course she did.”
She knew.
Jennie always remembered how Lisa’s voice got dry before performances, how she needed ginger more than coffee, and that she liked it strong but with a little honey. Not too hot, just warm enough to soothe.
Then came a tray of light food—grilled veggies, steamed rice, and a sweet potato roll. Lisa’s pre-show favorite. She didn’t even have to ask.
“She really made sure you’d eat this time,” Alice said, almost teasingly.
Lisa let out a soft laugh and shook her head. “She always does.”
And when Alice handed her a familiar bottle of vitamins, Lisa didn’t even question it. The cap had that slight dent Jennie’s ring always left when she popped them open too fast.
She held it in her palm for a second and smiled to herself.
“God, I’m so whipped,” she muttered, but her grin said she didn’t mind at all.
The sun dipped lower. Her mic was fitted. Her dancers were ready.
The roar of the crowd reached her bones.
And just before she stepped out, Lisa scanned the right side of the stage.
There she was.
In a dark hoodie, arms crossed, chin tucked—but with that unmistakable glow. Jennie didn’t need to dress up tonight to outshine the stars. Just her smile. Wide, proud, and locked right on Lisa.
Lisa felt it—like armor wrapping around her heart.
She didn’t wave. Didn’t break focus.
But her shoulders relaxed. Her breath steadied.
Because that quiet, unwavering support meant everything.
Lisa took the stage.
She danced like fire. Rapped like thunder. Moved like water.
But all throughout, in between the lights and cheers, her eyes found the right corner of the stage again and again.
And Jennie was still there.
Still smiling. Still hers.
Later, after the final beat dropped and the crowd lost their minds, Lisa walked offstage breathless, her heart full.
She didn’t need anyone to tell her who had been behind the tea, the food, the vitamins.
She already knew.
Because no matter how big the crowd…
Lisa could always feel the quiet love from the girl in the hood.
The high from Lisa’s performance was still buzzing in the air as she stepped off the stage. Every nerve in her body tingled with the kind of excitement only a solo debut at Coachella could bring. She had poured herself into the performance, giving every part of herself to the crowd, but now all she wanted was to find Jennie.
And there she was, waiting off to the side, tucked in the shadows of the stage, her hoodie up but her eyes unmistakable—her girl in the black hoodie.
Lisa’s heart swelled when their eyes met. It was a soft smile, a little shy, a lot full of pride. Jennie had been by her side all day, even though she was just as busy prepping for her own set.
Lisa made her way over to her, not caring that her makeup was smudged and her hair was still damp from sweat. She couldn’t wait another second.
Jennie opened her arms just in time, pulling Lisa in for a warm embrace. “You were incredible out there, you know?”
“I feel like I just ran a marathon,” Lisa said, laughing softly, still trying to catch her breath. “But I knew I’d have you here to make it better.”
Before Jennie could respond, a loud voice interrupted them.
“Ayo, Lalisa!”
Chaeyoung and Jisoo walked toward them, grinning and clearly thrilled. They were carrying drinks and snacks, looking like they had just walked out of a whirlwind themselves.
“I told you we’d be here for this,” Chaeyoung said, tossing a packet of chips in Lisa’s direction. “You were fire. Pure fire.”
Jisoo walked up with a huge smile, pulling Lisa into a quick hug. “We couldn’t miss the debut, and you know it.”
Lisa blinked in surprise. “Wait—aren’t you guys supposed to be working? How did you even make it?”
Chaeyoung winked. “Had to reschedule some stuff. We couldn’t let you get all the attention without us.”
“And,” Jisoo added with a sly grin, “we're staying with Jennie for the weekend, of course. We're not missing her Sunday set either.”
Jennie chuckled at their antics but didn’t pull away from Lisa’s side. “They’re going to be at my place all weekend. You know how they get.”
Lisa laughed. “I’m not surprised. You’ll have to make sure they don’t eat all your snacks.”
“I’m not worried about that,” Jennie said, her smile turning fond. “I think I’ve learned to just let them have their way. They’re like little kids.”
Chaeyoung pretended to be offended. “We are not little kids, thank you very much. We are fully grown adults who simply appreciate good food and excellent company.”
“And we're going to be here to support you, Jendeuk,” Jisoo added, nudging Jennie’s shoulder affectionately. “Don’t think we’ll miss a second of your performance on Sunday.”
Jennie nodded with a smile. “Thanks, you two. I can’t wait to have you both there.”
As the group settled in and began chatting about the weekend ahead, Jennie’s fingers intertwined with Lisa’s, a small but telling gesture. Lisa caught the movement and squeezed her hand, feeling the warmth spread through her chest.
It was moments like this—quiet, private moments—that made her feel at home, even in the middle of the chaos.
Soon enough, the noise around them began to settle into laughter. Chaeyoung and Jisoo were making plans for the next day, but Lisa couldn’t help but focus on the small, intimate connection she shared with Jennie. The girl who had stayed by her side, the one who had taken care of her all day, silently supporting her from the shadows.
Jennie leaned her head on Lisa’s shoulder, and Lisa turned slightly to kiss the top of her head. “You were amazing today too, you know?”
Jennie looked up at her with a playful glint in her eye. “I’m not performing until Sunday.”
Lisa smiled softly. “I know. And I can’t wait to see you out there.”
As the night continued with more laughter and chatter, with Chaeyoung and Jisoo making themselves at home at Jennie’s place, Lisa and Jennie found themselves slipping away for a quiet moment alone. They needed it. The world outside was loud, but for now, they had each other.
~~~
2025, April 13 Sunday (Coachella)
It was Sunday afternoon, and the Coachella heat had mellowed into a golden breeze that danced through the artist tents and VIP zones. Lisa had already taken the stage two nights before, pouring herself into every beat, every step, and every drop of sweat. She’d killed it—fans were still raving.
But today, her heart was more nervous than it had been on Friday.
Because today was Jennie’s day.
Lisa slipped past the heavy curtains of the artist lounge, a small black box tucked safely in the pocket of her oversized jacket. Her heart pounded with anticipation—not for a crowd, not for a camera—but for the moment she’d get to see Jennie before the spotlight hit her.
The Korean brunette was in her tent, half-dressed in glittering black and silver, hair still being curled, her stylist zipping up boots while she tapped through vocal warm-ups. She looked like the main event—but Lisa saw the subtle signs.
The tightness in her shoulders.
The quiet inhale before every line.
The way her fingers fidgeted around her mic.
“Baby,” Lisa said gently from the doorway.
Jennie turned, her face lighting up despite the chaos.
“Lili!” she beamed, arms half-raised as if she didn’t know whether to hug her or finish warming up. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“I couldn’t,” Lisa said, walking in slowly. “Not today. Not when you’re about to take over Coachella.”
Jennie laughed, but Lisa could see it—the nerves still hanging behind her eyes. So she reached into her jacket and pulled out the box.
Jennie blinked. “What’s that?”
Lisa shrugged playfully. “Just something I saw… and thought of you.”
Jennie opened it—and gasped.
Inside lay a delicate silver body chain, handmade by a local artisan Lisa had met two days ago. The piece shimmered with tiny black gems, sleek and elegant, made for someone who turned stages into catwalks.
Jennie’s lips parted. “Lili…”
“It’s one of a kind,” Lisa said quietly. “Just like you.”
Jennie stared at the chain, then back at Lisa. “You really got this for me?”
Lisa nodded, her voice softer now. “I wanted you to wear something that reminded you of how powerful you are. How beautiful. How unforgettable. Not for a show. Just because.”
Jennie was silent for a second. Then she stepped closer, her hand curling gently around Lisa’s.
“I don’t need anything to feel loved by you,” she whispered. “But this... this is so thoughtful. So you.”
Lisa smiled. “Well, you're mine. And I wanted you to wear something from me tonight. When you’re out there lighting up the world, I’ll know a part of me is with you.”
Jennie leaned in, pressed a soft kiss to Lisa’s cheek, and whispered, “You're the best thing I’ve ever called mine.”
Lisa helped her clasp it on gently, fingers brushing over warm skin and smooth silver. And when Jennie stood in front of the mirror, dressed in glitter, boots, confidence, and love—
She looked like a goddess.
“Now go,” Lisa grinned, standing back to admire her. “Go burn that stage down, love.”
Jennie smirked. “Only if you’re watching.”
Lisa winked. “Always.”
~~
The crowd was still roaring, the final beat of Jennie’s set echoing into the Coachella night like thunder. The stage lights dimmed behind her, sweat still clinging to her temples, her chest rising with the high of it all. She’d done it—killed every verse, danced like her soul was on fire, rapped with the precision and attitude only she could bring.
But the only thing on her mind?
Lisa.
As soon as she cleared the stage, past crew claps and high-fives, Jennie ducked out of the post-show rush. Her heart wasn’t done pounding, not from the music, but from the memory of Lisa’s eyes earlier—the way she’d clasped the chain around her body like it was something sacred.
She didn’t take it off.
Not even under the outfit changes.
Not even with the sweat and movement.
It stayed close. Like Lisa’s love—wrapped around her all night.
She found her.
Backstage, by a quiet corner near the trailers, Lisa was seated on a small bench, hoodie over her head, sipping a cold drink like she hadn’t just been crying a little during the last song. Jennie approached slowly, the adrenaline still buzzing in her limbs.
Lisa looked up—and her face lit up like it was her name on the lineup.
“You were…” Lisa started, then stood up, breathless. “God, Jen. That was insane.”
Jennie threw her arms around her, nearly knocking the drink out of Lisa’s hand as she pulled her in tight. Their bodies melted into each other like puzzle pieces that had always belonged.
“I wore it,” Jennie whispered into Lisa’s neck. “The whole time.”
Lisa grinned, her arms circling Jennie’s waist. “I know. I saw. You looked like magic.”
Jennie leaned back, pulling the jacket open slightly to reveal the glint of silver and tiny black stones, now warm against her skin.
Lisa’s hand instinctively reached up, her fingers brushing against the piece she’d chosen just days ago in a quiet market, thinking of this exact moment.
“I wanted you to feel me with you,” Lisa said softly.
Jennie cupped her cheek, the lights behind them fading, the music shifting far into the background.
“I did,” she whispered. “In every beat, in every word I rapped. You were there. Always.”
Lisa kissed her gently then—not a heated, desperate kiss, but something softer. Reverent. As if she was saying I see you. I’m proud of you. I’m yours.
When they finally pulled apart, Jennie sighed and rested her head against Lisa’s shoulder.
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good after a performance,” she murmured. “And it’s not the stage. It’s you.”
Lisa smiled and held her closer. “That’s how I felt Friday night too. I killed it—but the best part was knowing you were in the crowd.”
Jennie chuckled softly. “We’re such losers.”
Lisa pulled back just enough to raise a brow. “Excuse me? Losers?”
Jennie grinned, teasing. “Okay, fine. We're lovesick idiots who sneak away from our own shows just to hold each other in the dark.”
Lisa pretended to think. “Yeah… that sounds about right.”
They both laughed, soft and breathless, the kind of laugh that only came after the nerves had passed, after the lights had gone down, and there was nothing left but love. Lisa brushed a strand of hair from Jennie’s damp cheek.
“I wish I could give you more,” she said suddenly. “More than jewelry. More than late-night hugs and a quiet bench.”
Jennie’s eyes softened. “You already give me more than anyone ever has.”
Lisa looked like she might cry again.
Jennie leaned in, her lips brushing Lisa’s in a tender, lingering kiss. It wasn’t for cameras, or fans, or even for memory. It was just for them. A promise. A thank you. A stay with me.
When they finally parted, Jennie whispered, “Let’s go.”
Lisa smiled, fingers still tangled in the body chain. “Lead the way, superstar.”
And hand in hand, they walked off into the night—Jennie still glowing from the stage, Lisa still glowing from love—and the silver chain catching moonlight between them like a quiet reminder:
Some gifts didn’t need a reason.
Some loves didn’t need a spotlight.
Some moments… were just because.
~~
The afterparties for the first Coachella weekend raged across the valley, but Jennie and Lisa slipped quietly into the back of their cars and drove away from the noise, the flashing lights, and the eyes.
It was nearly 2 a.m.
Jennie had showered, wiped off the stage makeup, and now sat cross-legged on the bed in Lisa’s oversized hoodie, hair damp and curling slightly at the ends. The silver body chain lay neatly on the nightstand beside her, glinting softly like it still held magic.
Lisa walked in from the bathroom with two cups of tea, handing one to Jennie before climbing into bed beside her.
Neither of them said anything for a moment.
Jennie just leaned her head onto Lisa’s shoulder, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding all night.
“Everyone kept talking about the set,” Jennie said after a while. “They loved it. The crowd, the energy. But all I could think about was if you were proud.”
Lisa turned her head to press a kiss into her hair.
“I was proud the moment you stepped on stage,” she whispered. “And then every second after that.”
Jennie’s lips tugged into a small smile.
“I kept looking for your face,” she confessed. “Between lights. Between lines. I don’t even know how, but I felt you out there.”
Lisa chuckled softly. “That’s because I was out there. Like a total fangirl. Couldn’t stop grinning. You said one line and I was like, yup, that’s my girlfriend.”
Jennie laughed, her voice light and sleepy.
“God, I love you,” she mumbled into Lisa’s hoodie.
Lisa paused. Then smiled against Jennie’s forehead.
“I love you too,” she said, gently placing her tea on the nightstand. “Even when you steal my clothes and make them look better than me.”
Jennie looked up, pouty. “They smell like you. I feel safe in them.”
Lisa melted.
She reached over, pulling Jennie closer until the brunette was tucked perfectly into her side, her hand resting on Lisa’s chest.
“You’re safe,” Lisa whispered. “Always.”
The room was quiet again, save for the distant thump of bass from the afterparties and the steady hum of the AC. Jennie’s lashes fluttered shut. Her hand slid under Lisa’s hoodie, resting over her heartbeat like she needed the rhythm to lull her to sleep.
Lisa kissed her temple.
“You were a vision tonight,” she murmured. “You still are.”
Jennie smiled, eyes closed now, voice barely audible.
“So are you. Even when you snore.”
“I do not snore.”
Jennie giggled.
Lisa smiled, her fingers tracing gentle lines along Jennie’s spine.
They fell asleep like that. Wrapped in warmth, post-performance haze, and the kind of love that didn’t ask for anything big.
Just comfort.
Just closeness.
Just them.
~~~
I’m in a way better headspace for the past couple of weeks, and honestly, this light series has been like a cozy little hug of love and quiet support. So keep the comments and suggestions coming—I love them. Seriously, they make my day. ☺️
~M