Jennie adjusts her sunglasses slightly, hoping that it's enough to shield her eyes from the blaring sun. When that can't suffice, she brought up her hand, like a visor.

Other than that minor disturbance—there was also the crowd surrounding her, full of life, she worried the bench they were sitting in was going to collapse at any point. She squirms away; a sea of bodies breathing her air, the mix of smells of perfume makes her gag. It was like the parents who were present didn't mind going out with such strong scents. Jennie winces, turning away where most of the ruckus was.

But even if she did so—there was her wife.

"Jisoo, calm down—"

"That's my baby right there! Number thirteen! Let's go, Areum Kim!"

Jisoo was at the edge of her seat, close to falling with each shout. A vein was visible from her neck, and Jennie was afraid it might pop because Jisoo doesn't seem to stop any sooner.

The local youth soccer tournament was more massive than what Jennie initially thought it was. People filled each corner of the two benches. It could be the fact that it was divided into two sets, a game with the primary students and the elementary ones. Or, it could also be the fact that the stereotype surrounding soccer moms is actually true, and she's witnessing it with her own two eyes. The typical, upper-class fanatics who'd do whatever they can to push their child to a certain sport, even against their will, because it's an ego booster amongst fellow soccer moms, in some way.

Jennie's thankful she didn't develop into one.
 
Areum was one of the players, and though she may not know the different positions in soccer, her daughter seems to have the ball a lot, so she was proud of that. Jisoo is proud, too. Undeniably so. Before the game had even started, she was screaming all sorts of things. Areum's name, her jersey number, even the way she runs from one patch of grass to another. Jennie finds it incredible how her wife can do in every