The break upper

18-23

: "the crux of the debate"

Chapter Text

There's no greater feeling in the world than waking up to Camila Cabello. She knows she ought to have checked her bank account already, to make sure that Nia delivered on her promise. She also knows that she probably shouldn't have Camila's hand in hers right now, for the sake of the regrowth of their relationship, but when bright green eyes are looking at her like that, she can't really bring herself to even remember why they need to rebuild said relationship in the first place.

Oh, right. The farce. The deceiving. The lying. The voicemail.

Yet somehow, it all feels incredibly small, meaningless even, when Camila is giving her that tiny, adoring smile that she loves, face alight with love. After everything that has transpired between them, she still can't think of a reason not to want this woman in her life forever. After all the thinking, fighting, talking — waking up next to Camila has brought her clarity.

Now that all their cards are on the table, seeing the unbridled devotion in Camila's gaze is all that she needs to know that she can trust this woman. Despite the hurt they've caused one another, she has no doubt that these eyes, soft and green with hope, will never betray her again. And just like that, Lauren lets go of everything that has been holding her back and finally gives in to loving Camila.

"I love you."

It's a whisper, breathless but determined. Camila swallows as full lips part in a daze. Suddenly, feathery fingertips are brushing under her chin and pulling it slowly, gently — barely the ghost of a touch — and she lets herself be drawn back to where they were before.

Only when her lips touch Camila's in a soft, languid kiss, Lauren realises that this is nothing like before. This is honest, aware, matured. Now they know every variable, every what if, every fault, every limitation — they know exactly what they are walking into and choose to take that step anyway.

This is better.

There's no tongue, no heady flare of passion in this kiss, but it fits the moment, the situation. It's the discovery of a new kind of familiarity. It is in the quiet, tender moments that a soul is at its most vulnerable. Anyone can brush intensity off as mere lust and deprivation. This kind of slow, quiet softness, the ilk of naked implications of a morning after, however, can only be taken for what it is.

Once the kiss meets its end, Lauren rests her forehead on Camila's, transfixed by the rosy blemish over kiss-worn lips. Eyes closed, Camila brushes their noses together, before placing a barely-there peck on the corner of her mouth.

"I missed you," Camila whispers, voice gentle, as always, stripped of fetters or fears but for the way she rolls onto her back, perhaps overwhelmed by her own confession.

Lauren follows. She shifts onto her belly, scooting closer to Camila, so her forehead can rest on the brunette's temple, and hums.

"Me too."

The timid, pleased smile that Camila fails to suppress is worth every hurdle. Lauren drops a light kiss on a tall cheekbone, as her fingers dust over her favourite collarbones, trailing their length. Her hand is just starting to slip under the fabric of Camila's tank top when a hand on hers stops her movements.

She looks down to see green eyes already staring at her. "Let's go slow," Camila half-asks, eyes tentative and exposed, almost pleading.

Lauren hesitates only half a second before nodding. "Yes." Now that the option has arisen, she wants nothing more.