Someone Like You; Camren

five

Camila gulped, slowly following her wife up the stairs, no longer daring to look back at the green-eyed woman who now sat upright on the couch, jaw hanging open. She trailed after the smaller woman like a puppy that had just been scolded, tail between its legs.

The Italian sighed, pulling back the sheets and climbed into bed without a word. The silence was deafening.

"Ari..." Camila whimpered. "Ariana, please." The Latina begged. Her wife simply grabbed the covers, wrapping them tighter around herself before turning on her side.

"Get ready for bed." The Italian said flatly, still not bothering to face her. Camila obliged, making her way to the bathroom. Ariana was seldom ever cold with her.

The freezing feeling of the tile bathroom floor sent a shiver up her spin as her bare feet made their way to the sink. Removing her contacts, she rubbed her eyes, gazing miserably at her own reflection. She looked like she just got hit by a bus. Maybe that'd be less painful than this.

She was absolutely torn. The four words that she said just a few minutes ago came out without warning, she couldn't help it. But god, did it feel good.

When Lauren walked out on the group years ago, she felt like her heart would never be whole again. It had taken her two years to open up to someone again, that someone being none other than Ariana Grande. It had taken her another year to be able to say those words again and actually mean it. When Lauren refused sign their contract renewal with Syco, she took more than a few awards and discography memorabilia with her. She took Normani's confidence, Dinah's security, Ally's bubbliness, and Camila's everything.

They needed her, especially Camila. But Lauren didn't seem to need them anymore, especially Camila. As hurt as they were, the group agreed not to find a replacement singer and disband a few weeks later. Somewhere deep inside, Camila knew that even if they did, no one would really be able to replace Lauren, no matter how much they tried.

After brushing her teeth and changing into a baggy t-shirt, she crawled into bed, unsure of whether she should assume her usual position of big spoon. She knew that her wife never liked going to bed angry, but this wasn't anger. It was... disappointment.

"Ari," she whispered. "Are you awake?"

She was met with no response but continued anyway.

"Ari, I promise there's nothing going on between Lauren and I." she sighed.

To her surprise, her wife turned around, her brown eyes sad and broken. "Maybe not," she frowned. "But you want there to be. You always have."

The Latina was shocked. "What? No. I..." she shook her head. "You and Lauren," she pleaded, reaching out to place a hesitant hand on her wife's slender hip "there's no competition, baby, I swear."

"That's because there never was." The smaller woman sighed dejectedly. "She wins every time."

"Ari..." she trailed, but she was at a loss for words. Was Ariana right? Even after all these years  being rejected by her former group mate, all these years of trying to open her heart up to someone else, was Lauren still the only one to ever it? Of course, dumbass. Is that even a question?

"Please, Mila." The Italian shuffled back. "I tried," her voice quivered. "I really did. We both did. And I don't blame you for this, you can't help how you feel." She sniffed. "But, God, you could have at least spared my feelings in the process."

"Ari," her heart broke. How could someone who was so disappointed in her because she had made a mistake, still be so kind? She really didn't deserve her. Maybe she should just let her go, the Latina thought. She deserved better. "Please don't cry. I love you."