a language only you know

[twenty-one]

"I can't do this anymore, Lauren," she pleads, voice tired and eyes broken, and you've seen it coming from a mile away, but you had hoped you were wrong, hoped you could fix things.

You're twenty-one when she breaks your heart in the living room of your old, run-down apartment.

You're twenty-one and your chest aches with physical pain as you watch her collect her stuff and pack them into boxes labelled Camila, all the while avoiding your gaze.

You're twenty-one when she runs her cocoa eyes over everything, as if soaking it all in one more time before turning to you, the last of the boxes already taken down to the moving van that's waiting to transport her stuff away to Dinah's apartment, waiting to take her away from you for good.

"I guess this is goodbye, huh?" She says with a sad smile, the word cracking her voice and your ribcage open.

"I guess it is." You nod and she knows, knows, you're still in love with her, that you most likely will be still even when she's in the arms of someone else, that her leaving won't do anything but leave a Camila-shaped hole in your life, but you understand why she has to do this. You understand it's hard to keep afloat when there's an anchor dragging you down to the abyss, and you're smart enough to admit that you are. An anchor, that is. You don't know when you became it, but you did. And it cost you her.

There's a silence between you that's more amicable than any other has been in the last year, and you can respect that. She breaks it by sighing in defeat and shuffling closer to you, indecisive as always and you crack a tired smile.

"Lauren I... I still love you. And I probably always will. But I-I'm not what you need right now," Camila admits and you exhale deeply, regrets clogging your lungs and no matter how much you breathe you can't get rid of them.

"And I'm not what you need, aren't I?" You ask, rhetorically, and she diverts her eyes again. "It's alright, Camz. I can never blame you for wanting to grow, even if it is without me. You were always my number one, and you'll always stay right at the top of my list. And this beating heart forever speaks a language only you can understand," you say, taking her soft hand in yours and gently putting it to your heart.

You promised yourself you wouldn't cry but you all of people know that promises are broken more often than not. You tried to stop the tears but it's evident it's not enough (nothing ever was), so you let them slide down your cheeks, hot on your skin. It seems that's all Camila needed to let her own fall, and you're both crying, right there in the middle of the living room where not even a year ago you had shared a searing kiss when you first moved in together.

Hardly has a moment passed when the van honks from the outside and Camila wipes her tears, sniffling and you've loved her since you were kids and you'll love her until your hair turns grey and it's evident in how fast your heart beats for how achingly beautiful she looks, with wet cheeks and small droplets on her eyelashes.

"If you ever need me, I'll be here. Perhaps we'll meet again someday, but for now, goodbye Camila Cabello." You murmur softly and struggle to breathe when she comes near you, intertwining your fingers one last time and tilting her head to connect your lips.

It's more than a kiss. It's a hello, a goodbye, and everything shared between those points in two lives intertwined. Her lips are salty and wet from her tears and you can taste the sorrow on her mouth, reflected on your own.

When you part, she remains with her eyes closed, forehead touching yours.

"Goodbye, Lauren Jauregui."