Savior

Verse 5

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Breathe I believe

Empty without you I can't live without you

And I'm in love with you

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She never really knew how you felt about her. I mean, it would only take so many insults to break down a potential bond of turst. She never knew how you watched every single performance, and nearly cried every time. You knew she saw you, sometimes saw the look in your eyes, but you were so good at shutting down that often times you noticed her second-guessing her analysis of the way you might have just been looking at her. She was bound for Broadway and you were bound for ... mediocrity. Hell. Tartarus. That's what Miami always had been. The only thing that had been worthwhile was her, even if when you did see her she'd instinctively cover her head for fear of a slushie shower. There was one time where you nearly explained to her why you acted that way, why you couldn't be kind to her. It was the time she'd arranged that they all sing to you so you knew you weren't alone. You thought she'd never looked so beautiful as she did in that moment, when she was facing you and singing right to you, those impossibly dark eyes searching your heart. That's the only time you really let yourself cry in front of Camila Cabello. You couldn't do it again though, not after that. You were afraid of what Miami would think, what everyone would think if they even had a hint of the softness you held. Besides, they would have percieved you as weak and HBIC couldn't be weak. Even when you were cast to the bottom of the social ladder, you still had to be strong, silent as steel, impassable.

You were best at that, but it killed you more and more, everytime she cried because of you, everytime she extended that offer of friendship and you laughed it off. You crushed her under your heel but she kept trying to befriend you, kept caring about you. It got harder every time. When you were all in New York, she'd never looked so beautiful, and you knew this is the place she was destined for. Nationals had been lost, of course, and she looked crushed. You wanted to kill Louis for losing it for her. She deserved to see her high school dreams come true. Louis was an idiot, and for some reason he was the one Camila chose to finish high school with. You knew they wouldn't last, of course, but he had her and you didn't and that killed you inside. You had secured your place as Camila Cabello's enemy, and that was what you had to do. Even if you had been nice, you would've just been her friend. Camila loved Louis. And you loved her, but she'd never know that, you made sure of that. It would have killed you more to be her friend than to be her enemy. At least as her enemy you encited passionate responses from her and that ... that was something.

So as soon as you all graduated, she left the week after. You'd come to her house, ready to spill everything after all these years, and she was gone. What made you think you could've repaired any of it? You'd retreated into your hole, spent a year and a half in junior college until you met this guy, he called himself Ty. He was a little bit like those stoners you'd seen in high school that liked to sit by the dumpster and roll blunts before class. At that point your mother had put so much pressure on you that you reached that inevitable stage of rebellion. Camila was gone, far away from where you were, and you were just a bad memory. Worthless, really. So you started partying with him and hitchhiking to nowhere. Your mother would call your cell phone every day, that is, until you chucked it in Lake Michigan on one of your road trips with Ty and some other stoners. You remember smiling that day, more than you ever had, as you puffed and held the smoke in your chest until you couldn't anymore. You remember feeling free. And that's when you were hooked. You and Ty picked up this one brunette, she called herself "Lucy" and you thought she looked a little like Camila would have if she was taller. You fell in love with Lucy, only because she looked so much like Camila.