trust | camren

trust

When Camila enters the apartment after a long day of work, she instantly knows that something's wrong. Usually, at the sound of her opening the door, Lauren comes running to hug her. Kiss her. She immediately asks how her day was, too. Asks what she wants to do. Watch a movie. Or order food. Something of the sort.

That's not the case tonight, and Camila frowns at it. She's so used to this exact scenario when coming home that, when it doesn't happen, she simply leaves her bag on one of the tables in the living room and then looks for Lauren. She knows her girlfriend's home. She saw her car, her keys are in their usual spot, as well, and the girl's phone is lying on the counter to Camila's right.

Lauren would never leave without her phone.

Camila has no idea what this means. She bites her lip anxiously, chews on it while she crosses the apartment until she's in front of the bedroom. She stays silent for a bit, listening. She thinks maybe if Lauren really is here, she can hear her, but that's not the case either.

Her heart starts being faster. Irregularly. She swallows. She has the feeling something is very wrong. She doesn't know what, yet, but– she knows her suspicions are going to be confirmed the second she walks through the door in front of her.

The breaths she takes next are shaky. Fingers pressed against the doorknob, she notices that she's started trembling. She has a really, really bad feeling.

She hasn't even opened the door completely when she's met with the most heartbreaking sight. Lauren is there. She's on their bed. Has a hooded sweater on even though it's incredibly hot in the room. A blanket covers most of her body.

But what shocks Camila most is Lauren's face. Her eyes are open, red, her cheeks tear-stained, her lips swollen.

She walks over without bothering to close the door and sits down on the edge of the bed nearest to her girlfriend. She has no idea what she's supposed to say right now. She knows about the girl's depression, but ever since she was in therapy and started taking her antidepressants regularly again, this hasn't happened. She's worried, extremely worried. She bites the inside of her cheek. Her heart hasn't gone back to normal. Quite the opposite, actually, since she stepped into the room.

"Lauren, baby–"

The girl's head turns. Her eyes are– empty. No emotions showing. At all. She looks like she hasn't even realized someone is here until now. She blinks.

"Beautiful, I don't know what happened, and you don't have to tell me if you don't want to or– or if you can't but– please try to at least nod if there's something I can do right now." Camila hopes her words reach Lauren. She desperately wishes they do. Because she'll be lost if they don't. Won't know what to try. What to do.

Fortunately, however, Lauren does nod. She looks like she wants to say something. Even opens her mouth. But then, she closes it again, turns her head and stares blankly at the ceiling.

Camila honestly wants to cry. But she swallows the tears and asks, "Lauren–" It's very careful, the way she says her words, "did you hurt yourself?"

Lauren nods slowly.

"Okay. Okay, baby, I promise I'm not upset because you did it. I was worried, yes, but now I'm proud of you. I know how much energy it takes to go through this with me right now." Camila leans toward the girl and decides to touch her leg – or the covers on top of it, anyway –reassuringly. Caresses it. Hopes it won't scare her.

It doesn't. Lauren blinks again instead. As if she becomes aware of her surroundings.

"Lauren–" Camila continues then, her hand still on her girlfriend's leg, "Is it your arms? Is that why you're wearing the hoodie? To cover your arms? The wounds on them?"