It starts with the headaches.
Which isn't so unusual, really - they're on break, technically, but it's still weeks on end of being shuttled from one place to another with interviewers gabbing in their ears, repeating the same goddamned questions over and over and fucking over and it's so exhausting Lauren thinks she might explode if one more person asks how her relationship is going.
Fine, she answers. Great, even. It really is. Just not with Luis.
They don't need to know that, though.
And they don't, but they still keep asking, and three weeks into promo Lauren truly feels like her head is going to explode, like her brain is pulsing right against her skull. It's horrible and no matter how many cigarettes she smokes or pain pills and glasses of water and tea she swallows it doesn't let up; the pain subsides some but never truly goes away.
It's frustrating, but not alarming. Not yet.
Home, Lauren thinks. Home. She just can't wait to get home, where she can kick off her jeans and curl up under the covers and close her eyes and sleep for an hour or maybe ten until her brain is fully rested and not feeling like it's about to bust through her skull. But for now she's trapped in the back of a car with Camila and a driver who apparently doesn't understand that silence is golden.
If she were in a better mood, Lauren might just engage him in conversation, talking excitedly and laughing at his poor excuses for jokes but right now she's just not in the mood, and Camila notices. Of course she does. Camila notices everything.
"Your head again, hm?" Camila mumbles, lips pressed to Lauren's temple. Lauren just nods weakly, making a soft whining noise and cuddling into Camila's side. Her head is still throbbing, but with her face buried in Camila's stupid, leather jacket, it's a little better because all she can smell is Camila, all warm and familiar and home. God, she just can't wait to get home.
They arrive at their flat just as Lauren has started dozing. Camila thanks the driver, quick and polite - always so professional, she is - before looping a hand over Lauren's shoulder and tugging her towards the door, urging her to be quick. Nobody knows where this flat is, but there's always been the chance of someone catching sight of them and following them home. Their drivers are usually good about making sure they aren't followed, looping around the neighbourhood until any hangers-on are hopelessly confused, but Camila likes to be sure, anyway.
Lauren toes of her shoes as soon as she's through the front door, making a beeline for the couch and burying her face in a terribly tacky and uncomfortable decorative pillow. She feels the couch dip slightly under Camila's weight as she sits down next to her, warm hand on her back, smoothing down her shirt and Lauren feels all the tension leave her body, turning to give Camila a grateful smile.
Camila grins back, all dimples and teeth, patting her lap invitingly and Lauren loves her so much she could die as she crawls over and rests her head in Camila's warm lap. Camila's hands are on her before she's even gotten settled, fingers stroking through her hair and scratching her scalp lightly. Lauren hums appreciatively, nuzzling into Camila's hand.
"Good, boo?" Camila asks gently, fingers pressing lightly on her temple and Lauren manages a soft uh-huh before she drifts off, wrapped up in Camila's touch and scent and it almost scares her to think she'll never be as happy as she is when she's in Camila's arms.
When she wakes up, the sky outside the window is dark, her head still in Camila's lap, The Notebook playing on the television, and she has to puke.
It's like, her head is throbbing, pain no longer dull but sharp and clawing at every inch of her, and she can feel it, can feel it crawling up her throat and she doesn't even have time to give Camila a fair warning before she jerks herself away, staggering towards the hallway bathroom and she knows she won't make it to the toilet so she aims for the sink instead, spewing breakfast and lunch and the really good iced tea she'd been drinking in the car into the pretty marble sink with the shiny silver faucet.
YOU ARE READING
hoping this cold blue water scrubs me clean and spits me out | camren
Fanfiction"Stay," Camila whispers desperately, pressing her lips to Lauren's temple like she can somehow ease the pain that's blooming there, but she can't make the pain stop and no matter how hard she tries she can't make Lauren stay. Not my work. Converted...
