don't say you love me... | camren au

don't promise me tonight...

A/N: Alcohol abuse is mentioned in this chapter.

*

Love.

Camila feels it. Knows that the girl she's lying on top of feels it, too.

It's been, well, more than five years since they last were this close; since Camila last had her head on Lauren's chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart; since Camila last knew Lauren was nervous because of their proximity.

But even if it seems the same as the last time they did this – six, maybe seven years ago, that's what Camila remembers – it's utterly different. They're sober, they're on their own sofa, in their own apartment. They actually want to be together, it's not just something they're expected to do as a couple. It's not something that inevitably leads to sex, it's not wanting to satisfy your needs.

It's different, and they both know deep down that it's never really been like this before. They've never had a connection this strong. Not before they started dating all those years ago. Not while they were dating, either. Something always kept them from truly being, truly wanting to be together.

Something like Lauren's constant alcohol abuse, maybe. Camila stiffens.

"What is it?" As much as the girl was responsible for their breaking apart with her behavior, she always did sense, did know when something bothered Camila. When something was wrong.

Biting her lip, Camila looks up. It's an awkward angle, but she doesn't care. "I–" Could she really go out there and ask the question – questions – that have been on her mind ever since that fateful night at the restaurant?

Just like that?

"You can tell me," Lauren says softly. Her voice is so full of love and admiration. Dedication.

It makes Camila's heart skip a beat. It makes her realize yet again that, yes, Lauren has changed, and she won't get annoyed at her for asking questions about this particular matter. So she swallows and then quietly starts, "Um– did you ever, you know–" She stops. Takes a breath. Continues after a moment, "What I mean is– were there ever situations when you wanted to drink? After you'd stopped. Did you ever– did you drink? Were there situations in which–" She waits for Lauren's reaction. When the girl simply starts playing with her hair, her head sinks back down, reassured. She closes her eyes. Lauren's heartbeat calms her down, somehow. She knows she's going to get an answer, and it's what makes all of this so great: this is still them but, at the same time, it's not, they're different people, and – it's finally becoming everything Camila has wanted. Everything the both of them have wanted.

"It was hard," Lauren eventually says. Her voice is quiet, just like Camila's. "Of course it was hard. There had been– there were still times when all I could think about was how to get alcohol, how to drink it without anyone noticing, where to stash it so that nobody would find out I was drinking– shit like that."

The cursing makes Camila wince. Lauren notices, and gives the top of her head a kiss.

Says, "Sorry, baby."

"'s okay," Camila mumbles back.

"It was hard," Lauren repeats, "because simply wanting to stop wasn't enough, I realized. Yeah, sure, I said to myself 'I'm not going to drink, I don't want to drink', but– that didn't help."

Camila freezes. She thought Lauren had stopped drinking– how– had she started again? Anxiety makes its way through her bones, her core, her–

"Don't worry," Lauren says. Of course she's noticed Camila's reaction. "That's not what I'm meaning to say," she promises. "What I wanted to tell you is that– I realized I couldn't do it on my own. I couldn't remain sober on my own. Because I was constantly in pain. Pain that made me want to drink. Made he have to drink. I was desperate. I was thinking about who I could possibly call to get me my booze. All day. All night. I wanted to stop, but I couldn't stop, and it messed me up. I wasn't a person anymore. I was a machine with one single train of thoughts. I hated myself. At least when I was thinking clearly. So, like, once a week. Which is– I couldn't–" A single tear runs down her cheek. And she doesn't try to wipe it away.

It eventually drops down on Camila's face. It's how she notices that Lauren is crying. And, yeah, it's another thing that makes her see how much the older girl has changed. The Lauren from five years ago would not have cried. Ever. But the Lauren whose heartbeat she feels against her ear right now does cry. Is crying. It makes part of Camila incredibly happy.

The other part is invested in Lauren's story – history – and can't help but be sad.

"At one point, a few days – or weeks, I really don't remember – after your call, I made one of my very few conscious decisions. I went to see a doctor."

And– Camila understands.

"Rehab was good," Lauren recalls, "it helped me a lot. I mean, yeah, sure, afterwards there were one or two occasions where I had the urge to drink, but I didn't."

There's pride in her voice.

And Camila realizes that–

Pride is what made Lauren change. She's proud of herself. For doing the right thing.

"I didn't drink because I remembered how it was at the bottom. And I swore to myself I'd never go back there. Ever. No, I wouldn't." Lauren pauses. Thinks for a second. Then, "You know, there were three or four people I kept in touch with after the clinic. A few of them started again when they were back home. It was awful getting the news, but I thought about it for a while, and I think I know why they started again. They hadn't been as bad as I had. And I guess that if you've been at a point where you cannot physically stop drinking yourself anymore, it becomes your goal for life to never hit that exact point again. The others– they hadn't– they hadn't experienced that. The lower you've been, the more you focus on that not happening again." It comes out in a ramble, almost, so Lauren ends with, "Sorry if that was too fast." She lets out a breathless laugh.

"No, that's okay," Camila replies. "After finally having heard everything from you, I can truly say that I'm– I'm incredibly proud of you." She is. She couldn't be any prouder. She can't even begin to imagine the hell Lauren went through, and she's glad– she's so glad she's here now. That they're here. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

They both sit up, then, and just look into each other's eyes for a long moment. Lauren smiles her most heartwarming smile and gently lays a hand on Camila's cheek. Caresses it. She slowly closes the distance between them.

A kiss follows. It's nothing like any other they've shared before; it's tender, soft. Lauren takes Camila's lower lip between hers to intensify it. Still, it's not hard, or rough. Not all teeth. They even bring their tongues into it at some point, but even then, it doesn't become sexual in the slightest.

They're just two old lovers, two young lovers, sealing their new relationship with a kiss. A relationship that is by far more promising than the one they'd shared before.

After Camila has broken the kiss, she stands up and takes Lauren's hand to make her follow. Then– she hugs her. It's warm, it's comforting, it's showing Lauren exactly how proud she is. How much she appreciates her opening up. She holds on tight.

Maybe, just maybe this hug means more than the kiss.

Camila hides– buries her face in Lauren's neck. In her hair. Her soft black curls. She almost too quietly mumbles, "I want you tonight–"

The hug ends after this, and Lauren looks at her with fear in her eyes. She anxiously tells Camila, "Don't promise me tonight without tomorrow too."

"–and I want you always." The younger girl steps closer and gives a visibly relieved Lauren another kiss.

Into this kiss, she lays everything. Her love, her pain, her loss. Her knowing, her appreciating that Lauren has changed. Her promise to be by her side forever. To support her.

Eventually, of course, the kiss ends. And Camila remembers something she's been meaning to ask. "If you ever get the urge to drink nowadays, what do you do?"

Lauren smiles. Laughs. As if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I think of you."