Crimson Painting (Camren)

I

She's known since she was little. She's felt it in the way the breeze gently lifts her shirt on sinful autumn days, and the way it feels like feminine fingers dancing across the plane of her strong back. Lauren never once doubted the fact that soft curves and brunette hair, chocolate eyes and sandpaper words have been her downfall.

She knows it in the way no matter how many times Camila kisses her and sends her away like it didn't happen, she always comes back for more. Even though sometimes the warmth of Camila's mouth is unbearable to Lauren, who thinks every time Camila touches her, she'll burn up from the inside out, leaving nothing but a pile of ashes in her wake. (But it doesn't stop her, maybe it's because she's always been a fan of the Harry Potter series and the Phoenix always arose from the ashes no matter how many times it was burned down).

And though the line between friendship and something more, has always been blurry for the two of them. Lauren can't help but wonder if maybe that's why Camila refuses to wear her glasses around Lauren.

//

12 years of age- Lauren Jauregui

//

Lauren remembers this as one of the most painfully clear moments of her life. The second day of seventh grade- as the rotation schedule of their school would have it- was the first day she lay her eyes upon the person who would bleed her dry for the rest of her life. She blushed and she blushed, and she couldn't stop, until she was sure that the apples of her cheeks would forever be painted a scarlet color.

"We're seated together," Camila commented at Lauren, like it wasn't the most obvious thing in the world. In Lauren's small, small, world, that was. A world in which, so far only she had resided within. This was the first few words the brunette beauty ever spoke to Lauren, and had either of them known it would end so collaterally, maybe she would've stayed quiet. Maybe Camila would've regarded her with the silence that Lauren noticed she gave everyone else. (Lauren always noticed, it wasn't like she did much else other than stare at Camila).

Lauren knows it's a crush, it's formed ever so lightly under her chest, woven patterns holding tight to her heart before consuming the organ so fully that it almost makes it hard for her to breathe. It blocks off her arteries and it webs down each vein, it invades her capillaries and feasts on her until everything that is hers, is now Camila's too. Her small world, now includes Camila as well.

It doesn't take long for Camila to figure that out either. Only half way through their seventh grade year together, as they sit next to each other in English class, across from each other in History, and diagonally in Math, they've created a safe space of their own. It's a dangerous game to be playing, it's a confusing one to be playing, especially at the mere age of twelve. Lauren doesn't have a grasp on the rules, and Camila doesn't either.

But maybe that's why it works so well, it's because if they're both in the dark, then no one can shine a light on how toxic it was yet to become.

/

It's January, it's cold, the frost on the bus window creates a crystallized pattern which enamors Lauren. She lightly traces her fingers over each branch of solid ice, and she wonders if this is what it looks like inside of her chest, except out of roses, thistled roses and love.

Camila invades her space, like always, except it's not really invading if Lauren had moved over for her, was it? Either way, Camila slides into the seat next to Lauren, eyes sparkling with mischievous intent, and Lauren doesn't want to ask what her best friend might be up to yet again? It's no secret to Lauren that Camila loves a good heckling, she loves scorning people with hateful words and she even enjoys the occasional "releasing Ms. Steinbeck's pet snake" prank.