a sum of small things | camren (au)

the third year | october - december

A/N:

Sorry for the wait. The first scene along took me about four weeks to write because I just couldn't get it right. Also, I had already written the entire chapter when I found out that Luna Park is not actually open in November... Oh well. This is a work of fiction anyway :)

Enjoy!

:::

Le Sacre du Printemps is coming to a close. It's been something like a fever; all these minutes sitting in the London Royal Opera House, watching her like this, feeling it spill inside of you. Your thoughts are racing, nerves beginning to build low in your stomach. It's the final part of the performance - final moments of watching her on stage like this - and you don't know what is going to happen once the lights go on again.

(You've never really known what to do when the lights go on.)

:::

It's messy and fast, hot and desperate.

She kisses you back, and you're completely at her mercy, pushed up hard against the backstage wall of the theater. She has you hot under her fingertips, has you needy and wanting and desperate, has you nearly on your goddamn knees for her...

You're aching for it. Want to go as fast as possible. With your fingers on her throat, your tongue between her teeth, already dragging the hem of her shirt up, wanting more, wanting all of her, as close to you as possible, want to have it before she slips away again and you're lost and-

She pulls back, catching your hand in hers before you can continue.

You still instantly. "Sorry. Fuck, I'm so sorry - I didn't-"

"It's okay," she whispers against your mouth. "It's not that I don't... I just..." She trails off, uncertain for a moment, before looking up at you as she adds, "Lauren, what do you want?"

It clears your head instantly. God. You're so stupid.

"I..." you start. "I don't know. I thought we could..."

"What?" Camila's bottom lip trembles a little. "Have sex and then pretend it never happened? Again?"

Your breathing is rough, uneven. There's blood rushing between your ears and you're not sure if the heat on your cheeks is from kissing her or from shame, or maybe both.

She's looking at you, eyes dark, not exactly demanding, but waiting, waiting, always waiting - for you to meet her halfway, to break through, to finally say something real, something honest. You can feel the pressure building inside your body. You want to say something, but you don't know how. Nerves are clouding your thoughts, anything like a confession staying just outside of your reach, always just too far away from you.

"Camz..." You swallow hard, not knowing what to do or what to say, silently pleading for her to understand, before panicking and blurting out, "Well, what do you want?"

Her eyes widen like she didn't expect you to turn the question back to her. She's silent for a moment, still so close to you, holding your hand, neither of you ready to break away completely. The tension heightens, but then Camila brushes a strand of loose hair behind your ear, takes a sharp inhale and breathes out, "I just want to go out with you."

"What?"

It startles you; the honesty, the self-assurance.

Camila's expression softens. "I want to go out with you," she says again. "I want to take you places and hold your hand and kiss you. Without worrying that you're going to hate me for it every time." She drags her bottom lip back with her teeth, eyes locked on yours. "I don't know, Lauren. Just... watch movies together and go to art museums and talk about things. Buy you coffee before class. Go swimming. Give you hickeys." She leans a little closer into you, gives you half a smile. "What I want is not that complicated, really."