Obsessed | Camila x Reader

three

Silence. Some say it's torturous, and I've definitely experienced that. The days spent in solitary confinement in that damned 'rehabilitation center' taught me that. Some say it's beautiful, and I think I'm experiencing that now.

Before us, and I say 'us' because Camila is standing right beside me, is an expanse of seats, each to be filled by someone in just a few hours. Most are concealed by the darkness, though I'd glimpsed them before she'd switched off the lights. The front few are illuminated by a singular, dim spotlight aimed at the stage, casting a circle around the pair of us, an island of light within the abyss.

"Sing for me." She suddenly states, shattering the silence we'd manifested.

"What?" I whip around to face her, palms running along my thighs already. It's a nervous habit I've picked up somewhere along the line, though where and when I'm not entirely sure.

"You said before that you like to sing. Will you sing something? Pretty please?"

Clearing my throat, I pull my phone from my pocket, searching for a song to sing along to. Within seconds, however, it disappears from my view, snatched away by the woman before me.

"No, I want to hear your voice." She refutes, "Just your voice. Don't hide."

"I'm really not good if I don't have any music, though." I try to persuade her, but she simply shakes her head and slides my phone into her pocket.

"Watch." She instructs, stepping back slightly and taking a deep breath before beginning to sing the melodies of 'All These Years', expression portraying an almost effortless grace. Her voice, smooth as honey, bounces off of the walls of the empty theatre. The reverberation makes her voice sound only more angelic, more heavenly, purer. It's breathtakingly gorgeous, far more so than the previous silence.

"See? Easy." She grins once she's done, "Your turn."

"I'm really not-" I begin, but she narrows her eyes slightly, barely noticeable. Taking a deep breath, I begin to sing, closing my eyes in fear of any kind of backlash.

When done, I pry my eyes open to see her staring at me with her jaw almost laying on the floor. And I didn't think I sounded that bad.

"Sorry. I tried to warn you that I'm not that good." I grimace, though frown confusedly when she once again wraps herself around my frame.

I think I hear a small whisper of, "You're perfect.", but don't want to assume. Still, I can't help the smile on my lips as I wrap my arms around her too.

...

Camila's performance takes my breath away. She's stunning, pouring her heart out into the microphone like the crowd still consists of nothing but empty seats, like she's singing to nothing but whispers of phantoms, like she doesn't really care what anybody thinks of her. Unlike me. I could never.

Throughout the performance, she casts glances towards me, sometimes winking or smirking cockily. I realise I have been placed on the side of the stage that most often sees her backside, and I have to admit, I'm completely mesmerised by her choreography. The way she swings her asset around like a pocket watch on a chain leaves me hypnotised. I can't take my eyes away, as much as I feel I'm invading some sort of private moment, as if I too feel like the crowd consists of nothing but empty seats.

After the show, a tall security guard leads me backstage, where Camila awaits and quickly shoos the man away.

"So... did you like it?" She asks, almost nervously.

"Um, do you not hear the screams of joy?" I jest, listening in to the muffled sounds of fans either still cheering or chanting 'encore!'

"Yeah, but did you like it?" She repeats, looking down and adjusting the crotch of her pants momentarily.

Brows furrowing at the action, I look back up and grin.

"Of course, I did." I can barely get another word out before she throws herself around me, all but jumping into my arms. Laughing lightly, I continue, "It doesn't exactly hurt that you're wearing my favourite outfit and it felt like you were giving me a private performance."

She giggles, leaning back to look up at me as she had the first day we met. "Is that something you'd be interested in?"

Before I can answer, a deep blush growing on my cheeks at the innuendo I've just spotted, she interrupts me by chuckling and resting her head back on my shoulder.

Sighing, I wrap my arms around her shoulders, content.

"Camila!" Someone yells, prompting the girl to let go of me, and me to turn around to see a man hurrying towards us.

He's a few inches taller than Camila, with a massively receding hairline and a small amount of stubble. As he approaches us, he adjusts his glasses and looks only at Camila as he snaps, "Where the hell were you? We were supposed to get that kiss shot after the show!"

Camila sighs, snaking an arm around my waist as she glares at the man. A glance down at her almost frightens me.

"I don't want to kiss him, Roger." She retorts, "Why should I?"

"Because nobody will believe it if you guys don't kiss. People are already suspicious."

"Vete a la mierda." The brunette mutters under her breath, confusing the man before adding, "What if I don't?"

"You will." He shakes his head, jutting a long, rather monstrous finger at the girl, "You will do it. Tomorrow."

With a sigh, Camila watches as the man walks away, mumbling more things before turning to face me and looking down to the floor.

"You shouldn't have to kiss anybody if you don't want to," I state as if I have any say in the matter, watching as she slowly looks back into my eyes. Hers are warm, soft, filled with the innocence of an infant who doesn't quite understand the world yet. Her voice is a whisper.

"I know. I won't, don't worry." She confirms, nodding her head slightly before taking my hand and leading me back to the bus.