when night comes (camren)

Sixteen

           

Camila Cabello was sixteen years old and she knew that she no longer had a crush on Lauren Jauregui. She knew that it was obviously a lot more than that at this point and she's pretty much in love with her best friend. Camila also knew that she shouldn't have been as happy as she was that Lauren hadn't dated anyone since she broke up with Ethan over a year ago, because it wasn't like she was going to come running into her arms but at least she had one less person to compete with to spend more time with Lauren. She knew that although Lauren never said it, she didn't believe her when she promised that things were better at home. She knew because sometimes they'd be in the middle of a conversation and Lauren would suddenly stop talking and a look would take over her face like she'd just remembered something important, something she'd forgotten. She'd glance down at the hem of Camila's shirt for a second, before reaching out without warning and lifting it up, allowing her eyes to scan over the bare skin in a meticulous inspection before dropping the piece of clothing again and continuing their conversation like nothing had happened. She knew what her friend was doing, she didn't have to ask. But what she wanted to be when she grew up? Camila still didn't know. All she knew was that one day she hoped that she'd learn to care about herself even half as much as Lauren cared about her.

Whilst Lauren might not have been convinced, Camila wasn't lying, things were better at home... depending on what you would define as 'better'.

The incident with Lauren seemed to have given her mom the scare she needed, and Camila didn't know what she'd said to Donny after they'd left, but there must have been some sort of discussion because he'd barely laid a finger on her since. But whilst no one was physically hurting Camila any more, things were far from perfect. The built-up anger and unexplained hatred her mom and Donny both seemed to have for her still came out, just in ways less visible to the eyes of others. Their slaps were now made of vicious words rather than hands colliding with skin, their winding punches all to her self-esteem rather than to her gut. And whilst bruises fade away, bones heal the mind can hold onto words forever.

Camila and Lauren very rarely talk about what happened 'that' night. Camila was too ashamed whilst Lauren just didn't seem to know how to talk about it other than the occasional "Everything's ok, right Camz? You would tell me if it wasn't, right?" Or an equally as vague "Things at home still cool yeah?". But whilst Lauren's words might have been lacking, her actions said everything they needed to. Since the incident, Camila has pretty much had her undivided attention, Lauren's other friends barely get a second glance at school and when three thirty rolls around every day, she always insists that Camila comes back to her house to hang out and do homework. She also demands that the brown eyed girl stays over most weekends too, an offer that she is always more than willing to accept. And for the first time, Camila is starting to feel like Lauren's world might actually revolve around her too.

The end of sophomore year is approaching, and Camila is in the Jauregui household more often than not these days. And whilst she thinks it's nice to sit around the dining room table with Lauren's parents and siblings, eating dinner and pretending that she's actually part of a real family, it sometimes just makes her heart ache. She watches from the side-lines, in awe of the way Lauren looks up to her parents and the undeniable bond they have, not to mention the protectiveness of her father, a man who would very clearly die for his children if he had to.

It makes Camila happy for her friend, but at the same time it also makes her feel jealous too. Jealous that she'd never got to experience this, jealous that it could never really be hers. But still, Camila would sit around the table having dinner with them and for a moment she would let herself pretend. Pretend that this really was her life. Pretend that she does have a mother's hands wrap comfortingly around her body, rather than viciously around her neck with a hatred in her eyes that to this day, Camila still couldn't seem to make herself mirror. Because whilst Camila despises her mom for the things she does, but also the things she doesn't do, she still struggles to find the ability to blame her. She understands her mom is damaged too and as selfish as addiction is, it's still a disease of the mind, whether people who haven't experienced it see it that way or not.