Grease (Camila/You)

.20

9:27 pm, Tuesday
The Y/LN Residence
Venice, California 1959

Y/N slowly pulled into the driveway of her childhood home, a house that no longer felt comforting to her anymore. Switching off her headlights and killing the engine, she could see the living room lights on, a shadow behind the window curtain, and before she knew it, her mother's tired face poked out from behind them, checking who had just pulled up.

Y/N rubbed her brow and sighed, watching as surprise filled her mom's face. She disappeared behind the curtain and not soon enough did she reappear at the front door, pulling it open and waiting quietly. Y/N felt her insides churn, from both uncomfortableness and anxiety. The last  memory she had with her mom was violent and infuriating, and Y/N couldn't ignore it as it replayed through her head. It was only a few weeks ago, and Y/N's cut was still healing from her mother's ring.

"Dammit," she whispered, opening her door and grabbing her shades, sliding them over her face to hide the red gash, even though the sun had set hours before. She closed the door, putting off turning around to her mother as she grabbed her cigarette carton and stuck one between her lips. She slowly turned around as she raised the lighter, avoiding Allie's longing gaze as she took her first steps towards the house.

Y/N had figured her mother had been getting drunk every night, and condemning her fate to whatever god she believed in. She could picture the woman raising her glass of scotch to the stars and heard the vulgar words escaping her lips.

And drink, did her mother. A new bottle every night until Allie Y/LN passed out in whatever part of the house she was in. But she didn't condemn her daughter. She drank in mourning of their broken relationship, finding her only escape from the pain in that sting of alcohol. The night Y/N had left, it was only a drunken sleep and the morning air that brought Allie to her senses.

Y/N took a long drag of her cigarette, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other as she neared her awaiting mother.

Allie opened her mouth to say something as Y/N stopped in front of the porch stairs. Y/N grabbed the cigarette from her mouth and let her hand drop to her side, a cloud of smoke leaving her mouth. She could hardly see her mother's expression through her dark sunglasses, but she was afraid to take them off.

Tears had already gathered in Allie's eyes as she saw her daughter's cold face, wishing she could look into a pair of Y/E/C eyes that she should've been more familiar with then she currently was.

"Y/N—" She got out, quietly, but loud enough for the 17 year-old to hear. She couldn't think of anything else to say, and yet she knew she had million ideas. Nothing came out, and as Y/N shook her head and stepped onto the porch, Allie held her hand out, touching her daughter's arm.

Y/N flinched, moving her arm completely out of the way. Her breathing had become deep and ragged as she looked at Allie's hand, who had retracted it like she were touching a scared animal. Y/N took a moment before straightening herself out, fixing her jacket and pushing past her mother into the house.

She could feel her Allie on her heels, and the impatient way she was following after her.

"Baby, please—"

There was a slight pause as Y/N stopped and turned towards her, but it was like she decided against saying something as she continued to walk. She didn't want to talk, frankly the whole situation was becoming unbearable and Y/N just wanted to see Camila.

"Look, I'm sorry," Allie frantically got out. "I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—I didn't want to hurt you." She stuttered, her hands shaking as she tried to usher her nerves away. "And I have no excuse. There's no excuse for how I acted, not just now, but since M-michael died." She had trouble mentioning it. "You have every right to hate me right now, but please, just talk to me."