It's A Long Ride Home, I'm Afraid. {Camren} ✔️

~{4}~

Lauren's POV

An empty condo. An empty glass and bottle of wine sitting by the sink.

My parents didn't raise me to be an alcoholic, but they also didn't raise me thinking I'd turn out as successful as I did.

And with success comes stress, and with stress comes the need to relieve yourself.

For me, alcohol was my only comfort.

I was ashamed of my lifestyle, and that's why I took a bit of a break to live in New York City for a while.

Everyday had been a constant struggle between trying to hide my habits and making sure I stayed sober enough so that I could actually go out in public.

To escape from the LA life was a blessing, and living that life was a curse.

My manager Normani was actually okay with my three month departure. Said that as long as I wrote at least an album's worth of songs while I was gone, it would be enough of a compromise.

I had fallen into a lyrical slump, however, and I was bad at keeping promises.

So far I'd written one song, and that was about it.

I had two months left before I had to return. Seems like a lot of time, but I'm telling you it flies much faster than you might think.

Out of nowhere, a text popped up on my phone.

I picked up the device to read it:

"Yo. It's Camila."

As drunk as I was, my conscience was still able enough to tell me that it wouldn't be a good idea to reply in my current state.

Better to answer back when I was hungover rather than when I was flat out wasted.

I threw my phone to the ground and flopped face down onto my bed.

How pathetic.

Camila's POV

Pathetic Cabello. Absolutely pathetic.

I mean, what the hell kind of text was that to send? With no follow up or anything?

Yo is like something I'd use with the homies. Lauren wasn't homie status.

I figured Lauren must've been pretty disgusted, because I didn't receive a text back for hours.

Beginning to fear that my life was slowly starting to revolve around the singer, I decided to turn on the TV and watch the news or some shit.

And that's when the pain began throbbing in my chest.

An episode. With sickle cell anemia, you have plenty of them. There can be pain in the joints basically anywhere.

I usually got them in the chest or in the lower back.

"Fuck.." I breathed, practically tripping over the couch. I was trying to reach the bottle of aspirin in my medicine cabinet.

Falling to the ground, I grasped my shirt where the pain was most significant.

It had never been this bad before.

Trying with all my might, I propped myself up on one knee and used a nearby table for support.

And that's when Dinah suddenly barged in.

I knew I forgot something. The door was completely unlocked.

"Hey Camila, I—oh."

She stared at me for a moment before quickly running over to help me back up.