a/n: this was originally meant to be an interlude for my story, a supercut of us , but it also works as a standalone so i decided to post it separately.
the context is that Camila is working through her feelings for Lauren while making music for CC2, so there's a lyric associated with every scene.
there's a playlist of the songs whose lyrics are referenced/adapted in the order they appear, if you like reading while listening to music:
https://open.spotify.com/user/0gkloeja4lyza9rvhk4ouzwbx/playlist/3HbxoHwc43NY8XEo2w0QCr?si=eoBndRZmS2Gy3C0OWXTN5w
(copy+paste from wattpad is a pain, so if you wanna bother, my spotify profile is mjfeelz and you can find everything in my public playlists)
there's a few lines in Spanish, but you can find the translations in the comments <3
-------------------------
The stereotypical heart shape was meant to be two hearts fused together." - Anonymous
2016.
have no fear / for when i'm alone / i'll be better off than i was before
It's December 19th 2016 and Camila is alone on her bed, tears streaming down her face. She knew it was coming, she knew what was coming, but she still somehow wasn't prepared for how it would hit her, a punch breaking through her chest to squeeze her heart and burn her lungs.
Fifth Harmony's first statement had been so dry and she had hers ready to go for the sake of whatever circus their management had set up, even though she'd waited several hours until she posted it.
Now there's a second Fifth Harmony statement and she hadn't been expecting that. Each line brings with it a new set of tears and she isn't sure there's enough water in her body for all the pain she's carrying inside.
Everything is ugly. So, so ugly, and unnecessarily cruel too, to all the fans caught blindsided and who held on to the band in its original formation for many different reasons.
She doesn't know where it all went wrong. She doesn't like thinking about how much of it might be her responsibility – something to be blamed on her dreams, her ambition, her desire for freedom. On her broken heart and her brutal reactions to it.
It doesn't matter.
The leap of faith has been taken and a new life is about to begin.
*
i tried to say that i was sorry to you / but you don't think i speak honestly / that's okay 'cause i can move on now
Camila passes past Dinah and Normani hugging in the hallway and rushes to their dressing room, eager to get rid of her stage outfit and just... leave. Lucy is there – of course she is – but Camila only offers a small smile to the girl's awkward wave.
They both know what's about to happen, there's no point in playing pretend.
She throws her Florida Panthers jersey to the floor and quickly changes into the clothes her mom had packed for her earlier. Not so fast she doesn't get to see Lauren walking in and rolling her eyes at her one last time before approaching Lucy.
Camila scoffs at the childishness. So many nights of secrets shared and kisses stolen reduced to spite and resentment. She can't resist staring for a moment though; can't resist one final bout of masochism as she watches Lauren hide her face in the crook of Lucy's neck and swallow a sob; can't resist the tug at her heartstrings that makes her move closer instead of away, resting a hesitant hand on the small of Lauren's back.
"I'm sorry," she whispers, to Lucy's nod of acknowledgment and Lauren's sharp intake of breath.
She leaves then, practically running out of the venue until she's halted by a familiar voice:
"That's it?" Dinah asks, a hurt, offended edge to her tone. "You're just gonna bolt? Without even saying goodbye?"
"Cheechee." Camila sighs, turning to see her friend's face washed in tears. "Isn't this already hard enough?"
"Just come over here and give me a hug, you asshole," Dinah orders, hands frantic in their beckoning.
Camila does as she's told, and she cries in Dinah's arms all the farewells she'd avoided, all the apologies she'd left unsaid and all the excuses she'd come up with for how much pain she'd caused everyone.
*
you were fashionably sensitive / but too cool to care
When their tour manager walks into the studio they're rehearsing at to tell them Lauren isn't going to perform with them because she's been detained at Dulles Airport for weed possession, Camila laughs for hours.
She isn't even sure why she laughs so hard, it just seems like such a Lauren thing to happen and she can't help how she feels amused, annoyed and endeared, all at the same time.
Normani is really angry and Ally shrugs it off as if it doesn't bother her. Dinah joins Camila in her laughter and the jokes about Orange is the New Black and 420 and Lauren as a sloppy dealer keep coming until it's time for the concert.
The Brazilians are loud and loving as usual, exuberant in their enjoyment of the music, and making Camila smile from the moment she steps on stage.
It almost makes up for how they scream for Lauren and Camila lets a "Sing it for my girl!" slip out that sobers her mood.
The emptiness in her chest for what's about to be the definite end of the story of her and Lauren doesn't quite let her smile as brightly again.
*
it's time to trust my instincts / close my eyes / and leap
Roger calls her when she's cuddled up with her mom and Ashlee, watching Little Miss Sunshine.
"Have you checked Twitter?!"
She yawns into the receiver, not to be mean on purpose, but because she's tired and the mere thought of social media is emotionally draining. "I was watching a movie, so no. Do you need me to do some damage control? Did anything happen?"
"Camila, Bad Things just got to number one on iTunes!" the man yells, more excited than a pre-schooler at Disneyland. "This is great news! Everything we've fought so hard for! You're gonna be huge and this is just the beginning!"
She squeals, energy levels suddenly in hyper mode, and shares the news with the two women present, who scream as loud as she does, clapping and jumping about for the embarrassing whole of ten minutes.
Hours later, when she finds her way to bed, she's still ecstatic. More than the success of the song, it's the hope that maybe, just maybe, for at least this one time, the huge chance she's about to take won't end in a complete failure.
*
the love she receives is the love that is mine
Camila has been staring for what feels like an eternity at the same Billboard article open on her MacBook, Lauren's words going around in circles inside her head: 'I am a bisexual Cuban-American woman and I am so proud of it.'
She saw it coming, obviously. Lauren had been itching to be out and about as soon as she'd gotten Lucy between her sheets and, after those kissing pictures had been leaked, it was only a matter of time until the world was certain of what many already suspected.
Expecting it wasn't making it any easier though. Camila's been fluctuating between extreme jealousy, unadulterated rage and paralyzing sadness ever since setting eyes on those stupid photos.
A wedding. Lauren had taken Lucy as a date to her uncle's wedding and proceeded to kiss her in front of everyone, in front of her family. With Camila, only their bandmates knew, and that was mostly because it is kind of difficult to hide certain sounds in a tour bus.
Now everyone knows. Lauren's deepest darkest secret, something she'd kept even from herself, is out in the open. Camila blinks, grabbing her phone to check Twitter. Her entire timeline is congratulating Lauren, crying over Lauren, declaring their love for Lauren.
Everyone except Lucy, that is.
It makes Camila wonder. About Lucy and how much she'd agreed to this. About herself and how much she isn't sure she'd enjoy being involved in this. The idea of queer kids having someone to look up to warms her heart, but she isn't quite so fond of how the world isn't ready for people that stray from the norm. She doesn't want to be known as 'bisexual singer Camila Cabello' or as 'pansexual singer Camila Cabello' – does the general public even know what pansexual is? She doesn't want to have fans and interviewers alike badgering her about her sexuality and love life. She is proud to carry the Latinx flag – so much of her, of who she is, is her culture –, but she doesn't think of her sexuality as an important part of herself.
In truth, so much of her sexual discovery journey was done together with and relating to Lauren that she has learned to separate herself from her sexuality. She has distanced herself from it to a degree where she barely thinks of it as something pertaining to her, more as something that vaguely concerns her on very bad days.
She pretends it's normal to disregard your sexuality – after all, isn't that what heterosexual people do? – and goes back to scrolling down her timeline like the masochist she's turned into, a bittersweet mix of being happy for Lauren and being irreparably annoyed at her.
When she finally sends out a 'Bravo @LaurenJauregui so proud of you', she lies, she lies, she lies.
*
it's too bad you had to have a better half / she's not really my type / but i think you two are forever / and i hate to say it, but you're perfect together
There's a diner right outside the area where the tour buses are parked and Camila is craving a banana shake like burning, so she makes a run for it when the choreographer gives them a 15-minute break. There's nobody in line so she rushes to the counter, a beam on her face as she orders her personal elixir of life.
"Camila!" she hears someone call just as she gets her drink, a voice she recognizes despite not caring to. She turns around slowly, preparing a smile she struggles to mask as real, and spots Lucy at a table by the window, a laptop and books spread in front of her. "Come sit. Are you on break?"
"Yeah," Camila answers, sliding down the other side of the booth. She folds both hands around the stem of the glass to stop them from fidgeting. Lucy's always made her nervous.
The fact that she's Lauren's girlfriend now has only made that worse.
"Let's say I didn't see Lauren's text," Lucy jokes, with a wink and a toothy grin. "You okay?" she adds, tilting her head to the side and replacing the grin with a frown.
"Of course," Camila says, a little too quickly, a bit too shakily. "Just tired."
Lucy doesn't seem to believe her, but to her credit, she doesn't push it. Instead, she starts talking about the summer readings she has to do for college and the extra readings she added to that because she's found this philosophical school of thought that she finds fascinating and she wants to learn about it as much as she can.
Camila just stares and listens, smiling and nodding in all the appropriate places, too aware of her heart breaking in pieces that are tinier and spikier than she ever thought possible.
Lucy is confident and witty and gorgeous and unbearably smart and Camila wants to hate her, but mostly she hates herself for all the ways she could never compare.
*
it felt like you really knew me / now it feels like you see through me
Going through with concerts has been hard lately. Their fans' love is inspiring and pumps her up, but pretending everything is okay – maintaining the illusion that keeps them invested in a group of five girls brought together by circumstance who became the best of friends – is taking a toll on her already not very stable emotional and mental state.
Today is particularly difficult. Something is off about Lauren, her smiles never quite reaching her eyes, her attention scattered and unfocused. Even after all this time, Camila is still hyper-aware of Lauren, of her movements and her moods, and so her heart inevitably shrinks in her chest when Lauren starts crying during No Way, her part taken over by the screaming audience.
Camila's instinct is to go to Lauren and hold her in her arms, but she can't do that and, seeing that Normani is approaching to offer support, she takes a deep breath and walks to the edge of the stage, sticking to whatever passes as No Way's choreography.
When the song finally, finally ends, she returns to the stage's staircase, halting close to where Lauren is sitting.
"You okay?" she mouths, fingers itching to touch her.
Lauren looks up, her eyes shining with the familiar glow that Camila knows only tears give them, and nods just once, averting her gaze right after as if that mere gesture had burned her.
It feels like a knife stabbing every place in Camila's body that had once been touched by Lauren and she recoils, stepping to the side and as far away from her as possible.
She hadn't expected to lose her best friend, their banter and their comfort, in the process of falling out of love.
(she never knew you could miss a person you see every day.)
*
why did you leave me here to burn? / i'm way too young to be this hurt / i feel doomed in hotel rooms staring straight up at the wall / counting wounds and i am trying to numb them all / do you care? do you care?
On a subconscious level, Camila knew Lucy was coming with them. It's hard not to when the girl was sitting two rows behind her on their flight to London to promote 7/27. On a more conscious level, it took seeing Lucy going up the stairs of the hotel entrance with Nala under her arm for Camila to get it.
A love so serious they're travelling together, risking the watchful public eye offering opinions and speculation. A love so serious Camila's unlocked doors have remained shut.
That night, she listens to them talking and laughing, sounds of joy and intimacy she's started to forget how to make, her eyes stubbornly focused on the wall of their adjacent rooms. It doesn't take long for those sounds to become something else and it's only then that Camila stands up, in a fit of bitterness and hatred, and locks herself in the bathroom.
Pain is an excellent conductor of art, they say.
It better fucking be, she thinks, desperately trying to match music notes to lyrics she would pay to never have felt the need to write.
*
if you don't need me / just let me go
"Kaki!" Sofi shouts, excitement interwoven through every syllable as she runs up the stairs. "Lauren is here!"
Camila frowns, setting down the book she'd been trying too hard to read on the bed, but Lauren is standing by the bedroom door before she has time to recover from the surprise.
"What are you doing here?" she asks, standing up too suddenly, like she's been caught red-handed.
(is it too much to dream Lauren is here because she misses her?)
"I saw the leak."
Camila scoffs, fists clenching so the pain of her nails digging her palms prevents the tears from coming. "You took the time to come to my house, during our vacations, to come yell at me because of my privacy being invaded?! After shutting me out of your life for months?!"
Lauren closes the door behind her and leans against it. There's an indecisive kind of scowl on her face, flickering from confused to angry and settling on disbelief.
"I just..." she tries to say, her tone low and lost, eyes locking with Camila's. "The N-word?"
Camila wishes – oh, how Camila wishes – that she could be calm and collected for this. But Lauren had pretty much been ignoring her since the start of her relationship with Lucy, and this is what she chooses as a reason to break the silence?
Fuck being calm and collected.
"I was 15!" she shouts, one fist uncurling so her hand is loose and wild in the space between them. "I'm sorry I didn't come out of the womb woke and illuminated like Jesus fucking Christ! I was born and raised among Latinos and you know how insidious racism can be in our community!"
Lauren winces, dropping her gaze to the floor.
"I was wrong, I made a mistake – I made lots of mistakes, as you can probably tell from living with me for almost four years and going through a leak you had no right to see!" She crosses her arms, trying to rein in her irritation without much success. "What's next? You're gonna scold me for insulting Ally? You're gonna talk to me from your high and mighty Lauren throne and pretend you never trash-talked any of us in texts with your friends? Pretend you never trash-talked me?"
"Ok, I have to give you that one, but you were just so mean about all of it," Lauren whines after a beat.
Camila huffs, not believing what she's hearing. "Oh, like you're so full of grace when you go on rants on Twitter?"
Lauren looks like she's about to retaliate but she thinks better of it. "I have no business being here, do I?" she asks instead, a flash of recognition sparking the amber specks of her eyes.
"You do not, Lauren. I have heard more than enough from Roger and Epic, I don't need you to rub more salt in the wound." Camila sighs, defensive posture deflating. "Why are you here?"
Lauren averts her eyes, bottom lip disappearing behind white, nervous teeth.
"It's because of Michael, isn't it?"
Lauren nods.
"You didn't know?"
Lauren nods again.
"Guess you were too busy prancing around with Lucy to notice," she can't help but jab. "It's over already anyway." There's an awkward minute of silence where they study each other like the almost lovers they once were and Camila feels young and naïve like she did then – for just a fleeting moment. "Why can't you let anyone want me?"
Not even you, she doesn't say.
Lauren looks startled by the question, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "This is stupid. I should go."
"You should," Camila agrees. "Be grateful I stopped breathing even a word about us on my phone or you'd be haunted by 'camren is real' until the end of your days," she adds spitefully to her retreating back.
The way Lauren flinches and freezes claws at something inside her chest; a whimsical longing, or a flimsy hope perhaps.
"Bye, Camila."
She watches her go, somehow surprised that her heart hasn't bled out given all the needles she allows Lauren to pierce through it.