Blame It On Bad Luck (Camren)

Chapter 16

a/n: trigger warning, to be on the safe side

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Empty beds were nothing new.

Camila had picked up on that fairly quickly and never questioned it. It didn't make much sense to dwell or be bothered when she would most likely see the girl ten seconds later in the living room or the kitchen or something.

It was probably stranger when she would wake up and Lauren would still be in the bed with her, not that they spent every night in bed together...

After spending a majority of her day crying in some sort of long overdue mental breakdown, Camila figured it was about comfort more than anything, which was weird considering the nature of their relationship. But she didn't question sleeping with her roommate in a completely nonsexual way.

It was actually kind of nice. But she would never admit that out loud.

She did, however, question the constant fidgeting beside her until the covers were chaotically thrown off and Lauren stumbled out of bed, nearly knocking Camila over the edge in the process.

Hair messy and eyes still half-closed, she craned her neck with a less than thrilled glare toward the bedroom door, silently cursing the girl for inconsiderately waking her up. And her annoyance lasted all of four and a half seconds when she heard what sounded like extremely painful retching coming from—what she hoped was—the bathroom.

"Laur-" She stopped and cleared her throat so her voice would be at least one volume above a gasp for air. "Lauren? You okay?"

It was stupid to expect a response, and really she was just so tired. But her good nature, at the very core of her being, wouldn't allow her to just ignore someone who was clearly in distress—not that there was much she could do to help.

But she was getting up and padding over to the bathroom clumsily, still trying to find her footing first thing in the...whatever time of day it was.

"Wow," seemed to be the only thing she could say while Lauren, not so gracefully face-in-toilet, heaved and coughed while white-knuckling the side of the seat with one hand, holding her hair in a makeshift ponytail in the other. "You look terrible."

She grabbed a fistful of toilet paper and wiped her mouth after spitting as many times as she could to get the taste off her tongue. The sweat beading at her forehead and the sides of her face only highlighted her pale skin and lips.

"Shut up."

"Sorry," she mumbled, rubbing some of the sleep out of her eyes. Lauren leaned back against the medicine cabinet under the sink and shut her own eyes tightly, desperately trying to ignore the pain shooting through her head and her body—like an elephant was standing on top of her, crushing her organs one by one and she was left to vomit up the remains.

"Fuck." Her breathing was shallow and she constantly pulled at the fabric of her shirt that seemed to have been sweat through.

"Hey, come on; let's get you off the floor."

"No." Her hand was up quicker than her words came out. And Camila stayed frozen in her spot, looking on with worried eyes and furrowed brows.

"Lauren..."

"Just stop, please." It would have sounded more serious, a little intimidating even, if she wasn't trembling with her arm wrapped around her stomach and on the brink of actual tears.

"What can I do?"

"Nothing. Can you please get out?" Her jaw clenched as another wave of nausea hit her and she drew in an unsteady breath, turning her head away from her roommate who—much to her displeasure—was apparently refusing to move. "Camz, please."