Enclosed Letter [Camren]

7. "never real...Ever."

In a hotel room in Japan, the digital clock built into the bedside cabinet read 05:19, the sun was rising, soft light penetrating the sheer curtain.

Lauren hasn't slept the whole night, jet lag something she never quite got used to.

No, she didn't feel sleepy. But she was feeling so, so tired.

There's nothing like scrolling through twitter after a photoshoot with her best friend (who she sometimes hook up with) was released, Lauren concluded. She has always liked and hated social media at the same time: on one hand a powerful tool, on the other a disastrous wildfire. She couldn't decide which one it was this time.

Her timeline was quickly filled with photos of herself and her best friend. Lauren sighed, her friend was a talented photographer, and this shoot will surely help her gain more recognition, the reason why both Lucy and her agreed to release it, as mentioned in the interview. But the set of photos undoubtedly turned into something bittersweet.

They have always struggled between being just best friends or lovers. The problem was that each of them carried a different person in their hearts, unable to let go. This mutual understanding on unrequited love helped them form a better bond, but as a side effect, there was also this permanent gap between them.

Lauren has seen the photos, of course, but she still tapped on one particular photo to look, in which she had Lucy in her arms. Lucy was smiling, at the intimacy perhaps, and Lauren remembered how she herself had her eyes closed as the camera clicked, her back to it, her mind on someone else.

She really has to stop thinking of that Someone Else.

Sighing again, Lauren began to scroll down the tweets and comments, knowing that she was getting herself into trouble, never the one to hold herself back. What the hell, she thought, no one ever owned her voice anyway.

She started seeing a bunch of tweets mentioning the hashtag "LaucyPartyIsOver". Furrowing her brows, she tapped into the hashtag out of curiousity, her vision immediately flooded by a number of tweets mentioning what has been her krptonite for the last 2 years.

She looked away from the screen for a moment and took a deep breath, feeling her blood boil. Anger was her defense mechanism. Her heart raced in a pace that threatened to set her veins on fire.

One of them said, "This is why Lauren hates camren."

She could not withhold this implosion, her control dissolved into thin air.

She tapped away furiously at the tiny screen.

"no I hate it because- "

A pause, "because it was real," her fingers were frozen in place as her heart whispered, "and it hurts like hell right now looking back at it".

Lauren inhaled, trembling slightly. She could never wear her heart on her sleeve in an industry like this.

"because it's invasive, scary, delusional, disrespectful- "

The adjectives spilled underneath her fingertips like water, words she memorized to use in situations like this, to lie to everyone. She could not be careful enough or more prepared, accidentally admitting the truth would be too much: for herself, and for her.

"to us both-"

She gulped. What other time could she mention the two of them together as a collective "us" again? There was no future between "them". She made sure of it. "They" made sure of it. The world made sure of it.

"and was never real-"

Her fingers slowed as she fought to blink back tears. This would always be the truest lie she's ever told.

Their love ended up like this, how could Lauren tell if it was real?

"...Ever."

Her fingertips grazed the screen, each alphabet hurting a little bit more. This is the truth, she lied, as her thumb hovered over the blue, tweet button. This ends it all.

She applied extra pressure on the tap, just to drive her point home.

This is closure, she convinced herself as the wound on her heart reopened. She locked her phone and dropped it on the bedside cabinet. The clock reads 05:28, her eyelids are closed, but no, she's not sleepy.

She's just so, so tired.