Addicted | Camila x Reader / discontinued

Right?

My back burns like hell when I wake up the next morning. If I had any dignity left after being made to sleep on the sofas, it's gone now. The others came and went while I lay there, shaking, silently crying, wishing she'd come to lift me from the ground and tell me it's alright and forgive me, and hating myself for letting my own stupidity tear yet another person from the incredibly short list of those who love me. With no phone, I can't even text Ariana, the one person who might somewhat understand, for support, though I know she'd likely just berate me, too. 

I've always been good at zoning out. I'd do it all the time in rehab, sometimes for days at a time, especially after Ari left. I truly mastered it in the basement, though. I don't notice a thing unless it is deemed vital by whatever part of my brain controls my attention. I manage to slip into the state of mind the basement brought me much faster than the first time, taking only a matter of hours rather than months. Before long, I'm no longer aware of the setting sun, besides through the fact that my mind grows weary as my body slips to sleep. I don't really notice when the others pass by me, sending me odd looks and deep frowns. I'm a shell, though instead of waiting for my next meal, this time I'm waiting for her touch to sustain me, and I'm starving. My mind decides I should be conscious when Maria is led from the bus by Camila, who pulls behind her a small suitcase full of, presumably, her things which she is giving to Maria. A smile crosses my lips before I turn back to the worn carpet in front of me.

Camila is hesitant but pulls me up in the evening. I vaguely remember overhearing a conversation about me needing to go to the hotel with them, as the bus will be parked in a lot specifically for temporarily out-of-use buses overnight and security requires that nobody is aboard during those hours. I thought I'd come back to life when she touched me, but my brain remains foggy, even as she leads me to the hotel. I realise why when she tries to put me in with the other girls on her team, though they refuse, saying they're rooming with one another and there will be no spare beds besides in Camila's room.

I don't know when I get into the bed, but soon I'm watching her whizz about the room from my spot under the heavy covers; She's always more excited after a hometown show, I remember. Finally, she slides into the bed beside me, though she's still restless. After a moment, I hear her sigh heavily and lazily look across to her.

"Do you think Maria will be okay?" She asks, toying with her bottom lip. I'm distracted by the sight and can't help but fix my attention on the way she runs her fingertips across it. It seems more chapped than usual, with a small but deeply-irritated red patch on one end showing that it's split. She must take my silence for a refusal to answer, as she snaps her head around to face me. Whatever she was going to say gets stuck in her throat, though, and I quickly scramble up a response.

"She's with your parents, isn't she?"

Camila nods, shifting her body into a slightly different position.

"She'll be fine."

I turn to the TV screen across from us, reflecting our faces on its black surface. There are meters between us on the large mattress. The world blurs again.

"You stopped, didn't you?" I can't quite see her, but I can hear her clearly. I nod, and she hums. "I heard Larsen on the phone. He sounded pissed... What did you agree to?"

My brows furrow. "Nothing."

"Then how'd it work between you?"

"He just gave me stuff, I don't know why." I pause, refocusing my eyes on her face, though hesitant to do so. "But I stopped... because I have you back now, right?"

Her lips part, but her phone buzzes. She practically leaps from the bed to answer it, slipping into the hallway to speak. I huff and roll onto my side, pulling the covers up over my head. I don't manage to fall asleep, but I pretend to be when she reenters the room. The mattress dips behind me, but her warmth doesn't press against me like it used to. She whispers my name, but not a nickname. I realise the answer to my question is no, not really, not yet, and, with a frown etched into my face, I fall asleep.

...

I wake up by a hand pushing against my shoulder, and a cold breeze swirling around my warm body. I realise she's pushing me off of her, and withhold a sigh as she rolls me back onto my side of the bed without a word. I figure I'll go back to sleep, the duvet preventing any hint of daylight from hitting my eyelids, but soon notice a rather quiet sound coming from the other end of the room. It's a rather enthusiastic sounding woman with the pinnacle of a valley girl accent.

"Cabello is yet to give us any explanation for what we saw, but we have our theories. I mean... it sure looks like something, uh, all too familiar." Laughter bubbles from behind the camera, I'm assuming, and she laughs too, an annoying cackle that has me grimacing. "Right? I mean, come on! Anyways, many of her fans have taken to Twitter to defend her. Here are some tweets; see, this fan says, 'it's probably one of those heat pads again, remember?'... eh. Others are going as far as saying 'you *bleep* say you care about Mila but you think it's fine to jump to conclusions and assume things you don't know *bleep* about. If you loved Mila you'd let her explain on her own, in her own time.'"

"Jump to conclusions--" a male voice pipes in, scoffing, "Listen, all I'm saying is a know a *bleep* when I see one. Now all those girls she's seen with make a lot more sense." The laughter starts again, and I clench my jaw, listening as Camila shifts behind me. "I think it's time Cabello comes clean about wha--"

Stillness befalls the room, followed by a small clatter that sounds like she's dropped the remote but still makes me flinch. If she notices, she doesn't act on it. I listen as her footsteps pad away from the bed, soft profanities following her, before peering out from under the covers. I catch sight of the en suite door slamming shut before I have to duck below the blanekts once more, eyes stinging from the sunlight that pours in through a gap in the curtains. Sighing, I sprawl out on my back, straining my ears to listen to what she's doing. For a moment, I think I catch some quiet humming, but it fades to silence before I can really tune into it.