17 - Color

                                    

                                          
Lauren had often been given the chance to choose to be happy and it was just a matter of unabashedly taking it or not amid the shadowy, gray crevice that was her new life.
                          
Then again, it was never really a mere yes or no question. 
                          
Life was a tad more complicated than that. With emotions and lessons of the past involved, it was one heck of a concoction - one that could just screw a person over and then some. 
                          
Choices often come with pros and cons, and most times, they don't just end there. Door A could look significantly brighter than Door B but who's to say it wasn't rigged with traps - granting, it wasn't already an illusion that would collapse immediately after taking the first step. 
                          
Besides, treacherous beginnings could be concealing incredible journeys and the cowards would only be missing out on the time of their lives by choosing the easier route.
                          
And as far as Camila was concerned, Lauren was expected to choose between betraying her principles and ending what would rightfully be called her misery.
                          
Under normal circumstances, being involved with a married woman was out of the question. 
                          
But it was Camila and that alone was enough of a reason for Lauren to explore what would be called...decadent; sinful and debauched.
                          
At that point, Lauren wished there was some small yellow book on how to navigate life for dummies, much like a new driver's manual with all the road signs to keep you steadily cruising down the lane. But of course, everyone has their own journey to traverse and nobody really learns from another person's mistakes. 
                          
Not really. 
                          
No one can experience the full extent of tragedy and compel them to avert their blunders unless they were drenched in it firsthand.
                          
There wasn't any fun in living vicariously, anyway. 
                          
It'd be a shame to only witness unbridled love instead of being inebriated by it. 
                          
And if the choice was between Camila and everything else, Lauren needed conviction and resolution. Because Camila came with a lot of things; some that she might not be ready for.
                          
And Lauren wasn't the kind of person who would carelessly shrug consequences; she considers them.
                          
But right in that moment, while holding Camila in her arms, her perturbed thoughts had been momentarily cloaked by the warmth of the professor's touch. They were not permanently erased but at times, temporary was all it took to focus on the present and experience happiness in its entirety without anything to hinder it. 
                          
In one of the most important days of her life, Camila sought comfort in Lauren and it was a surreal that she could.
                          
Camila's grip around Lauren's neck was firm and purposeful, and the way she nuzzled her face beneath her ex-girlfriend's jaw, breathing her scent, was unmistakably deliberate. It was as if she was seeking to congregate the broken shards of her heart, igniting the process of putting them back together a piece at a time and Lauren would be the adhesive that would stick them in place. 
                          
It would take more than just a hug but they were running after progress, and progress was what they got.
                          
But Lauren feared that it'll fade. 
                          
She feared that as soon as they let go, whatever was built in their embrace would loudly shatter like glass and the noise would make her cringe. She could almost picture those cold chocolate pools piercing her skin despite how misplaced they might be considering brown had always been a warm color. 
                          
She wasn't looking forward to the chills of the "respectable distance" that Camila would create - the excruciating plummet of her longing heart or the biting cold fangs of dread that would freeze her skin over.