Bad Nights Still Happen
Pairing: Cameron Cassmore x female reader
Summary: You find him in a very vulnerable state. And he feels ashamed for you seeing him like this.
Warnings: hurt/comfort. dating Cameron. crying. healing. love confessions. mental health. lonely people healing each other. no use of y/n.
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The soup is probably getting cold.
You realize that halfway to Cameron’s house, hands curled carefully around the container balanced on the passenger seat beside you.
Tomato soup and grilled cheese wrapped in foil. Because Cameron once admitted, almost sheepishly, that he mostly survives on takeout and cereal when nobody reminds him to eat properly.
And because loving someone, you’re beginning to learn, sometimes looks very small.
Showing up without being asked to. A porch light left on. Remembering the things they say casually.
The house is dark when you pull up. Not completely, because the warm kitchen light glows faintly through one of the windows.
Good. He’s awake.
Rain taps softly against your umbrella as you walk up the porch steps balancing the food carefully in your arms.
You knock once. No answer. You try the handle gently. Unlocked.
“Cameron?” you call softly as you step inside.
The house smells faintly like coffee and dish soap. A loud crash explodes from somewhere deeper inside the house.
You jump violently. “Cameron!?”
Nothing. Your stomach drops instantly. You hurry toward the sound, heart pounding now. “Cameron!”
Still nothing. Then you round the corner into the kitchen ... and stop abruptly.
A ceramic bowl lies shattered across the floor. One of the chairs has been knocked sideways. And Cameron ...
Oh God.
Cameron is standing at the kitchen counter with both hands braced against it like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.
His shoulders are shaking. He doesn’t even notice you at first. He’s crying so hard he can barely breathe. Not quiet tears. Not movie tears.
The kind that come from somewhere deep and ugly and exhausted. Like his whole body finally gave out trying to carry something too heavy alone.
Your heart breaks instantly. “Cameron…”
His head jerks up. For one awful second, pure panic flashes across his face. Like he’s horrified you’re seeing him like this.
He turns away immediately, wiping harshly at his face. “I’m fine.”
The lie barely survives the shaking in his voice. You set the food down quickly on the nearest counter. “Hey,” you say softly. “Hey, it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” His laugh comes out cracked and miserable. “Jesus Christ.”
He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes hard enough to hurt. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t know you were coming.”
The apology nearly kills you. Like this is somehow inconvenient for you.
You step carefully around the broken ceramic pieces. “What happened?”
Cameron shakes his head immediately. “Nothing.”
Another lie. His chest is heaving too hard for “nothing.” You glance at the shattered bowl. Then at him and suddenly you understand. Not the exact reason., just the feeling.
One thing too many. One thought too loud. One moment where holding yourself together becomes impossible.
Bad nights still happen. Even when you’re healing. Especially then, sometimes.
“Cameron,” you say gently.
And something in your voice must crack through whatever wall he’s trying to build because suddenly his face folds in on itself again.
“I was doing okay,” he whispers.
Your chest aches so hard it feels physical. “I know.”
“I was.” Tears spill down his face again immediately, frustrated now. “I don’t even know what happened. I just…” He gestures helplessly toward the kitchen. “I dropped the stupid bowl and then suddenly I couldn’t -”
His breath catches violently. “I couldn’t stop thinking.”
You move closer slowly. “What were you thinking about?”
He laughs bitterly to himself. “All of it.” The words come wrecked. “My mom. My dad. The years I wasted. The fact that I still feel like I’m twelve years old pretending to be a person half the time.”
Your eyes sting instantly. Cameron shakes his head hard.
“And the worst part is I thought maybe I was getting better.” His voice cracks. “But then nights like this happen and it feels like I’m still broken underneath everything.”
“No,” you say immediately.
But he keeps going like he can’t stop now that it’s finally coming out. “I’m tired,” he whispers. “I’m so tired of feeling lonely all the time.”
The room goes painfully quiet. Because there it is. The real wound underneath all of it. Loneliness.
An ache that never fully leaves.
You reach him carefully then. Your hands settle softly against his arms. Cameron goes still immediately. Not pulling away. Just… stunned somehow.
“You are not broken because you had a bad night,” you whisper.
His eyes close hard. “But it keeps happening.”
“Yes,” you say softly. “Because healing isn’t linear.”
He laughs weakly through tears. “That sounds like something from a therapy poster.”
“Probably,” you admit quietly. “Still true.”
Cameron’s breathing shakes unevenly. “I hate this,” he whispers.
“I know.”
“I hate that you’re seeing me like this.”
Your heart cracks clean open. “Cameron.”
He finally looks at you. Completely devastated. Completely human. And somehow you’ve never loved him more.
“You know what I see?” you ask softly. He shakes his head once. “I see someone who’s trying.”
Emotion flashes painfully across his face.
“You keep waking up every day,” you continue gently. “You keep letting people care about you even though it scares you. You keep hoping things might feel better someday.”
A tear slips down his cheek.
“That’s not weakness.”
His mouth trembles slightly. “You came over with soup,” he whispers suddenly, voice breaking again.
You blink. “What?”
“I saw the container.”
Your chest aches. “Yeah,” you murmur.
Cameron lets out this tiny wounded sound that almost doesn’t sound human at all. Like kindness hurts him sometimes. “You’re so good to me.”
The words unravel something in you instantly. You step closer without thinking and wrap your arms around him. And for a second Cameron freezes.
Like he forgot people are allowed to hold him when he falls apart. Then suddenly he’s clutching you back hard enough to shake. His face buries against your shoulder. And he cries. The kind someone only does when they’re exhausted from pretending they’re okay.
You hold him through all of it. Your hand moving slowly up and down his back. “It’s okay,” you whisper softly. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
“I’m sorry,” he chokes out.
“No.” You pull back just enough to look at him. “No apologizing for hurting.”
His eyes shine miserably. “But you came over and now I’m -”
“You’re human,” you interrupt gently.
Silence. Rain taps softly against the windows. The kitchen light hums quietly overhead.
Cameron’s breathing begins to settle. He still looks wrecked. But less alone.
A few minutes later, you’re both sitting on the kitchen floor beside the broken bowl. The soup is warming on the stove now.
Cameron’s shoulder rests lightly against yours. “I really thought getting happier meant this part would disappear,” he admits quietly.
You glance at him. “The sadness?”
He nods.
You lean your head gently against his shoulder. “I think maybe it just gets easier not to face it alone.”
Cameron goes very still beside you. Then his fingers slowly find yours. Holding on carefully.
Outside, rain continues falling softly through the dark. The soup sits half-finished on the coffee table. Neither of you has touched it in several minutes.
The rain outside has softened now, turning the whole house quiet except for the occasional creak of pipes and the low hum of the lamp beside the couch.
Cameron sits hunched forward slightly, elbows on his knees. Still tired. Still emotionally wrung out. But calmer now.
You’re tucked against his side beneath a blanket, your hand absentmindedly tracing slow patterns against the sleeve of his sweater.
For a while, he just watches your fingers move. Then he says “I didn’t mean it like that.”
You look up slightly. “Hmm?”
Cameron swallows hard. “When I said I feel lonely all the time.”
Oh? Your chest tightens immediately.
He won’t meet your eyes. “I don’t want you thinking…” He laughs weakly to himself. “God, I don’t even know how to explain this right.”
“You can try.”
Silence stretches for a moment. Then Cameron exhales shakily.
“You make me happier than anyone ever has,” he says quietly. “Like, by a lot.” Emotion flickers softly through you.
“But sometimes the sadness is still there anyway.” His voice sounds ashamed of it. “And I got scared you’d hear that and think you weren’t enough.”
Your heart breaks a little. Not because of what he said. Because of how guilty he looks saying it. You shift immediately, turning toward him fully beneath the blanket.
“Cameron.” His eyes finally lift to yours. “I know exactly what you meant.”
He blinks slightly. “You do?”
“Yes.” Your fingers slide gently through his. “Sadness like that doesn’t disappear just because something beautiful enters your life,” you whisper. “It’s not a reflection of how much you care about me.”
His face softens slowly as he listens.
“You can feel deeply for someone completely,” you continue quietly, “and still carry grief. Or loneliness. Or old wounds.”
Cameron’s throat bobs hard.
“I think people like us…” You smile sadly. “We feel things deeply. The good and the bad.”
His eyes shine slightly at that.
“And honestly?” you murmur. “I never once heard you say I wasn’t enough.”
A shaky breath leaves him.
“I heard someone scared that they’re too damaged to enjoy being loved properly.”
That one hits him hard. You can see it. His expression crumples around the edges.
“Hey,” you whisper softly. “Look at me.”
He does.
“You never make me feel unwanted.” Your thumb brushes gently across his knuckles. “You make me feel seen.”
The silence after that feels fragile somehow. Cameron stares at you like he’s trying to absorb every word directly into his bloodstream. Then suddenly he laughs quietly to himself.
“What?”
He shakes his head once. “It’s just…” His voice turns rough unexpectedly. “I don’t know how you do this.”
“Do what?”
“Understand me.”
Your chest aches warmly. Because that’s all lonely people really want, isn’t it? To be understood without having to translate themselves first.
“You understand me too,” you whisper.
Cameron looks down at your joined hands for a long moment. Then very softly he whispers “I love you.”
The words slip out accidentally. You can tell immediately. The second he says them, his entire body stills. Like he didn’t even realize they were waiting there.
His eyes widen slightly. “Oh.”
Your heart practically stops. Cameron looks genuinely stunned with himself. “I—” he stammers quietly. “I didn’t mean to just—”
But you’re already smiling. Like some part of you already knew. And that expression completely undoes him.
“You don’t have to take it back,” you whisper.
His face warms immediately. “I wasn’t going to,” he admits after a second.
Your eyes sting a little. Cameron shakes his head softly, almost overwhelmed now.
“I just…” He looks at you helplessly. “I really love you.”
The honesty in his voice nearly cracks your heart wide open. You move closer without thinking, your hand sliding gently against his cheek.
“I love you too.”
Cameron closes his eyes for one tiny second like hearing that physically hurts in the best way. Then he leans into your touch instinctively. So trusting. So careful with his heart.
He kisses you.
And it’s tender in the most devastating way imaginable. Not desperate or hurried. Just Cameron holding your face like something precious while his mouth moves softly against yours.
Like he’s trying to say every feeling he’s ever struggled to put into words. The kiss tastes faintly like rain and cooled-off soup and relief.
Your fingers slip into the hair at the back of his neck, and Cameron melts immediately at the touch, a tiny broken sound escaping him before he can stop it.
The sound nearly ruins you. Because nobody’s ever kissed you like this either. Like they’re grateful for your existence. Like they’re kissing a person instead of trying to take something.
Cameron pulls back only slightly, forehead still resting against yours.
His eyes stay closed for a second longer. Like he wants to live inside this moment forever.
“I thought maybe the lonely feeling meant something was wrong with me,” he admits quietly.
You brush your thumb beneath his eye softly. “No,” you whisper. “I think it just means you’ve spent a long time carrying things alone.” His breathing catches slightly. “But you don’t anymore.”
And something in Cameron finally eases at that. Not completely. Healing never works that way.
But enough. Enough for him to pull you gently into his arms again. Enough for him to rest his forehead against yours again with this tiny, disbelieving smile.
Enough for the loneliness to loosen its grip for one quiet moment.
Outside, rain continues falling softly through the dark. But inside?
Wrapped together beneath warm lamplight and half-forgotten soup and trembling confessions love settles carefully between two aching people who finally found someone willing to stay.
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Thank you so much for reading! All interactions are highly appreciated 💙
🥲 I want this. All of this. Every day of my life.
