When The Canary Sings

Life Is Good, Really, Really, Good.

First Person Point of View: Becca Blue:

* 

"What're you doin'?" Will mumbled, his whole body buried beneath my pillows and blankets as he laid still in my bed. The chill of fall had just started to settle in, which meant my tank tops became sweaters or big jackets.

I looked at him through the mirror as I tried out the new makeup that Ophelia had sent to me. It was a liquid red lipstick, a palette of green, gold, and black eyeshadow, a few pens of eyeliner, and a few brushes. "Makeup." I smile, painting the lipstick onto my face, surprisingly, I had gotten really good at it. The darkness of my mascara perfectly contrasts the red lipstick.

I see him poke his head out of his pillow and blanket nest to look over. I laugh and continue to layer the red lipstick onto my lips, getting the perfect shade of red. Once I'm done, I walk over and rip the blankets off him. The golden sun was shining through my curtains, signaling sundown. "You've been in my bed all day." I laugh, "how 'bout we go down to the Hob, play out a few songs?"

"No." He persists, sitting up, his eyes staring at my rep lips. "You can't overwork yourself. The doctor said so."

"It's been a month, and the doctor said I could." I smirk, plopping down next to him.

"You need to rest."

"I rested enough."

"Beccaaaaaa," he groans, turning to face me. "You like–never give yourself a break. Where's the shame in taking a little bit off?!" He asks, and I groan, rolling my head.

"I just like to be busy." I shrug, facing him as he looks at me with those sky blue eyes that were able to knock me down. "C'mon, just the slow songs...?" I say, planting a kiss on his cheek. When I pull away, I notice the bright red lipstick mark resting on his cheek. I swallow a laugh.

"What?" Will asks, catching me laughing while staring at him. "Whaaaatttt?"

"Nothing!" I smile, kissing another spot on his cheek, leaving another mark. Just seeing my marks on his skin are enough to make me laugh out loud. He whips his head towards the mirror, and catches a glimpse of them, he turns back to me with a wild grin resting on his face.

"Hey wait–" before he can finish, I take his face in my hands and I peck every square inch of that boy's face, leaving lipstick marks all over him. His cheeks, his jawline, his forehead, over his eyebrows, his cheekbones, his temples, his nose. He squirmed and laughed, his hands wrapping around my stomach and back. Every bit was covered, except his lips, other than that, all of it was marked up. I even pecked his neck when he wasn't paying attention because I knew he'd probably walk around with it for days before noticing.

When I finally pull away, I collapse into the bed, wracked with laughter. Full on laughter that shook my body and made it hard to breathe. Will stood up and walked to the mirror. "Ooooh, I look amazingggggggg!" He said in a high pitched voice. Although he was teasing, I could see the stars in his eyes, and my heart rate picked up.

I've been denying it for a long ass time, but now I finally realize the big, massive, fat crush I have on this kid. He doesn't feel the same way. Just friends. He doesn't feel the same way. Just friends...right?

I stand up, and creep behind him. "So does this change your mind about the shows...?" I ask cheekily, and seeing his blush, I think I have my answer.

"Okay, fine. But just the slow songs, and I'll do most of the work, and if you get tired you have to tell me. Also, if anything hurts, tell me immediately, and–"

"Alright, alright," I chuckle, but he opens up his mouth to say more.

"I wasn't finished," he pouted, so I nodded for him to continue. "And at the end of the night, we go to bed, and you sleep the rest of the day tomorrow. That'll mark the end of your resting period. Deal?" He says, finishing his long list.