Lyrics

Mercy pt. 2 - Camila

I watched as Shawn's face and body language changed about a million times in the space of a few minutes. He looked so tense and worried when I said I wanted to sing for him, then carefree and happy when he realised it was a joke. Then serious and scared when the pace of the tune changed again. And now, after my Senorita confession, he looked downright terrified.

He still hadn't said anything, so I risked it; "Shawn?"

He cleared his throat and his eyes scanned every inch of my face, as though he was trying to read every line and find the hidden meaning behind my words. "Why?" was all he said.

I laughed and threw my arms up in annoyance. "Why? Erm maybe because it sounds like an incredible song? Maybe because we've been talking about doing a song together again for a million years...?" I was talking so quickly, I had to regain control of my emotions, "Or maybe because I need a change in my musical routine?" I added.

He didn't seem convinced, his brow was furrowed, his lips in a thin line. So I carried on;
"But mostly because I miss creating music with you. I miss working with you, hanging out with you, being with you." I sighed heavily, exhausted from the confession. He rubbed his face with his hands but was quiet.

Finally, looking back at me he said; "Ok, how about we just play around with some lyrics and a couple of melodies to see if we like the flow? If not, we park the whole thing for a while."
It seemed like a good compromise, but his demeanour was still stiff.

"You're sure?" I tested.

He simply nodded before he looked me over again, cracking a smile, he added; "But before we do anything, take that ridiculous jacket off – you look like Sully from Monsters Inc.!"

I cackled with laughter and threw the jacket to the floor before running to the nearest dressing table and grabbing my notebook. When I turned back around, he was sitting on the floor, wearing my fluffy grey jacket. I scoffed at the sight of him, he simply raised his eyebrow at me in a challenge.

My breath hitched. He wasn't the Shawn I'd sung IKWYDLS with. He wasn't even the Shawn that rescued me in Toronto. He was different. Stronger, cheekier, grown up. Assured and sexy even, God damn it.

I realised I'd been holding my breath, so I let it out, flipped my hair over my shoulder and pretended not to care. As I sat down opposite him, I grabbed the guitar and purred, "Let's write a grown-up IKWYDLS then, Shawnito."