Disclaimer: Don't own

For Summer Writing Challenge, write about your favorite color

I wrote this ages ago but was too lazy to post it

A/N: So this is a companion to my multi-chapter fic, Subtle Changes in a Friendship, but you don't have to read that to understand this.

I don't know exactly how I got dragged into this; seeing how it is Mary's fault I'm in this situation with Rose in the first place. But you know how birds get; so after days of nagging and blackmail, I am now writing this so I can, 'be honest to myself about my feelings for Rose.' So that's what this is. Have fun reading. I know I didn't have writing.

.…

Considering the amount of time I look at Rose (both involuntary and...sometimes—maybe—voluntarily) I didn't notice a lot for a while.

Her eyes are blue. I don't particularly prefer any colour when it comes to eyes. I'm simply stating facts. My eyes are Hazel. See another fact. They're bright blue, and light up when she's excited or angry or annoyed. Mine do that too (except...not really. Well I'm not sure if they do or not, I don't stare at the mirror all bloody day, now, do I? How about I stop writing now...) I guess they look nice. The shade reminds me of the sea illuminated by the sun. I really like the sea.

The next day she was smiling, and I noticed her lips. I usually don't have the time to stare at girls' lips (usually I'm to busy snogging them). They were pink. Really pink. (I'm merrily stating facts). And they looked really soft, like feathers. I really like how feathers feel. I'm not insinuating anything there!

I noticed her teeth, and they looked white. (I'm not sure why I'm checking out Rose's teeth. Their might be something wrong with me.) They were slightly crooked, like mine. I always hated my teeth, but Dad always refused to let me charm them. Her crooked white teeth looked good on her.

Late one Sunday night Rose decided to lay her head on my shoulder. It was a simple gesture...I guess. I mean girls did it to me before, (usually it led to snogging, but that's beside the point). She kept it there for a while, and all I could see was bright red. Not the colour of blood, but the colour of a really pretty sunset. I like sunsets. They remind me of Rose's hair and how it felt with her on my shoulder.

A few days later she came into class and she wore the school uniform, and how shall I say it... a little small on her. I couldn't stop staring. She saw me (for once), and said something witty. For once I told her the truth. I saw white, green, and beige for a long time after that.

...

Ha! You lot probably all fell for that. As you were previously informed, Mary said I should 'write about my feelings,' since I was so 'mentally confused.' So I wrote this girly piece of fluff that she desperately wants to believe. I mean obviously everything up there was a joke. I sounded like a bloody bird. Do you know any bloke who likes sunsets? And calls them pretty? I don't. Anyway, I just felt the need to assert my masculinity, and — I don't fancy Rose. Just wanted to make sure we're on the same page.

Tell me what you think :)