One

 

There is a boy in my room. Four to be exact. Dozens and dozens of posters of them. So many posters that you couldn't even see the color of my walls. Every poster is black-and-white.

I lay silent on my bed, the pitch black sheets matching my outfit; black knee-high socks, black high-waisted shorts, and a black tee that reads "to wear black or not to wear black".

I fixate the black rims of my glasses as the chorus of "Things We Lost In The Fire" silently plays in my bedroom. Playing with my short brown hair, I sing along loudly, staring at the posters on my wall.

Some of my fans' art hangs by my bed, drawings of the couples in my book, and drawings of me. I also hung up some hate comments I have gotten that are so ridiculous that they are worth hanging up.

My phone buzzes. I pick it up, staring at the screen, and unlocking it.

@Bastilledan: So I just heard of the girl named Riley Snow. Virtually famous? Love her stories too.

"What..." I sit up quickly, slipping my glasses up all the up the bridge of my nose, "WHAT?!" I start screaming and jumping on the bed.

"Riley?" My older brother by two months, Kit, runs into my room, "What's with the screaming? Dan and Kyle finally together?" I jump of the bed and swing him around my room.

"LOOK AT THIS!" I shove my phone in his face. He scolds at it for a second, then his eyes widen.

"ARE YOU SERIOUS?! IS THE REAL, RI RI?!" He yells with a smile on his face. I nod jumping again, screaming, "Are you...overjoyed?" I stare at him for a moment with a serious face.

"Seriously, Kit." I slowly shake my head.

"Um..."

"I'm kidding," I laugh, "But, really. You're Bastille puns are rubbish." Kit rolls his eyes, ruffling my short hair.

"Okay, I'll work on them. But meanwhile, get ready for the Bastille concert. At least change that shirt into a Bastille shirt." I nod then tug at his white tank top.

"Put a Bastille shirt on too, Kitty."

He chuckles, "Fine. Only if you stop calling me that."

"Fine." I smile. He turns walking out of the room, "Kitty!" I yell as he leaves. I hear him grunt then chuckle down the hall. After I close the door, I peel off my shirt, throwing it on my messy bed.

"The Driver" starts playing. I dance to my stereo, turning it up, then I dance back to my closet. I grab a black Bastille shirt that has the top half of a skeleton body, the spine reads "Bastille". Slipping it on, I search for my make up bag so that I can paint my face like the girls in the "Flaws" music video.

"Looking for this?" Kit asks from behind me, shaking my make up bag. His face is painted like a skull.

"Uh, ya. Thanks." He nods.

"Can I do your face this time." Rolling my eyes, I nod.

• • • •

"Done!" Kit sings as he pulls the mascara off of my eye lashes. He hands me a mirror.

"Nice job. I think your make up job is better than mine!"

"Tha-" A knock at my door causes us to jump, "That must be Dean." Kit pats my knee, smiling. I forgot to mention, but my brother is gay. Kit is a Woody fan, so right now, Kit and Dean are wearing matching Woody shirts. On the other hand, I am a Dan girl like most of the Stormer community.

Kit jumps into Dean's arms as Dean peaks him on the lips. I have got to admit, they might even be cuter than Dyle, "You ready, Riley?" Dean asks me in his Australian accent.

"Hell ya!" I jump off my bed, "You know, I should really make you two black shirts with your faces that reads Kian."

"Kian?" Dean asks, very confused.

"Kit and Dean! DUH!" The two boys laugh. We leave the house as I trail behind the couple holding hands.