Will & Indie

2.

"Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die

I don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you"

- Taylor Swift, "the lakes"

Will wrote quietly in his pocket journal in the corner of James' living room. All of his friends decided to get together after school that day to play video games, but Will's mind was still stuck in the past. Merely a week ago, Will had his magical run-in with Indie the enigma, who probably thought he was an idiot and never wanted to talk to him again; but Will was completely smitten.

Will was a member of an outsiders-friendly group that Edward lovingly referred to as "The Unorthodox Underdogs." None of the other boys used that title, as they deemed it "stupid." Will deduced that they, most likely, didn't know what unorthodox even meant, hence why they didn't adopt it as the official name for the friend group.

In their group of underdogs, there was James the jock, Forrest the outdoorsman, Edward (Eddie) the nerd, and of course, Will, the hopeless romantic. If Edward hadn't joined the group, Will would've been given his title in a heartbeat.

"Whatcha penning, Writer Will?" Forrest asked, his deep voice booming through the house as he focused on the TV.

"Nothin'." Will replied, his heartbeat quickening at the thought of his friends reading his poems referencing Indie's beauty.

"When are you gonna let us read one of those, lover boy?" James heckled as he flipped his overdue-for-a-haircut mop of blond hair.

Will pulled his journal closer to his chest, forcing his pen to stop writing entirely. "When I write something that consists of words you actually know the meanings of."

James cringed. "Yikes, burn." He replied, jamming the buttons on his controller. He then tossed it on the carpeted floor as Edward let out a victorious laugh.

"How do you always manage to win these things?" Forrest inquired, popping a Dorito in his mouth.

Edward tapped his temple. "Intuition, my fellow man."

"I do not know what that is." Forrest shook his head.

"That is evident," Edward quipped, taking off his square glasses to clean them on the edge of his shirt.

James stood up, looking defeated as he grabbed the chip bowl. "I'm gonna refill this, anybody want anything while I'm up?"

"Your mom," Forrest joked, nudging Will.

Will looked at Forrest briefly before turning back to his journal. It was impossible to write in these conditions. He was unsure as to why he even brought his journal, although he literally went nowhere without it. Not to mention he didn't really enjoy playing video games all that much, something that his friends picked on him for. Repeatedly.

Forrest followed James into the kitchen, leaving Edward and Will sitting alone in the living room. Will had zoned out, his gaze fixating on the chair that Forrest had just been sitting in. Edward whistled to get Will's attention, his pale hands folded in his lap.

"You've seemed kinda... out of it lately. Is everything alright in William Land?" Edward asked quietly, fluffing up his unruly auburn curls.

Will shrugged coolly. "Eh, just doing a lot of thinking lately."

"I could tell," Edward chuckled. "You've been writing in that tiny notebook like your life depends on it."

"In some ways, it does," Will cleared his throat. "It's how I get all my feelings out. I'm sure the other guys probably think I'm a sissy."