Something even scarier than the art of trying

Is that of trying again

"Happy birthday, Will," Betty woke Will up on Saturday morning, her soft voice stealing him out of his dreamless sleep.

Will rolled over, squinting his eyes at his mom. "Thanks," he replied groggily. He fumbled with his glasses for a moment before putting them properly over his eyes. He was far from being fully awake; the world was hazy, his head pounded with the possibilities of a new day, his eyes were glazed over with exhaustion and stinging from tears of the past.

"Your father and I have a surprise ready for you downstairs, whenever you're ready," Betty smiled, exiting Will's room.

Will looked in the mirror, feeling less than exceptional. He didn't want to celebrate without the person he truly loved, and he missed her more than anything on this particular day. He felt pathetic that he could hardly live without her when she'd only been gone for a week, but deep down inside him he knew Indie missed him just as much. Maybe it was a new type of delusion he'd discovered, but it made him feel better nonetheless.

The number 18 appeared over and over in Will's mind. He didn't feel any older, any worse or any better; he merely felt indifferent on the subject. 18 seemed like such a big step forward, and yet, he felt like the same old Will he'd been for years.

After showering and getting dressed for the day—a yellow flannel and tan pants—Will heard his door burst open. Alice flew into his room as quick as lightning, giving Will a hug that nearly knocked him off of his feet.

"Happy birthday, geezer!" Alice exclaimed, spinning Will around, despite being nearly half his size. "You better get out your pen and start filing your taxes and balancing those checkbooks, my dude."

Will couldn't help but laugh as he recovered from the initial shock of Alice's entry. "Uh... thanks, Alice," he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"It's the least I could do. I forgot to get you a present," she shrugged casually.

"Oh, hey, that's ok. I didn't need anything anyway-"

"Just kidding! It's hiding downstairs," Alice added. There was a sense of mischief in her eyes that Will recognized from their childhood years. "See you there, gramps!"

Will shook his head as Alice sped out of his room once again. He looked around at the mess in his room. He took a deep breath in and scooped up all the tissues, dumping them in the trash can by his desk. He tried to ignore the pink and gold cover of Little Women that sat beneath the unopened Saturn necklace, but it was practically impossible. Indie was everywhere; in the sky, in any and all objects surrounding Will, in dreams and nightmares alike. He couldn't escape her.

As Will shoved his emotions in the back pocket of his mind and went downstairs, he began to smell the pleasing aroma of breakfast wafting up the stairwell. A few presents sat in the center of the dining room table, which was already set. Alice was already eating her breakfast, shocking to no one, while Clyde cooked up some eggs on the stove and Betty took a tray of bacon out of the oven.

"Wow," Will smiled.

Betty set the bacon down on the counter, noticing Will and smiling. "Will!" She exclaimed. "This was all your father's idea, by the way."

Will looked to Clyde, who gave him a wink. He felt parts of his shattered heart begin to mend as he watched his mom and dad working together in the kitchen, helping one another cook and clean up. He was thankful that they were able to work past their differences, and that Clyde had decided to try and change his ways.

Alice raised a brow, her mouth full. "Hey, it wasn't all Dad's idea!" She shouted, holding up the cinnamon roll she held in her hand.

Will blinked. He hadn't even noticed the eight cinnamon rolls arranged neatly on an orange plate next to Alice. He imagined Indie sitting in a seat beside him as they enjoyed his birthday cinnamon rolls together, just like they had done on their first date.

"Right, the cinnamon rolls were Alice's idea. Sorry," Betty added, bringing Will back to reality.

"Cinnamon rolls are an anytime food," Alice stated, taking another large bite from her pastry.

Will smiled, picking up on her reference. He took the seat next to his little sister and grabbed a cinnamon roll, taking a big bite before setting it down on his plate.

"You two better save some room for protein," Betty remarked, setting the plate of bacon on the table. Clyde followed her close behind with the plate of over easy eggs.

"How many have you eaten now, Alice? Three?"

"Two, Father. I'm not a complete and total monster," Alice replied sassily.

Betty and Clyde sat down across from their children, looking at one another knowingly.

"What a great spread," Clyde commented. "Happy birthday, Will. Here's to the big 18," Clyde held up his glass of orange juice, initiating a toast that the others followed. They all clinked their glasses together before taking a little sip.

"Thanks, you guys. You always manage to make me feel like myself again," Will admitted, snagging a piece of bacon.

Betty smiled. "I just can't believe you're 18 already. This day came way too fast," she sighed.

"What do you think we got you?" Alice asked Will, clearly unable to contain her excitement.

"Hm... well, probably socks, since I've received those every birthday since I turned 12," Will replied. "I have no idea what I'm getting from you, Alice."

Alice smiled mischievously. "That's what I like to hear."

After Will had opened his gifts from his family (he had, in fact, received socks; and a large plush baguette from Alice, for some reason), he headed back upstairs to put them away. The gifts he'd bought for Indie were still staring daggers in his direction, begging him to give them to Indie and patch their relationship's broken wings. He wished he could bring himself to text her, but he didn't want to bother Indie if she wasn't fully healed yet.

Alice cleared her throat in Will's doorway, which scared the living daylights out of him.

"Goodness gracious, child. Maybe knock next time so I don't jump out of my skin?" Will suggested, trying to conceal the fact that he'd just been obsessing over the objects sitting lifelessly on his desk.

"Sorry," Alice shrugged. She immediately turned to the gifts that Will hadn't given to Indie yet. "So... are you gonna see her today?"

Will raised a brow. "Wha- n-no. I hadn't... planned on it. No," He stammered, running his fingers through his hair.

Alice crossed her arms. "Will, literally wake up," she shook her head. "She loves you so much, can't you tell?"

"I don't want to force her into something if she isn't ready," Will replied. "No matter how badly I want her back, you can't force someone to be with you. If she needs time to heal, I'll give her as much time as she needs."

Alice sporadically punched Will in the arm. "You idiot! She's too afraid to reach out first because she feels like she's the cause of it all. She wants you to do it!"

Will jerked his arm away from his violent sister. "Ok, first of all, ouch," Will rubbed his tender arm, "and second of all, how can you be so sure? How do you just magically know all this stuff?"

Alice sighed. "I'm a girl, Will. We just know," she put her hands on her hips, looking into her brother's eyes. "You really love her. I know you do."

Will looked to the floor, his ears reddening. "Well, yeah, but..."

"So show her," Alice urged, "go get her. If you don't, you could lose her forever," Alice set a gentle hand on her brother's slightly wounded arm. "Trust me, Will."

Will sighed. "What if she doesn't want me back at all? If this break is... permanent?" He scratched the back of his neck, defeated. "I'll make a fool of myself."

Alice crossed her arms. "But at least you'll know."

Will thought for a moment. Alice reached across Will's desk, grabbing the trio of items Will had purchased a week prior. She shoved them into Will's arms.

"You're so stubborn," Will chuckled, rubbing the binding on Little Women. "Why are you so adamant about this, anyway?"

Alice shrugged, a sheepish smile creeping up on her face. "Can you blame a gal for wanting a cool sister-in-law?"

~ * ~

Will paced back and forth by the park bench where he and Indie cuddled for the first time. He felt as if the stiff breeze would blow him over as leaves crunched beneath his feet. The ducks that they once fed had migrated, and the park felt as empty as an old cemetery. Will gripped onto Little Women and the Saturn necklace as his palms began to sweat. He couldn't seem to bring himself to text Indie—the same fear that enveloped him after they met at Redding's, when he sat on the porch, typing out a text message he had never sent.

"I can't take it anymore," Will mumbled, plopping down on the park bench and pulling his phone out of his pocket. His shaky fingers began typing, but nothing he wrote sounded right. He groaned under his breath. How had he even gotten a girlfriend in the first place? He was a piece of scrap paper covered in scribbles cleverly disguised as a teenage boy.

Finally, Will shook his head. Tired of wrestling with himself, he sent Indie a text.

Will: Hey Indie. I know we're not on the greatest terms right now, but I'm waiting for you at the park. Can we try this again? You know where to find me, if you want me.

Will's heart nearly beat out of his chest. He longed to toss his phone into the pond and watch it sink to the bottom, but instead, he shoved it in his pocket. What if she didn't respond? Or, worse, what if she did respond? What would she say?

Will forced himself to sit on the bench and wait. He grabbed his notebook out of his pocket for the first time in a long time, set it on his leg, and rubbed its leather binding with his thumb. He grabbed the accompanying pen, opened the book, and just... wrote.

In most of Will's writing experience, he thought too hard about what exact words he should use to properly convey the feeling he was experiencing; but at that moment in time, Will didn't care about rhyming, stanzas or prose. He just felt, so he wrote.

"A star fled from my galaxy not many moons ago,

I thought it a surprise and a heartache beyond all understanding.

These sunsets haunt me, these days devour me, my mind has left me—I've lost all control.

She was and is my muse.

Why couldn't I keep her?

Why, why, why?

My words feel like poison without a cure,

My eyes burn like salt to the wound,

My feet have lost their way in a place I once called my home.

Where is the man who holds the key, the one who knows all the answers?

Not me. It can't be me.

I wish it was."

Will had never written anything like it before—it felt raw, passionate, real. It wasn't organized, over-plotted or over-planned. It felt more like him, and thus, more relatable to people like him.

After reading through his poem a few more times, Will slid his notebook back in his pocket.

Then he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder.

"Indie!" Will exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

Indie was startled a bit, stepping back.

"I mean, um... sorry, that came out a bit strong," Will scratched the back of his neck, ensuring he put enough space between himself and Indie in front of the park bench.

"It's alright," Indie replied with a little laugh.

They both went silent, looking at one another as if it were the first time they'd done so. There were a few feet between them, but it felt as though there was a magnet trying to pull them closer. They both ignored its force.

"You look good," Will smiled. Despite the chill in the air, he felt his face warm with blush.

Indie bit her lip, fighting a smile. "Erm... thanks," she replied, "you do too."

Will stuffed his hands in his pockets before realizing that Indie was holding a few things.

Indie watched his glance travel to her hands. "Oh, right... Happy birthday, Will," Indie said, handing him a wrapped gift and a Tupperware container.

Will smiled softly. He felt his heart simultaneously breaking and healing as Indie handed off her gifts to him. Her hands barely brushed his, sending a tiny chill down his spine.

Will sat down on the bench next to the gifts he'd brought for Indie, hoping to hide them from her view. He began opening the gift, balling up the wrapping paper and setting it aside. To his delight, it was a heavy duty notebook with thick, beautiful pages and a quill and ink. He'd always imagined having a quill and ink to make the writing process feel that much more dramatic and exciting, and now he held the perfect feather in his hand.

"I've always wanted one of these," Will breathed.

Indie sat close enough to touch Will's knee with her own. "I hoped you'd say that," she smiled. "Open the other one."

Will complied, setting the book and quill aside to open the Tupperware. He laughed. It was more cinnamon rolls.

"I think this is the most cinnamon rolls I've gotten in one day," Will laughed. "You made these yourself?"

Indie felt a pit in her stomach as she said, "I had a promise to keep."

A swarm of sadness-covered butterflies fluttered in Will's stomach as they locked eyes, a sensation that could only be described as bittersweet longing. Will carefully scooted closer to Indie as he reached for the gifts he'd brought.

"Well, Miss Argyle," he cleared his throat, "I just so happen to have some things for you, too."

Indie raised a brow. "Will, it's... it's your birthday," she laughed.

Will shrugged. "I am fully aware, I just... I didn't get to give these to you before, so I wanted to give them to you now," he explained. "Close your eyes and hold out your hands."

Indie gave Will a look. "Well, now I'm suspicious."

Will smiled. "Why? Don't you trust me?"

Indie's heart skipped a beat. Flashbacks to the night at the theater floated through her mind like a dream sequence. She couldn't help but smirk as she did as Will instructed. She felt vulnerable, yet excited, just like she had been throughout their entirety of their unfortunately short-lived relationship.

Will gently set Little Women and the Saturn necklace in Indie's hands, beaming with excitement as he told her to open her eyes.

Indie's eyes sparkled with emotions she couldn't quite place. She looked at the items she held in her hands, unable to fight the tears in her eyes.

"You... actually got it for me," Indie whispered with bewilderment. "I've looked at this thing for weeks on end, hoping some money would magically land in my pocket so I could buy it." She said, tracing the details of the pink and gold cover with her fingertip.

"I read it," Will admitted. "It was a stunning work of fiction."

"And this..." Indie gently picked up the Saturn necklace. "You remembered."

"It was hard not to," Will replied sheepishly. As Indie opened the plastic packaging surrounding the necklace, Will held out his hand. "May I?"

Indie blushed, turning away from Will to try and hide it. Will carefully draped the necklace over Indie's chest. A chill ran through Indie's entire body as Will gently clasped the necklace at the nape of her neck, barely brushing his fingertips against her skin.

Indie turned back to him, examining the reflective silver Saturn pendant. "It's so beautiful," she sighed. "Thank you."

"Of course," Will replied. "And thank you for everything you gave me, too. This is turning out to be the best birthday ever."

Indie sighed, holding onto Little Women as if it were a child. She scooted closer to Will, looking him in the eyes, which proved to be difficult considering their blue waves of beauty.

"So," Indie began. She didn't want to talk about the hard stuff, but she knew that if they didn't address it, it would never get fixed. "Um... how are you?"

Will chuckled nervously. "Honestly?" He sighed. "Utterly shattered, but otherwise, fantabulous."

Indie studied the pond before them in great detail. She wanted to commence digging her own grave with the knowledge that she'd been the cause of so much heartbreak to the person she loved the most.

"I just want to say that I'm sorry," Indie managed after a pause.

Will nodded with understanding eyes. "I'm sorry too," he replied, scratching the back of his neck. "I think we both did and said things that we regret."

"Yeah," Indie sighed. "We did. I knew it wasn't right to lie, and I shouldn't have in the first place, but I just felt like that battle was one that I had to fight alone."

Will listened attentively, watching Indie's face as she spoke, how her eyes told the story hiding in her head and how her lips moved to form each syllable. It didn't take a psychic to see just how smitten he was.

"But then I realized how much I truly missed you on my dad's birthday. I had a conversation with my mom that really opened my eyes about this mess that I created. She told me that there are certain people on this earth that are meant to help us through this crazy life. Even if everything goes wrong, some people always have your back. God places people in our lives for a reason," Indie cleared her throat, mindlessly crunching the leaves beneath her boots. "I realized I had made a grave mistake by pushing you away, because... you are one of those people, Will. I may not be 'completely healed' from Dad's death, but do we ever truly heal from anything? It feels like we're kinda just forced to live with the pain until enough time passes that we forget how bad the pain truly hurts."

Will nodded. "Yeah, I get it," he replied. He recalled his conversation with his dad. Despite all the time that had passed in his dad's situation, Clyde could still remember just how badly he was hurt in those moments that had long since passed.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is, underneath all my rambling... you're so, so important to me. And I guess it took a few stupid decisions on my part to actually realize that," Indie sighed. "Will you forgive me?"

Will smiled. "Of course," he replied, "but you're not the only one who made stupid decisions. I am so, so sorry for everything I did to hurt you and for the stupid secrets I kept. Will you forgive me, too?"

"I will," Indie replied.

Will and Indie watched leaves tumble by in the breeze, both breathing in a new sense of relief.

Will felt a little voice inside him whisper: Read it to her.

Will pressed his lips together as a brand new wave of nervousness washed over him. He cleared his throat, pulling his notebook out of his pocket once again. "Indie?"

"Hm?"

Will exhaled deeply, trying to distract himself from his nerves. "The poem... I wanna read it to you," he sighed. "For real, this time."

Indie blushed. "Right," she whispered.

Will wrestled with his self doubt, but he knew that he had to do this. If he didn't, he may not get the chance to do it ever again, not in a moment quite as delicate. He shakily opened the pages of his notebook until he flipped to the correct page. "STARSTRUCK" was written at the top of the page in his scraggly cursive, which made him laugh to himself.

"I wish I had read it to you first..." Will sighed, reminded of that fateful presentation in front of his Creative Writing classmates. "But you still deserve to hear it, despite my stupidity," he swallowed hard. "'Starstruck,'" he read, his voice shaking ever so slightly. He couldn't bring himself to look up at Indie—he wouldn't have read a single word correctly from that moment forward—but every so often, he heard a laugh escape her lips or a longing sigh. For the first time in his life, the eyes that studied his features and the ears that listened to his poetry weren't unwelcome.

When Will finished reading, he could hardly believe he'd survived reading his poetry out loud; not once, but twice.

He finally looked up at Indie. Her eyes were watering.

"Will..." Indie trailed off. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "That... I can't believe you, Will," she cry-laughed. "That was everything... You're everything."

Will reveled in the word for a moment. He was everything to the girl he cared for most? He felt the exact same way about her, and he hoped the words he'd carefully constructed to that effect had revealed that truth.

Indie breathed out now, sounding more sure of herself. "I promise that I'll tell you everything from now on, no matter how big or small I think it is," she nodded. "You deserve to know it all."

Will nodded, still recovering from the difficulty that came from exposing his most vulnerable emotions. "I promise, too," he replied. Then, he realized what Indie's words implied. He looked at her with a reawakened sense of glee. "'From now on?'" He questioned hopefully.

Indie looked at Will, her cheeks warming despite the chilly air. "Well, I mean... this does count as a date, right?"

Will shook his head, nearing closer to Indie until their faces were mere inches apart. "Not according to a good friend of mine," he whispered. "To count this as an official 'date,' we need to check off the physical touch box."

Indie blushed profusely, unable to hold eye contact. She shook her head nervously. "I'm scared," she whispered.

Will inched a bit closer. "Me too," he replied. "But... what do we have to lose?"

"Everything," Indie laughed. Without thinking another second, she grabbed Will's face and kissed him. It felt as though time itself stopped and the rest of the world melted away, just like a scene from a movie. Will placed his shaky hand on the back of Indie's head, keeping her close. Indie gently stroked the side of Will's face, realizing just how soft it was, before her hands traveled into his feathery head of hair. As they slowly pulled away, it felt as though a firework should've been released in the shape of a heart above their heads, or a large audience should've applauded followed by a red curtain closing, but the moment was silent and intimate. Will smirked as he planted a string of randomly placed kisses across Indie's face, leaving her giggling profusely.

"I have a question for you, Mr. Whitlock," Indie said in the aftermath, lazily leaning on Will's shoulder. Her eyes were glazed over with love and the smile she wore felt permanent. "Can we officially start dating... for real, this time?"

Will twirled a strand of Indie's sunshine blonde hair around his finger, taking a second to capture in the moment in his memory forever. "I'd like nothing in the world more than that."

His muse was in his arms again. All at once, the romantic poems and old love songs flooded back into his brain. As Will kissed Indie's forehead, he knew that this was his home, his motivation—not just to write, but to live. This was what he'd always imagined love would feel like when he grew older, and he didn't want to waste a moment of it. He'd found his inspiration, and her name was Indie Argyle.