The Locker Wars

It was windy and cloudy and cold, and when William walked Adele to her house, Mrs. Bradlee just invited him in because she didn’t want him to walk back home sick. And Adele was too sick to give a fuck. William got the feeling that the stars were on his side for at least this one time.

“You two just sit in the living room and get comfy and watch TV. I’ll make some soup. You two just rest.” And then Mrs. Bradlee shuffled into the kitchen, mumbling something about some bug going around.

“I’ll be right back.” Adele got up and left William alone in the living room.

He’d spent a ton of his childhood in this house, probably just as much time as he did in his own house. So it wasn’t like it was unfamiliar or uncomfortable... well, it went different with the habitants of the house. But William didn’t really need to worry about that part.

“William, sweetheart,” Mrs. Bradlee poked her head in to the room, “I called your mom, and she’s fine with you staying here. She says she’ll pick you up and you can have dinner here.”

William nodded and smiled; resting his head on the couch as Mrs. Bradlee disappeared into the kitchen again, humming something while cooking. It smelled like soup. William liked soup.

Adele entered the room again, and this time she was dressed in sweats. She was also carrying a thick blanket around herself, and she was shivering and sniffling. She blew her nose with the rumpled Puffs tissue in her hands (Kleenex was never nice on her nose, she always said) and plopped down next to William. He wanted nothing more then, than to hug her and keep her warm.

William watched her dark lashes cling together as she coughed, and he couldn’t have been more thankful for the moment then. Just to watch her. It was creepy, but it was something he couldn’t really help. He wished more often that he could stay here with her.

“What?” Adele asked, turning her head to glare. She only ended up coughing. “Actually, I’m not in the mood to argue, Beckett, not when I’m freezing. Oh, could you turn on the TV?”

William said nothing, only picking up the remote. He hated when she accused him of wanting to argue. So he replied with silence and flipped to some boring news channel.

“Something interesting, Beckett?”

William flipped to some cartoon, something ancient and funny and pointless and stupid, something that Adele was not. Yet when he looked at her, she was smiling.

“Don’t you remember that show? I love this one. I think I know this episode.” Adele was smiling through her sickness, something to brighten William’s day without her knowing.

How did it seem that his feelings were stronger now? How come he couldn’t keep them in anymore, just like he used to? Now it seemed that with the tension between them, it only seemed like he liked her more. He liked her a lot more. And god, it was good to let that thought loose in his mind.

But how would everyone react if he told them? It wasn’t as if he was a pussy or anything. He would have told her by now, probably, if the war was still going. Like the other real wars in real life, The Locker Wars weren’t supposed to last that long. It was supposed to be something that was just there, something that offered some topic for conversations in the future.

William could only zip his lips and gaze at her.

“What?” Adele asked. “You’re mocking me for my cat. My mom thinks he’s lost.” And thankfully Mrs. Bradlee couldn’t hear over the sizzling in the kitchen, and the cartoons on TV. William only blushed a little, and tried to hide it by coughing.

He gulped. “No way are you getting him back, unless you’ll do what I say.”

“No way!”

William’s heart sank a little, because his actual plan wasn’t supposed to work this way. With his intricate thoughts like the poet he was, the plan was supposed to last way longer and was supposed to produce a different outcome. And he pretty much sacrificed everything to have this plan go its way. He didn’t tell his friends, which was hard to tell, but that was the beginning. William wasn’t even a cat person.

“Then he’s not yours anymore,” William smirked. He was thinking of just releasing it, and hoping that it’d find its way back to Adele’s house. But what were the chances that it’d get run over or something?

Before William could start to do the math, Adele leaned over and coughed on him.

His eyes widened. “Fuck you.”

“What language am I hearing?” piped in Mrs. Bradlee from the kitchen. Funny that she could ignore everything else, other than swear words. She was strange like that, and Adele definitely got that gene, if Bill had to decide.

“Language.” It was Adele’s turn to smirk.

And she really deserved it, because William would have kissed her then, if not for both of their germs.

Or maybe that was just the stupid excuse that he had put on this time.