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Pleaser  |  Wallows

So, you see, Eddie Kaspbrak has never been one to shout-... actually, scratch that. Eddie Kaspbrak has never truly been one to scream.

Not in the angry way. More of the startled, confused type of shout that comes out of nowhere when you've especially seen something shocking. Like when a little boy sees a new puppy on christmas morning, or when a bunch of girls watch a horror movie during a sleepover. In those situations, they'd most likely scream, but not Eddie.

He was always a quiet boy. A reserved quiet boy who had manners and, when did feel startled and confused, made no move to express it through his mouth. Basically, Eddie wasn't a dramatic boy.

He'd kept that in mind when he remembered things that happened to him, things such as his fathers death.

He was just 5 years old when they'd gotten the news, his mother and him. His mom burst into a noisy wail in the middle of the hospital, but Eddie merely sat there, blank faced. His mom believed that poor little Eddie didn't know what the doctors meant when they explained it, but he did. And honestly, to this day, Eddie still isn't sure what came over him when his mom retells the story to him. He doesn't remember much in those ages, and his father was sort of just a blur in his memories; flickers of laughter and a man smiling softly, rays of sunshine pouring in through a window and someone accompanying him in drawing delicate flowers on lined paper. Too young to enjoy it while it lasted.

Moral of the story, Edward Kaspbrak does not scream. Not under any circumstances has he ever felt the need to just... let it out. Not even on a roller coaster (the lucky one chance he got when he went to the fair with Bill freshman year; they took off with the wind suddenly in his hair and all he could do was mumble nearly incoherent words such as 'oh god', and grumble random syllables from low in his chest till it was over). At least that's what was the normal, till right this second. Now. In the library facing his near-mortal enemy.

Richie Tozier, in the flesh. The boy may as well have a neon blinking sign around his neck like a cow spelling it out to Eddie.

His eyes grew wide -even wider with the stupidly large lenses in front of them-, mouth slightly agape and having dropped the second his eyes fell to Eddie sitting in the chair.

"Oh fuck" was all Richie said in that moment, quiet but still extremely audible in the silence of the situation. The second those words left Richies mouth, Eddie was yelling- no, screaming, at nearly the top of his fucking lungs.

All five of the others flinched at the noise, the blood-curdling yelp that left Eddies mouth at the sight in front of him. Eyes bright and almost nearing terrified-type territory, looking like he was about to faint. It only lasted a second or two, but it surely was enough to capture attention.

"Eddie what th-the fuc-" "HELL FUCKING NO!" Eddie interrupted almost immediately, mouth agape in disbelief. Richie made an incoherent noise, his voice cracking, then made a move to step back and away, but Beverly was quick to pull at his sleeve and keep him still.

"Eds! Uh, what- what are you doing... here..." Richie scratched the back of his neck, the others staring at them in complete utter confusion. Ben, despite still being in shock at Eddies outburst, lifted his hand to wave at Beverly. She waved back with a smile.

"Don't call me that" Eddie rolled his eyes, the words spilling out almost automatically. "And what am I- what am I doing here?! What the fuck are you doing here!" Eddie interjects in a stage-whisper, springing from his seat and jerking a finger at Richies chest. Before Richie can make a noise of hurt, Eddie is pacing back to where his friends reside on the couches.

"Bill, please don't tell me your friend is friends with this very not friend of mine, please Bill if you say yes I will hate you for forever" Eddie said all in one breath. He huffed and caught his breath.

Bill sat there dumbfoundedly, turning to Ben for help -who just gave a fearful shrug- before replying with a quick "No?". He glanced at Stan, who shrugged.

"Agreed," Stan nodded, a smile growing on his face when he hears Richie beside him gasp as if to reach for air.

"That truly hurt my heart, Staniel," Richie says, a hand on his chest and the other holding onto Beverlys shoulder for dear life. "Take it back or I will hate you for forever" he mocks Eddie with a smirk after, noticing how Eddie shoots him the deadliest glare he's ever seen.

"See! You see why I cannot deal with with this shit" Eddie groans in exasperation, still pacing back and forth.

"The fact that we've just completely skipped the whole meet and introducing stage because you two apparently have unfinished business is honestly cracking me the fuck up" Beverly says, and no one had noticed how much she was laughing till she spoke up.

Then, all so suddenly, a boy comes dashing over to where they are, out of breath and looking in a hurry. He was most definitely about their age. Tall, dark skinned, and wore a plaid button up and jeans. Everyone, stunned, turned to him in confusion. "What! What! I got here as soon as I could, what the hell is going on?" he said, hands on his knees and catching his breath.

"What- who the fuck are you?" Richie asks, breathing out a bubbling laugh.

"Oh! Pfft, he's the, uh... the librarian!" Ben nodded, having stopped to think for a second. The boy smiled awkwardly, unsure of whether now was a time to introduce himself. He held up a palm as though to wave at everyone, but quickly Richie spoke up.

Richie: Hello sir librarian, I'm terribly sorry for having startled you. My annoying little friend here is very loud, kinda like his mo-

Eddie: Shut the fuck up Richie. I am NOT your friend

Richie: Unfortunately, It seems now that we are.

He held up his hands as though to gesture toward everything that was happening at the moment, and Eddie had to pause for a second before huffing out a defeated sigh and rolling his eyes.

"So my guess is that your name is Richie" Ben says sarcastically. Beverly snorts at that.

"You two know each other?" Richie asks, only half joking as his fingers alternate between pointing at Beverly, then at Ben. They both nod, and the four of the others' jaws gape wide open. The librarian stands there still, feeling obligated to stay and see what the hell is going on.

"We met a few days ago and got aquatinted with each other" Beverly says, emphasizing the word as though she were proud to have used it at all. "I already knew he was friends with Bill, and that Bill was friends with Stan, so we hung out a bit.

"And my guess is that you two know each other" Beverly purses her lips, a thin but knowing smile on her face as she looks between Richie and Eddie. Eddie rolls his eyes, scoffing.

"Unfortunately" he murmurs, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring up at Richie like a child. Richie grimaced back at him, seeming this close to sticking his tongue out at him like a 4 year-old.

"What a s-ss- small world after all" Bill sighs, an exasperated laugh following. "I could've guessed you two would end up hating each other".

Stan: Hating or fucking, remember?

Bill: Ah yes, that or that.

Eddie gaped at the two of them as if they had just emerged from a UFO, then shook his head violently, unable to form words, and gagged dramatically. Richie laughed loudly when they said that.

Richie: Please! As if Eddie could even score me if he wanted to.

Eddie: Do you really want to go into that right now?

Eddie said it almost threateningly, an eyebrow raised, and abruptly, Richie remembered the day before. The argument. The janitors closet. Oh god. Just be quiet for once in your fucking life, Richard.

"Fuck off" Richie scowled at him, eyes narrowing down as though Eddie were an evil and annoying bug that needed to be squashed. Eddie smirked, the same type of smirk that Richie had seen before in that very janitors closet after... eventful things happened. It made him mad all over again.

Librarian Boy: What on earth is going on here, you guys? I'm just trying to do my job and suddenly I hear a murderous scream. How would you suppose I react?

Everyone exchanges glances to each other, searching for something to say in the silence. "Uhh," Richie says, a dry laugh escaping his lips.

"Yeah s-sorry, we're all g-guh-good here" Bill says, smiling apologetically at the boy. He skeptically nods, but eventually shuffles off and out from where he had entered.

"What a shitshow, thanks a lot Eds" Richie says, pretending to be genuine as he pats at Eddies back comfortingly. Eddie shoves his arm away and glares.

"I say we... forget this all happened," Ben states, nodding his head. "Let's start over. My name is Ben"

Richie: Ah, so you're the cool guy who'd read a history book over-

Eddie: Richie how many times will I have to say this, shut the fuck up.

Richie: Make me, you gremlin.

Eddie: Fuck you!

Richie: Fuck you!

All throughout the twos bickering, the others get comfortable in the remaining couches in their spot at the library and meet one another properly. And for the first time in a long time, the two separate friend groups find that there's more to high school that they hadn't thought of before. More to friendship that they hadn't known of before, being confined in their groups of three.

Of course, it wasn't long till the bell rang and students began wading into the library, stumbling and pushing around in a chaotic mess of trying to get to class. The six of them exchange goodbyes and part ways, agreeing to sit together at lunch tomorrow.

The rest of the day goes by slowly, and everything else is as normal as can be. Richie and Stan walk home after school together as usual, while Bev bikes off to her afternoon job at some corner store at the edge of town. Some days they'd usually go with her, but today Stan has to be home early, because apparently his father has something he wants to do with him.

Stan explained that he has absolutely no idea what it ought to be, but it's likely to be something about religion.

"See ya, Stan the man!" Richie salutes Stan as the blond scrambles up his front lawn to the door, waving goodbye in response. Once he's closed his front door, Richie sighs. It always feels way too empty and quiet when no one is around. It's only a few minute walk to his house from here, but he speed walks it in hopes that his mom is in a good mood today.

He skips his way up the lawn, crushing daisies as his fingers crossed, hopeful, behind his back.

The door groans and creaks as he pushes it open, and he steps inside, sliding his bookbag off of his shoulder and on the floor by the door.

"Hey mom," Richie smiled, seeing her on the couch in her work clothes.

Maggie Tozier worked as a receptionist for the Derry Hospital during the day, and usually got home before Richie would, though she was never there early on the morning when Richie would get ready for school.

"Hi baby" she smiles back, a hint of exhaustion present on her face. Richie can tell she isn't in the best of moods. They high five as Richie passes the couch, strolling up to the kitchen where his father sat by the counter reading a newspaper.

Wentworth: Hey kid, how was prison?

Richie: Same as always

Richie sighs, beginning to rummage through the fridge for a water bottle.

Wentworth: Nothing interesting? No juicy drama? Well that's a first. Last month you'd be barging in here talking about other people's business like it was reality tv!

Richie: [in his soap opera narrators voice] Previously on The Real Assholes Of Derry High, a tiny hypochondriac befriends a stuttering softie and history nerd, who gasp!.. just so happens to meet the trio of losers that his mortal enemy resides. What happens next? Tune in to find out.

Wentworth: Sorry, what now?

"It's nothing," Richie chuckles to himself. He takes a bottle of water and bolts to the staircase."Later!"

His mom and dad say bye in response, unenthusiastic to say the least, and he closes the door to his room. Flopping onto his mattress on the floor, Richie rolls onto his back and picks up a book from the assortment of mess on his carpet.

He knew his parents weren't the best in town, but they tried their best to be when he was around. His moms job payed well enough for them to live, but she wasn't much of a chef, so they'd usually have to buy takeout, which wasn't great for their money. Richie had learned how to make spaghetti and pancakes (separately) from his grandmother before she passed when he was 10, so when they didn't have enough to buy out, they always kept all the ingredients needed to make spaghetti or pancakes at all times in the pantry. (You'd be surprised how many times his mother and him would have breakfast for dinner when they felt like it).

Wentworth Tozier was the kind of dad that Richie enjoyed the company of, but rarely received. Richie could never exactly pinpoint what his father actually did for a job, all he really knew ever since he was small was that he'd go on many many many business trips. At least three a month, those of which would stretch on for at least a week. Maggie didn't mind this though, since —and he quotes— "one less to feed at the dinner table".

Richies feet swayed in the air as he tried focusing on his book. It was overdue at the library, but he wouldn't return it without finishing it first. He stared at the words, reading but not comprehending, then of course, as always, his mind drifted to his own thoughts.

After next week, December would start, and Richie knew that was when his mom's night shifts would begin. Which were absolutely unbearable. Him. In the house. All alone.

The A/C never really worked properly at his house, and it made it cold as fuck in the nighttime. He owned a heater machine to plug in for his room though, which really only made it a fraction less bad. But nevertheless he would suffer through it during the winter time.

He loves his dad, and he's sure his dad loves him. He loves his mom, and he's sure his mom loves him, too. It's no secret that he loves his family no matter how horribly they function.

He enjoyed when his dad would tell him (in full dramatic detail, just like his son) about somewhere he'd gone for business trips; the views in New York, or food in Washington. And he'd tell certain confusing things about his work that Richie never really understood, but always loved to hear nevertheless.

His favourite thing was when mom would let him lie down on the couch and rest his head in her lap while they watched lousy reality tv (only ever happened when she was in a good mood, or just too tired to notice at all); her fingers tangling and brushing through his curls subconsciously, making it messy and poofy. He'd always accidentally let a tear slip out and onto her scrubs when she'd do that, because of how unbelievably good it felt to be held. Maggie would laugh and complain endlessly about the characters in the show to Richie, catch him up on what he missed before, but Richie would only laugh and nod in response, too happy to let it go to waste.

But sometimes, Maggie would think to herself quietly. She'd drift and imagine that the short raven curls were long and silky beneath her fingers, imagine that the band tee hugging the body beside her was pink and pretty, and that the boy known as her son was not a boy at all.

She'd imagine this shamelessly, something that all of the adults in Derry very well knew of the second she grew a bump just 17 years ago. Yes, they all knew. That Maggie Tozier had much preferred a girl over Richie, any day.