Lover | Richie Tozier

Chapter 23.

The feeling of Beverlys forceful hand separating from her own had captivated Elle that whole afternoon, replaying in her mind as if she were being forced to watch the action against her own will.

The gardens that they had been growing together for 10 years had suddenly become fields of wilt, dangerous vines of rose thorns, and even though it always seemed to be raining in their friendship, the flowers died anyways.

"I'll talk to you later," means nothing when the taste in your mouth has grown so bitter that it doesn't even allow you to speak. Elowynn wasn't stupid. She knew Beverly, and she knew well enough that it would take desperate attempts so secure them as tightly as they once were. Something about seeing her only sense of security walk away and fasten around someone else put a driving force in the pit of Beverlys stomach.

Envy crept through and her mind surged with the idea that she had been gone for two days and was suddenly as unimportant to Elle as Eddie once was. It hurt, it really did. It hurt like something a little more than envy.

The girl sauntered down the hallway slowly after the bell rung throughout the lunchroom and brought masses of students into the hallway. A part of her hoped that she'd turn the corner and see Elle at her locker as she always was; warm brown hair shaping her already gorgeous frame and strengthening the daylight in waves.

She hoped that her best friend's eyes would meet with her own and the walls that had fallen down would build back up again. Somehow, she hoped the dent forming in their friendship since Elle met Richie would fill itself back up into place.

Her heart caved in when her eyes laid sight on what she saw instead.

Eddie was glancing up at Elle, sunset orchids burning from his day glow cheeks, watching the girl intently with eyes that reflected all warmth as she grinned back at him. The world truly took form within that smile on his face.

The thing is: in this moment Beverly thinks he's not even as small and fragile as everyone perceives him to be. He just looks far more polished and careful than anyone else. The light isn't harsh on his jawline. None of his features are at odds with each other, they're all settled perfectly in place. One look in his eyes is enough to tell that he's intelligent. Eddie looks like everything Elle would want, and it felt to Beverly like that was the complete opposite of what she was.

Beverly dug her nails into her palms.

What the fuck is so special about a walking pair of broken lungs? That's what you left me for? Really, Elle?

Bitterness swept through at the sight of the boy. Every time she looked over at the pair, she would let herself hate them a little more. Hate was a strong word — and it wasn't the right one, but it was one to replace the confusing feelings of love instead.

She clenched her jaw tightly and stormed away again, not bearing to watch her very own replacement happening right in front of her. "Whatever," she uttered under her breath. "What-the-fuck-ever."

In spite of the curses spilling from her mouth, Beverly wasn't a mean person. She wasn't a controlling person. She was the farthest thing from what she turned into when jealousy struck. Because jealousy is one of the worst feelings in the world. It's all of the negatives combined into one, creating an outcome that's every intention of complete rejection. She loved Elle, probably more than anything else in the world, and that feeling not being reciprocated was somewhat sickening. The worst flaw she could have was jealousy.

"I'll see you at lunch tomorrow, Elle," Eddie waved as he turned his back to watch her walk away, his soft lips reaching into the corners of his cheeks. The smile stained on his lips for what seemed like eternity. This was what it was like for someone to care rather than only convince him that they did. He finally understood why he always had the internal wanting for someone like her.

"What are you so smiley 'bout, Ed's?"

The sudden interception of his daydreams shocked the smaller boy with fear. The voice woke up his fostering panic. When he turned and realized that it wasn't Henry Bowers, he was overpowered with relief.

"Jesus," Eddie grasped at his chest breathlessly. "Sneak up on the asthmatic kid, why don't you! What a great idea! You scared the shit out of me, Trashmouth. Almost sent me into a frickin' asthma attack."

He readjusted the pace of his pulse before quickly saying, "And don't call me that."

Richie took a step back, surprised by the attitude surfing his tone. Hardly ever in his whole 7 years of being in school with Eddie had Richie ever heard him bite back. Sure he was a neurotic maniac whose speaking voice could easily be mistaken for someone freestyle rapping, but he never used it against others. He was too sweet for that. Too scared for that.

Richie held his hands up as if to surrender. "Oh, shit. Sorry man. Didn't mean to corrupt those little lungs of yours," he laughed inwardly, poking at Eddie's chest. His laughter died down once he realized he sounded a lot like Henry Bowers in that moment.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to alarm you," he apologized again, more sincerity strung in his voice this time.

Eddie shook his head, "It's okay. Just... in the future, be more careful. These lungs aren't made of steel, you know? That's why I have to carry around this fucking thing," he gestured towards his fanny pack like it was obvious.

Richie nodded with uncertainty. Still, he didn't exactly understand Eddie's strange ways. "Right. Well, uh... I was just going to ask you if you've seen Elowynn." He reached his arm over his shoulder and massaged his tense muscles, clearly uncomfortable. Despite Elle's reassurance, he still felt as if he was stepping over a boundary that was marked by thick black ink.

Eddie raised a brow, feeling a new inclination to speak at any mere mention of her name. "Why? You tryna move up on my friend, Trashmouth? Not gonna happen."

His friend. The title sounded so celestial and divine when it rolled off of his tongue.

Richie's jaw tightened. He glanced at the floor, bringing his blackening eyes back up with more force than his head dropped with. "You guys are friends?" He asked unsteadily. The rings on his fingers felt a little tighter. A little heavier along with everything else inside of him.

Eddie nodded proudly, claiming her for what she was. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

She lied to you about not being friends with Eddie because she didn't want to hurt your feelings. Because she didn't want you. Because nobody does. How are you still hurt, dipshit? Your big ass glasses didn't show you that was coming?

"No good reason," Richie lied numbly. There was a reason, but it wasn't a good one.

"You're sure?" Eddie carefully restated. He stuffed various bottles of orange medication into his bag and zipped it up around the edges. "I can get her if you need something. Just no creepy jokes or anything like that."

Richie tried his best to hold back the glower that was aiming to take over his entire face. She seemed to love my jokes. But whatever floats your boat, Kaspbrak. "Thanks. But I'm good," he insisted. "I'll see you later, maybe."

"But you just asked me where-"

"Get to class safely," Richie replied, stuffing his scuffed up hands into his pockets. He trudged through the hallways again, his steps taking ten times more effort with the new weight of disappointment on his shoulders.