Chapter Text
Saturday, April 6, 2019: 19 days until opening night
"This is wh-where I first s-saw...where I first s-saw...damn it!" Bill buried his face in his script book. Theater had helped his stutter significantly, but it still came out sometimes, even when he was going over lines he'd read through a million times. It didn't help that the girl who was playing his love interest in this musical was looking at him. It didn't help that the girl who was playing his love interest was Beverly. This wasn't the first time they had been in a play together, or even the first time they had played love interests, but it didn't calm his nerves at all. He hated that he still got nervous around her. They had defeated a killer clown together, but it didn't stop his stomach from getting butterflies every time she smiled at him. Which she was doing right now. Shit.
"You got this, Bill!" she called to him. She was sitting on the edge of the stage to the right, talking with Richie. Richie was practicing his moans with her, but she kept occasionally looking away from him and up at Bill.
"Alright, let's take five!" the director, Abby, said. "Bill, get some water and go over some of the tongue twister exercises we talked about."
He nodded at her and sighed, sitting down with Bev and Richie. "I don't know why I'm having such tr-tr-trouble." He put his face in his hands and groaned.
Richie imitated the groan. "Nah, not the sound I'm going for."
Bill looked up to glare at him. Bev did the same. She put her hand on Bill's shoulder. "It's just nerves. This is your first big role. It's natural to be nervous. Yesterday, when we were working on the opening, I dropped my crossbow. It happens."
"It was your first time with the crossbow and it's surprisingly heavy for a prop," Bill said. "We've had these lines for weeks. We're supposed to be off-book by next week and I can't even get through the lines with my script right in front of me."
"You'll get it. I can help you. How about I come by after set build today? In exchange, you can help me with my paper for English. Trust me, it's not pretty."
Bill smiled at her. "Yeah, okay. Sounds good."
Richie stared at them, his eyes wide. "Wait, we're supposed to be off-book by next week? What am I supposed to do? I'll never memorize my lines by then!"
Bill and Beverly rolled their eyes at each other. "You don't have any lines, Rich," Bill told him, not for the first time.
Richie put his hands up in defense. "Hey, my moans are lines! They're basically lines in a different language. I have to convey my message with no words. That's not easy to do."
"It's good practice," Bev said with a grin.
Richie frowned. "What the fuck does that mean?" He looked like he was about to say more, but something behind Bill caught his eye and he perked up. "Eddie Spaghetti! There you are!" Without even a goodbye, he left them.
Bill and Bev exchanged a grin. She had such a pretty smile. Her smile reminded him of the smile she had when he kissed her after the blood oath, and he felt those butterflies in his stomach again. When she had left for Portland, he had missed her. They talked all the time on the phone and sent letters to each other, but as the year went on, the phone calls and letters grew fewer and far between. He had chalked it up to her moving on, getting new friends at her new school. Then she had come back, the summer before freshman year, and he had been so grateful. She had told them that she missed them, that she felt compelled to come back before it was too late. He had hoped that that at least partly meant them, the two of them, but something had changed between them. It was like she had forgotten what happened that summer. The memories of Niebolt had slowly come back. The kiss hadn't. Bill hadn't known what to think about that, so he hadn't done anything. Maybe this musical was the chance to remind her, to rekindle the spark that had formed that summer. He just had to work up the courage to try. Killer clowns? Easy peasy. Cute girls? Yikes.
"Do you think they'll ever realize they're in love with each other?" Bev asked.
"Huh?" Bill snapped back into the moment and followed her eyes to where Richie was pinching Eddie's cheeks on the other side of the stage. "Oh, them? I've been asking myself that question for years."
Bev smiled at him. "Maybe this musical will spark something in them."
God, could she read minds? "Y-yeah. M-m-maybe." That damn stutter...
Eddie smacked Richie's hands away. 'Would you stop that? You're gonna end up giving me nerve damage!"
Richie laughed. "Nerve damage? From pinching your cheeks? Is it just me or do you get more irrational after every doctor's appointment? How was it, by the way?"
Eddie sighed. "Well, I don't have a tumor. I'm pretty sure my mom just wanted to keep me out of rehearsal for the day. Why else would she schedule an appointment on a Saturday morning? Unfortunately for her, I'm not actually sick, so it went by pretty quickly. Pretty sure Abby hates me, though. I'll never get a main cast role if I'm late all the time."
"Hey, being main cast isn't all it's cracked up to be," Richie told him. "Apparently, we're supposed to have our lines memorized by next week. I think I'm gonna need help. Wanna come over tonight and run lines with me?"
Eddie rolled his eyes. "Richie, your only lines in this musical are moaning."
Richie grinned. "Exactly. I figured you could come help me with that." He winked and Eddie felt his face get warm.
He pushed Richie’s shoulder lightly. “What’d I miss while I was gone?”
Richie shrugged. "Nothing much. Mostly just reconnecting after Spring Break and trying to get used to performing on a stage instead of the choir room. We were having trouble with the audio system, so we've mainly been doing small cast scenes and working on 'vocal projection.'" He said the last part mockingly. He sighed. "B-b-bill's back."
"Aww. I thought the vocal exercises were working?"
"They were, for a while." He threw his hands on his hips. "I wonder whatever could be the problem!" he said dramatically. He nodded his head towards Bill and Bev, who were still seated on the corner of the stage, laughing about something.
"I thought they would be together by now," Eddie said. "Bill kissed her the summer before she went to Portland! I assumed they'd have gotten passed their year-long separation after all this time."
"Well, the whole not-remembering-the-kiss thing kinda threw him off."
"She still doesn't remember?" He paused, fidgeting with his hands. "Is this going to happen to all of us? When we leave Derry, are we going to forget each other? I don't want to forget you. Guys. I don't want to forget you guys." He cleared his throat, hoping Richie didn't notice his slip up. Fortunately, he didn't appear to. Unfortunately, he looked just as sad as Eddie felt, and Eddie didn't want him to be sad. He shouldn't have brought it up, but it was something he had thought about ever since Bev came back to Derry. "Let's just forget about this...ah, bad choice of words." He winced, then grabbed the arm of someone passing by. "Hey, Stanley! Great to see you! What's on the agenda for today?"
Stan squinted his eyes at Eddie's odd behavior, but odd behavior was kind of the norm for them, so he ignored it. "Ummm, let's see." He looked down at his clipboard. Eddie knew that he didn't actually need a clipboard, but he also knew Stan liked to look professional in his new role as assistant stage manager. "Uh, we are...focusing on some blocking today, now that we have access to the stage. We are also going to do some work on choreography, mainly When You're An Addams. Probably a run-through of One Normal Night if we have time." He lowered his voice. 'And if Bill can make it through his lines."
"He and Bev just need to bone," Richie told them.
"Richie!" Eddie scolded, and Stan scowled at him.
Richie threw his hands up defensively. "What? I'm just saying what we are all thinking!"
"We are not all thinking that," Stan said, but he didn't look too sure about that. He sighed. "It is affecting their acting, though. They need to work it out before opening night or the show will be a mess."
"How about you talk to Big Bill and I get Beverly?" Richie suggested.
Stan scoffed. "Yeah, cuz you know so much about admitting your feelings for your friend."
Richie looked hurt by that, but Eddie figured he was just being dramatic as usual. "Uncalled for, Stanley. Besides, isn't this whole play about working out relationships? I'll just take some notes from Uncle Fester and Gomez. Worked out in the end for them, didn't it? Speaking of the end, do you think we could squeeze in a little 'Move Toward the Darkness' today? It's the best song in the play."
"You only think it's the best song cuz it's the one you get a solo in," Eddie told him.
Richie shrugged. "Of course. Any song Richie Tozier gets a solo in is always gonna be the best song." Eddie had to agree there. He loved watching Richie sing during rehearsals. Almost as much as he loved watching him act. Richie made a fantastic Lurch. Not that Eddie would ever admit that to him.
"No," Stan said. "We are doing blocking today. The finale song everybody just stands around for most of it. Maybe sometime next week."
Richie slumped his shoulders, frowning. "Well, fuck. Can I just go home then?"
"No. You still have to show up even when you're not the center of attention. I know that's a problem for you, but you still have to. The ancestors show up even when they aren't the focus. Right, Eddie?"
Eddie sighed. "Yeah. I hate choreography, though. Maybe I should have faked a tumor to stay at the doctor's longer."
Stan looked at him like he wanted to argue with him but instead took a deep breath. "Just...try your best. We want this to be a good show, right? Right. Okay, let's get back to work." He forced a smile and then headed out of the auditorium, probably to yell at some other chorus members to focus better. He took his job very seriously, but Eddie appreciated that. Despite his complaints, he wanted this to be a good show, too.
"Hey, you going to set build today?" he asked Richie.
"I don't know. Maybe. Are you?"
"Maybe. Depends on how badly Abby kills me with choreography today." They briefly looked away upon hearing Abby call for everyone to head to their places for the beginning of When You're An Addams. Eddie sighed.
Richie threw his arm around Eddie's shoulder. "Aw, Eds, you'll do great. You're a great dancer. Go blow them away." He removed his arm and moved to the back of the stage and Eddie sighed. He wished Richie was an ancestor, too, so they could spend more time together. Then he sighed again. He was an idiot for pining over one of his best friends. Like that was ever going to happen. Even Uncle Fester couldn't make it so.
"Mike-a-doodle doo! Haystack! I missed you two!" Richie ran up to his friends who were entering the auditorium from the workshop and threw his arms around them.
Mike rolled his eyes, that big bright smile of his on his face. "You saw us yesterday in class."
"It's not the same. You two should've joined the cast."
"I'm perfectly content with moving set pieces around," Mike told him.
"Yeah," Ben agreed. "I much prefer hiding in the back room with my spotlight. Way easier. Although set build will always be my favorite part of theater." Ben smiled, looking around the room. There were stacks of wood against the wall ready to be nailed together for today. Richie had to admit he was kind of excited, too. He had started set build last year too late in the game to do anything fun. Mostly everything had been built and he just painted finishing touches. Not nearly as fun as using a drill. He perked up at the thought.
"Is this who I have for the day?" A man walked into the room holding a bag that Richie assumed was full of tools. He was blond, short and a little scrawny, with glasses and a goatee. "I can't promise I will remember your name, but I hope by the end of today at least a good portion of you will be well-versed in power tools. For those of you who don't know, my name is Ezra, my assistant, Logan, is parked out back requiring assistance bringing in some more wood. Who wants to help with that?"
Eddie perked up. "Oh! Oh!" he exclaimed, jumping up and down with his hand raised.
Ezra glanced at him, a slight grimace on his face, then turned to Ben and Mike. "Ben, Ben's friend, and...you two." He pointed to two cast members behind them. Eddie pouted.
"Aww, Eds," Richie told him, ruffling his hair. "You'll get 'em next time."
"Alright, now Logan and I will need a couple more people to help cut and put together pieces of wood. Who's interested?"
"Is there going to be a lot of sawdust?" Eddie asked. "I have allergies."
"Ummm...yeah, there will be sawdust. But you can...assist Dee with painting."
Eddie scrunched his nose. "Paint? I can't get paint all over me. Paint doesn't come out well, and I do not want that all over my skin. My mom will have an aneurism."
Ezra stared at him blankly. Richie hid his grin in the sleeve of his shirt. Luckily, Abby came to the rescue. "I need to work on costumes today. You can help me with that, Eddie. You, too, Beverly. You're great at that. Tina and Lila, too."
Eddie sighed with relief and nodded. "Costumes. I can do costumes." Richie thought it best not to remind Eddie that the costumes rarely got washed and had been worn by tons of people throughout the years. Not to mention the dust. Eddie didn't need to know about that. What he didn't know, or more importantly what his mom didn't know, wouldn't hurt him.
"Wait, can I work on costumes, too?" Richie asked, his dreams of power tools floating away as he realized that that would mean he and Eddie would be separated.
"No," Stan said immediately. "If you put them together, they will not get any work done."
"Thank you, Stan," Abby said, a worried look on her face at the mere thought of Richie and Eddie in a small enclosed space together. "I'm well aware of Richie and Eddie's problems with focus. They are slowly becoming the bane of my existence. Eddie, you're with me. Richie, try to actually get some work done today. I expect you to be on your best behavior."
Richie stood up straight and saluted her. "Sir, yes, sir!" He slumped, however, when Eddie joined the costume group to head towards the wardrobe closet. He had only joined theater because Eddie had wanted to, but because Richie was main cast and Eddie was chorus, they didn't see each other much. And now they couldn't even do set build together. As much as he found he actually enjoyed theater, he had to admit he was disappointed.
"Don't worry, Ricky," Ezra told him. Richie went to correct him and decided to just let it go. "I'll try to find something to keep you entertained. As for the rest of you, we need about four people to help Dee with painting." Bill and Stan quickly raised their hands and were shooed off with two girl cast members to join Dee with painting the set pieces that had already been built. That left Richie, a girl from deck crew, and the guys who had gone to move the wood back to build.
A half-hour later, after the boys had come back and Ezra had explained what they were doing, Richie was sitting on the floor with Mike, drilling holes into wood. It was a lot more fun in theory. The repetition was driving him crazy.
As if summoning him with his boredom, Eddie walked onto the stage, heading for the painting area. Richie perked up, clutching his drill and moving to stand up. Mike, noticing the look on his face, put his hand on his arm. "Richie, no. Abby said to behave."
"I've behaved for thirty minutes. I deserve this." He snuck over to where Eddie was talking to Bill.
"We found a couple suit jackets that might fit you," Eddie was saying, "but we need you to try them on so we can be s-" He screamed as Richie came up behind him and turned the drill on right next to his ear. Everyone looked up at them as Eddie's face turned bright red and Richie laughed. Eddie turned to him, furious. "I'm gonna kill you. Just you wait. I'm gonna come at you when you least expect it. You'll never see me coming."
Richie grinned. "Looking forward to it, Eds."
"Don't call me that," he muttered, and Richie's grin widened. He grabbed for the drill but Richie pulled his hand away. “Give me the drill.”
“No.”
“Give me the fucking drill, Richie.” He grabbed at it again. This time, Richie held it above his head, far out of Eddie’s reach. The shorter boy jumped for it, missing it of course. One might expect him to give up after that, to realize this goal was unwinnable, but Richie knew better than that. As he expected, Eddie forwent the jumping and went straight for attempting to climb Richie, still grabbing for the drill. It was exactly what Richie had wanted to happen. Well, he hadn’t exactly planned for this to happen when he attacked Eddie at first. His goal was always to simply annoy Eddie. His second goal was always to get Eddie to touch him, and Eddie always took the bait.
Then Eddie put his arms around Richie's neck in his attempt to climb him, their faces mere inches from each other, and Richie lost focus and dropped the drill. The sound immediately shocked them both out of it and Eddie pulled away.
"Richie! Eddie!" The two of them pulled away quickly as Abby's angry voice came from the workshop entrance.
"Sorry, Abby," Eddie said. Richie simply smiled politely, kicking the drill behind him.
Abby took a deep breath, her eyes wide and her lips pressed tightly together. "Eddie, would you please take Bill to Beverly for his fitting? Richie..." She put her hands up and walked away.
Eddie turned to Richie with what looked like genuine anger in his eyes. "Now she hates me even more. Come on, Bill." He stormed off towards the workshop, a pitying looking Bill in tow.
"You wouldn't need to go to such extreme measures if you just told him how you feel," Stan whispered in his ear.
"You know I can't do that. It would ruin everything."
"Or it could make everything a thousand times better. You'll never know if you don't try. You can't keep going on this way. Live before you die, and all."
"Or I could just die," Richie suggested. He nodded. "Yeah, I like that much better."
Before Stan could say anything else, Richie hurried back to his spot next to Mike and continued drilling, ignoring the pointed look Mike was trying to give him. What did they know?
"Yup. This is definitely the one." Beverly stepped back, admiring the jacket Bill was wearing. The sleeves were just a little bit too long, but she fixed that by pinning them so she could sew them later. "What do you think, Eddie?"
Eddie looked back from where he was sat on the floor looking through a box of hats. "Yeah, it really brings out your...eyes?" He shrugged. "I don't really know anything about clothes. That's your thing, Bev. Looks good, though, Big Bill."
"Alright, so just carefully take it off so you don't move the pins," she said, helping him slide out of it. She put the jacket back on its hanger and put it onto the "to be modified" rack. It was pretty empty at the moment, but once fittings started getting going there would be a lot more work to do. She loved being on stage, but she had to admit that this was her favorite part of theater. She clapped her hands quickly. "Thanks, Bill. Go make some magic with those paints."
He smiled, giving her finger guns while walking backward toward the door. He bumped the doorframe, stuttered out a farewell, and quickly hurried away.
Beverly tilted her head and laughed softly before joining Eddie on the floor. He was giving her a goofy grin. "What?" she asked slowly.
He shrugged. "Nothing. Just...you guys seem so good together. You get on so well."
"Well, yeah. We're friends."
"Just friends?" Eddie prodded.
"Just friends," she repeated stiffly. "Just like you and Richie are 'just friends'...right?"
That shut him up, just like she expected it to. It was unfair of her, using his not-so-secret crush against him like that, but she really didn't want to talk about her and Bill. There wasn't a 'her and Bill' to talk about. Eddie shuffled through the box, pointedly ignoring the question. Not that Beverly had needed an answer. He and Richie weren't 'just friends'. It was obvious to anyone but the two of them. Not that Beverly would ever really talk with either of them about it. It was something they needed to figure out on their own. Sometimes it was best to just let things go their natural path. If they truly want to be together, they will be.
"Oh-ho, look at this!" Eddie said excitedly, pulling Bev out of her thoughts. He pulled out a hat shaped like a turkey.
"What on earth was that for?" she asked with a laugh.
"I vaguely remember hearing about some Thanksgiving show with the fourth graders last year. So glad I'm not in elementary school anymore. There's no way my mom would let me put something like this on my little nine-year-old head."
"How does she feel about you being in this show?" she asked. "She does know you'll have to wear a costume right? One that probably hasn't been washed in, like, forever?"
Eddie looked down at the hatbox in horror, looking like he didn't want to wear a costume that hadn't been washed in forever, but he steadied himself. "What my mother doesn't know won't hurt her," he said firmly. "And more importantly, it won't hurt me. I've been keeping all the information about the show on a need-to-know basis. And she doesn't really need to know anything except for when I'll be rehearsing. I never even told her what show we're doing. She would be hysterical if she found out we were doing something so 'dark' and 'satanic'."
"She's going to find out eventually, you know."
"Hopefully by the time she does, it will be too late. And if not, I've gotten pretty good at sneaking out of the house." He gave her a bright, forced smile. "Everything is going to be fine!"