Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Eddie drops the last box labeled "Eddie's Room" onto his bedroom floor, stretching his arms as he walks down the stairs. His initial calm feeling immediately transforms into anxiousness as he stops on the bottom step. Sonia stands in the hallway, tapping her foot impatiently. 

She holds up his inhaler, pointing at it accusingly as her eyes burn into Eddie's. 

oh shit, here it comes... 

"Eddie bear," She coos with such a sickly sweet tone that Eddie immediately tenses up. "Can you explain to me why you haven't been carrying your inhaler around? I found it in your desk drawer while I was packing up. Shouldn't that have been in your backpack?" 

"Ugh, Ma I could've packed up myself. How did you even get a hold of an inhaler anyways, i'm not even asthmatic." Eddie sighs. Suddenly the feeling of the room changes, and Eddie quickly realizes what he just said. oh, shit... i'll be hearing about this for the next year...

"Sweetie, yes you are. Don't talk back to your mother, saying things about 'anxiety' ever again," Sonia airquotes as she says anxiety, flippantly suggesting she doesn't believe it exists. "You can't breathe because you have asthma attacks, stop lying to yourself, sweetheart. You'll break your mom's heart." 

Eddie clenches his fists, his entire body filling with anger. He knew he'd eventually have to tell her, but he wanted to wait until he could effectively run away without becoming homeless in a new town. But that day, his anger boiled over as he shouted, "Well, clearly there isn't something wrong if i've been going the past month without taking my medication or using my inhaler, Ma. Stop making me into some fragile doll that you need to take care of. I'm almost 16, and I'm sick of being your baby." 

Sonia's face goes red, screaming, "EDDIE, WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY? I SWEAR TO-- EDDIE!" 

Before she can get more mad, he rushes out the front door, hastily grappling the strap to his bag he had placed next to the door. Eddie grabs his bike out of the mostly empty u-haul, biking as fast as he can away from his moms screaming.

we’ve only just moved here and i’ve already managed to get myself in deep shit…

After a few minutes of biking, he starts looking around to memorize the area, spotting a bustling street a few blocks further. 

well, i may as well look around derry while i’m not allowed anywhere near the house.

He stops at the intersection, taking in all the sights and sounds, looking up at the street sign. main street. he parks his bike at a bike rail, making sure the lock is secure before he starts wandering down the sidewalk.

i wonder if there’s a library or bookstore around here, I'd love to get some new books.

Eventually, he stops at a little brick building with sweeping windows. Unlike a lot of the other storefronts, theres a much smaller amount of people in the shop. He looks at the sign hanging perpendicular to the door. In big, cursive letters, it says "Honey Apple Bookstore and Bakery" His wishes have been answered. He steps into the store, breathing in the scent of fresh bread and new books. 

As he makes a sweeping pass at the bookshelves, Eddie notices the sheer amount of books the store has. The shelves seem to reach all the way up the walls, books placed horizontally on top of other, vertically placed books on some shelves to account for the lack of space. 

Eddie walks around, finding displays of books sorted by genre. He beelines for the classic literature section, hoping they have books he hasn't read yet. Lately, he's been reading classics so he can get a better understanding of genres, and classics are so cheap to buy used, he decided thats where he would start.

He flips through a few of the featured titles, holding onto "Brave New World" out of the selection. He walks up to the register, finding that no one is there. 

Eddie waits patiently until the man who was behind the bakery display walks up to the register, apologizing for the lack of service. "The cashier is normally here, but he just left to take an early lunch today, sorry about that.” He talks with a slight catch to his voice, as if at any moment he could start stuttering, but doesnt.

"that's alright, thank you for helping me out" Eddie says, his nervousness around meeting new people clearly translating into his voice.

The man give him an encouraging smile. "No problem. Good choice, though plotlines full of existential angst and societal rules isnt for me, i'm not gonna knock you for reading a classic." He jokes, clearly trying to calm Eddies nervous energy. Eddie was grateful for that, feeling his head clear up and his breathing slow a bit.

"I wanted to get into some classics that are out of my comfort zone. can't keep rereading percy jackson forever, can i?" Eddie laughs.

"You can, but I suppose it would probably get too predictable after a while." the man chuckles and finishes ringing eddie up, handing him his change. "I'm Zack Denbrough by the way. But its Mr. Denbrough to you, kid. You must be new in town, I usually remember faces, even if they only step into the store once or twice."

"Yeah, i'm Eddie Kaspbrak. I'm from Portland but we moved here because this is my mom's hometown" The man sticks out his hand, eddie shaking his as the man gives him a friendly smile.

"Well, Eddie, I hope I see you come by here a lot more, I have to go back to work. Feel free to sit at a table at the cafe to read whenever you want." He gestures towards the tables spread out over the only open space in the whole floorplan, every other wall and floor covered with book carts and shelves.

"Thanks, I think I'll do that" Eddie walks from the counter, settling into a seat by one of the many wide store windows. unlike the windows on the other side of the doors, these windows were completely open and unobstructed, opening the store out into the street.

On the other side of the doors, there are shelves of displays of new releases, as well as books published by local authors and publishing companies.

Eddie opens his book, letting the story whisk him away into a world far away from any of his worries.

after an hour of reading, he decides it's probably time he goes back home before his mom calls the police and reports him missing. 

He gets up, pushing the door open to the bookstore and closing his eyes in annoyance.

"going home after THAT is gonna suck" Eddie thinks as he steps out into the crisp January air. Before he can fully appreciate the cold air filling his lungs his entire body tenses, his head crashing into something. A person, he realizes, mortified. 

He quickly looks up, as he feels his entire face redden as heat creeps up his neck.

He's met with curly brown hair and wide, surprised eyes. Eddie feels his heartbeat loudly in his head, drowning out everything else around him. Stepping back, Eddie averts his eyes from whoever he just rammed into. As he quickly apologizes, he retreats out of the storefront to his bike. 

He unlocks the lock he had connecting his bike to the rail, pulling his bike out and placing the lock on his handlebar as he rides out into the bike lane. Riding home, he stops a few times to catch his breath, internally screaming at himself for let realizing there was someone standing there. As his new house rounds into his vision he begins composing himself, preparing for the onslaught of emotional manipulation hes going to receive when he gets home.

Chapter Text

Richie collapses over the counter dramatically, sighing as he feels his brain slipping into the song he’s had stuck in his head all morning. Just great , He thinks. Time for another hour of Tame Impala. Stretching his arms, he sits up and notices a customer turning the corner into the cornerstore’s doorway. The bell above the door rings pleasantly, the customer taking in the looming shelves and eventually disappearing behind one of the aisles. Richie may not exactly enjoy working in the most boring place in town, but he can’t help but appreciate the fact that with the used books, their weared bindings are shown off in a color-coded by genre organization method that makes Richie feel calm and content.

Richie checks the time on the big clock hung above the precariously tall bookshelves pushed against the walls. The clock reads 11:02 am, Richie hanging his head glumly in response. Fucks sake, there's still another hour until my lunch break starts, He broods. Richie contemplates the night before, having spent the entire night up in his room, practicing and composing on his bass. Sitting at the cash register with nothing to do, Richie can feel even more vividly how heavy his eyelids feel.

Richie makes an effort to settle his nerves as he walks over to the one of his bosses, Zack. His hands fidget endlessly as Zack turns to look at him. “Hey, bud!” Zack slaps Richie on the back, flashing him a reliable smile. “What do you need?”

“Hey Mr. Denbrough,” Richie tries his best to sound as confident as possible, which makes the opposite effect when his voice sounds way too high in his head.  “Could I possibly take my lunch early today?”

“Of course! Listen, I could see your eye bags from a mile away.” Zack lets out a hearty laugh, patting Richies back. “At this point, a dead body would probably make for a better cashier.”

Richie feels his shoulders drop. Zack always knew when to calm Richie down, and he always appreciated that immensely. “You’re right on that, Zack. I’ll be back in an hour.”

Richie turns and walks back towards the break room, grabbing his bag from the hook as he slides on his jacket. He slings the bag over his shoulder, stepping back out into the main storefront just as he hears the familiar ring of the bell signaling someone entering the store. He navigates his way around piles of books placed haphazardly on the floor, most likely Richie’s doing while not being able to find ample spaces for them despite the towering shelves. 

Richie pushes the door, letting the cold wind hit his face as he steps out into the street. He quickly tucks his hands in his coat before the icy wind makes his hands feel like icicles. Richie jogs down the street, quickly plopping down his skateboard and riding onto the street. Richie kicks down on the road, trying to get to Bev’s house as quickly as possible to not waste his lunch break. 

There’s no way I could sleep at home, Maggie would chew me out for staying up in the first place. Richie thinks, Bev’s is closer anyways. Turning onto the street Bev lives on, Richie hops off his board, grabbing it as he runs up to the side door of the little yellow house, the smallest one in the neighborhood. Bev doesn’t need much, though, since she has lived here on her own for a year now. Grabbing his keys, he picked the one with a flower on it and unlocked the door. 

Richie always loved staying with Bev, her house always smelled the exact same way she did, like cinnamon and lemons. He took off his shoes and padded down the hallway, glancing at the photos of her and Richie she had hung onto the wall. As he looked back ahead, he saw Bev sat on her bed, reading a book that Richie noticed was titled ‘In Cold Blood’. He dropped his bag onto the ground, spinning as he let himself fall next to her. 

As if instinctually, Bev immediately starts playing with his hair, twisting his curls through her fingers absentmindedly. Richie always loved that about her, she was never afraid to be affectionate to those she was close to, and it always had this magical way of making Richie feel calmer, like Bev had the ability to calm him down with a simple touch. He stayed here pretty regularly, her house becoming a safe haven whenever his parents had left him home alone for too long.

"Let me guess,” She chided, “You stayed up all night last night, so you decided to come and take a nap on your lunch break." 

“I'll love you forever if you wake me up in an hour, bevvie” Richie jokes, flashing her a huge grin.

Bev cracks a smile, tossing the blanket over him. "Fine, I'll make you something to eat when you wake up" She gets up from the bed, putting her book down "And by the way, rich, you don't need to tell me you will love me forever, cause we both know you're my number one simp." 

“ Bevvie, did you just call me a simp?” Richie throws his hands into the air dramatically.

"Well, next time don't let me catch you simping." Bev sticks her tongue out, turning to place her book down on her desk. She turns back around, giving Richie a warm smile as she grabs the door handle and shuts it behind her.

In the silence of her room, Richie feels his eyelids droop as his consciousness wavers. Eventually, his mind goes blank, darkness enveloping his brain.

…

Richie awakes to a knock on the door, Bev walking in with a plate filled completely with food. Richie looks at her warily as she places the plate down on the desk. He walks over, seating himself and taking in the pleasant smells of her cooking. The plate was a spread of eggs, sausages and a sizeable scone that smelled like fresh fresh and warm, and featured flakes of what looked like cranberries. Richie immediately wolfed down the food, Bev smiling while she sits on her bed, reading more of her book.

Richie turns to her excitedly, his mouth full of food. “Bevvie, you’re the best cook ever!”

Bev grabs the napkin placed next to his plate, handing it to him as she sarcastically rolls her eyes with a smile. “Richie, eat with your mouth closed. You’re gonna end up getting crumbs in your hair again, and I don’t even know how you do that…”

“It’s a gift.” Richie shrugs, laughing as Bev groans in fake agony

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do with you, Rich.” She throws her hands up in hyperbolic surrender. The two of them stare at each other for a beat, feeling their smiles widen on their faces until eventually they’ve broken out into loud laughter.

Richie drifts his line of sight to the small clock placed on Bev’s nightstand next to a large stack of books. 12:00 pm. “Shit!” Richie exclaims. “My break ends in 10 minutes!” 

Richie shoots out of his seat, grabbing his bag. Bev grabs the plate off the desk, carrying it with her as Richie trails behind anxiously. After placing the plate in the sink, she walks over to Richie, giving him a big hug.

“Have a good rest of your day, Rich. I’ll see you later” Bev says softly into his shoulder. 

Richie leans back, flashing Bev a bright grin before grabbing his skateboard and racing out the door, tossing it down onto the street and rushing out back to the bookstore which was only a few blocks away. Just as the bookstore was in sight, he snatched up his skateboard from the ground and broke into a run, halfway down the street from where the storefront is, right on the corner of the intersection.

Richie turns the corner, grabbing the door and opening it with surprisingly little effort until suddenly, he gets hit right in the chin with someone's head. Jeez, He thinks. What do they have in their head, a solid chunk of rock? 

Richie, steps back to see a guy, only a few inches shorter than him. The guy’s ears were turning a bright shade of pink as Richie finally started getting his bearings. “Woah there, chap” He puts on his best british impression, which was in short, pretty terrible. “You-”

“I’M SORRY!” The boy yells, his eyes widening as he quickly turns to the right and dashes down the street. His dark curly hair bounces wildly on beat with his footsteps as he grabs his bike and pedals off. Richie watches him until he turns the corner on the next block, gaping in a dazed confusion. 

That’s a solid head of hair, I wonder what it would be like to play with it… Richie shakes his head in an attempt to clear his mind of that thought. Suddenly, his entire body jumps, remembering the time limit he’s on. He pulls open the door, quickly walking up to the cash register and noticing the familiar smirk of the boy standing behind the counter. 

"H-hey, you're finally back.” Bill smiles at Richie, clearly happy to be relieved of the register job. Richie didn’t care how much register work bored him anymore, Bill always had a way of keeping Richie occupied enough at work.

“Billiam, my boy! How are you on this fine day?” Richie slings his arm around Bill.

“I’m f-ff-fine” Bill shrugs, subtly gesturing towards the door as he continues.  “Wh-h-ho was that g-guy y-you hit into, by the w-way? Y-you seemed like yo-ou knew him. Is he y-your bo-oyfriend?" 

“ Shut up, dude.. I don't know him. He just hit me like a rock and ran off… Maybe he’s THE rock with how hard his head is.” Richie smiles at Bill, knowing he must’ve hated how dumb that joke was. Richie didn’t mind it, he knows that not every joke can be a success, but that’s the beauty of it for him.

Bill’s mouth twitches with the start of a smile, but he quickly grins as if he’s had a funny thought. “Richie, h-has anyone ever t-told y-you that y-you're ff-fucking weird?" His face contorts sarcastically.

Richie lets a smile play on his lips as he speaks. “Yeah, sometimes your mom does when i take her to my-”

Richie is suddenly cut off by another voice, sounding slightly annoyed as they state, “Richie, I'm cool with you making your mom jokes, but I'm less cool with it when your boss is both in the building and the mother you're joking about." 

Sharon walks out of the back of the store, carrying a tall stack of books. Bill looked exactly like his mom, their dusty brown hair and bright eyes that glinted mischievously as they spoke, they really seemed to be the same person.

“Sorry, Sharon... please don't fire me, my parents will threaten to send me to doctor phil again,” Richie clasps his hands together, as if praying to the gods of hyperbolic therapy show hosts before he gushes, “And there's no way i'm letting that sexy bald man take me to the ranch…”

"I w-wish I kn-new w-whether or not tha-that was a j-j-joke, richie." Bill crosses his arms, looking at Richie curiously as if trying to pull the intent out of him in one look.

“Billiam,” Richie wags his finger at him disapprovingly, “You’re quite wrong to assume I’m ever NOT joking, but in this case, the answer isn’t as clear…”

Bill elbows him, chucking as he says, “I gotta go sort through the new arrivals, weirdo. See you later.”

Richie waves as Bill turns to walk back to the storage room. Looking out into the street, he can’t help but think today wasn’t so bad.