Trashmouth -{Reddie}-

--{o n e}--

September 1, 1992

Tw mentions abuse

Beverly cleared her throat nervously fidgeting with her hands while sitting on a bench opposite of her best friend Richie Tozier 'The Trashmouth.' They sat in silence after Bev had called the boy's home phone begging him to meet her at the park. They sat there waiting for the other to speak. They just sat, waiting and waiting until Richie had enough of waiting for her to speak and decided to take matters into his own hands and break the silence.

"Uh, hey Bev?" Richie said looking at the small redhead he had known since he moved to Derry, Maine, in 82' when he was only six years old. They had met on the school playground and she had been his first friend and continues to be his only. Richie loved his Beverly and had looked at her as his big sister for many many years.

"What is it Trashmouth?" Beverly snapped causing Richie to tense up.

"Are you going to tell me why you called my house at 3 a.m, woke up my dad, and demanded I meet you here?" he asked hurt by Beverly's attitude towards him.

"Can we just sit in silence for a few minutes?" Bev sobbed causing Richie to immediately put his hand on her back rubbing small gentle circles. Though he was never actually good at comforting people he genuinely tried his best, usually failing or making it worse.

After about a minute, Richie's brain begins to wonder what could have his best friend so worried, especially what could possibly have her crying. "Could it be Bowers?" "Could she be having problems with her other Friends?" "Oh, Shit..." He thought, "could she be pregnant?" Whatever it was it really had her shaken. Beverly never cries shes extremely tough and out of their ten years of friendship, Richie had seen her cry twice.

Richie begins to scare himself thinking about all the things that could be happening and going wrong in Beverly's life and making up scenarios and how he could handle them.

"Ow, shit Rich that fucking hurts," Bev growled smacking His hand away from her back. Richie cowers away from her touch surprised that she had hit him.

"That's not what your mom said last night," the Trashmouth began, "That woman likes it rough," he added. In all reality, Richie actually felt really bad for accidentally hurting Bev but he was too caught up in his thoughts to notice he was actually hurting her.

Richie looked at Bev observing the way she looked disappointed and glanced at the way she was picking at the skin on her fingers. "Fuck I screwed up!" He thought, "Goddamnit Rich you're so annoying. This is why all you are is just a fucked up Trashmouth. That's all you are and all you ever will be you're just a fuck up!"

Bev looked up noticing Richie aggressively bouncing his leg and zoning out. Beverly had known him long enough to know that this was not right. Being friends with him for so long she had picked up on his habits and behaviors and what they meant in certain situations. She quickly started to feel bad about snapping at him and needed something to lighten the mood desperately before he freaked out and did something bad.

"Hey Rich, what's it like banging a corpse?" Bev asked in an attempt to make Richie feel a bit better. Thankfully the comment earned a laugh from Richie making Bev feel a little bit less guilty about snapping at him. She knew it was wrong and she knows better than to snap at him because inside he really is just a big softie. "Okay, but do you actually want to know why I called you here?" Bev finally questioned after about half an hour of Richie being impatient.

"Yeah sure, what's bothering you Bevy? You know you can talk to me." he encouraged. He turned to look at Beverly her eyes red with tears almost matching her red hair that glowed like fire under the light of the street lamps. He threw his legs onto the bench and sat with his legs and arms crossed facing her and waiting for her to tell him what's on her mind.

"Well," Beverly started her posture sinking and she became visibly more jumpy and anxious. "Rich... I have to fucking leave. I can't stay in that god damn house anymore!" she bawled, "I can't fucking take it anymore. My dad- my dad I c-can't stop him anymore Richie. He keeps trying to take a-a-advantage of me." she cries pulling up her sleeve to reveal handprints on her wrist from where her father had held her down, "I don't want to be his 'Little Girl' anymore Rich I can't take it." she explained collapsing into Richie's chest. He hugged her as tight as he could planting a kiss on her forehead.

"You'll be okay Bevy. you can stay with me if you want, I'm sure my parents wouldn't care as long as my dad is not in one of his moods." he recommended, "Not gonna lie though I kinda thought you were going to tell me you were pregnant..." Richie joked earning a well-deserved playful punch to his stomach, "Euugh" Richie groaned pretending to be injured by Bev.

"Let's go home." Beverly shouted, "I mean to yours if that's okay?" she added

"Yes, yes that's okay." Rich said as he stood up reaching out his hand for her to grab, "M'Lady." he imitated in his British accent. Beverly giggled grabbing his hand and pulling herself up.

On the way to Richie's house Beverly decided to invite him to meet her other friends, "By the way, Rich a few of my friends are having a birthday party and since I'm in charge you're coming." she demanded, "They all want to meet you Richie pleaseeee!" she pleaded dragging out the E. Richie couldn't say no to Beverly, he trusted her and knew that if anything went wrong she'd be there to help him.

"Fine." Richie agreed, earning a small squeal from Beverly.

A/N: welcome to the first chapter of Trashmouth. I know my writing may not be the best but really all I'm trying to do is improve constructive criticism and ideas for the plot are extremely appreciated because I don't know what I want to do with this story...

Words: 1069 (haha nice)