Meet me in the middle || Reddie

1

—Chapter 1:
Is hate a feeling or a choice?

[ January 17th, 1985 ]

"Earth to Richie?" Beverly Marsh snapped in his face. Richie grumbled, facing his ever-agitating best friend. "What?" He grumbled, which Beverly thumped him on the head for.
"Ow!" he winced. "The hell beaverly!"
"Are you or are you not with me?" She demanded.
"I'm with you, i'm with you," he paused, cursed under his breath, "jesus."
Beverly cocked her head, puffed her cig between her lips, the air filling with smoke between them. "What's the matter with you today?"
"Here, give me a puff of that." Richie, ignoring her question, snatched the cigarette from her hand. "Oi! Coulda' burned me!" She exclaimed, watching Richie as he carelessly shrugged. "Asshole," she murmured.
"That's me."
"Seriously," she said, "you're even less delightful than usual. What's this about? Stan givin' you hell again?"
Richie frowned. "Stan's Stan. It's fucking Spaghetti."
"Yeah, I'm not a fan either." She mindlessly grabbed  back her cig.
"I don't mean the pasta."
"Hm," she hummed thoughtfully. "I didn't know it was pasta."
Richie, sneering and turning his head, observed: "God, you are so high."
"Oh, because you're so much better?" She retorted. Richie supposed she had him there.
"This curb is hurting my ass," he grumbled, trying to reposition. The sun was rising, he noticed. How long had they been out here like this? Did his little zone-out count as sleep?
"Clever topic change, and I know what you meant. I just don't prefer to hear about your little vendetta in the morning."
"It's not a 'vendetta'." He rolled his eyes. "It's a reasonable hatred."
"Yeah," she snorted. "Except it's without reason."
"That's just untrue, beaverly."
"You might have more luck demeaning me with 'molly ringwald," she suggested.
"I have reason to hate him ok? He's—"
"What?"
"Weird... and.. I don't know, quirky."
Beverly glared at him through her eyelashes. "You hate Eddie Kaspbrak.... because he's quirky." The tone of her voice made it evident she did not believe him. "What happened between you two?"
"You really wanna know?" Richie asked, and Bev dared not get her hopes up. "He was like a leach when we were kids, wouldn't leave my ass alone."
Beverly nodded to herself.  "You hated him... because he was your friend."
"Don't say it like that."
"Like what? Like exactly what it is? God, you ungrateful fuck, Richie." She shook her head in disapproval. "And for the record, I still know you're lying."
"How's that?"
"You have a tell." She smirked in that I'm-better-than-you way. "You cross your third and pinky finger."
Richie dropped his jaw. "Bullshit!"
"Look down," she mused, but Richie refused.
"I don't need to endorse this absurd theory by looking." He defiantly rose his chin.
"You just know I'm right," said Beverly.
"Give me a godamn cigarette," Richie snapped, making her smirk to herself. Ah, nothing like being right in the morning.
"Here, ass," she practically threw it at him, then reached into her box to grab a new one for herself.
"Light."
"I'm working on it." He flicked on his lighter, lighting both cigs at once.
"You know I hate you," he reminded her.
"Ah, so that's why you invite me to get drunk with you on school nights."
Richie chuckled, puffing out. "Go figure."
"I got us into a party tomorrow night," she blurted out. Her confession surprised Richie, and he furrowed his brows. "Why?"
"Why what? Why have fun? Why enjoy the last of our teenage years? Why live? Christ, you're a cynic."
Richie huffed. "You're a mean drunk."
"And you're mean in general. Now, will you say yes already?"
"Care to say please?"
"No."
"Fine, I'll come." He returned to his cigarette. Bev smiled down at herself.
Another win against the infamous Richie Tozier.
"I'm taming you, Tozier," she said. "One of these days I'll get the truth about Eddie out of you."
"Doubt it."
"Hates a choice, bud. Why you choosin' it?"
For that, Richie had no answer.

END OF CHAPTER