𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 | reddie

vampires

— DUCK BUTTER

Seattle

LEMMON smoothed along the top round rim of the glass cup like a paintbrush painting a circle on a canvas. Though she didn't hesitate to pause, she then turned and did the same to the second cup.

Handing it to the older teen in the room, the redhead sat back down at the edge of the piano with her legs crossed and her knees falling out of the rips on her jeans. She downed her glass of whiskey before starting to sing again, as the boy played the piano like a professional. Richie Tozier was sat, calmly, playing a song that only Beverly knew well enough to sing.
"Eddie my love," she sang softly with a bottle still in hand. "I love you so." Beverly's gentle words hummed through the room and Richie didn't know why he kept on playing. As soon as he heard the name Eddie, he knew exactly what song she was teasing him with. He knew she had mentioned talking to Eddie on the phone the past week, though he didn't want to believe her. Finishing up the last chorus and lyric, his long fingers exited the piano's black and white keys that longed to be played more often. "What." Beverly stared at her friend who was glaring at her, eyes full of concern, laughter, and annoyance all in one look. "Why that song?" Richie fiddled with his lighter covered in small band collective stickers from over the years.

He gnawed his inside lip. "Dunno," Bev sat on her hands, shrugging, pretending like she had no clue why Richie thought such a thing. "it was my turn to choose a song Rich, don't be spikey." She pouted slyly, looking at him before standing up and giving him a side hug, ruffling his curls atop. "You know exactly what you do to me." He said flatly with hooded eyes as he turned away, plugging one nose and inhaling sharply as his bony jaw nearly touched the surface of the coffee table covered in white dust he poured out quietly.

Coughing, Richie stood up, flopping on the couch and ignoring the ginger who finished her Chinese takeout.

"Where're the others?"

He wiped his nose with his hand and crossed his arms over his chest as he stared up at the dark popcorn ceiling that reminded him of his room in Derry. "Ziggy's getting some beer down the street," She said. "I dunno where Laura is." Beverly placed her beer down. Richie stayed quiet. Laura Palmer and Ziggy Grant were two of the "party"'s members that joined their traveling spree over the two years of late teenage mishap. Since Derry, Beverly and Richie were the only ones that kept in touch. Though Richie really didn't mind at all — he thought of the losers constantly. "What." He spat purposely at her, narrowing his eyes and slouching down in his chair. "Nothing!" She smirked, hiding her face. "you should just, talk to him." She admitted. "Who?" He downed his drink. "Eddie!" She rolled her eyes wide in obviousness. Richie ignored her and closed his eyes.

"Bev, please don't feel the need to make conversation it's really not your area." He firmly stood up, brushing past her shoulder and looking for his cigarettes eagerly, which she had hidden. "Where the hell are they?" He scoffed. "Where're what?" Bev's acting was superb. And oh Richie was about to lose his shit. "Beverly." He clenched his fist, speaking in a low warning tone. "I don't know where your stupid cigarettes are." She turned on the television, sitting in her underwear and Richie's hoodie. He hated it when she wore it like a princess in charge and he the poor knight in shining armer.

"I swear to god—"

Digging around in the piles of hipster blankets, dirty clothes, a pillow, and books, Richie rummaged around with his bare hands, searching desperately as if he needed them to breath. "Richie," she sighed. "you're doing, really well without them—don't give up now." She stated confidently in her choice of words. He ignored the girl with black nails and pale skin. "by the way that's my fucking hoodie. Thanks for asking." He pointed out, with shaky hands.