Loser

Chapter 10

     Eddie stares blankly at Beverly, trying to think of what to say. How could he answer a question if he doesn't know the answer? He knows he'd be able to give one if he really tried. But what happens when he doesn't want to know why?

     "I..." Eddie takes a deep breath. "I don't know. I'm sorry." Beverly just stares at Eddie.

     "I think you do know. I just think you don't want to admit it." Eddie scoffs, insinuating that Beverly isn't right, but some part of him knows she is. That part of him keeps nagging, urging him to pay attention. To dig deeper. He doesn't know what he'd be looking for exactly. He doesn't know if he wants to know. He shakes his head, grounding himself.

     "Um...Do you know when the others are gonna be back? I don't wanna...just...I really don't fucking know. Sorry. Uh..."

     "What's up my tiny dude?" Richie walks back into the living room. "Whatever you need."

     "Well, what I need and what I want are very, very different right now."

     "Well, either way, need or want, I can," Richie pauses and lowers his voice, "most likely," he speaks back up, "provide. Probably. Maybe." Beverly snickers. "What are you laughing at, Red?"

     "You. What're you gonna do about it, Trashmouth?" Beverly steps up to Richie. She stands at about 8 ½ inches shorter than him. She's the only Loser that's shorter than Eddie. She has to crane her neck to look at Richie's face. Richie laughs.

    "How are you gonna be intimidating at 5-foot-fucking-two?" Beverly punches Richie in the stomach and he hardly reacts. "You call that a punch?" Beverly winds up to take another shot, but Richie backs up. "We aren't trying to scare the little one away again." Beverly scoffs and sits next to Eddie.

     "Talk to me, young padawan."

     "Huh?" Richie finds Eddie's expression priceless.

     "What's on your mind?"

     "Well, a lot, and nothing. It's just...chaos."

     "Let the chaos out, man. You don't gotta suppress yourself here." Richie snickers in the background. "Shut the fuck up, Trashmouth. That's not how I meant it and you fucking know that."

     "Guys." Eddie tries to get their attention.

     "Do I know what you meant, Molly Ringwald?"

     "Guys?"

     "Yeah, Shithead, you fucking do." Eddie scoffs and stands up, continuing to be ignored.

     "Nice." Eddie walks to the guest room. "Hi...uh...Stan." Stan looks up from what he was doing.

     "Hello." He quickly continues adjusting his bedding. "Did you need something?"

     "Beverly and Richie are arguing. I didn't exactly wanna deal with it. Your bed looks fine. You know that, right?"

     "First of all, it's 'want to', not," Stan shudders, "'wanna'. Second of all, it's not fine. It has to be a specific way." He sighs.

     "Ok. I'm sorry. I'll leave you alone now. Sorry for intruding." Stan just waves him out. Eddie can still hear Beverly and Richie bickering. He leans against the wall and slides down it. He takes a few deep breaths. "They aren't gonna hate you," he whispers. "You wouldn't be here if they hated you." The argument coming from the living room dies down. A head peeks into the hallway, shortly followed by a knock at the front door. "What's up, Richie?"

     "Well, not you, apparently."

     "Is that a short joke?"

     "Maybe. Maybe not. No one will ever know." Eddie rolls his eyes and stands up. "Hey. Back at 100%? Ready to party?" Richie smiles and bites his lip.

     "Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" Eddie smiles.

     "The guys are back. You ready to rejoin society?"

     "What society was I ever a part of?"

     "Ya know, the Losers Society." Richie pauses, then laughs. "Nope. That doesn't have the same finesse. It's a club, not a society." Eddie chuckles and stands up.

     "Damn. I was hoping to summon a demon or something." Richie promptly rolls his eyes back, so that only the whites are showing, and growls. "Actual demons, Richie. You have the energy of a fucking Pomeranian." Richie steps back, as though he's just been slapped across the face.

     "Rude, small man. Rude."

     "Wh-huh? How is that rude?"

     "I prefer to have the energy of a Richie, thank you."

     "Fine. You have the energy of a Richie. And that energy just so happens to resemble that of a Pomeranian." Eddie smiles and walks back toward the living room. He yawns and his eyes dart around the room.

     "Is Eddie Spaghetti tired?" Eddie shakes his head. "Sure you're not. Let's go chill on the couch. You can sleep if you want to. It's been an eventful day."

     "I'm fine, Trashmouth," Eddie says through another yawn. Richie puts his arm around Eddie's shoulders, causing Eddie to jump and freeze.

     "Shit...sorry, Eds. Uh..." Richie pulls his arm away and motions for Eddie to go sit on the couch.

     "I don't wanna sleep with everyone else awake. At that point, there's no reason for me to be here."

     "Eddie! Richie! Welcome back to the real world. What do you guys wanna do?" Beverly's voice matches her appearance with scary accuracy. Powerful, yet sweet. It's a large difference from his mother's voice, which is not quite soft, but weaker than Beverly's, but full of aggression. Eddie finds it refreshing. Richie looks over at him, expecting an answer, but the only response is a small shrug.

     "Helpful, Eds. Uh...fuck. I dunno, Bev." Eddie's eyelids start to droop. "Eddie, you need to sleep."

     "Why do you care so much, asshole?" He rubs his right eye and tries to regain focus. "I'm fine." Beverly just stares at Eddie in awe.

     "Did you just ask why Richie Trashmouth Tozier cares if you sleep?" She snickers, eliciting a glare from Richie. "It's obviously becau-" Mike's hand flies over Beverly's mouth and whispers something in her ear.

     "Do you understand?" Beverly nods and Mike moves his hand.

     "Why are you so boring, Mikey?"

     "Why are you so impulsive, Bevvie?" Beverly just flips Mike off and groans. "That's not very nice, Bev."

     "Yeah...I don't really care right now." Beverly pulls her lighter out of her pocket and strikes it. She glides her index finger back and forth through the flame. Eddie begins to doze off in the threshold between the hallway and the living room. "Eddie, you should-" Her words cut out. Eddie's head shoots up.

     "Hmm? Sorry."

     "I said you should lay down. You're falling asleep standing up. Why don't you sleep?"

     "Um...I'm fine. I just need a distraction."

     "Movie marathon? I have a shit ton of popcorn." Everyone agrees. Eddie walks over to the couch slowly and sits in front of it, trying to allow anyone else to sit on it. "You could sit on the couch, Eddie. I have beanbag chairs and stuff. You were over there before anyone else." Eddie moves up to the corner of the couch and rests his head on the armrest. "Do you want a blanket?" Mindlessly, Eddie nods. Richie sits dangerously close to Eddie, but the smaller boy doesn't flinch. He doesn't notice the shift in weight. Richie waves for Beverly to hurry up with the blanket. When it gets handed to him, he covers Eddie up and leans back. Beverly plays a random movie on Netflix and everyone else settles on beanbags on the floor. The microwave beeps and Bev goes into the kitchen. She comes back with a huge bowl of popcorn and seven bottles of soda. She sets everything down on the coffee table and sits back down.

     "Why is no one else sitting on the couch? There's enough space for another person." In response, Beverly just looks back and winks.