Ma Chérie (Beverly Marsh x Fem!Reader) (On Hold)

Chapter 30: A Vacation??!

f/c = favorite color

Tw: mentioning self harm, abuse, and skipping meals

June 1st, 1989

Your P.O.V

Tomorrow is the last day of school, which means I have one less burden to worry about. But of course, the nightmares about Addison, the violent daydreams, and sometimes doing them in real life, as well as my lack of an appetite haven't gone away. It's still so odd. Everyone still thinks it was an accident, and even though they took pictures, the pictures just look like him with a broken neck. Nothing like how he actually was.

I guess I'm thankful that the whole 'playdate' with Henry wasn't terrible. We went roller skating, then went out to eat. There weren't any big deals about anything, and it was like a normal friend hang-out, except I was forced to be there. They didn't visibly bully anyone while I was with them, so that's a plus too, maybe?

"And how are you feeling today?" Beverly says, upside down on her bed. Her long hair touches the ground as I occasionally run my fingers through it.

I chuckle. "Scared shitless I guess. The nightmares have continued, so that's…." My eyes move around in a searching motion. "Not ideal, but at least there's you?" I lightly tap Beverly's nose, and she flinches, blinking her eyes.

Swatting away my hand, she says, "What do you mean there's me? I'm just your friend who also happens to be your neighbor." She flips over and rests her head on her hands. "Wouldn't Brenna be better than me? She is your best friend." 

I choke on air, realizing that I almost confessed my undying love for Beverly. "Well, obviously. I- um meant that it's easier to… get to you when I have problems." Unfortunately, even if she was the one to ask me, I don't think I could be in another relationship. At least, not for a while. The whole 'two' 'relationships' I've had ended terribly. One got brutally murdered, and the other… was full of abuse.

"I was just joking. I have a sense of humor too."

A knock sounds on Beverly's bedroom door. It sounds aggressive, so we assume it's her dad, and make sure we don't have anything he finds bad for her. The door swings open, and our assumption is correct.

"I'm going out to get groceries. Stay here." He says gruffly.

Beverly and I look at each other, knowing the 'groceries' are likely going to be half beer. I notice that her posture has changed slightly. She's now sitting up, with her hands in her lap, and a forced smile. I mimic her, not wanting to upset her dad.

Beverly nods toward her dad. "Alright, we'll be here when you get back."

"Good." He turns and leaves the room, closing the door. A little while later, we hear the front door close, confirming that he's gone.

We resume our talk, a weight being lifted off us now that her dad is gone. "Back to where we left off, which was…" I look up to the ceiling, trying to urge my train of thought to get back on track. "Your terrible sense of humour." I point my index finger at Beverly, accusing her of a bad sense of humour.

She gasps in an incredibly fake manner. "I'm sorry that not everyone has the same type of humour as you and Trashmouth Tozier." She says, pronouncing Tozier like Tojure like everyone else does. These gosh darn US people, anglicizing his last name.

"And I'm sorry that no one in this shitty town, not even Richie himself knows how to pronounce Tozier." (again you say toe-zee-ey or toe-zee-er) I grit my teeth and smile as fakely as I can. "I do not get how you read his last name on paper and then say Tojure instead of Tozier." After I finish my sentence, I put my head in my hands and pretend to die of embarrassment for the entirety of the United States population who says Tojure. "And no, I will never ever stop being nitpicky about this." I mumble from behind my hands