Eddie Kaspbrak stood in front of his bathroom mirror, studying his reflection with a nervous and rather intense look plastered on his face. His hair was carefully parted and styled, not a single hair out of place.

He was wearing a light grey button-up shirt that had been pristinely ironed, sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows and the end tucked into black dress-pants, with a leather belt tying it all together. His shoes were polished to the point where you could see your reflection in them. You would think they were brand new if you saw them, he only ever wore them during special occasions, such as weddings or the sparse few times a year he went to church. There was an undone bow-tie hanging over the edge of the sink, and he had been debating with himself whether or not to wear it. He didn't want to look like he was trying too hard, and seeing as the rest of his attire had probably crossed that line already, he finally decided against it.

His watch beeped, snapping him out of a trance that he wasn't aware he was in. He looked down at his wrist and realised he had been standing in the bathroom, distracted by his own reflection, for over an hour. Lucky for him, he had decided to get ready two hours before he had to leave the house, and he still had about half an hour left to prepare.

He swung the mirror open revealing a meticulously organised cabinet, shelves stocked with an entire pharmacy's worth of pill bottles, tubes, and boxes, all labelled with complicated medical jargon. Even Eddie wasn't entirely sure what some of them did, but he knew that he needed them, or at least would need them at some point. He grabbed a rectangular blue container from the lowest shelf. It had seven small compartments, each printed with a letter corresponding with a day of the week. S. Through the plastic you could see each compartment was filled with six or seven pills of varying shaped and colours. He flipped open the lid labelled with an 'F', for Friday, and threw them, two at a time, into his mouth. He dry-swallowed them all with ease.

He put the container back in it's rightful place on the shelf and shut the cabinet. He took a deep breath in, looking at his reflection with his chest puffed out and shoulders tall. He almost admired how he looked in this position, trying to re-imagining himself as taller, buffer, like some of the guys he saw in the locker rooms at school. But that admiration disappeared, as quickly as it arrived, as he exhaled and his shoulders dropped, back into a slight slouch. He huffed and shook his head a little, deciding that envying other men's body types wouldn't do him much good, and turned to the door, making sure to grab his inhaler from the side of the sink before he left the bathroom and shuffled down the hallway to his bedroom.

4.59 pm.

Eddie stood at his front door, his hand hovering over the doorknob, staring at his watch, counting the seconds down until it would read 5.00 pm, when he would leave his house and walk to Bill Denbrough's house, and he would get there by 5.10 pm, which gave him plenty of time to talk to Bill before 5.30 pm, when Bill's 'friend', who was a complete stranger to Eddie, would supposedly come and pick him up and take him on this 'date', that had been set up, much to Eddie's dismay.

Apparently, at some point during the last couple of months, the members of his friend group had decided that Eddie needed to loosen up and meet new people. They had attempted to get him a date several times before, but Eddie had absolutely refused, freaked out, or cancelled, each time without fail. It took a hell of a lot of persuasion but they finally got him to agree to something, a movie date with one of Bill's old friends that he had never met before – as long as 1. someone else came with them and 2. this person wasn't too rowdy. Bill assured him that he had nothing to worry about.

So the plan was made that they would go to the Aladdin, and Eddie and this stranger would sit together, and Bill, Stan, and Beverly would sit two rows behind them. Eddie figured that he wouldn't have to talk to this person too much if they were in a cinema, as long as they had decent manners, and that he could lean back on the other's for support if he got too nervous. He also figured he could easily say he was going to the bathroom and leave if he needed too.

When he saw his watch flash 5.00pm, he opened to door and stepped out, shouting out a cheerful 'Goodbye!' to his mother, who he assumed had probably fallen asleep in front of the tv. Shutting the door behind him he set off, turning left on the footpath and heading towards Bill's house. He had known Bill since they were 7, and Eddie reckoned he could have navigate his way to Bill's house with his eyes closed (although he would never actually try).

He arrived exactly when he planned that he would, 5.10pm. His heart started racing faster as he walked up the driveway. He put his hand in his pocket and gripped his inhaler, not taking it out, but just reassuring himself that it was there. He knocked on the front door 3 times. It swung open within a few seconds, and Beverly beamed when she saw him.

"You look so good!" she exclaimed, and Eddie frowned, and dropped his gaze.

"Shut up," he mumbled, pushing past her as she giggled. He made his way to the living room, where Bill and Stan were on the couch, Bill laying with his feet over Stan's lap. Their heads shot up as he entered the room with his arms crossed over his chest, Beverly in tow. Stan smiled almost as wide as Beverly did, and Bill wolf-whistled, receiving a very annoyed look from Eddie.

"You clean up real nice," Stan said, pushing Bill's legs off of his lap and walking over. "He's gonna be blown away for sure!"

"Yeah, for sh-sure," Bill perked up, nodding his head enthusiastically.

"Whatever, I just want to get it over with." Eddie's face started to turn red, already regretting that he agreed to do this. He wasn't made for this kind of thing! He was too paranoid, too awkward. He always had been. There was a reason he had never been on an actual date before his friends started setting him up. He hadn't even kissed anyone, for gods sake. He just didn't have the charm that people who go on dates and have relationships seemed to have. All his friends had had boyfriends and girlfriends and made out with people at parties and been flirted with by kids at school, but he never had. Everyone just, overlooked him. And if he was honest with himself, he didn't really mind it. Being alone. It meant that he could focus on things that were more important.

They heard a vehicle with a very loud and assumably very old engine pull up at the front of the house. When the engine stopped, it was replaced by hard rock music, playing just as loud. Eddie's stomach dropped, and he prayed to god that it didn't belong to his date, that he would not have to get in whatever car sounded like that.

"No way, is R-richie actually early f-for once?" Bill jumped up and ran to the front door, and Stan followed.

Beverly looked over at Eddie, her smile quickly fading as she saw his face. He had gone white as a ghost, and she could see his hands visibly shaking.

"I'm gonna be sick," Eddie whispered, and sprinted around the corner to the bathroom. Beverly went after him, seeing him slam the bathroom door and lock it. She waited a moment, then gently knocked on the door.

"Hey, you okay?" she asked, genuinely worried. She knew he would be nervous, but not like this. He didn't reply, instead she heard the telltale hiss of his inhaler. "Just, stay there Eddie, I'll go talk to the boys." She heard a very faint "okay", and headed back out to the front of the house where the others were having a cheerful reunion.

"Beverly Marsh, you fucking beautiful creature."

Leaning up against a rusted, beaten, maroon coloured pick-up truck, and much taller and rougher than she remembered, was Richie Tozier, wearing ripped jeans, combat boots, white t-shirt, and a black denim jacket littered with patches that had been haphazardly sewn on. His hair was almost down to his shoulders, sticking out wildly in all directions. She might not have even recognised him if it weren't for the thick frame glasses, being held together by several pieces of tape, the lenses magnifying his eyes just as they always did.

"Richie," she laughed, and ran towards him, enveloping him in a hug. He picked her up and swung her around with ease. "It's been far too long." He really towered over her, she had to actually crane her neck to look at his face. Probably a whole head taller than Stan and Bill.

"Sure has gorgeous," Richie replied, looking at her face with absolute awe. "so anyway, where's my future husband?" He winked at Bill, who looked back towards the house.

"Where'd he go, Bev?" he asked.

"He's, uh, having a panic attack in the bathroom." Bev said, suddenly sounding quite serious. Richie looked concerned.

"Don't worry, he's just nervous, He'll calm down soon." Stan reassured.

SHIT SHIT SHIT FUCK SHIT SHIT

Eddie was pacing back and forth in the bathroom, gripping his inhaler tightly in his hand, sure he would either break it or it would leave a bruise. His shirt had become untucked and his hair was messed up from him running his hands through it several times. He really didn't want to do this. He wanted to go home, have a shower, go to bed, forget about this whole thing. Surely they would let him go home. They would have to, if they saw him like this.

He heard knocking on the door again.

"Hey Eddie, can you let me in?"

Beverly.

There was a moment of silence as he debated whether or not to answer.

"It's just me, the others are still out front."

Eddie hesitated at the door, running his fingers over the lock. After about a minute he unlocked it, and opened the door to face Beverly, who looked relieved when she saw him, but still worried.

She stepped in and closed the door behind her, and then wrapped her arms around him. She leant her face into his hair.
"Sorry," his voice was muffled against her shoulder.

"Don't be, it's alright. He'll understand if you don't want to go."

Eddie's breathing settled down, as well as his heartbeat. He stepped away from Beverly, starting to feel a lot better.

"No, I-" he kicked himself for what he was saying. "I'll go. I promised I would."

Beverly's face lit up. "Let's fix you up a bit first, though." He nodded, and flashed her a small smile.

Beverly helped him get his hair looking neat again, and he fidgeted with his clothes in front of the mirror until he thought he looked presentable enough.

"All good?" she asked him before she opened the door. He took a deep breath and then nodded at her, and she turned and walked out into the hallway.

Eddie allowed himself one last glance in the mirror before he followed her out.

Bill, Stan, and Richie were standing in the kitchen when Beverly emerged from the hallway.

"Just be nice," she said quietly as she leaned against the bench next to Richie.

"No worries," he replied with a smirk.

Eddie slowly stepped out of the hallway and into view, and stood with his arms folded, his eyes immediately locking onto Beverly, who nodded slightly at him, assuring him it was okay. He looked at Bill and Stan, both of whom still looked quite worried. He put off looking at the fourth person there for as long as he could. He could see through peripheral vision that they were wearing mostly black and that they probably hadn't had a haircut in years. When he did look up at Richie's face, he saw him staring, bewildered, with a crooked, goofy smile on his face. He was also 6 foot fucking tall. Eddie felt queasy in his stomach. Half of him wanted to run straight back into the bathroom and lock the door and never come out. The other half wanted to do that as well but was trying not to want that. Trying to be brave.

"Hi," Richie finally perked up after a few long moments of silence. "Richie Tozier." He took a step forward and reached his hand towards Eddie, who noticed that his fingernails had been coloured black, but not like his mother's nail polish. More like he had done it with a permanent marker.

Now that he was closer, the height difference between the two was much more amusing. Eddie was only five foot four. He barely came up to Richie's shoulders.

Eddie shook Richie's hand, feeling pretty intimidated by this person looming over him like a grungy skyscraper.

"Eddie," he said, although it came out in more of a whisper. Richie smirked at this.

"Eddie," he repeated, to himself mostly, "it's cute."

Eddie felt his face go hot, flustered, still staring at Richie with a kind of awe-struck horror.

The three in the kitchen noticed this and Bill decided to interrupt.

"W-we should leave or w-we'll miss the m-m-movie."

Richie swung around. "Right you are, my man! Off we go!" He turned his head to Eddie and offered his arm. "M'lord?"

Eddie looked at his arm, up to his face, and then back at his arm, looking alarmed and confused. He hesitantly linked his arm through, and Richie beamed. They walked out the front to his truck, Bill, Stan, and Beverly in tow, and Richie opened the passenger side door, bowing exaggeratively, motioning for Eddie to get in.

Eddie looked at the vehicle, disgusted. No way he was getting in that thing.

Richie stood up, obviously a little confused.
"You okay?" he asked. "Don't worry, I cleaned the inside of it, Bill said you don't like much mess so,"

"It's fine." Eddie said, coming out more harshly than he intended. He took a deep breath, and got in. Richie carefully closed the door, smiling through the window. Eddie flashed him a smile back.

The other three piled into the back, basically having to sit on top of each other, and Richie walked around to the drivers side and got in.

Beverly leaned forward and put her hand on Eddie's shoulder, and he reached up and squeezed her hand for a second, the they both dropped their hands in their laps.
"Ready to go guys?" Richie asked enthusiastically. The three in the back replied with an excited 'yes!'. Richie turned to Eddie, who nodded at him, smiling properly for the first time. Richie's heart melted a little, then turned the keys in the ignition, the engine roaring to life, music blasting out the radio, and off they went down the road.