RICHIE TOZIER responded with an annoyed, "Woah, woah, woah!" as he moved his hands to indicate slowing something down. "Slow your fucking roll, Sherlock Holmes! Finding Eleven is probably not as easy as you think it'll be!"
"Looking around for her is better than just sitting here and waiting for her to find me!" riposted Wheeler, rather defensive. He flushed with crimson, an apparent irritation showing in the irises that looked so much like Richies. "Did she say anything to you? Anything about how we can find her?"
"Nah, she didn't," said Richie. "We were pretty distracted, y'know, considering there was this psychotic killer clown with us, too." — Stanley squeezed his eyes closed, sinking further into the oddly-patterned couch. — "But she had thought that I was you when she first saw me and I had to explain to her that we were twin brothers."
Mike looked overwhelmed, to say the least, rubbing his temples as he studied Richies expression. Mike wished that he could've been there, could've seen Eleven another time. If he were being honest with himself, he was jealous of his brother for seeing Eleven. Richie didn't even know Eleven, only knowing of her. Mike didn't know why the Big Man in Charge had shown Richie to Eleven and not himself. Mike was the one who had taken El in when she needed someone the most, not Richie! He wanted to ask Richie to describe what she looked like. Mike hadn't seen Eleven in almost a year, and she was bound to have changed in that prolonged amount of time, but what Mike asked instead was: "What did this It do, anyway?"
"It said something about you and this 'Byers' character, who I guess is Will, and that it looks forward to 'feasting on' you... whatever that means," Richie explained, using air quotations around several of the words. "It told me that I should've stayed in Derry, then I-It... grabbed me around the throat. Eleven saved me after that when she used her fucking gnarly powers to save my useless ass." Richie cracked his best crooked smile, crisscrossing his arms across his chest. "After that, everyone started to disintegrate and the next thing I know I'm face-to-face with the prettiest girl alive: Eddie Kaspbrak!"
Eddie produced an unimpressed scowl, the redness of his cheeks progressing no matter how much he sought to control it. He then used one of the phrases that he had become programmed to use whenever his trash-mouthed friend let his mouth run too much: "Shut the fuck up, Richie!"
"You know you love me, Eds!" Richie was messing around with him — Eddie was sure of it.
"I don't, dipshit! And I don't love it when you call me 'Eds' either!" Man, he hated it when Richie called him Eds... but he sort of liked it, too.
"All right! Break it up, ladies!" interrupted Stanley, having belatedly entered the conversation. It was surprising that Stanley had spoken in the first place, what, after everything that had happened between Richie and It, but he had spoken nonetheless. "We have much more important issues at hand!"
Richie channeled his Irish Cop Voice (though it sounded more like his Pirate Frank Voice), practically bursting with energy. "Okey, okey, m'boy! Don't git yer panties in a twist!" Stanley bristled, his left eye twitching in annoyance. "Aye am sure that my good ol' broder doesn't cayre! Right, Mikey?"
Mike looked at him, his annoyed look translating to 'Are you sure about that?' Richie beeped, sealing his mouth closed for the time being.
Beverly glimpsed at Wheeler once the room fell into silence, "While we're on the topic of caring... who the hell is Eleven?"
"Someone from a long time ago-"
Richie interrupted, not being one to tarry in the silence for too long, "Yeah! Someone with badass telekinetic powers that Mike was probably all over from what I hear!" He raised his voice several octaves, apparently imitating Mike, though the brothers sounded almost the same, "Oh, Eleven! You saved us! You saved me!" Richie theatrically blew an imitated kiss with an obnoxious smooching sound ('Muah!'), deliberately directing the fake kiss toward Eddie, who colored even more than already... if that was even possible.
Mike clenched and unclenched his fists before he spoke, his voice both piercing and bitter. "Shut up, Richie! Do you even know what the hell you're saying half the time?!" Richies expression flashed with guilt, and he instantly regretted even opening his mouth in the first place. He had heard the story of Eleven and Mike and Will and the Demogorgon just several hours ago and he knew close to nothing about Eleven and Mike... so why had he picked fun at his brother when his brother was so blatantly touchy on the subject? He blamed the nonexistent filter over his mouth. Beep beep, Richie! he thought. He knew that needed to backtrack, to apologize for his stupid mouth.
"I say what I think even if what I think is dirty and wrong..." admitted Richie, suddenly feeling 10x smaller than he had before. He avoided eye-contact with everyone in the basement, choosing to look at his intertwined hands rather than the scrutinizing stares of his friends and his brother. "I'm sorry I messed with you about Eleven. It was the wrong thing to do." It was extraordinary how Richie could go from Beep-Beep-Your-Mom-Cute-Cute-Cute Richie to Sincere-and-Concerned-and-Nothing-Like-Richie Richie in just a matter of seconds.
"It's okay, Rich..." affirmed Mike, his previous irritation withdrawn. "I understand." But Mike didn't understand, his mouth didn't run too much like Richies did. When he sensed anything negative, he closed his mouth immediately. Richie, however, knew not the right times to keep quiet. Instead, he blabbed on about this and that, not even comprehending the words that escaped his mouth.
Beverly admitted, "I don't wanna ruin this moment, but I think that we're all still confused..." And she gestured toward the rest of the Losers with her eyebrows knitted, her pinkish lips pursed.
Mike grabbed the reins, just like before. "Right, well... it all started when my friends and I were playing Dungeons and Dragons one night..."
"And she just... disappeared?!" exploded Ben, standing up from his position on the floor in an indignant flurry. "Just like that?!" He snapped his fingers to symbolize something fast, earning an unsettled bob of the head from Wheeler. "That's the worst fucking thing I've ever heard!"
"Jay-sus!" declared Richie, grinning from ear-to-ear. "That has gotta be the first time I've heard anything foul out of Ol' Benny-Boys mouth! Congrats, brotha!"
"Did everything turn out all right? Is Will okay? Finish the story, Wheeler!" Ben demanded, practically bursting with anticipation.
"Yeah, most of us turned out all right..." he answered, feeling rather uncomfortable being the source of all the attention. "Miss Byers and Chief Hopper found Will in The Upside-Down and brought him back here. He spent some time in the hospital, though, but he is as all right as he can be. I just saw him earlier, anyway..." Shit! He had almost forgotten about seeing his friends earlier, and all the memories starting flooding back before he could stop them. He had screamed at Lucas for saying something touchy about Eleven while Dustin and Will watched with fearful eyes. Mike sometimes hated the fact that his temper could be tested so easily. He suddenly jumped out of his chair and skipped up the basement stairs, his destination being the telephone on the wall beside the main staircase. "Mike?" called Richie, but chose not to actually chase him. "What are you doing?" There was no answer.
Mike lifted the telephone off of the receiver, dialed the number of the Sinclair house, and waited. He swallowed, wrapping the telephone cord around his index finger as he listened to the monotonous beeping of the dial tone. When the beeping stopped midway, the worried voice of Lucas Sinclar traveled through the phone. "If this is you, Dustin, go piss up a rope or something!"
Mike cleared his throat, blinking several times before answering: "Uh, not Dustin..."
"Mike?" Lucas sounded like he couldn't believe it, for he was close enough to know just how long Mike Wheeler could stay mad at someone, and this way far too early. "God, I feel so stupid! I'm sorry about what I said earlier! It was stupid and out of line and I shouldn't have said anything!"
"'S okay, Lucas. I wanted to apologize, too. I should be able to handle someone mentioning Eleven by now. I mean, I survived math and everything." Mike attempted to joke around, but Lucas didn't think it was funny. Mike shook his head, remembering one of the reasons he called Lucas in the first place. "Anyway, I need you to call Dustin and Will and tell them that they absolutely need to come over right now. Tell 'em to sneak through the basement door and be real quiet. I need you to convince Will to sneak out of the house or really, really convince his mother since his curfew ended at 6. And hurry! It's really freaking important!" Before Lucas could protest at all, Mike slammed the telephone back on the receiver with an audible click!
"Michael!" He muttered curses underneath his breath at the sound of his mothers voice. He looked toward the basement stairs where he could hear the quiet murmurs of his brother and his brothers friends, then he looked toward the dining room where he knew that his mother, his father, and his sisters were sat. Mike made an agitated snap decision, sprinting under the archway between where his family was eating and the kitchen. He clutched the finished sides of the archway as he exclaimed: "Great dinner! Some of, uh, my friends are coming over! Thanks, mommy!" Mike couldn't remember the last time he actually called his mother 'mommy' but he knew that it was years ago. "Wha-?" his mother stopped herself, an apparent spike to her tone. "Michael!" He ignored it, pushing himself off the archway before practically flying down the basement stairs.
Ted Wheeler had about enough of Mikes antics, scowling as he lifted himself from his wooden-backed chair. Mrs. Wheeler sent her husband an authentically stern look, sending him back into the chair with furrowed eyebrows. It was obvious that Mrs. Wheeler was still walking on shards of glass around Mike, for she would usually chase after Mike herself when he behaved like this. Instead, she folded her napkin onto her knees and booped an oblivious Holly on the nose. Nancy just about fell out of her seat in astonishment, suddenly jealous that Mike could do whatever he wanted now and not get into much trouble. But she guessed that everything was fair. Mike hadn't once been told of the existence of Richie Tozier, so Nancy guessed that he had the perfect right to be upset at his mother for keeping it from him. Mrs. Wheeler also had the right to feel guilty.
Mike was startled, for the volume in the basement was loud — almost too loud. Everything was tense.
Bill Denbrough stood straight, glaring contempt flashing behind his captivating eyes. He clenched and unclenched his fists several times, displacing his body-weight between his legs. Richie Tozier was the unfortunate victim of the scowl that Bill wore, but he didn't seem at all bothered. Richie looked several colors redder than before, his gaunt arms crisscrossed across his midsection as he balanced with one of his legs to the side. Eddie Kaspbrak was stood inbetween the two of them, hands pressed against their chests as if to separate them. He signified the peacemaker of the unfavorable situation, his soft irises and innocent expression pleading that Richie and Bill stop their fighting, but to no such avail. Bill and Richie had been friends the longest out of all of the Losers, having become friends themselves at the beginning of their preschool years, and were best friends despite everything. They didn't fight often,
( "YOU'RE A BUNCH OF LOSERS AND YOU'LL GET YOURSELF KILLED TRYING TO KILL THAT FUCKING STUPID CLOWN!" )
but when they did, it got pretty messy.
"—wuh-wasn't like we chuh-chose to come here, Ruh-Richie!" As if timed perfectly, Bill finished the second that Wheeler jumped the last carpeted step of the basement staircase.
"Oh, so you were just gonna stay in Cary forever?! You were just gonna leave me here?!" riposted Richie, speaking loud. "What if my brother was Freddy Krueger or something? Would you have stayed in Cary if you had the choice?! Would you even give jack shit?!"
Mike furrowed... Cary?
In his bedroom earlier when he had called Richies hometown 'Cary' on accident, Richie had corrected him — saying that, no, his hometown was called Derry, not Cary. 'Well, why had Richie just now called Derry... Cary?' thought Mike. He thought that perhaps one of Richies friends would say something to him about his mistake, but no one said anything of the sort. Mike assumed that maybe Richie really was from Cary, for none of Richies friends said anything about it. 'Note to self,' Mike thought. 'Search for Cary, Maine in the archives'.
"Of cuh-cuh-course, we would've come for you! Wuh-We wouldn't wanna leave you fuh-for dead! If wuh-we heard that something happened to yuh-you, we wouldn't came as fast as we could — even if was is all the way from Cary!"
Derry? Cary? Mike was still confused.
There was an indistinct undertone to his right-hand side: "What?" It was Mike Hanlon.
Hanlon lifted an eyebrow in confusion, and Wheeler realized then that Mike Hanlon was the only person in the room that looked confused. Could Mike Hanlon confirm that the Losers were from Derry, not Cary? Wheeler had opened his mouth to question Hanlon about it, but Eddie had started talking.
"Would you two ladies stop fighting?!" Eddies voice was much more high-pitched than that of anyone else, gaining the attention of everyone. "I've had just about enough of this! We get it, all right?! Losers 'till the end! So stop being so goddamned self-deprecating, Richie!"
Eddie had beeped Richie, for the basement had descended into silence. Eddie had called out Richie for his façade in front of everyone, though everyone was conscious of his 'no-negative-emotions' policy, and had rendered the Trashmouth speechless.
Will, Lucas, and Dustin chose that particular moment to enter the basement.
"What did we miss?" Dustin.
"Hey, Richie!" Will.
"Who the fuck are these people?" Lucas.
