Author's Notes: A little headcanon to get you up to speed. This is a mix of the movie and the book. It's set in the 80's like the movie, and I'm basing the physical looks of the characters off of the movie kids, but I've taken a lot of the characterizations from the book and updated them for the 80's. So, for example, Richie does 80's characters and references instead of 50's stuff like in the book. And I'm even thinking of (heaven forbid!) updating Ben's nickname (Haystack) to something else, because an 80's kid probably wouldn't be familiar with Haystack Calhoun. I had to Google him myself, haha. :)

Also, Bev hasn't moved away, because like in the book, her mother is still around to take care of her so she doesn't need to live with her aunt in Portland. Oh, and there's a squint and you'll miss it bit of Benverly in here, because they are my other favorite It pairing.

000

I admit, even the next morning I'm still stinging from Eddie's rejection, which is a little unusual for me. Usually I wake up ready to grab each day fresh off of the tree and squeeze all of the juice out of it, until there's nothing but pulp left behind. But today, all I can do is stare up at the sky, glowering at the gray that must have moved in overnight while I was binging on Cool Ranch Doritos and cursing my entire existence. I guess I should have figured the sky would change, because the good clouds don't ever stick around Derry for long. But there was a part of me that was hoping that maybe this time, it would be different. Maybe this time, I'd get a second chance.

So, what's a guy like me do when life kicks him in the nads? Go find my pal Bevvie, of course!

Bev is great. She's tough, she's beautiful, and she's the best guy in our group as far as I'm concerned. And it helps that she usually has cigarettes, which I'm craving like nothing else. My dad's trying to quit again, so I haven't been able to nick any off of him for a whole week now.

I find her leaning in the usual spot behind the gym, her floral dress billowing in the breeze as she takes a drag from one of her Winstons. "Bevvie, my darling!" I exclaim, running towards her with a bugling cry. "Forsooth, what radiant light do I see before me? Is it real, or is it Memorex? No, it is Beverly, and she is the sun."

"It's way too early in the morning for that shit, Richie," says Bev, but she's smiling at me and I think I might actually get away with it.

"Can I pleeeeeaaaase have a cigarette?" I beg her, and if it's possible for me to make my eyes even bigger and rounder underneath my glasses, well... I'm sure as hell gonna try.

She shakes one out of the pack for me, and hands me her favorite tie-dye lighter along with it. And soon, I am back in business, baby. And boy, does it feel good to slowly kill myself with nicotine, especially with the week I've been having.

"What's got you so worked up lately?" she asks me after a pleasant few minutes spent puffing on the old cancer-sticks together.

"Well, golly gee, Miss Bev, whatever do you mean? Everything is just peachy keen with me and the Fonz," I say, doing my best Richie Cunningham imitation.

She shoots me a Look, and I instantly quiet, my arms falling to my sides. One thing I learned after hanging out with Bevvie this summer, you do not want to cross her, because she is the master of Bev-Fu, and she will take you down. "You've been even weirder than usual these past few weeks, and that's saying something," she says. We both stub out our cigarettes, and the next thing I know she's fixing me with those piercing blue eyes of hers.

The trouble is, I don't really want her eyes on me at this particular moment, because Bev's eyes see all, like those freaky-ass Sphinxes in The Never-Ending Story. I flail my arms around, and I'm about to launch into my Rainman impression, but she grabs me and pins my arms back before I can really get going. "Dammit, Bev," I mutter, hanging my head.

"Spill it," she says to me. She lets go of my arms, but I know if I try anything else she'll rassle me into a headlock faster than you can say Macho Man Randy Savage. "You'll feel better, and I won't have to worry about you anymore."

I sigh and give up the ghost. "Okay, okay. I like someone. Are you happy?"

"Is this someone a short hypochondriac who used to wear a fannypack?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny that it is Eddie Spaghetti," I say as Norman Normal, FBI Agent, flashing her my imaginary badge to really sell it and hoping she doesn't notice the flush creeping over me.

"Right," she says, shaking her head, and I know she knows that it is Eddie, but I also know that she has the grace not to call me out on it.

"What can I do, Bevvie?" I ask. "You're a girl, you must know something about all of this romance junk."

One of her hands reaches up to ghost across her lips, and her eyes flutter closed as she smiles one of those secret girly smiles. I wonder what she's thinking about. "You could try poetry," she says after a moment.

"Poetry?" I say more than a little doubtfully. Has Bev met me?

The bell rings, and she shrugs. "Sorry, that's all I got. Take it or leave it," she calls over her shoulder as she saunters away.

I decide to take it, because what do I have to lose? Things couldn't possibly get any worse, right?

000

I don't see Eddie until lunch, but that's okay, because it gives me some time to sort through everything that I'm thinking and feeling, and how I can best express it in a poem. It's difficult to keep it fresh, since there are only so many things that rhyme with spaghetti, but I think I've come up with a real winner. I'm fully confident that this time, Eddie is not going to be able to resist my charms. This time, Richie Tozier is sure to get the guy.

Right before my Eddie heads into the cafeteria, I snag him by the elbow, making extra sure it isn't the arm with the cast. "Hiya, cutie pie," I say, grinning down at him.

He bites his lip before smiling back at me, brown eyes crinkling at the corners. I'm relieved he isn't still mad at me after last night. "Richie, stop that, I'm not cute," he says, toeing the wall. My heart skips when I see the blush rising on his cheeks.

"Au contraire, mon frere," I say, draping an arm around his shoulder so I have an excuse to pull him closer. His soft hair brushes my cheek. "You are so cute, Eds. So cute I can barely stand to look at you."

"Why do you always have to screw around, huh?" he says, pushing my arm away. "Why can't you be serious for once?"

"Who says I'm screwing around?" I say, elbowing his side. I can't resist adding a saucy little wink.

He huffs at me, crossing his arms. "Can I go now? I'm hungry."

The hall outside of the cafeteria is now totally deserted, since all of the other kids are already in the cafeteria eating lunch. I can hear the roar of their collective voices through the door, and part of me wants to join them and forget about this fruity wooing Eddie with poetry thing. "No," I say. "Wait. I... I have something for you. Something I want you to hear."

"If it's another dirty limerick about my mom, I swear to God-"

"It's not, I promise," I say, and I hope he doesn't notice how my voice is shaking a bit. I pull out the poem I spent all of second period slaving away on, and clear my throat before reading:

"Violets are blue, roses are reddie
I simply adore my Eddie Spaghetti
He is so cute, he makes me feel heady
I wish he would come here and kiss me already
Maybe one day we could even go steady
I don't really care, as long as it's Eddie."

I glance up from the paper, meeting Eddie's eyes, but he isn't smiling like I hoped he would be. In fact his eyes are filling up with tears, and they ain't tears of joy either. He's actually crying, like he's upset with me, and I have no idea why.

"You are so mean!" he exclaims, stomping off down the hall. "I hate you!"

"Eds!" I call after him, but he doesn't stop. In a minute he turns the corner and disappears, taking my broken heart along with him.

I rip the poem into pieces and fling them into the garbage can just outside the cafeteria door and then I kick the wall, hard. Through the window I can see rain beginning to pour from the sky, making me feel like the clouds are crying for us both. To tell the truth, I want to cry too.

I'm so confused. I just wrote the most heartfelt thing I've ever written in my life, and on top of that I actually worked up the nerve to share it with Eddie. Why would he be mad at me about that?

What did I do wrong this time?