a really stupid thing i love about the first baggin it with balnor is caldwell making a levels joke

I would just like to say Bongo Smugglers killed me. I’m sitting in class giggling thinking about a Losers movie night where they have a dramatic showing of the movie. Audra and Richie are less embarrassed then they should be. It becomes an annual tradition to play a bongo smugglers™️ drinking game at Christmas.

AHH this is amazing, I just shoved two words together that I thought were funny and suddenly it’s this whole ugly 2002 sex comedy fully formed in my head. Glad it killed you during class. And yeah, they’re definitely not embarrassed, everyone’s heckling the writing and the early 2000s fashion more than anything else anyway.

Richie happily provides commentary the whole way through even though he’s only in the sex scene, waving his tortilla chip in Eddie’s face because he’s got his arm around his shoulder, hugging him close into Richie’s side. Eddie keeps snapping bites at it so often that Richie just ends up hand feeding him chips.

“Aaaaaaand... that’s the first time I touched a boob, right there!“

“Glad to help,” Audra winks.

“The exact moment I realized I was totally lying to myself. I’m having an entire existential sexuality crisis right there on camera, but can you tell? Does my fratty façade crack an inch?”

“I could tell, because you spent fifteen minutes before the scene pacing around set and chanting you can do this, you can do this, don’t throw up, you like girls, but not too much, because you don’t get paid if you pop a boner, c’mon Richard, c’mon—”

“Like I said,” Richie shouts, over all his stupid friends laughing at him, “no one can tell, ‘cus I’m a pro—”

“You call yourself Richard during pep talks?” Stan’s grinning at him sharp-beaked, like a vulture. Has Richie seen him blink even once since he came back from the dead? Not sure, not sure, make note to ask Patty to spy.

Onscreen Audra is shimmying down her low-rise stone-wash boot-cut jeans, boots with the fur, the whole club was in fact lookin’ at her. What the fuck was anyone thinking back then? Richie privately blames the Bush administration, and continues.

“You’re a great scene partner, Audra-my-deah, and I respect you for cougaring not one but two of our little balding Brady Bunch here, but you were kinda the reason I figured out I’m gay. Like, big time gay. Well, the second reason.” He rubs tortilla-salt fingers through Eddie’s hair and feels his stomach go fuzzy when Eddie kinda thrums out a low noise against him. Oh, he’s purring. Some deep down part of Richie’s caveman psyche, lodged right in the hungry reptilian nub of his central brain wants to bear-hug Eddie to a pulp, wants to Lenny him like a mouse until they both stop breathing at the same exact moment from the pressure.

Yeesh, dark!

He smooches one of Eddie’s Easter Island eyebrows instead, keeps his lips mushed there. Smooches again. “Biiiiiiig time.”

“My wife,” Bill whips around from his seat on the floor at Richie’s feet, cheeks bulging with wontons, “my wife did not cougar me.”

Eddie shushes him. Everyone else is exchanging Looks, including Audra, because she totally did cougar Bill. Good for her!

“My wife,” Richie mimics, all sing-song and bugling. “Who the fuck are you, Borat?” Eddie snorts, hard. “Turn around and watch me make sweet love to ya woman, Bill.”

Onscreen Richie is struggling out of a giant hockey jersey at the sight of Onscreen Audra’s nubile charms. Everything is lit terribly, to a Smash Mouth deep cut.

“Oh man, check out that figure.” Richie whistles at himself, twenty-six years old with muscles like long ropes. “These were the pre-gut days. Even though my diet was just Adderall and instant ramen.”

“I like your gut,” Eddie murmurs, squidging at it with the hand not shoved up the back of Richie’s shirt. He’s already looking pretty tipsy, because he told everyone loudly and at length that he’d have to be what he deemed, shithouse drunk, to cope with whatever 90 minute dick jokeathon he was about to endure for the sake of two minutes of Richie-ass. “You’re hotter than him.”

Richie preens. “I am him, dude.”

Eddie’s hand lands clumsy on his cheek, pulling Richie’s attention away from his own foregrounded bare ass and Onscreen Audra’s shocked expression, to face him. Eddie’s all unfocused, flushed in the cheeks. “You’re both hot. Him and you, I’d fuck you both. I’d let both of you fuck me at once.”

“Um,” says Ben. Mike keeps slorping up noodles, but his eyes are saucering at Bill’s giant TV.

“Hhohkaaay,” Richie breathes.

“Is this when you saw it, Audra?” Bev asks. She waggles her eyebrows at them from the muscular nook of Ben’s arms. “The famous Tower of Tozier? You mentioned in the group chat.”

“What group chat,” Richie croaks, wrenching his eyes from the sight of Eddie’s slick tongue pulsing gently against his lower lip, hanging open like he wants Richie to see inside his mouth. Yowza-yowza-yowza, this is so much better than movie-nights back in the 90s. “I never saw anything about that? And I monitor you all on WhatsApp twenty-four-sevs. I literally have nothing better to do while Eddie’s working.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Beverly dismisses him with a flick of her wrist.

Audra is nodding vigorously while Onscreen Audra tilts her head comically far to the right. “That’s when I saw it,” she says. “They couldn’t find a modesty sock that fit you, Richie, remember? I didn’t have to fake that reaction. And that’s with them blasting the A/C on high so my nips would poke through my shirt.” She nudges Eddie’s shin gently and stage-whispers, “Well done.”

Eddie growls hot miso breath into Richie’s neck. Snarls, really. That’s the only word for it. Richie’s not embarrassed—he’s been telling people about his donkey schlong for years, not his fault nobody ever believes him. It’s a boy who cried wolf situation, perhaps, if the boy was actually telling the truth every time and just wanted to brag to everyone about seeing a really big, thick wolf.

“Honey,” Bill says, visibly distressed, “this is already weird enough for me, please don’t say nips.”

“Nips, nips, nips.” Audra tickles into Bill’s ribs, and Richie joins in the chant, they all do. It’s a hailstorm of sesame toast raining on Big Bill’s protesting head. “Stiff nips! Stiff nips!”

“Shut up, I’m, uh’wanna see Rich fuck!” Eddie roars, wrestling the couch cushions for the remote and stabbing the volume obscenely loud.

Moans fill the air. Rice sprays from Mike’s mouth, between his hasty fingers. Patty is laughing so hard into Stan’s shoulder Richie would be kinda worried about her, if he wasn’t so distracted by the way Eddie’s leaning forward, hand on Richie’s thigh and eyes locked to Onscreen Richie’s bare bucking hips. He remembers this part horrible and clear, preserved behind glass in his mind like the embarrassing ninth grade school photo his mom still won’t remove from the mantelpiece. Braces like train tracks and his eyes squinted up small and moleish because his mom said she wanted to see his handsome face without his glasses for once. Eddie laughed at it for five whole minutes the first time Richie brought him up to visit mom and dad as his—as his, at last, before snapping a careful picture of the photo with his phone and muttering, so cute.

It’s the noises.

“This was the day I learned women really can, uh, fake orgasms,” Richie says. He coughs. Eddie’s fingers tighten on his thigh and he looks back at Richie over his shoulder, eyes all drunk and dark and dilated like a shark’s to the backdrop of Onscreen Richie and Audra’s plastic din. Richie’s head thumps dizzily, sliding his hand secret under Eddie’s shirt to the damp small of his back, watching his neck go pink. This, now this is familiar from 90s movie nights, how sweaty they’d get, tangled together like pocketed earbuds the longer the VHS spun. Always on the same couch by unspoken agreement, kicking and left to do so by the others, like the clubhouse hammock flirting was more RichieandEddie status quo than behaviour tethered to any one location. Feeling your heartbeat in your ears and everywhere your limbs are shoved between another sapling boy-body, and the couch.

Richie can see exactly what Eddie’s thinking, in that darkness. That’s not how you sound in bed with me.

“This is revolting,” says Stan, mildly, but Richie holds up his hand like a stop sign, pulled roughly back to the present.

“Wait, wait, here comes my line!”

“Thought you said it was a non-speaking—”

The camera cuts from Onscreen Audra’s bouncing breasts to Onscreen Richie’s slack-jawed face, his ill-conceived soul patch. He was asked to remove his glasses for the scene, he remembers, and was glad of it, feeling useless and young and stupid and exposed enough already just by virtue of needing the money, he didn’t need to see this perfectly nice and reasonable actress pity him for not even knowing how to pretend at being with a woman. Onscreen Richie tilts his chin up, and Bill’s entire rec room holds its breath. There will be bruises on Richie’s thigh tomorrow.

A grunt, a groan. An unsubtle trumpet fanfare musical cue on the soundtrack, but hey, neither of them ever claimed Bongo Smugglers was a masterpiece. “¡Ay, chihuahua!”

Richie throws his arms up in triumph. “All my own improv, folks! And they kept it in the final cut!”

Eruption. He’s pelted with howls of disgust and prawn crackers. Eddie grabs one of his arms and just shakes him, ragdolls Richie’s laughing body around until he tips over and sprawls into Eddie’s lap, shielded from assault. Eddie chews his insistent teeth into Richie’s shoulder, and finally, the scene ends with Onscreen Richie leaping a naked escape from Onscreen Audra’s balcony.

“Worst,” Eddie mumbles against Richie’s nape. “Worst thing’ve ever seening m’life.”

He’s so drunk, sweet thing. Richie sits back up, still wheezing. He rests his cheek on Eddie’s shoulder and gazes starrily up at his plastered little face. Steel-cut jaw softened with laughter and stubble, un-gelled hair curling around like a chestnut lamb’s. “Worst ever-ever?”

“No,” Eddie says plainly, and that’s true, “but it’s up there. Woulda rented the shit out of this at Blockbuster.”

Richie flings his leg over Eddie’s knees, kicking Bill in the process. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, gathering up all Richie’s loose ends in a big circling cuddle. “Every week. Woulda worn it out. Broke the disc.”

“Got your ‘Lil ‘Busters membership card revoked for being a creep.”

“Worth it.”

“Aw, Eddie-baby.”

“Would you two stop, you’re making the rest of us look bad,” Bev says, smiling fondly. The movie’s moved on, and none of them are really paying attention now that the main event’s over, but everyone’s still coming down, dismounting from belly-laughter and landing ankle-deep in giggles. “That was inspired.”

“He made me laugh so hard on that take,” Audra sighs, leaning against Bill. “I remember thinking, shame he’s a closet-case. I always knew you were a good guy under all that fake stand-up.” She rolls her head back on her neck to look at Richie, upside down. “D’you remember right after, too?”

“Ah,” says Richie, tensing up. Eddie must feel it, because he makes a lowing noise of concern and turns the volume down.

“What you did to those guys?”

“Ahaha, uh.” Richie struggles to sit upright with hot embarrassment tugging at his stomach. “They don’t need to—Audra, it’s not, anyone would’ve done the same—”

“No, actually, you were the only one who ever did,” Audra says, sharp-eyed, and Richie remembers that too. How much surer and in control of herself she was than him, even back then, when they were both just simple bottom-feeders on L.A.’s sludgy floor.

“What happened?” Patty asks. They’re all looking. Richie stares at the wall beside the TV’s garish over-saturation, scratches at the back of his neck, until Eddie takes his hand softly back to hold in his.

“I was pretty much always the only woman on set,” Audra explains. “Par for the course on a movie like that, it was whatever. It’s nothing like real sex, obviously, you have to stop and wait for lighting changes, new set-ups and stuff, you’re surrounded by crew. But you’re the only ones naked, and pretending to fuck, right? It can be a little.” She pulls a face, tilts her palm back and forth. “Degrading.”

Richie snorts, humorlessly.

“Anyway, that scene wrapped and they called cut, and a few of the guys in the crew said some stuff. About me. The director ignored it, the producer ignored it. I was used to it,” Audra says. Richie can see the edge of Bill’s jaw clench and re-clench like a fist as he watches his wife speak. Audra smiles widely, then, and jerks a thumb at Richie. “But this guy?”

They’re grinning, they’re all grinning, because they know him. Richie squirms under it. He can feel blood pounding behind his ears, across the surface of his scalp in pulsing waves of embarrassed heat, because it’s one thing to spend your life running your big fat Trashmouth to distract the bullies’ attention onto you, but it’s another for people to treat you like some kinda hero for it. Like it’s not just something friends do.

Bev’s eyes go all emerald-shiny with delight, like the quarry in sunlight. She covers her mouth. “Oh, Richie.”

“Knocked the first one out cold,” Audra crows. “You tried your best after that. It was three against one and he had a black eye before the rest of us could separate them, but he had the element of surprise at first. I mean, he flew at them, if you can imagine it—you’re what, six-one, six-two?”

Eddie’s trembling ever-so-slightly against him. Richie screws his eyes shut. “Six-two.”

“No wonder the asshole shit himself, you came at him all six-foot-two naked inches, pissed as hell, with a massive—”

“Alright!” Richie yelps, because if there’s anything more embarrassing than his brief Bongo Smugglers cameo, it’s the fact that he left set that day with a black eye and no money. Who cares. His closest friends are alive and they’re cheering, and Eddie is shoving himself into Richie’s lap just like it’s movie night in 1991 but with 100% more enthusiastic frenching, seating his drunk ass in Richie’s startled hands and hissing god, you’re such a crazy dumbass, I love you so much, Richie, even back then with that soul-patch I’d have loved you so much, god, sexy, Rich, wanna see you with a black eye, can I give you one, can you give me one, Richie, I’m gonna fuck you so good for this later, ay chihuahua—!

Horrors below ch5

Pennywise x Beverly

summery:  after Beverly's return, pennywise works to gain her trust as "Robert Grey" while also avoiding the cold rains of April. when unintentionally Beverly convinces him to question his very existence. what has lead him to become the monster so many children fear was below their beds? what will he do when he no longer wants to be that monster? can a monster truly become a human?

status: complete

rated: M - fowl language and gore

previous chap: Horrors below ch:4

next chap: Horrors below ch:6

_____________________________________

~ch:5 Adjustments~

The month of may ended and so did the drenching storms. Starting the bright sunny month of June going into the summer break of July.

Since that day his true self was revealed to Beverly he seemed to stop living.

Sitting out in the middle of the forest rain or shine. Not moving a muscle from his sitting spot on a rock. Locked still into his appearance of Grey now fully healed. The visiting summer fair did not tempt him from his isolation. Neither did the hollow feeling of hunger drive him anymore. He felt so cold in the beginning, but was now numb of everything. What to do now crossed his mind a few times. Should he go to sleep was one option, but he didn't want that. He didn't want to return to a cold nest … alone.

But what else was there to do? He didn't think he could handle seeing Bev in town. He wanted to avoid any place she'd be. Taking a deep breath he rose up from his seat. Deciding he would return to rest for another 27 years. Somewhat hoping Bev would leave Derry at that time or the pain in his chest would dull. Walking along the water to meet the river's mouth flowing down from his pipe entrance. His walk turning more into a sluggish trudge to his hidden destination. Each step he took feeling heavier than the last.

Passing through the pipe work up to his abandoned nest. Swallowing the lump in his throat to prepare himself for the next step. Accepting that Grey could no longer be, he shed the skin. Reforming the silver old suit lined with ruffles. The form he took pride in so long ago now sour in his mouth. The nest he called home now a junk pile he didn't want to be near. He stood there almost zombie-like staring down at the stone flooring. Working to gather energy to approach the final length of his destination.

The time passing by so fast for him now. It seemed to be morning only 5 minutes ago, but the bright colors of the sunset now filled the room's skylight. Even those warm colors seemed to linger for a split second. Disrupted by a storm rolling in filled by bright flashes of lightning. A rare sight in the month of July the common days filled by open sunny skies. This shift in atmosphere made him all the more pained in this cold place.

He couldn't take this. He had to see her one more time.

To say his goodbyes.

Maybe that would give him the final energy to sleep.

Turning around to walk back into the rainy night. Flashes of white highlighting him on his path. Stopping across the street from the house they once shared together. He could see her through the front kitchen window. Picking at a plate of food on the kitchen table they used to dine at. So many memories here causing him trouble keeping it together. The time escaped his grasp again. Beverly now gone from the kitchen and the house darkened of all light.

He stepped across the street through the flowing water against the curbs. Appearing past the front door to pause at the main room. Looking up the staircase that felt like climbing Mount Everest right now. His steps silent up along the stairs to down the hall. Stopping in front of the bedroom door. Taking in her wonderful scent escaping past the door. Somehow it both comforted and stung him being around the delicate scent of her. Taking one last moment before appearing in the room underneath the bed in hiding.

Remembering back to doing this regularly at seeing her hand hanging over the edge. The flash of lightning lighting up the rain covered window. The rain itself tapping against the cold glass. The warmth he felt against him as he stayed hidden underneath her sleeping form. His eyes going over the room turning back toward her hand.

Gazing over all the features of it. The smooth soft skin that was always so perfectly warm. The gentle hand holding she would share every moment with him. He reached a gloved hand up to take a gentle hold. Hovering just inches away ready to take it.

He looked down to the floor boards, unable to do it.

This was also like before in that he was using her. Lying the whole time to make her into some comfort without her knowing. His hand closed in on itself while retracting back. Aiming to leave for his long rest now.

Jolting to Beverly's hand grabbing his and not in a sleeping way. She grabbed his wrist to forcefully yank him out. He panicked at being pulled out, yanking back unintentionally pulling Beverly off the bed. Dragging her half way into the small space next to him. Her grip still iron tight on his wrist while her other hand latched onto his ruffled collar. He locked up in shock at what she did. The two of them now under the bed facing each other.

Her eyes locked focus onto his when she shouted. “you're not running away again!” Tears building into her eyes until they overflowed. Shutting them tightly in a turn away to sob half into her shoulder. Still refusing to let him go to allow a chance of him escaping.

He waited, backed against the wall for her to do something else. Her crying twisting a knot into his chest he couldn't take. Moving slowly to gently pull the rest of her under the bed. Shifting over in wrapping her into a hug against him. Letting her cry into his chest while they hugged each other. Rubbing her back to comfort all the while enjoying the warm embrace he missed so much.

Her cries slowed to a stop, but their embrace remained tight. As if letting go would mean losing the other forever. Both remaining silent as the storm raged outside through the night. Breaking by the golden rise of morning light over the room. He looked down to Beverly unsure of if she was sleeping or not. Face still deeply buried in his ruffled collar hiding any guess he could make off it. He kept to not moving as long as she didn't.

“what will happen now?” he thought. Could he still go to sleep now? Will she want to talk to him? Or will she scream that she hates him and how dare he come back. He will soon get his answers now that their alarm clock was going off. Causing them both to flinch at the sudden noise disturbing the peace. Beverly scrambled a little to yank the power cord from the wall. The calm returning after for a moment longer. It had to be broken by one of them eventually.

“ I am sorry.” he opened up first.

“... I've been looking for you.” speaking into his collar.

“ … are you mad at me?”

she sniffled. “i was, but it was really empty here after you left. After I couldn't find you I waited to see if you'd come back. I felt yesterday had to be it.”

“why then?”

“there was a storm. We always seem to meet during the rain.” the two letting out a small chuckle. He never realized that, but it was true that he kept meeting her as the rain started. “will you come downstairs?”

“as long as you want me to.” feeling strange about the whole situation. Was she still comfortable with him? Should he look more like Grey while he's here? Would she be afraid of him?

Taking his hand she led the way from under the bed down to the dining room. “Do you want coffee?” smiling awkwardly as she asked.

“sure. … how'd classes end?”

“really good, thanks to that thread you gave. … ” their conversation trailing along to avoid the elephant in the room. “ … what happened in the woods? The day you left?” starting somewhere on the topic.

“ah.” he sighed. “he took a dirty shot before a swing could be thrown. That's probably why he was so bold for a fight. He didn't last long after … I cleaned up so fast I forgot to …. uh ...” he trailed off. Touching the side of his face that was damaged then.

“why'd you start doing it?”

“it wasn't for any nice reasons.” he started, but by her expression he knew she probably guessed that already. “it also wasn't meant to last long. It started as just me wanting to be warm through the cold weather. With the end of April it was supposed to end.” pausing to carefully think over his words. “but I couldn't. I didn't really understand why at first. It wasn't about being warm anymore. I felt a pain when you were hurt in that factory. ... It grew from there. … I didn't want to be me anymore. Honestly even before this I was getting tired of it all. It was all I had though and I couldn't just sweep it all away. So I aimed to bury it and stay as Grey. Let it be forgotten with the time.”

“... do you still eat people?”

“yes, because I have to. I haven't eaten a child since waking back in April though. … and I truly don't want to go back to it.”

“that honestly settles a lot for me.” she smiled.

“what did you do after I left?”

“right after, I avoided coming home until it got too dark. The diner closed and so did everything else for the night. Came home unsure of how to feel. I was angry, then sad, then it all felt empty. I sat at the dinner table just waiting for you to get back so I could scream in your face about everything.” taking a moment to roughly swallow. “after about a week I was sitting there hoping you would come home.” sniffling down some building tears. “i guess I got past some things overly quick. Maybe it's because deep in the back of my mind I knew.”

“how'd you know?”

“ you weren't exactly normal. “prescription meat”?” holding in a laugh. “you also purred in your sleep, but I never mentioned it.”

“ah, I tried suppressing that. I must have zoned out too much to realize.”

“ … none of that “prescription meat” was in the fridge was it?” she asked more seriously.

“no, that was never brought home.”

“okay. … are you staying?”

“... would you like me to?”

“I would.” coming around the counter to hug him.

“okay, I will as long as you want me to.” tightly hugging her back. “do you want me to make breakfast?” asking to lighten the mood.

“please!” she playfully whined. “I've been eating instant ramen this entire time. I don't want the poor student diet anymore.”

“aww, you poor thing.” he joked. “Should we go shopping to restock the kitchen?”

she nodded. “i recently got a job at the diner. I've been scraping by on the money I get there under the table. I wasn't sure what I'd do when school started up again.”

“do you have to work today?”

“no, I will work in a few days. Part time, three days out of a week. since so many other students are rushing to snag a job there. I was lucky in snagging what I got.”

“weeeell, don't worry about that. I can get us around a lack of money.”

“i assumed, since I haven't seen any house bills. How'd you get this place?”

“it was up for sale. I just pulled a bunch of strings to make it mine.” leading her to leave the house. Allowing her to step out first in order for him to have the chance to change into Grey. Looking back to see why he stopped following she gave a quick look of concern at his false looks, but perked up again when he seemed to notice.

The look worried him on just how honest she was. Was she comfortable letting him stay? Maybe only relief he came back, but now reality was settling in. He wasn't Grey anymore, he was Pennywise without any make up in her eyes.

“how'd you learn how to cook? I doubt you have a stove to cook with in that wagon of yours.”

“I do, although it's a classic iron, wood burning one.” he chuckled. “I learn pretty quickly if I can read about it. People throw out cook books all the time. Although I did slip on a few recipes. The pizza I skipped on the handling process. I did much better on making everything else.”

“really? I didn't see any stove when I got a peek inside.” raising an eyebrow.

“I can change what's inside. I have my own little space down there that I can relax in.”

“can I come see?”

“uh, sure. If you want to.” surprised she wanted to go down there with him after the last time wasn't so pleasant for either side.

“I've already been down there pretty recently. It was the first place I went when I was looking for you. Where were you? Did you leave Derry for a while?”

“no. I was out in the woods. I was avoiding everything while I sat out there. I was getting ready to leave, but wanted to give you one last visit before I did.” he confessed.

“glad you did.” smiling as she took up his hand as they walked.

“me too.” he smiled back. “any idea what you'd like for breakfast?”

“don't know. whatever you make I am sure I'll love.”

“yes, but I would like to make something you'd really like.” jokingly bumping her shoulder with his.

Receiving a returning playful bump. “I'd really like some bacon. Real non dehydrated meat off the stove.”

“good choice.” he nodded. Picking up a couple packages as the first thing on their shopping trip. He was the one to lead on grabbing things to fill up a cart. Beverly has not changed since the last time they shopped. Grabbing only what she needed and requiring a bit of coaxing from him to grab some pleasure items.

Picking up her favorite chocolate along with showing him his favorite cotton candy tubs were in stock. Back home he got started on cooking Beverly a real breakfast after so long. Mixing bacon, eggs, and cheese into a breakfast burrito. Watching her happily eat the meal to then momentarily pause to watch him eat.

curiously asking about his digestion. “does regular food help at all?”

he shook his head. “no, it's like junk food at best. Eating air at worst. My stomach outright rejects any vegetation you can handle fine. … I actually haven't eaten since I left. … I'll have to hunt later.” being honest with her about the issue.

She nodded quietly while looking away. “everybody has to eat. Maybe you can snag a drug dealer. I am sure Derry has a few of those running around and would be better if a few went missing.”

he nodded in agreement. “in my rehabilitation plans, I wanted Derry to be better and grow out a bit more. Maybe attracting a prison would be something better for the long term.”

“that could work.” she agreed. Getting back to enjoying her breakfast. “did you actually attend school?” asking more questions.

“heh, only for one day. So I could finally know what engineering even was and what branches meant.”

“what did you do while “studying” then?”

“boredly stared at a wall or went for food.”

his answer having Beverly laugh. “you really stood around upstairs doing nothing?”

“pretty much.”

“what about classes?”

“i went home.”

“you played hookie without me? Lucky bastard.” she joked.

“i thought you really liked your classes.”

“I do, sorta. It can be fun and a chore designing dresses for class.” finishing the last bite of food. “can you really sow too? Where did the thread come from?”

“Yes, it's my thread.” stretching out his fingers to be slender and black. Tapping the tips together to show her the spreading thread he could make.

“shit, wish I could do that.”

“now you know why I couldn't show it. Do you need more threading.”

“yes, but does making it use a lot of energy? You never seemed to use it.”

“it's easy, doesn't cost much. It's mainly because I preferred the chase.” voice going quiet. He was sure Beverly didn't enjoy talking about her kind being hunted.

“oh.”

the air between them filled with silence after that. Broken only for him to suggest watching movies. That went on for the rest of the day. Small talk about how they should spend her break going over dinner. Since he didn't need to fake attending school any more. The whole time he was distant and he felt she was too. The question “Would this work?” crossed his mind multiple times. He couldn't scent any fear off her, but he could tell she was nervous. Similar to back when they first started dating.

“ready for bed?” she asked after setting their dishes in the sink.

“mhmm.” he confirmed with a hum. Following her up stairs to go through their old bedtime routine like they used to. Settling down into bed with her hugging up close against him. Him enjoying the lovely warmth she spread over.

“you can purr if you want to. I think it's cute.” kissing his cheek. Bringing a smile to his face, but filling his head with doubt.

It was another reminder that he wasn't human. That their relationship was going to be so much different from now on. Did she still like sleeping next to him? Did he still make her feel safer in her sleep? Or would she have nightmares about being eaten by him in the night? What about all the plans he made? He was going to slow her aging without her knowing, but what if she didn't want that? He now had to face his flawed past with humans and her flawed future. She would grow old and eventually die, but he couldn't imagine seeing that happen. She would turn delicate with age and what if he accidentally hurt her? The new morning didn't bring any new happy feelings.

“morning!” Beverly rose in a happy mood.

“morning.” replying back somewhat flatly. Starting this day as if he was moving on auto pilot on how to act. Heading down stairs quietly to get started on breakfast while Beverly got ready for the day upstairs. Making a plate of hot pancakes sided by some bacon. The food reminded him of his hunger needing to be filled. Looking to Beverly walking down the steps while smiling brightly.

“breakfast is ready.” sliding the plate over for her to take.

“sweet, looks good as always.” taking the plate over to the dining table. Noticing he had no plate for himself. “you don't want any?”

“I would, but I have to go eat my own meal.” walking around the subject delicately as he could.

“oh. … well, when you get back you want to finally have our picnic? We never were able to have it.”

he nodded. “I'll try to be back soon, but that all depends on-” quieting down to clear his throat. “ I'll be back, don't worry. No matter how late it gets.”

“see you then.” her voice keeping its cheerfulness, but he knew. She couldn't be that cheerful while knowing he was going out to kill someone.

The sunny day turned dark to lightly rain. It seemed to be happening all the time in his presence. Like a cruel joke to let everyone know some monster was stalking people during the usually happy summer time. Despite the gloom people were more willing to tolerate it for the cheerful fair in town. Watching the crowds stand around for the various rides. Most being some little ride though a wooden set up building. Other groups under the dry coverings attached to the mini games.

Before he would be thrilled at the children running freely. Such easy meals to lure away in the chaos of the crowd moving around. Now he was practically ignoring them to find something else at least tolerable to swallow down. Even that was proving really difficult as he thought back to what Beverly would think. The disappointment and fear knowing she was with some creature that ate people.

He had to eat something. No matter what he needed to, to survive. Picking a lone human from the crowds. One that was following girls around making rude comments. Offering them stuffed animals for a kiss or something else to be done behind a cart. He could at least take care of that trash if it had to be someone.

It didn't take much, only some false girly giggle to lead him away toward the woods. Dragging him down a drainage pipe he stepped too close to. He didn't allow a single scream to escape the male he quickly devoured. The rain helped to wash the blood away from the bland meal. At this point he could return to Beverly, any picnic plans were probably canceled for today. Instead he quietly sat there by the pile of stripped bloody bones.

This new way of seeing food was concerning to his survival. He couldn't be so picky when choosing survival. He wasn't a human that could choose and pick their diet. He only had one diet to survive on and he was hesitating on it. Did this mean he should distance himself from Beverly? Creating some distance could make future hunts easier again. However that meant he couldn't get close to Beverly anymore. Didn't that mean his return to human life would be a waste? What would be the point then?

He sighed with a stand to his feet to give one last look over for blood. Deeming himself clean enough to return home. Past the door he was greeted by Beverly sitting on the living room couch.

“hey.” noticing he was looking downer then before. “you okay?”

“yes. are you?”

“yes. Did you eat?

“mhmm.” he hummed.

“who?” her question catching him off guard.

“Do you really want to know?”

she shrugged. “i don't know. Maybe I should?”

the fact she seemed interested snagged his curiosity. “Why do you ask?”

“ … because it's good to share things. Maybe I could help?”

“help how? Help me kill people? Walk around and make a list of who's to go?” speaking bluntly as he sat on the opposite side of the couch.

“yeah, I guess. Derrys not exactly the most crime free of places. Better to do something then ignore it, right?”

“i didn't feel you'd be too thrilled about the idea.”

“i am not, but there's nothing else we can do. You have to eat and it's better to not force you into hiding it. I can't sit at home pretending it's not happening.” shifting over to lean into him.

“as if thinking about my diet will cause mental ease. How well will you handle my presence after a few weeks?”

“i think I'll be fine.”

“Are you sure you won't have nightmares?” asking bitterly.

“i am sure.” kissing his cheek. “you're a lot different then you used to be. You haven't harmed me or much of anyone else. The missing posters have been really thin for a while. You helped me through so much. Even though you really didn't need to if you were going to eat me in the end.” she confidently hugged him.

“i guess.” dropping the subject.

“do you still like being called Grey? Or do you want to be called by your real name?

“I prefer Grey.” a part of him still wanting to bury what his other half was for a long time.

“okay Grey. Love you.” resting her head on his chest.

“love you too.”

The rest of that rainy day was spent watching movies on the couch. Sharing various snacks he made to keep the both of them warm. Then off to bed to nestle down together for the night. The next few days following the same with the strange rain sticking around. Preventing any plans of their picnic being a possibility. Grey had slowly distanced himself over the course of the week. Despite Beverly trying to keep up the interaction between them.

It was turning more into an odd roommate situation rather than the close couple they once were. Their only communication being on what meals they should have. Grey stood in the kitchen in front of the window to stare out at the drizzling rain. wondering what should be done today to make the next meal. What house chores had to be done to keep the house in order.

“hey.” he heard Beverly's soft voice behind him. Turning to look to her in acknowledgment. Watching her stand there before asking him. “… how are you doing?”

answering simply with. “fine.”

she let out a breath then went on to say. “Since the rain hasn't let up enough I thought we could have a picnic at your wagon.”

“my wagon?!” surprised by the suggestion. “down in the drainage tunnels?”

“yeah, I wanted to see it. It'll be like our big date exploring that factory.” softly smiling. “do a little exploring, hang out together out of the house with a nice hot meal.”

“I don't think the tunnels are a place to eat.” not at all liking the idea of facing his old nest. Even if the wagon would technically be safe and stable after all this time.

“come on. It's better than another rainy day indoors. Watching another set of movies to pass the time.” stepping over to search the kitchen. Setting out various things to make a meal out of.

“do you really want to go down there? It could stir up some old memories.” warning her, but also himself in a way. Remembering the fighting they had while he threatened to devour them. While they threatened him about starving to death. All those preserved children carcasses he had at the time floating above. Threatening that he would break her down mentally before eating her.

“it can, but they'll never go away. That's why we should make new memories there.” making a pot of chicken soup that she would later put into a large thermos. “What meat do you want in your sub? I also think we should bring some hard boiled eggs.”

“okay. … roast beef. Boiled eggs sound good too.” anxious still about going down. Coming over to cook a few other things alongside Beverly.

The freshly made meal was carefully wrapped into a backpack Beverly carried on her. Walking beside him under an umbrella down the river. Following the rocky shore to the large drainage tunnel the both of them used before. water rushing out from the street drains filled up by rain. Far too deep to walk through without getting up to their knees soaked in water.

“want me to carry you?” he offered as the water wouldn't affect him.

“would be good. I don't wanna risk slipping and end up with our meal going down the river.” accepting the offer. “you could change into your other look too. You can get a break from disguising yourself now that we'll be alone.”

“mm.” humming his hidden frustration. Thoughts running through his head of “why did she want that? Why did she want to be here?” keeping it inside as he shed off his human disguise. Glancing down at his old self. Then turning to help Beverly onto his back to walk through the deep tunnels of water.

“these tunnels feel a lot smaller than the last time I was here. Then again I was smaller. Wasn't being carried by someone so tall either.” she joked. “ever bump your head on the stone ceiling?”

“no, but I've been snagged by roots.” remembering the times those annoying things ruined a chase for him.

“heh, hope we don't get snagged this time.” helped down from his back as he stepped onto the less flooded stone. Stepping ahead to fully look around the large rounded room. “forgot about the skylight up there. It feels brighter in here, did the pile shrink?” looking far up to the dusty glass the gloomy Grey light fell through.

“it has. Things fall, things rot, unless I am here to manage it. The wagon is the only real protected thing here that doesn't need constant care.” stepping behind her to pass up to the door of the wagon. Going up the small steps to open it up for her. Letting her step in first into the small space.

“wow, this place has a lot of cool stuff! It looks really nice in here despite being in a really moist place.”

the wagon walls covered in shelves holding up small trinkets, colorful crystals, to mini wood carvings. A large bed in the corner covered in clean thick blankets topped by various scattered pillows. Across from the bed was a trunk with penny wise the dancing clown across it. Next to that was a vanity desk holding up a broken mirror missing most of its reflective shards. The wood walls lacked what the outer sides did. Clean coat of paint leading down to smooth wooden floors lightly reflecting back as if newly waxed. Glowing lightly under the warm round ceiling light attached above everything.

“I make sure it stays neat. I live in the sewers, but I don't like sleeping in puddles of rotten junk.”

“it's really comfy.” sitting on the plush bedding. “really nice being out of the house after so long.” removing her bag to start setting the food out on the vanity desk. Stopping when she noticed him standing by the door in zoning out over the shelf's. Similar to what he did back at the house all this time. Catching his attention with a small saddened plea. “Grey please don't do that here too.”

“do what?”

“you're always staring off at something. The rest of the time you barely talk to me anymore. It's like you rather be somewhere else.”

“... I don't.”

“can we talk about it?” patting for him to sit beside her. “ You've been acting differently since we got back together.”

“i know. …” going quiet for the longest time. As Beverly was about to say something he spoke a little more. “i am trying not to be me, but I can fully change.”

“not be you?”

“this.” looking down at himself. “i want to be Grey. Not, this.”

“but it is you, as much as the Grey half. You can't run away from it.”

“no I can't. It shows each time I need to hunt. How long can we keep this going? How long will you sit by knowing what I am doing?” he sighed. “Do you have any nightmares about it? Sitting at home afraid that you might be next?”

she scoffed. “I think you forget I am not afraid of you. I never was.” shoving him down into the bed. “You're trying to change, to be better, that's what I want to focus on.”

“but why are you giving me such a chance? After everything I've done to you, your friends. the things I've done to Derry since its founding? Everyone else would rather see my corpse burn for my actions.”

“I want to build things better, if I can. Helping you means helping everyone in Derry. If I don't help you, then who will?”

“i don't want you to feel like you have to. I don't want you to be afraid. I've seen how you are after I leave to hunt and when I come back.”

“how I am? True, I don't enjoy how you eat, but you have to. No point in sitting around thinking about it. It's a part of life that I've chosen to accept along with accepting you. I love you and want to stay together. So let's move on and help you through this, okay? I trust you not to harm me. You would have done it by now, but instead you helped me stay safe.”

“if you say so.” looking away. Partially not believing her as She could be saying things to help him feel better. Rather than being honest over their time together.

Freezing up when Beverly moved to straddle him. “have sex with me.”

“what?!” practically choking on his spit in shock.

“I trust you, I love you, I am not afraid and I want you to know it. What better way is there?”

“you don't have to.”

“i know, but I'd like to.” she smiled “Want to give it a try?”

| Richie misses his life in Maine– and someone in particular– and Mike realizes that Will moving away from Hawkins is making him feel the same way |

Standing at the kitchen sink, Mike could smell the smoke floating up from the backyard. He placed his cup down and yanked the window open the rest of the way, just enough for him to lean over and stick his head out. Richie was sitting, cross-legged and barefoot in the grass, head against the house paneling and glasses hanging on his shirt collar. He held a lit cigarette in his right hand, while his left held a piece of folded paper again his chest. The ripped envelope laid carefully between some untrimmed blades of grass.

“Mom’s going to kill you, you know that?” Mike said loudly.

Richie jerked and opened his eyes, but blinked the shock from his face. “Oh yeah? Well whose do you think these are? Holly’s?”

“Just because you found them in her dresser doesn’t mean they’re hers.” Mike sighed. “They’re the same ones she took from you last week.”

“As far as I’m concerned, these are Mom’s cigarettes. She’s the one with the nasty habit.” Richie rebutted, letting his eyes close again.

“You better put that out. The house is going to reek.”

“Eh, better than that fucking shit and piss candle Mom’s got burning.” Richie said, lifting his hand to wave Mike away.

“It’s peony, Richie.”

“It’s putrid.”

“Would you just put it out?” Mike insisted, wiping his hands. He leaned back onto his feet and walked through the kitchen to the backdoor. He unlocked the door– which if it was locked, Mike wasn’t sure how Richie got outside unless he used the windows… which might probably have been it– and poked his head outside. “Richie, I’m not kidding. Put it out.”

“No.” Richie rebutted quickly, but seemed to lack all fire in his shot back. He sounded tired; his head only lolling to the side to face Mike. He squinted against the sunshine and his nearsightedness.

“Rich, come on.” Mike stepped down from the porch quickly, his bare feet sliding in the grass, as he reached over for Richie’s cigarette. It still rested only in his hand. “Give it to me!”

“Hey, fuck off, shitbird!” Richie cried, twisting and falling onto his back. He stuck a foot out and nearly pushed Mike in the stomach. “Leave me alone!”

“Before Mom comes back, just put it out!”

“NO! I’m not even smoking it!” Richie argued, pointing at the slow column of ash forming at the end of the cigarette. Mike blinked at him– he wasn’t born yesterday. “I’m not. I’m really not. Promise. I’m just… lighting it.”

“What, like an incense? What do you think I am, Richie. A fucking idiot?” Mike retorted, yanking his brother upright.

Upon putting his glasses back on, Richie’s face didn’t unfurrow; he still looked pensive and sharp. He looked angry, but not at Mike or even the prospect of their mother grounding him. His eyes were red, only if Mike caught them in the right light. He’d been crying– but no, Richie never cried. Not like this.

“Well?” Mike continued, unsure what to say. It was obvious to them both what he’d been doing. “What are you doing, Dick?”

“I always thought I was addicted to this shit.” Richie sighed, clenching his jaw. He was speaking against his will, but for some reason all lies felt useless between them. “Turns out… I just miss Eddie.”

“Oh.” Mike eased himself down into the grass beside his brother. A quick glance to the envelope showed the return address to be the Kaspbrak household, all the way back in Maine.

There had been a few stories from Richie’s years with their aunt, Eddie’s name– Eds– peppered in sparingly and safely. Mike hadn’t thought to truly consider what it meant at the time, but it was becoming startlingly familiar. Using Will’s name in a story– one that would come bounding from his lips the moment it happened– was a game, strategically placing his name after two others or at the end, as if he wasn’t the first thought. No one was paying any attention, but Mike was. He had something to hide. And apparently so did Richie.

“I know. Stupid, right? So fucking corny.” He didn’t acknowledge the secret, only his embarrassing way to cope with the distance.

“That’s not stupid. No, that’s… that’s…”

“Really fucking sappy. I know.” Richie took a long inhale but kept the cigarette by his side. “We used to hang over this one bridge in town and share them. I used to think it was the nicotine that had me but, turns out…” He waved his hand out: it was Eddie.

“And we moved you away.” Mike sighed, feeling gutted. Sure, Will had moved away and left Mike feeling all sorts of ungrounded and anxious, but Mike was still in his home, reaching for Will. The Wheelers had taken Richie themselves and pulled him from Eddie; he was the one that was taken away, that had to deliver the news he’d be putting distance between them.

“He knows, so it’s not too bad.” Richie muttered. Oh, that was something Richie had over Mike; he’d never learned to speak any of his feelings aloud. “That’s what the letters are; something more permanent than a phone call.”

Richie’s voice was wobbling and his bottom lip quivered; Mike couldn’t stand to watch his brother break down and quickly scrambled for a joke– any joke.

“Does he write you love poems and shit?” He nudged Richie’s arm. He nearly tipped over.

“No.” Richie sniffled. He finally put the cigarette out on a out-of-place stone by his feet. “I write him about my day– things that I’m not going to tell him on the phone with fucking Ted around thinking scanning my calls is part of good parenting–”

“Understood.” Mike grumbled.

“and he just sends back his day. Signs it the same way: he won’t forget me.” He laughed wetly, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “My spaghetti won’t ‘forgetti’.”

Richie chuckled again to himself, but Mike was left still and silent. That was kind of the saddest thing he’d ever heard.

“Richie–”

“I know it’s stupid and I love our friends here at home but, I love my friends up there and I want to go back and see them but Auntie fucking hates me because I’m such a fucking handful and I can’t stay with Eddie and his mom– no fucking way– and I can’t stay with Bev because that’s a shit idea and Stan does not deserve to have me constantly under his roof and I sure as fuck can’t ask Mom or Dad to have Eddie stay over. That’s a surefire way to get both my prescription and teeth knocked out.”

“I- uh–” Mike wasn’t sure what to say. Richie was right.

“And if I have to wait until I have somewhere else to stay to see them, it might be a year before I see Eddie again. A year. That’s so long. That’s impossible to ask of him. Or anyone. And he’s just gonna… He’ll forget me. Act like I never existed– and I mean, he should! I’m a terrible, terrible friend.”

“That’s not true.” Mike grabbed his brother’s hand. The touch spoiled the rest of his sentences; this was so unlike them. “D-Do you worry about that a lot?”

“Oh come on, are you telling me you don’t feel that same way about Will?” Richie sniffled sharply, taking a long inhale.

Mike felt as if he had taken a drag of Richie’s cigarette. “Uh, that’s completely different.” He choked out.

Richie blinked at Mike for a long time– way too long, if Mike was being honest– with a look of slight disgust on his face. “You can’t be serious.”

“It’s not like you a-and Eddie!”

“I open up to you– even the tiniest bit– and you’re gonna just lie to my face like this.”

Richie was teasing, of course he was, but he had a valid point. He was back on the brink of tears after having already cried, all because he missed his boyfriend– was that the word they used, Mike wondered. He’d never thought Richie as being any sort of “boyfriend”; it was too formal, too dutiful– and he was going to lie to his brother; Mike’s first best friend that had been sent away for four years after intermediate summers in Maine that never truly spoke a word about his “forced vacation” was sharing about his first love, and Mike was shutting him out. He was making Richie feel more alone than he had to.

Mike groaned and rubbed his face. “I’m not just lying to you.”

“Oh. Oh no. You didn’t tell him before he moved? Mike, are you shitting me?”

“Hey! Shut up! I’m not the one crying over handwritten letters here!” Mike said. It wasn’t entirely accusatory and Richie knew it. His eyebrows lifted and his jaw set in expectation: go on. “A binder– I keep all his drawings in a binder. In the basement. He still sends me some– ones he draws when he’s bored in class or just ones he does for fun. I save every single one. Every. Single. One.”

There wasn’t much Richie could say, Mike knew that, but he was just super appreciative he stayed silent rather than laughing. He nodded and collected a response. “I know I’m more like Ted than I am like Mom…”

“You’re not–”

“Dad was born afraid of emotions and has passed that onto me, I know this and I’m not going to lie to myself.” Richie said sternly. “But, my point is: if I think you should tell him? Maybe you really should fucking tell him. Like yesterday.”

“Why would I do that? He’s hours away now and–”

“And he’s sending you drawings, Mike.” Richie looked upset again. His hands curling around the letter. “That sounds a whole lot like ‘I won’t forget you’ to me. Kinda gross, actually… He’s in love with you.”

Hearing it first from Richie sent Mike almost into another plane of existence. Mike reached for the cigarette and felt around in the grass for the lighter. “He is not.” He coughed, no smoke even in his lungs.

“Okay.” Richie nodded, laughing. “I’m sure he’s just, carefully creating art for every boy he knows.”

Mike spoke without thinking. “I sure fucking hope not.”

Slowly, Richie pulled his hand from his pocket and held out his lighter. He clinked his tongue and sparked it. “Oh, you’re in far worse than I thought.”

“Am not!”

“Well, when you stop pining over some crayola art, you let me know, Mike n Ike.” Richie laughed. “Denial’s only fun for so long.”

It wasn’t denial, was it? Mike knew he liked Will but he was just so fucking sure that Will didn’t– and couldn’t– like him back. It wasn’t denial if it was the truth, right? Then again, when had Mike heard those words from Will? He was hurting from being so far from Will, but he had yet to be hurt from being rejected. God, Mike was sure being rejected would hurt a hell of a lot less.

Maybe he should test that theory. Finally, maybe Richie had given good advice. Just this once.

“If I tell him, it’s you who’s driving me to Chicago to see him.” Mike threatened, pointing the cigarette at him. “I can’t just do it in a letter or-or a phone call. That’ll kill him.”

“You chip in and help me rent a place in Maine for a week this summer and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Deal. Fine. Whatever you want, it’s yours.” Mike nodded, ditching the cigarette.

Richie closed the lighter and smiled at Mike, free of mischief. “Thanks, Mike… Don’t tell Mom about the smoking. Any parts of it. Please.”

“They’re hers anyway.” Mike said winking. “She really needs to quit, honestly.”

“We’re just helping!” Richie slung his arm around Mike and brought him toppling into him. “We’re the best children she could ask for–”

“– Do I smell cigarettes?”

“Fuck! Run!” Richie giggled, scrambling up his papers and getting to his feet. Mike threw the lighter and pack into the bush behind the patio and took off after his brother.

The backdoor opened just as Richie jumped the fence, Mike struggling to do the same. “You boys better get back here!” Karen shouted.

“Sorry, Mom!” Richie called back, waving. “We’re running to Chicago!”

“And then Maine!” Mike wheezed. “Be back later!”

ao3

Take It To The Limit

Summary: Chapter one of Take It To The Limit. In this fic, Richie and Beverly have gone off on a road trip for the summer before their Senior year. Richie is battling the obstacle of trying to make Eddie aware of his feelings for him just as Eddie is with his own feelings for Richie. But Bill is dealing with his own unrequited crush on Eddie. 

Ships: Reddie, eventual Stenbrough, Benverly. 

word count: 2,075

Chapter 1: Like A Rolling Stone 

“I regret this entirely.” Richie spoke as his forearms pressed into the railing that circled the motel balcony’s. The night air was sucked in with his nervous intake of breath, it rushed down and dried his throat in the uncomfortable itchy way. He shook his head and pushed his cigarette to his lips like it might make it all better. He could almost hear the batting of Beverly’s eyelashes, that habit she had when she was annoyed. Instead, he only heard her drumming her chipped red nails on the metal. 

“Yeah, I expected that.” She spoke with a husky voice. She took another drag of her cigarette which Richie was sure wouldn’t help her slight cough. He glanced down at the pool, the florescent lights reflecting on it and bouncing phantom waves over the brick. Beverly flipped herself around and leaned her back on the railing, eyes darting to Richie’s face. He scoffed, flipping her the bird. She only smirked and smacked his hand back down. 

“I knew you would say some bullshit like that.” Richie rolled his eyes and pinched her arm. 

“Yeah? Cause I did know you’d regret this….Rich, It’s just who you are.” She shrugged and rolled her shoulders back. Richie shrugged, knowing deep down that she was right. She flipped herself back around again. 

“How does it feel, how does it feel? To be without a home, Like a complete unknown, like a rolling stone….” She transformed her husky tone into one of Bob Dylan’s pitch. Richie pursed his lips and leaned his head on her shoulder. 

“You’re an absolute dork, you know that?” Bev asked, tilting her chin down in his hair. He nodded with his signature laugh. 

“Yeah, yeah I know.” He frowned and stood up straight again, jumping up to sit on the railing, leaning back on the small and thin support pole. Beverly visibly stiffened at the sight with her expression flowing into one of worry. “How do you think our boys are doing back at home?” He tilts his head with a crooked grin and Bev sighs, letting it go for a minute. 

“Well, they’ve gone a week without their two most entertaining members of the Loser’s club so…” She jokes with a little less ease then Richie might. She ponders on her next comment and grips hard onto the railing. “They’re doing just fine.” She shrugs. 

He nods silently, looking back over at the pool below them. Their trip was planned to last the entire summer before their senior year but not a week into it, Richie was homesick. Maybe homesick wasn’t the right word. He didn’t miss the shit-hole that was Derry. But the Loser’s they left behind. They’d extended their invitation to all of them but it seemed only Bev and Richie were able to go. 

The rest of the Loser’s all had summer jobs to be responsible for. Beverly was in frustration from being between jobs, nobody seemed to take her application into consideration. And Richie had been fired from his job at the diner place a week before summer vacation had started. God, that had been a bummer. 

“I think I’m going for a swim.” Richie hopped off the railing and started down the open hall. Beverly quirked her brow before shrugging and going back into her room. 

Richie padded down the concrete stairs to the completely empty pool, there was a payphone just a few feet away from it. It was huddled together with the vending machines that were purring quietly. He kicked his shoes off and dipped his toe into the water. 

“Oh!” He jumped back and away from the freezing water, cursing to himself as he shuffled over to the phone. He managed to find 50 cents in his pants and he leaned on the snack machine. He sniffled and unhooked the black phone, twirling it around in his hand. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie’s nose scrunched up when he was nervous, Bill noticed that a lot. His head was tilted to the left to glance at the smaller boy who was scribbling his English reading homework that was not due till next year down on the notebook on his curled up legs. They were laying across Eddie’s bed, as they so often did when they discussed heavy things. Bill clasped his hands over his chest and rolled his lips together when Eddie clicked his tongue. 

-”So, I’m trying to say, I hope they eat cause Y’know Beverly and Richie sometimes forget they have to eat three meals a day. I mean, one time they shared an Oreo at eleven in the morning and claimed it was their breakfast.”

Eddie thumbed his pink tipped eraser on the notebook paper and looked over at Bill. “Are you listening?” 

Bill widened his eyes for a second before realizing he needed to reply. He nodded. “Y-yeah, I am.”

Eddie looked suspicious but it wouldn’t stop him from ranting, it never did. So the boy went on and on, Bill was content to watch until the phone on Eddie’s bedside table rang. Bill frowned as he reached over to pick it up for him. Eddie leaned closer with interest and Bill’s cheeks went red. 

“Hello?” Bill asked. 

“Big Bill! How you doing?” Richie’s voice came through happily even though Bill was definitely not who he’d called to speak to. 

“G-g-good! What about you guys?” Bill was very curious to hear about how the two of them were enjoying their time away, especially since he was jealous that he couldn’t join them. 

“Ohh things are beautiful Billy Boy. I’m pretty sure someone was murdered in this motel like six years ago-”

“And you decided to stay?” 

“Yeah! Bev and I bought a Ouija board!” Richie chuckled and Bill rolled his eyes at his friend. Eddie knew for sure that it was Richie and not Bev just by that. “Anyways, Eddie there?” Richie asked, a little too excited. Bill frowned and forked the phone over to Eddie who smiled. He hopped off Eddie’s bed and sat on his desk chair as Eddie crossed his legs. 

He threw a small Rubix cube around in his hands as he blocked out entirely what Eddie was saying. He bit into his cheek as Eddie giggled and maybe said something along the lines of ‘Shut up’. Bill was too focused on the way Eddie’s cheeks went to a dusty pink color. He mentally groaned and spun the chair around. “S-shit.” He cursed to himself and Eddie glanced up at him, phone down at his chin. 

“You say something Bill?” 

Bill flung back around and waved the Rubix cube in his hand. “I just g-g-got the blue side, is all.” He plastered a small smile on his face. Eddie smiled back and went back to his phone call. 

“Yeah, yeah. What are you guys doing?” Eddie asked softly and then started to giggle. Bill licked his lips and blocked out the rest of the conversation, only hearing the occasional oblivious flirty comment that he was well aware that Eddie didn’t quite know the extent of. 

He only glanced back up when he heard Eddie hang up the phone. Eddie smiled and gestured for him to come back. “Come help me with this. You’re no good if you’re just gonna sit there.” 

Bill chuckled and plopped back down next to him on the bed, looking down at Eddie’s notes. Their close proximity making him a tad bit flustered, while Eddie remained completely clueless. 

“You miss Beverly much?” Eddie suddenly asked and Bill lifted his brow. “I mean, you used to talk about her all the time, didn’t you like her?” Eddie teased, poking his arm and Bill was quick to stop the contact. 

“I d-d-don’t know about that.” Bill shrugged, blushing for all the wrong reasons, not that Eddie would know. Eddie started to laugh and Bill’s stomach fluttered. 

“W-wa-what about Richie?” 

Eddie’s laughter quickly stopped and he looked to Bill with confusion. “What about Richie?” 

Bill shrugged, pretending like he didn’t have intentions. “Well, you asked me about Beverly so…”

Eddie looked down. “Do you think I like Richie?” 

Bill knew. He fucking knew Eddie did. And it killed him. He didn’t say anything and Eddie looked off in thought. Bill internally cursed himself for bringing it up. He’d almost been hoping Eddie would have denied it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Richie hung up the payphone and leaned back against the humming snack machine, enjoying the small vibration. His peace was short lived though. Beverly bounded down the stairs and slapped his shoulder. He jumped. 

“Sorry, who’d you call?” She asked. Richie looked back at the phone and smiled. 

“Eddie.” 

She should’ve expected such. She almost made a smart ass comment but she decided against it and just slowly started to walk around the pool with Richie strolling with her to the right. “Y’know this whole trip really interferes with my plan to woo Eddie.” He sighed and chuckled, figuring Bev must know by now of his feelings for Eddie so he didn’t much care about admitting it. 

Beverly shook her hair from her face and chuckled. “Yeah, being around the person does play a big factor.”  She faded off her laugh and looked over at the pool water, Richie cleaned off his glasses with his shirt, she felt a little bad. “I’m not saying it really makes a difference here though.” She shrugged and Richie glanced over. 

“Eddie…he’s pretty into you.” She admitted with a sort of sad twinge to her voice that Richie couldn’t place. 

“You think so?”

“Oh I know so.” Beverly knocked their shoulders together. Richie looked smug. 

“No one can resist me.” He looked so proud and hopeful that Beverly couldn’t help but beam back at him. 

“Yeah, you’re a real looker, babe.” Beverly wiped a spot on his glasses with her sleeve as they rounded the pool. Richie swatted her hand away. She crossed her arms and bit hard into her lip. “I hope you’re enjoying the trip though.” 

“Yeah, red. you bet I am.” He threw his arm around her shoulder and they rounded the next corner. The neon light from the sign was still burnt into his eyes and he’d been trying to blink it away for five minutes. “Being on a long road trip while controlling the radio? Paradise! Richie ‘Records’ Tozier and Beverly…” 

Beverly looked up with amusement as Richie searched the side of the motel for something. 

“We’ll work on your nickname.” He shrugged and Beverly chuckled, throwing her head back. 

“We’d better.” She chuckled and they started going back towards the stairs. They climbed up and separated for their rooms that were right next to each other. 

As soon as their doors shut, they breathed out and looked towards their telephones. Richie strolled over, sitting on the edge of the bed and kicking his shoes off. 

Beverly went over for the tan phone on her bedside table and picked it up, putting it just above her chin. She twirled the cord around her fingertips and waited. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, Bill. It’s Bev.” She clarified though there was no need to. Bill made a sort of ‘ohh’ sound. “Yeah, I’m calling because…I mean we all knew but Richie pretty much confirmed it to me that he likes Eddie and that he has a plan to woo him.”

Bill’s end went silent and Beverly sighed, putting her head in her hand. “Look, Bill. I know you like Eddie.” She swallowed, looking towards the obnoxiously orange light to her left. “But I think it’s best for you to get over it….I’m sorry.” 

“Y-yeah. I know.” Bill’s voice was soft and Beverly wanted to be there to comfort him. She felt her eyes water on his behalf. “It’s fine. I-I-I’m o-o-ok.” Bill’s stutter was worsening and she knew it was because he was probably tearing up and upset. 

“Sweetie, you’re gonna make me cry.” She sniffled and wiped under her eyes. Bill chuckled sadly. 

“I’m really f-f-fine.” Bill sighed and sucked in his breath. “I pretty much knew t-t-that f-f-f-from the start.” He shrugged to himself, having left Eddie’s pretty soon after Richie’s call. 

Beverly sniffled again and stood, hand resting on her hip. “I’ll call you and give you the numbers you can reach us from, ok?”

“Sure thing, Bev. B-B-Ben’s been wanting to check in-”

“I was gonna call him after this.” She grinned. “Ok, I’ll let you go.” She sighed and they said their goodbyes. After she hung up, she ran her hand through her hair and shook herself before dialing Ben up. 

Saint Bellamarre Catacombs

Title: Saint Bellamare Catacombs Word Count: 2,130 Project/Pairing: Saint Bellamare RP (The Very First Sebastian/ Raphael) Genres: Horror, Adventure Warnings: Horror, Cussing Notes: This short story takes place in the underground of Bellamarre. Older than anyone can remember, never mapped out before. The boys take on the challenge of exploring the catacombs with unexpected results.

Originally I had written this as a birthday present for Luke. This is how it all got started; fleshing out who they are, and what they’re like as people. If Luke minds, I can post art of them as well. Enjoy this first installment of short stories :)

“Fucking christ what time is it?” I kept shaking Raph without answer until he grabbed my arm and peered at my watch, bleary eyed.     “It’s about 8:15” I answered only after he sat up. The sun had just set about a half hour ago. He stretched and groaned smacking his lips in a satisfied manner. “You were asleep for three hours”, he rubbed his eye and scratched at his tuft of red chest hair. “A good nap is supposed to be twenty to forty minutes, you realize?” His eyes finally focused on mine, squinting a little in the light of my lamp.      “And mine was longer right? So it’s twelve times better” He said, reaching over onto the floor and picking up the shirt he threw there mere hours ago. He put it to his nose then put it on. “Why am I awake again?” I clenched my teeth and kept myself from saying something along the lines of ‘I need a human meat shield and you’re the only expendable option I thought of’.      “We’re gonna see if the barrels in the catacombs contain supplies” He leapt out of bed at that.     “Oh for god’s sake, Raph” I muttered, turning my gaze to the closest object on the wall. “Remember when I promised to not read until four in the morning in exchange for you not doing that” I heard him fiddle with his jean’s zipper followed by a belt.      “And you read until three in the morning so I wore blankets to bed. What’s fair is fair” he replied grabbing his bag. The bell tower rang its usual tune to tell the students that curfew is now in effect.       Without hesitation Raph flung the door open into oncoming student traffic. He shoved through annoyed first years like an unapologetic salmon swimming upriver. I followed close behind with my backpack slung over a shoulder and muttering a quick sorry to anyone either of us bump into.      Luckily within a few corridors, the students dispersed leaving us to ourselves. Raph squared his shoulders and barreled through new corridors without thought or worry. I also didn’t want to tell him that he made me feel safe. Standing nearly a head taller than I am, he offered an imposing figure that I could never achieve.      “So are we goin’ for a few bevs after we steal whatever’s down there?” he said turning down a final hallway to a dead end.      “You go ahead. I’d rather get some sleep” I replied holding up a lamp for Raph to see where he was going. The tall windows were too far away to offer any useful moonlight. With a swift motion he flipped over the rug to reveal an oaken trapdoor.      “If you took a nap, you wouldn’t need sleep” he said, motioning for the lamp. I handed it over as he lifted the door revealing an impenetrable darkness. The lamp offered nothing to light the ladder and beyond. “Ladies first” He said smiling and making a grandiose motion toward the ladder. I frowned at him and closed my eyes as I gripped the ladder rungs tightly on my way down.      A pit of fear grew in my gut with each step downward. I opened my eyes to see if I had any further to go. It didn’t matter if my eyes were open or closed. It was the same level of darkness either way.      I certainly didn’t feel better as my foot landed in something soft and squishy. I yanked it back out and clung to the ladder.      “This lamp’s heavy. Can you shove off so I can get down there?” Raph said from somewhere above me.     “I can’t see anything, Raph. Hand it down here” He bent down and gave it to me. I leaned out from the ladder and tried getting a lay of the land. We were indeed at the bottom.      I looked down to see what I stepped in. What a mistake. Several rats had died at the bottom of the ladder in in a peculiar pile. Or something threw them here. I shook my head and leapt over the small pile onto solid tiles.     “Watch your step” I warned. He stepped down onto the rats and simply walked to my side. My stomach did flips as terrible squishing noises emerged from under his feet.      “Bit nasty isn’t it” he said, searching through his bag. He took out a giant wrench and slung it over his shoulder. I looked at him agape. “Did you think I’d come here unprepared?” he said.      “Well no but….where’d you get that?”     “Metalworking. The supply room’s easy to jimmy” he said slinging his backpack over his other shoulder. “Let’s grab what we can and get out of here before I need to use it” he said almost gravely as he looked around in the dim area that my lamp fails to illuminate.      I looked around too. We were in a corridor that reached out for who knows how long. Stone archways reached overhead dripping with water and mold. The only semblance of direction we could gather is that the two trenches on either side of the tiled pathways had water currents flowing forward.      I steeled myself and pushed forward, lamp extended, careful not to look at what I’m stepping in. A series of empty barrels where other students scavenged started appearing in nearby hallways. The further we went, the more they appeared, with a few objects at the bottom of them.      We made sure only to scavenge the ones on the main pathway, there’s no telling what twists and turns these dark corridors would take us. We walked about a mile. It felt like twelve.      Something kept pushing us. Perhaps it was that we found more useful things the further we went. Raph pocketed all the matches we found. I dug through rotten food to retrieve unreadable scrolls and potion ingredients.      Maybe it’s that I got more and more curious as we walked further and further. Raph must’ve been curious as well because he didn’t start complaining until we were nearly two miles down the road.      “My shoulder is starting to hurt something fierce. And my feet hurt like a bitch” he started to mention. “Can we go back now?”      “One more barrel and I promise” I said. I hoped that it’d be worth all the effort. I reached in and retrieved newt eyes, frog legs, and one really heavy book. “Here, hold this” I handed him the lamp and flipped over the book. Latin. All of it.      “Can we just bag it please? Let’s go” he complained again. I sighed and shoved it into my bag. He was a good sport about coming so I might as well go along with what he wants.      “I’ll even buy you a drink when we get back” I said as we started back where we came from.     “It better be a good drink. None of those watered down cocktails” he said, shifting the wrench from one shoulder to the other.     “Whatever drink you want that’s under twelve bu-“ I stopped in my tracks. I couldn’t see it clearly but we couldn’t possibly have made it back already. I walked faster and my light reached a wall in front of us. It looked the same as the dead end we entered near. With one very worrying difference.      “Where’s the ladder gone” Raph said, walking in front of me. He swiped at the air with his arm. “It’s just not here anymore” He stomped around looking at the ceiling. I just stood there with my arm out, frozen. “There’s not even a hole”       “Raph, did we make a turn somewhere?” I managed to say out loud. “Are we lost?” He whirled around and looked at me, a flash of fear in his eyes.      “I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure we just went straight” he said. I turned around in a slow circle, going toward each possible direction.      “Let’s go back and retrace our steps” I finally said, “Maybe we just got turned around when we were scavenging” Raph let out a sigh of relief.      “Yeah, ok. Let’s do that” We began to walk back the way we came with Raph taking the lead this time. Our footsteps echoed in the empty chambers as we made our way back to the ladder.      We didn’t speak. I was too busy concentrating on not stepping on the amount of dead squishy things.     “Oh no….oh fuck. Shit” Raph began to swear more and more and sped up. I jogged to keep up and finally saw what he spoke of. Another dead end. “That’s impossible. We were just through here” He took his wrench off his shoulder and began to pound on the wall. With every slam, he cursed and bits of concrete flew everywhere.      “Raph, stop. You’re only wasting your energy” I said coming up behind him. He threw a look at me that made me shiver.     “Then how bout you do something. Get us the fuck out of here” he said. I turned around and looked down the hallway. He kept pounding.      “Raph…stop. Give the light here” I said, my blood audibly rushing in my ears. I held it up and my heart rate kicked into high gear. The place we just came from. The wall. It’s right there. It’s barely out of my light radius but it’s definitely right there. “Raph….do you see this?” He walked up next to me.       “Oh my….god” he barely whispered. “The walls are getting closer” We spun around. The wall was definitely a few yards away. Now our noses nearly touched it. Raph spun around again. “Sebastian, the other wall’s about fifteen feet away” I put the lamp down.      “Keep your eye on this one, I’ll look at the other one” I said sitting down on the floor and rummaging through my bag.     “What’re you doing?” he shouted keeping his eyes trained on a wall. I flipped open the book, keeping my back to a wall. My Latin is rusty but I can puzzle through a few paragraphs.       “Trying to see if there’s some sort of ritual I could do to get us out of here” I replied, scanning the pages frantically.      “The sides are getting closer too, Seb”, he said, looking at all the walls as quickly as he could. “I can’t look at them all by myself” I finally flipped open to a page that had two circles and a line of text separating them. I scanned through the instructions and looked up. Rat bodies were stacked up against the wall behind me as though they’d been pushed. The side walls had overtaken the water currents and contributed their own piles.      I began picking them up and arranged them in a semi-neat circle around Raph and myself.      “We don’t have time. Hurry up” he shouted.     “I’m doing my best, it takes a bit of time to arrange an alchemical circle” I said, looking up at what he meant. The walls around us offered about a ten foot by ten foot square. We were really running out of time.      I finished the circle and began etching into the tiles with one of the many bones that were strewn about. I probably set the world record for the most hastily drawn circle of all time. I put the book in the center and brought the lamp closer. Raph stood over me and kept his wrench up above his head. Scraping noises started to grate on my ears and I looked up quickly.      The walls pushed up against us until the rat piles nearly spilled onto my circle. The edges of Raph’s wrench were propped against both walls. “Seb, do it now!” I snapped out of my fear trance and looked down at the page, finding the sentence we needed. I read the sentence word for word as the wrench groaned under the pressure. I finished the ritual and the lamp went out. I shut my eyes and hoped.     Nothing happened. Then my ears could faintly pick up cricket noises. “Raph, are you ok?” Raph gasped deeply and put his hands on his knees.      “Jesus fuckin Christ, Seb” he wheezed. He’s fine probably. I looked down to see my book and lamp were in the middle of a crude circle on the trapdoor we had used to enter the catacombs. It looked to be drawn on with someone’s fingernails. “I’m not going down there again”      “Agreed” I picked up my things from the hatch. My blood still raced in my ears and I wanted more than anything to erase what happened from my mind.      “I’m gonna need a stiff drink or four” he said. For once, it sounds like a splendid idea.      “I think I’ll join you”

Rating: Teen & up Pairing: Hannibal/Will, Will & Bev Tags: au, fluff, romance, mild drug use, music, Bach, shopping, gender identity, references to Pretty Woman Set after I’ll Be Your Mirror

I desperately needed to write some fluff and we can’t really have too much of it at the moment, so here's a Quicksilver timestamp based on a conversation I had with @samui-sakura88 (why can’t i tag ugh) about a million years ago.

@samui-sakura88 I always meant to do something with it and it seemed to fit really nicely into the timeline right now - I hope you like it :)

Thanks to @wrathofthestag for advising me expertly about American clothing stores and where Will and Bev would likely go shopping, and to @lordofthelesbians and @wraithsonwingsposts for beta :)

For people unfamiliar with this series: Will is a genderfluid psychology student. He lives with Bev, his best friend. Hannibal is crazy in love with him and grows his own cannabis (in case you get confused by that mention). Just… try to go with it.

~~~

Even in the beginning, Hannibal had never been the type to drag Will off to bed as soon as dinner was over. He enjoyed the ritual order of clearing away, and he enjoyed taking time over his pleasures, whether that was cooking, eating, or an unhurried glass of cognac. Will was no exception to this rule.

After their feast would come a cosy, quiet passion which lasted only until it was quiet no longer. Will would curl up on the sofa to read, preferring a few hits of Hannibal’s homegrown pot to a nightcap. Hannibal would never be far away, occasionally sketching at his desk, but tonight allowing Will to use him as a human sofa cushion. He showed no sign at all that he minded. In fact, Will was certain from the firm arm around his middle, holding Will against him, that it also counted amongst his pleasures.

Both of them had books, but only one was reading. Will had lost interest in Wuthering Heights some time ago. He knew it almost by heart anyway and reading was too much effort after a voluptuous meal, especially so deep into the semester. Instead, lulled by the rise and fall of Hannibal’s chest, he listened to his own sluggish thoughts and the rhythmic sound of pages turning behind him.  

Hannibal peered over his shoulder. “Not in the mood for your book?”

“I’ve looked at too many words this week,” Will said. “I’ve pored over them, mine and other people’s, and I’m sick of text of all kinds.”

Hannibal put his own book aside, so he could wind both arms around Will. “At least you are being stretched,” he said. “Maybe you should have a holiday, when the semester is over.”

“Ugh, there’s finals first,” said Will. “I can’t even think about the summer until they’re over.”

“In that case,” Hannibal said, releasing him to stand smoothly, “I recommend music. If you cannot be transported in body, you shall be in spirit.”

Will half-expected Hannibal to sit at the harpsichord but he moved past it and went to the record player on the other side of the room. He deliberated by his small record collection, concealed in a carved cabinet with varnish like treacle, before selecting one. The needle was lowered into place and he returned to Will’s side.

There was a long moment of crackling silence, emanating from hidden speakers. Then the music began. Its effect was immediate, bursting into the room in a sublime rising chorus of voices, strings and brass. He rested his head against Hannibal’s shoulder and closed his eyes to listen. It was hard not to picture soaring spaces of holy stones, of golden light and beseeching praise. After a few short minutes, it ended and all was once more quiet.

“You’re watching me again, I know it,” said Will. He opened his eyes to find he was right, and laughed.

“I wanted to see your response,” Hannibal said. “See if and where you were transported.”

“What was that?”

“Dona nobis pacem from Bach’s Mass in B minor.”

“Play it again,” Will said.

So Hannibal did.

*

That night Will listened to many more Bach compositions, plus a little Mozart, Schubert and Chopin. Mostly they were short pieces, but for the longer ones Hannibal lay on the sofa with him as baroque melodies or haunting fugues filled the air.

“How are you choosing them?” Will wondered aloud, after a rather ornate Bach organ piece. “Are they things you think I will like or simply things you want to share?”

“To appreciate anything fully, you must develop your own taste,” Hannibal said. “I am giving you glimpses into unfamiliar worlds, so you can orient yourself. If you would like to.”

“And if I did want to, what then?” Will said. “For instance, I don’t know anything about musical structure, or theory.”

“It’s not necessarily a barrier,” Hannibal said. “To listen, and listen well, is the key.”

“Bullshit,” Will laughed. “Technical proficiency is everything to you, no matter what the art or science. I don’t speak the language but you’re telling me I don’t need to learn it?” He shook his head, in mocking disappointment. “I don’t believe you, Dr Lecter.”

“Perhaps further down the line,” Hannibal conceded. “One night of some of my favourite pieces is a good enough beginning for your musical education.”

“What is your favourite?” Will asked. “Have we had it already? If not, play me that.”

Hannibal smiled at him. “Since you’re so demanding, I will take the opportunity to do exactly as you desire,” he said, taking his seat at the harpsichord.

Will had heard Hannibal play before, but never really listened closely or with any degree of understanding. It had been something which happened in the background while he did other things, another ingredient which contributed to the unique atmosphere of his home. Now though, he paid careful attention, stretching out fully across the sofa to follow the play of Hannibal’s fingers over the keys in his imagination. The brittle delicacy of the notes were striking, as was the comparative simplicity of the repeated melody, weaving into a complex pattern as the piece developed.

He couldn’t resist sitting up to watch Hannibal as he played. His face was revealed in concentration, a mask of intellect and ideas and purposeful grace. Will thought he looked extraordinarily beautiful; almost alien.

When the last sounds died away, Will went to sit with him on the bench. He had the uncanny feeling he’d witnessed something rare, but Hannibal gave no indication that anything unusual had happened.

Will poked at one the keys, causing a soft clipped note to break the silence. “Thank you for playing for me,” he said. “That was…” He trailed off, for once unable to put a voice to his thoughts.

“That was the Aria from the Goldberg Variations,” Hannibal said. “More Bach, I’m afraid.”

“Why is that your favourite?” Will asked.

Hannibal put his fingers back to the keys and began to play it again, more quietly. “Ah, but you already have theories about that. Why don’t you share them with me?”

Will turned to sit astride the bench. The angle was better to watch Hannibal play. “It’s elegant but intricate,” he said. “And ordered. Even as it deviates, the music seems to operate within imposed constraints. Plus there’s a clarity to the sound, it’s unclouded by emotion. Though you like being moved by art, this provides you serenity - you value that more.”

The music halted. Hannibal threw Will an amused smile. “How much of that was an affinity for music and how much empathy?”

“At least fifty percent empathy,” Will admitted. “I tried to see the music as you might.”

Hannibal pulled him closer, his attention now directed entirely at Will. Will put an arm around him and pressed a few keys, this time with more force. “This is your preferred instrument?”

“Indeed,” said Hannibal. “From it the music springs into being, whole and entire.”

“Each note a perfect moment in time,” said Will. “No tentative beginnings and no gradual decline. It begins, and it stops.”

“Exactly,” said Hannibal, kissing him on the temple. “Have you enjoyed your evening? Is this to be the beginning or the end of your musical education?”

“It’s not the end,” Will said. “So it must be a beginning of sorts. It’s been… expansive.” He smiled, and pressed a chaste kiss to Hannibal’s lips. “I feel differently stretched.”

“All you need do for now is continue to listen,” said Hannibal.

“To develop my own taste,” Will said. “Except, how it develops will probably depend upon your influence.”

“Allow me to influence you further, then,” Hannibal said. “How about something longer? A concert perhaps. I could take you to one.”

His suggestion took Will somewhat by surprise. The idea of doing so seemed incredibly unlikely - he would never have considered it without Hannibal’s invitation. He tried to picture himself there, as Hannibal’s companion, and mostly failed. “Wouldn’t I be a bit out of place?”

“Not at all,” Hannibal said. “Concert halls are desperate for a younger audience or they will not have a future.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” said Will. Though, in truth, it partly was. Hannibal would have acquaintances in the audience, all much older than Will and all busily making assumptions about him. Still, there was something impossibly romantic about accompanying Hannibal. And Will was used to people making assumptions - which he then very much enjoyed defying. “What would I even wear?”

“Whatever you like,” Hannibal said. “But, if you permit me, I could help with that.”

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