Scars That Heal || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series
• Ch. 1: Please Don’t Go, Girl •
- 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗘 𝟭𝟵𝟴𝟵 -
The final bell at Derry High School rang, doors flung open and a mix of disorderly students had spilled out into the halls like sheep. Books were being hurled into the trash, lockers emptied out, papers were strewn all over - summer had officially commenced. Swept up among the madness is Bill Denbrough, Richie Tozier, Stan Uris, and Eddie Kaspbrak.
Eddie was abnormally small for his age, his inhaler holstered in his medicine-filled fanny pack to his left, Stan. A tall boy with curly blonde hair and wore a kippah, next to him was Bill, a young gangly boy with a stutter. And Richie Tozier, who wore glasses and was notorious for being a trash mouth. He was Eddie's best friend.
In that same moment, one floor down, Y/n L/n flooded into the hallway with her classmates, exhaling in relief. She scanned the hallways and glazed over the many figures of the crowd hoping to catch sight of a familiar head of fiery red hair that belonged to her best friend. Beverly had excused herself near the end of class for a smoke in the girl’s bathroom, naturally, that was where she was headed to find her friend.
Y/n weaved her way through the hallway stuffed with people, walking on her toes hoping to get a better look above the mass of heads. She passed through the stairway, cringing at the sudden influx in volume caused by the echo from the rowdy students in the stairway. That's when she spotted Greta Bowie.
Y/n cursed under her breath as she saw the 13-year-old bully heading for the top of the stairs. She got a bad feeling in her stomach and she immediately knew where Greta was headed.
Beverly and Y/n were the bully's favorite victims, particularly Bev. And Y/n had an inkling Greta was looking for her Beverly too.
Y/n sprinted up the steps after her, the swarm of students blocking her way. Up ahead, she saw Greta reach the landing of the second floor and she shoved herself past one of Richie Tozier's friends, who turned to glare at her.
At that moment, two rambunctious boys who were racing down the stairs, and much too absorbed in their interaction hadn't seemed to realize they were obstructing her path. And blocking Greta out in the process.
She huffed. "Do you mind- Hey!"
Rather than stop, the two boys blew past her on either side, their shoulders crashing into hers as they sneered. Her heart leaped into her throat as she felt herself lose balance. She lost her footing and was sent tumbling backward down a few stairs and onto the landing, a few students slowing her fall. Luckily, she hadn't made it far up the stairs. Had she, and Y/n would have left the school in a wheelchair, or worse.
"Fuck!"
Laughter erupted around her and she lay there, the wind knocked out of her. The two boys never even acknowledged the damage they had caused and they were well on their way to the exit of the school. Figures.
"Hey, are y-y-you, o-okay?" Y/n peered up and saw four boys hurrying down the steps towards her.
One of the boys, Richie Tozier, she recognized. At Derry High School, it was almost impossible not to know about the trash mouth, but she also had a handful of classes with him. They had even been partnered up once at the beginning of the year.
Y/n had a hard time figuring out what he actually sounded like that day, he kept switching between so many different accents.
"I'm fine," She sat up abruptly, wincing and hissed in pain, clutching her elbow.
"You sure?" Asked the curly-haired boy, who was peeking his slightly over his friends. "That was some fall you took."
"You know toots, when people come barreling towards me, I usually get out of the way, but you know, that's just me." Said Richie, readjusting his glasses.
Y/n rolled her eyes, huffing. "Ever learn how to shut up, Tozier?"
"Nah, still trying to crack that one."
Eddie, who had been unusually quiet, hesitantly brought his hand out to her to help her up. She took it gratefully, forcing a smile, still wincing from her fall. And Y/n muttered a thanks.
The poor hypochondriac boy realized what he had done and quickly reached into his fanny pack, grabbing his pocket-sized hand sanitizer. He squeezed a small amount into his palm and quickly rubbed it into his hands frantically, though a small blush resided on his cheeks.
Y/n would have taken slight offense to the kid's actions but she was far too distracted by the fact that Greta had gotten away.
She was probably terrorizing Beverly right now, Y/n thought.
"Are you sure you're okay? That looked like a really bad fall." Stan asked.
Y/n forced another smile as she rotated her ankle wincing. "Yeah, I'm fine thanks. Look I rea-"
Eddie, whose voice finally caught up with his brain, began speaking rapidly, cutting her off unintentionally.
"You should take extra precaution with your ankle for a while. Did you know over one million stair related injuries occur every year, and people who have them, statistically speaking are more likely to experience another incident due to injury from the first fall?"
Y/n blinked a few times, still trying to catch up with his words. Richie and Stan smirked at one another and Bill looked between his friend and the baffled girl before him. Bill remembered how it was hearing Eddie speak for the first time. It took him a couple of weeks before he could hold a conversation with him without asking him to repeat himself.
"Uh, yeah, I think I heard that somewhere, thanks. I'll keep an eye on it. Uh, listen, thanks for the concern, and the help, but I really gotta go," Y/n said quickly, not as fast, but close to, Eddie's speed.
The unexpected response triggered a few raised eyebrows among the three boys, and a small smile formed on Eddie's face.
Y/n nodded and gestured to the top of the stairs behind them.
"Excuse me," She said, pushing her way through between Eddie and Stan.
Eddie and the rest of the boys turned and watched as she squeezed through the flood of students like a fish swimming upstream. Eventually, they saw her [b/t] figure disappear into the crowd at the top of the stairs.
Without his eyes leaving the spot through which she disappeared, Eddie spoke up.
"Hey, Richie, who was that?"
Richie looked between his best friend and the stairs.
"Y/n L/n. Why? You want to get in her pants?" He chuckled.
Eddie's face scrunched up and he shook his head feverishly, though it didn't stop Richie from noticing the pinkish hue creeping up on Eddie's cheeks and Richie suddenly regretted his joke.
"Aw, nothing to be ashamed of Eds. We're happy you're finally going after a woman that's not your mother!" Richie said, plastering on a smirk.
Eddie then launched into a lecture about the nickname and the four boys continued downstairs.
Meanwhile, at just past the top of the stairs Y/n approached the bathroom just as Greta and her posse were leaving. They were snickering and Greta met Y/n's eye and burst into laughter, her friends following suit.
"Oh, crap." Y/n took off into the bathroom.
"Beverly?"
Y/n didn't need to hear a response to figure out where her friend was. She winced when she saw the water pooling out from the far right stall. Mixed into it were various pieces of garbage that were floating amongst it.
"Beverly? It's me, come on open up," Y/n knocked softly on the stall, and she took a step back when it swung open.
There Beverly stood, her legs and the end of her dress soaked and dripping. Beverly looked at her best friend, a deadpan look on her face. She held her drenched backpack out away from herself, it swung slightly where the handle was hooked around her finger. There were wet napkins and paper towels that still clung to her backpack.
"Shit, I'm sorry. I tried going after her, but I... guess I fell short." Y/n chuckled weakly at her own joke, but quickly shook her head. "Never mind. Here, let's get you dried off."
×××
"Best feeling in the world,"
Stan emptied the contents of his backpack into the trashcan in the courtyard, his friends did the same.
Richie turned to his friend, putting his backpack back on.
"Yeah? Try tickling your pickle for the first time."
Eddie, who was used to ignoring the cheeky quips from Richie, turned to the others.
"Hey, what do you guys want to do tomorrow?"
Richie looked to Eddie, answering as if it was the most obvious thing in the universe.
"I start my training."
"Wait, what training?"
"Street Fighter."
"Is that how you wanna spend your summer? Inside of an arcade?"
Without missing a beat, Richie replied and shrugged.
"Beats spending it inside your mother," he turned to Stan, waiting for a high five.
Without a thought, Stan forced Richie's arm down, and the conversation continued.
"What if we go to the quarry?" He asked.
Bill leaned slightly on the trashcans as he replied.
"Guys, we have the b-b-ba-barrens,"
An awkward silence fell over them and Stan nodded in understanding. "Right."
At that moment, Eddie caught sight of a woman standing on the sidewalk, her eyes puffy from crying. They were accompanied by bags under them, and she waited with the police. She scanned the entryway, hoping to find a familiar face.
Eddie nodded. "Betty Ribosome's mom,"
The boys all turned to follow his eye.
"Is she really expecting to see her come out of that school?" Stan asked sadly.
"I don't know," Eddie muttered. "As if Betty Ripsome's been hiding in Home Ec. for the last few weeks."
"You think they'll actually find her?"
Richie answered immediately, with a slight scoff.
"Sure. In a ditch. All decomposed, covered in worms and maggots, smelling like Eddie's mom's underwear."
Eddie cringed and began sputtering. "Shut up! That's fricking disgusting."
"S-she’s not dead." Bill urged. "S-sh-she's just m-missing."
Richie adjusted his glasses nervously, and he felt a twinge of guilt knowing he hit a sore subject with his friend. Bill was still insistent that his own younger brother was still missing. After his little brother's disappearance months ago, still hoping he was out there somewhere.
"Sorry, Bill. She's missing."
Another silence fell over the four friends. They began walking away towards their bikes.
"You know, the Barrens aren't that bad," Richie began. "Who doesn't love splashing around in shitty water?"
Richie was stopped in his tracks, a hand had reached out and grabbed his backpack, and before he knew it he was thrown into Stan and the two boys fell in the grass.
Patrick Hockstetter kneeled over Stan. He wore a wicked grin and was waving his kippah in his face. "Nice frisbee, flamer."
Stan reached desperately for it, but Patrick kept it well out of his reach. "Give it back!"
He rose to his feet and tossed the kippah straight into an open window of a passing school bus. "Fucking losers!"
Eddie was too distracted to notice Belch Huggins creep up behind him. He burped into his face, causing him to gag profusely and Belch gave him a shove.
Henry Bowers, the leader of the little gang and the one who knocked over Stan and Richie, stormed passed the boys. Bill went red in the face with anger and he shouted after them.
"Y-y-you, s-s-s-suck, Bowers!"
"Shut up, Bill!" Richie warned.
But it was too late, Henry and his friends stopped in their tracks, turning around to face the stuttering boy.
"You suh-suh-suh-say something, buh-buh-buh-Billy?" He asked, feigning a stutter.
He stalked towards him, towering over him menacingly.
"You got a free ride this year 'cause of your little brother. Ride's over, Denbrough."
Henry caught the noise of indistinct radio chatter and he looked past Bill, at his father, the chief of police. The scruffy man took off his glasses and glared at his son. Henry tried to shake it off but he backed up slightly.
"This summer's gonna be a hurt train, for you and your faggot friends."
Henry licked his palm and wiped it across Bill's face. Patrick snickered and three bullies retreated the car, where their other friend Victor Criss was waiting.
Stan and Richie joined Bill and Eddie's side, glaring after the Bowers Gang.
"I wish he'd go missing," Richie muttered.
Eddie nodded. "He's probably the one doing it."
×××
Ben Hanscom grabs the handles of his bike with one hand and carefully moves it out of the rack. He was balancing a diorama of the Derry Standpipe in his other hand. He looked around the courtyard briefly, seeing the noiseless chatter of students around him as his music blasts in his ears. Completely unaware he and his bike were blocking the stairs.
A now somewhat dry Beverly Marsh stood on the stairs waiting to pass. Y/n, who had helped her dry off in the bathroom, had promptly realized she never had the chance to clean out her locker. The duo decided to meet each other at their shared apartment complex. To kick off the summer break, Beverly was going to stay at Y/n's apartment for the night, and get a much-deserved break from her father.
Beverly prickled at the small obstacle. She was impatient from the day's events and to get home and grab a change of clothes before her father got home from work. Eager to disappear to Y/n's next door. But the boy blocking the stairs didn't seem to know he was even doing it.
"You gonna let me go by?" Beverly asked, bringing him out of his stupor. "Or is there a secret password or something?"
Ben turned suddenly, and when he saw who it was before him, his stomach did flips and his heart was aflutter. He harbored a crush for the girl, ever since he first laid eyes on her in class. She never failed to make him blush, just with a simple look.
"Oh," he turned his head down to the ground quickly to hide his scarlet face. "Um, sorry,"
"Sorry's not," She trailed off when the diorama he had been holding fell to the ground, and he scrambled to pick it up. "password."
Just as he had picked up his diorama, his bike fell to the ground. She felt a wave of guilt for being snarky, he was clearly sorry and at this point she knew, he had enough on his plate. Someone they both had to worry about. Henry Bowers.
"Henry and his goons are over by the west entrance, so you should be fine," she eased, and Ben looked at her taken aback.
"Oh, I wasn't--"
"Everyone knows he's looking for you," she nodded.
Ben sighed and shied away. She smiled and took a few steps forward, grabbing the headphones off his head.
"What you listening to?"
Ben was in shock, but he stood still waiting for the inevitable teasing she would bring. But instead she smiled brightly, making his heart pound faster and he could feel his face grow hotter.
"New Kids on The Block," She took the headphones back off.
"I don't even like them. I was just--"
"Wait. You're the new kid, right? Now I get it."
His heart sunk.
"There's nothing to get."
"I'm just messing with you," she assured.
She placed the headphones on top of his head, and he promptly grabbed them, wrapping them around his head as best he could with one hand.
"I'm Beverly Marsh"
"Yeah. I know that 'cause we're in the same class. Social Studies. And you were..." he trailed off, and shook his head slightly. "I'm Ben. But pretty much everybody just calls me..."
"The new kid," Beverly finished, nodded in understanding. "Well, Ben, there are worse things to be called. Let me sign this."
She stepped forward, grabbing the yearbook she had spotted sticking out of his backpack. Bev eagerly opened it up to the front and her face fell seeing nothing but blank pages save for the word typed in black ink, 'Autographs'. Grabbing the pen from her belt, she bit the cap and held it between her teeth as she signed her name, unknowingly being watched in admiration by Ben. His eyes just poking up from the book.
She recapped the pen and handed the yearbook back to Ben. "Stay cool, Ben from sosh class."
"Uh, yeah," He turned to watch her leave, smiling brightly after her. "You too, Beverly."
As he watched her walk away, she called without turning her head, acknowledging his response. "Hang tough, new kid on the block."
Ben smirked at her clever reference to the boy bands' song, and a big stupid grin formed on his face. He chuckled, shaking his head softly, not believing his luck and her kindness.
He called back out to her, moments too late. "Please Don't Go, Girl. That's the name of another New Kids on the Block song,"
His words trailed off, knowing he had been too late. Hopefully, she hadn't heard it, he thought. And it seemed she hadn't. He shook his head, ashamed but relieved she hadn't heard it. Nevertheless, he had a new firm hand on his bike and diorama, determined not to drop them again and he walked his bike to the entrance, his headphones trailing behind him and his heart still aflutter.
Who cares that no one else signed my yearbook, he thought. When the only person he actually wanted to, did.
+++
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