open.

[retraverse]

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u know 🛍️💅🏻

[descriptive]

[ attached is a photo of men's department store display of summery clothes ]

how the fuck do you dress nice is los angeles
it's like summer in the city all the damn time

YELLING

[retraverse]

[ she has been waiting for this day for MONTHS!! ]

[retraverse]

[ ......ok bev be cool be cool don't scare him off ]

think light
light colors, light fabrics that breathe
is this for business or pleasure? ☺️

[descriptive]

[ good advice but SQUINTS AT THAT SMILEY ]

i have plenty of suits for work
it's just for around

[ a beat. ]

i'm surprising Rich with this date thing
we're starting at the pier

[ because that will! probably! help! ]

@gofuckmyself

[retraverse]

( cont. )

I didn't want to assume!!
I mean I can call you if you want but then you might cry in Chipotle

[gofuckmyself]

it's so sweet you think this would be my first time crying in a chipotle

[retraverse]

Oh Rich
Are the tortilla chips not salty enough

[edit]

[ Is it 3-something AM in California? Yes. ]

Are you up?

[retraverse]

[ which means it's early for new york, but not too early. and yet — ]

You're not my alarm clock

[edit]

[ oh oops. sorry. ]

Are your notifications that loud?

[ but not that sorry, obviously. ]

oh hello

[groaners]

hey i need your professional opinion

they want tour merch with my face on it
'cause sex sells, obviously
should i wear a cowboy hat or sunglasses shaped like eggplant emojis for the photoshoot?

oh my god

[retraverse]

Your glasses are part of your signature look, you can't swap them out
So cowboy hat obviously but also that's like
The lesser of two evils
Why a cowboy hat??? You're from Maine???

[groaners]

i just told you, sex sells
cowboys are hot, aren't they??

name one hot, iconic clothing item from maine

unsolved mysteries 🔎

[descriptive]

Don't I owe you a coffee?

🕵🏻

[retraverse]

Literally always, Kaspbrak

[descriptive]

I can throw in a pastry to clear my debts.

hello i am here 2 be sad

[salbutamol]

( there's only one reason any of them send messages at this time, as much as it's usually left unsaid. and usually it's a text to the group chat, followed by a few replies from the ones in the same position, sometimes pictures that Richie never fails to refer to as "boomer memes", whatever that means.

this night, Eddie just texts Bev. maybe that's more telling than the time. )

You know, I spent far too much on this mattress to just keep waking up anyway.

sad o'clock

[retraverse]

[ if she isn't up, she's still sleeping too lightly to miss the ping from her phone. doesn't matter — if one of the losers needs to talk, she's not gonna say no. they've all been through it. ]

Yeah but think of it this way
If we're gonna pay this much for a bed, we might as well be awake to enjoy it
Hi honey

🤙

[groaners]

[ it's about 3 am when bev's phone starts chirping whatever richie-esque tune she's assigned him. if she happens to pick up, she'll hear a bit of rustling, sheets and pillows being rearranged, then ... ]

Hi, you've reached Papa J's Pizzeria, offering 24 hour delivery. What can I getcha? [ a pause. ] Shit, yeah, that works so much better if you called me. Rookie mistake. It's dumbfuck o'clock, I get a free pass, okay?

Anyway, I had an intense dream about penguins. Did you know they mate for life?

[ good morning, beverly! ]

[retraverse]

[ 3 AM his time is just about 6 AM her time, which means she was gonna get up anyway, but there's something distinctly terrible about waking up just before your alarm goes off. Still, Richie's different. Any of the Losers are different. For them, Bev picks up on the second ring no matter what time of day or night — because they're family.

Which means she can be rude when she feels like it because holy shit, he's not making a pizza prank call joke when she can't even see straight, that's not fair. ]

What? [ Mumbled, confused, sleep-thick. She's still waking up and since Richie doesn't sound upset in the way she'd expected when she answered, she figures she can come awake a little more slowly now. She yawns, rubbing at her eye. ] Why're we talking 'bout penguin sex? [ That's what she got from that? ] Y'gotta stop watching Nat Geo, Rich.

[groaners]

[ it only occurs to him after the muffled what? crackles over the line to consider what time exactly it is for her, which feels glaringly self-centered, but he knows he'd be in trouble for misguided guilt the same way she'd be if their places were reversed—as they've so often been—so he shoves that bit of inner turmoil aside. nightmares and tiny crises don't run on a schedule, so they don't tend to either.

besides, she's totally allowed to curse him out. ]

She lives. [ he says while she yawns, rolling onto his back. ] She lives and she’s going straight to penguins fucking, I see how it is. I was talking about love, Bev.

@ the derry diner.

[hanscom]

You up?

[ A moment later, Ben realises how that sounds; he promptly panics, and quickly types out another text before she can think it's some kind of booty call. ]

I mean, I can't sleep. Wanna go for a walk or grab a bite?

[ Which is how they wind up leaving the Derry Town House in the middle of the night, tiptoeing like they're kids sneaking out past curfew, stepping over the creaking stairs and going past the abandoned front desk.

Maybe it should've been all of them, heading out together as a group. Maybe he should've texted... well, any of the others, most likely Bill or Eddie, to keep him company when insomnia's gnawing on the edge of his nerves and he's lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling of an unfamiliar motel room, trying to sleep and failing. But truth be told, the voice he wants to hear right now is Bev's. He loves them all, but there's a particular corner of his heart that's reserved for her alone. (Maybe he needs to reassure himself, too, that she's still real. That she hasn't been replaced and this version of her isn't something dreamt up by It.)

So he texts her, and they go for a walk and wind up at one of the only places in the small town still open at this hour: a twenty-four hour diner, achingly familiar as they step into the well-lit building. It's so bright and banal here that it seems impossible they're being menaced by a man-eating clown; impossible that anything could happen here in public, under the fluorescent bulbs, in front of the tired waitresses. It might just be an illusion of safety, but at least it feels like safety.

Plus: Old habits die hard, and being back in Derry is bringing them back with interest. Whenever he had trouble sleeping as a kid, Ben would grab a midnight snack. He remembers being woken up by nightmares, and his mom fixing him anything they had on hand — leftovers, toast, a piece of pie, a cup of hot cocoa — to settle his nerves. Warm food and a brightly-lit kitchen and her reassuring voice and being soothed back to sleep with that comforting warmth in his belly.

So the diner feels right, even if he hasn't eaten this kind of food in years. The place looks practically unchanged, except for the menu prices. The Hanscoms used to come to the Derry Diner — not a particularly imaginative name — as a special treat. Order whatever you like, Benny baby, it's on me.

Whenever he blinks, it feels like he can see the past in front of his eyes, ghostly after-images of memories lurching up out of the fog.

But he shakes it off, or at least tries to. They settle into the squeaky red vinyl booth, and he clears his throat, sneaks a look at Bev across the table. ]

Hey. Thanks for coming.

I AM FINALLY HERE after many typhoons....

[retraverse]

[ When her phone first lights up with Ben's text, Beverly doesn't look at it. She isn't surprised she's the only one lying awake, anxiety and memories buzzing too loudly to allow even a couple minutes' rest, but she's still trying for a few valiant minutes. Everything about tonight has been a lot to take in. Not just the clown and all the horrors that came with it, but that they forgot each other and the summer that should have bonded them for life. That they forgot who they had grown to be in the wake of it all — her especially, leaving behind... her father, she's always known that, but the reasons why are still hazy. Elusive in a way that makes her stomach twist in knots (like there's another monster hiding in the dark). Before she can mull over it for too long, her phone pings again with the second text; she finally looks, knowing that it must be one of the Losers or Kay because she'd blocked Tom's number hours ago.

Oh. Ben. Something warm replaces the cold dread in her chest, a feeling that's familiar but not recognisable enough for her to name just yet. Yeah, she fires back, sitting up in bed. Give me a sec.

Less than a sec. She'd only packed the one set of clothes, lying in bed sans jeans and jacket. She didn't have time to grab anything else from her closet, Tom's bellows and heavy footfalls hot on her heels as she fled into the night. Beverly gets dressed and joins Ben on the landing, noticing the distinct lack of their friends but not commenting on it as they sneak out. Maybe it's a bad idea. (Losers stick together and all that.) With the clown on the loose and out for their blood, maybe going for a walk in a town as fucked up as Derry is looking for trouble. But she feels safe in Ben's company — as she would with any of them, she thinks — and the cool night air helps clear her head.

It's nice, she thinks as they wind their way towards the diner. She still feels strung through with tension but the weight she bore in New York feels lighter here. And no matter what terrible thing comes with the sunrise, it's nice to catch her breath with a friend she'd been missing. (Didn't even realise how much she'd missed him, any of them, until now. Didn't realise she'd been walking around with a hole in her heart for years until five pieces slotted back into place. Except for — ) ]

What? [ Ben's not the only one caught between past and present. She blinks back at him, then smiles in sheepish apology, her gaze skittering back down to her folded hands. Bev tugs self-consciously at the too-short sleeve of her blazer. ] Yeah, no, of course. I'm glad you asked. It's — [ A beat. She catches his eye again, brief but sincere, then looks back out to the brightly lit diner. ] Nice. I totally forgot this place existed. It even smells the same.

[ Stale coffee, bacon grease. Tom would never deign to set foot in a place like this, New York institution or no. All the more reason for her to enjoy it. ]

Did we ever — ? As kids, I mean.

text.

[descriptive]

[ Once, Richie told Eddie it was like he and Bev were a member of a secret club — the divorcees club — which meant they looked at each other sometimes and said things without words. In actuality, they were part of three secret, highly exclusive clubs. The divorcees club, the "cyclical traumatic relationship with my ex-spouse" club, and the "wait, you actually have a good relationship with your parents?" club, which hadn't really been a thing requiring their attention until the holidays necessitated it. ]

Beverly.
I know I just said I was fine, but I literally don't know what the fuck I'm doing.

[ Standing at one of the Christmas decor displays inside Macy's, staring down a stricken-looking gingerbread man. He's ten feet away from Bev tops, dragging his feet around where they split to peruse their respective potential gifts. If one more Michael Bublé cover warbles overhead, he's going to skid down the wooden escalators and make a break for it. ]

Marty always picked and wrapped the gifts.
I think we got the same candle for my secretary for five years straight. I didn't even write the cards. I just signed my name like an asshole.

[ At least he knows. ]

[retraverse]

[ The holidays are a weird time. Really fucking weird. She never really paid much attention before, swept along with the rush of work and having no family to feel guilty of ignoring. Oh, sure, she'd send her aunt up in Portland a card, but she hasn't gone to see the woman in — shit, years. But now that the curse (or whatever Pennywise did to them) is gone, now that the fog on her life's been lifted, she's determined to make this Christmas thing really count.

And honestly, rediscovering New York with Eddie Kaspbrak, partner-in-crime, has made it both bearable and enjoyable. She's peering at tree ornaments, humming along to the song on the speakers, when her phone pings and she glances at the name on her screen before looking across the way at Eddie like, Seriously? And then — ]

Oh honey, don't overthink it
You keep frowning like that and they might call the Santa they keep in the back to cheer you up

[ Grinning from behind the tinsel now, sorry, Eds. ]

Look we're just browsing
It's a warm up round!