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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 5 years

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Scars That Heal || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series

• Ch. 6: Friends Will Be Friends •

Beverly dared not go to Y/n until her father had left for work. The minute he closed the door, she phoned each of the boys and told them her address and to come straight away. The second she was sure his truck had turned the corner, she rushed down the fire escape to the familiar apartment below. Beverly created a rapid series of knocks on the screen door of Y/n's apartment. Seconds later, Y/n approached the door. Beverly could make out the girl's appearance. The bags under her eyes were almost completely gone and she looked brighter than she had been in a while.

Poor Y/n, Bev couldn't help but think. She seemed to have just begun to return to her old self, and now she was about to dump something else entirely into her lap.

"Hey, Bev," Y/n leaned against the now open door, a crooked smile on her lips. "What's up?"

Beverly met Y/n's eye, they were indeed brighter and well-rested, but they shifted slightly in concern. Her smirk began to fade. Bev's eyes flickered to the grated floor beneath her feet before returning to Y/n. A habit she had when she had something important, but very difficult to share with her.

"Bev, what's wrong? What happened?"

Without uttering a word, Beverly gestured for Y/n to follow her up the stairs. Confused, but nevertheless compliant, Y/n stepped out onto the fire escape, closing the door behind her before following Beverly up the steps.

Y/n did not know what to expect when Beverly had taken her upstairs. Her first thought - her first fear - was that Beverly's dad had done something. That he had done something to Beverly, and now she was about to share with Y/n whatever thing the vile man must have done behind closed doors. On the way up and into Beverly's apartment, Y/n had mentally prepared herself for whatever horrible thing Bev had to share.

But she certainly was not expecting to reach the end of the hallway only for Beverly to make a right turn. The bathroom? She looked to Beverly in confusion, her eyebrows raised.

"I don't get it," she chuckled weakly.

Beverly stifled an eye roll and gestured to the door.

"Just," she shifted on her feet, watching the closed door distrustfully.

Y/n gave her friend an odd look before something clicked in her head and she sighed stepping forward and reaching the closed door.

"Oh, geez, Bev is it a spider or something? You know I hate them," She chuckled nervously, hand wrapped around the doorknob and she opened it, her gaze returning to the bathroom. "But you had me thinking something-"

Y/n had lost the ability to speak when her eyes landed on the room, the words lodged in her throat. Beverly stepped forward and stood by Y/n's side. She looked from Y/n's shocked and horrified reaction back to the bathroom. The bloodied windows casting a red glow over the two young girls as they took in the ghastly sight.

Y/n had never seen so much blood in her entire life. It covered every square inch of the bathroom, including the ceiling. It had made itself into every crevice, every nook, and every corner. Within a millisecond upon first glance, she thought it had been paint. But to her horror and great disgust, she knew it was blood. The only thing even remotely normal-looking was the inside of the tub, where someone had showered.

"Thank fuck, you see it too." She sighed, running a hand through her shortened curls, still unused to the feeling of the new length.

"Uh, yeah, well," Y/n was still struggling for words and for a brief moment, she figured this must be how Bill felt.

She swallowed, finally finding her voice. "I-it's kinda hard not to, ya know?"

She chuckled uncomfortably, and looked to Bev, trying to rid herself of her shock.

"Okay, Bev, you know I love you, and you know I trust you, this is just something I have to ask," Beverly rolled her eyes at what came next. "But was anyone murdered here, cause honestly what the fuck else could have happened?"

"Jesus, no, I-" Beverly looked at the bathroom, shaking her head exasperated. "I still don't know what happened, I-"

A heavy sigh escaped Beverly and she buried her face in her hands, rubbing her eyes with her fingers. A vexatious moan was muffled in her palms, frustration and fear all bubbling back up to the top.

Y/n watched in worry and returned her gaze to the bright red bathroom. She could feel bile climbing up her throat and her nose was scrunched up in disgust. The overwhelming stench was clogging up her senses and she could practically taste the blood on her tongue. Refusing to take another breath, she leaned on the side of the door frame for stability as she reached for the doorknob. She didn't dare cross the threshold, much too disgusted and wary of the blood that covered the tile.

Y/n finally took a breath when the door closed. She only left it open a crack in the hopes it would air out in the slightest. She turned to Beverly, laying a hand on her friends back before guiding her back to the living room.

"Let's step outside for a moment. I think you could use some air, I know I sure could."

Beverly's hands fell to her side and she nodded, letting Y/n guide her out onto the fire escape. The pair sat on metal steps, and Beverly took out a hidden cigarette that had been lodged behind her ear. She retrieved the lighter she always carried in her pocket and lit the cigarette that hung from her lips.

By the time Beverly had finished explaining the encounter she had the previous night, the cigarette was nearly out. It had grown quiet between the friends, Beverly soaking up every last breath of the addicting substance while Y/n processed everything. The silence was broken after Bev finally put out her cigarette, and Y/n's cheeks puffed out as she exhaled in thought.

"Damn,"

Beverly nodded, flicking the bud of the cigarette over the rails at the brick wall. Y/n, who had been leaning on her legs, her hands interlaced, turned to Beverly with a concerned glance.

"Shit, we should really move, huh?"

A pathetic but genuine chuckle vibrated through Beverly before silence settled back into the atmosphere. A quizzical look found its way onto Beverly's face and she looked at Y/n.

"In all seriousness, what happened that night? You never did tell me."

Y/n nodded, understanding her friend's curiosity. She had a feeling this was coming, and she took a deep breath, focusing her gaze on the trees in the distance. She relaxed slightly when she spotted three dots emerging from the treetops. It was a small flock of birds and she felt a sense of comfort in the tranquil scenery. It was such a small and simple sight that grounded her back to reality.

"Well, I had just started to go back to sleep." She shook her head slightly and began gesturing her arms out of habit. "The television set was still on, so I got up to turn it off, and"

Her furrowed brows had cemented into a frown, and absentmindedly her hand had traveled down her ankle. Her fingers were fiddling with a loose fray from the ace bandage.

"I drifted off, and for a moment I thought you were trying to wake me up, or something. It felt like you were pulling on my leg, and..." she trailed off, shaking her head and scolding herself for allowing her nerves to return so soon. "Well, obviously it wasn't you..."

Beverly, who had been hanging off of her every word, leaned forward. She was propping herself up on her legs much like Y/n was.

"What was it, Y/n?" Her tone was gentle, a tone she rarely found herself using.

Before Y/n could continue, the faint sound of several bicycle chains interrupted her. As it grew louder, they could hear a familiar boastful and cocky voice that was even louder. Richie Tozier.

Beverly stood up, and looked to Y/n, annoyed at herself for not mentioning to Y/n she had called them.

"I wasn't sure if you would be home or not, so I called the guys." She explained quickly.

At that moment, Y/n recognized the familiar speedy voice and she felt the smallest flutter in her stomach. She nodded, standing to her feet and together the two girls sped down the steps just in time to meet the five boys rounding the corner.

"You made it. I..." Beverly exhaled, looking to each of them. "I need to show you something."

"What is it?" Ben asked.

It was Beverly's turn to get cut off. Before she could form a coherent or vague answer, Richie jumped in.

"More than we saw at the quarry?"

"Fuck off, Richie."

"Shut up, Richie!"

Y/n and Eddie had snapped at Richie at the same time, and he scoffed.

"What are you two, my parole officers or some shit?"

"Might as well get used to having some" Y/n shot back.

Richie opened his mouth to speak, but Beverly spoke up quickly. Letting the comments roll off her back.

"My dad would kill me if he finds out, I had boys in the apartment."

"T-t-then w-we'll leave a lookout." Bill offered. "R-Richie, s-stay here.

"Why don't I stay?" Y/n offered, looking between the boys and to Bev. "He knows me, and that I live here. If he comes back I'll keep him distracted."

"You sure?" Beverly asked carefully.

She was worried about the possibility of Y/n being alone with her father. Not so much that he'd do anything, but Beverly was well aware of how Y/n felt about him. And she had a tendency to speak without thinking when it came to him. With the trouble she had biting her tongue, it was a miracle Beverly was still aloud around her and the reason why they usually stayed at her Y/n's. As much as Beverly secretly loved seeing him baffled at her best friend's remarks, she knew it only caused trouble. Beverly feared what he might do if Y/n went too far when she wasn't there.

But again, it did make sense that if her father were to see anyone lurking around the apartment, it should be his daughter's friend, and not some teenage boy he knew didn't live there.

"I'm sure," Y/n sighed lightly in annoyance and nodded. "And don't worry, I'll try to keep it reeled in as much as I can. And that's if he even gets back before you leave."

Beverly nodded in thanks, relief in her eyes and her demeanor shifted to that of slight urgency. She gestured for the boys, who had been scolding Richie for his boastful remarks that he didn't have to stay. Beverly backed up slightly to the stairs, urging them to follow her. They parked their bikes and passed Y/n to follow Beverly up to the apartment. She felt a hand slap her lightly on the back in passing.

"Thanks, toots" He winked, clicking his tongue.

Y/n watched as Richie herded Eddie up the stairs, provoking the poor boy and Y/n sighed lightly. The group had reached Y/n's floor, and she tried ridding herself of the small flutter in her stomach that Eddie was outside her apartment. She shook her head, annoyed at the feeling and embarrassed the thought ever occurred. Y/n sighed, running her palm down her face in exasperation before she took a seat at the bottom of the steps.

Up in the apartment, the boys followed Beverly through her apartment, and much like Y/n had, they all stopped hesitantly.

"In there," She said quietly.

"What is it?" Stan asked.

Beverly, who was feeling slightly more confident that Y/n had seen it to, gestured weakly to the door. Now slightly worried that would be seeing it.

"You'll see," she answered weakly.

The five boys approached the door, and Eddie began mumbling nervously.

"Are you taking us to your bathroom?" Without waiting for an answer, he continued in a shaky voice. "I just want you to know that eighty-nine percent of worst accidents in homes are caused in bathrooms and I mean that's where all the bacteria and fungi are and it's not a really sanitary place."

"Oh, lighten up Eds. Don't tell me you're afraid of bathrooms, now are ya?"

It was a very rare thing for Richie to regret his words, and it was even rarer for his jokes to be ill-timed. So naturally, it was a very strange feeling when Bill opened the door. Bright red light draped over the six figures, and they all gasped in silent fear. With the exception of Eddie, of course, who barely managed to speak above a whisper.

"I knew it!" He collapsed into gags, never been more appalled in his life.

"So you guys do see it," Bev nodded, her suspicions were confirmed. "Y/n saw it too. My dad couldn't, I thought I was crazy."

Eddie chuckled nervously and had to turn away from the door for a breath of fresh air.

"Well," Ben said gently. "If you're crazy, then we're all crazy,"

Richie shifted slightly on his feet, finding his voice.

"Jesus, I didn't know PMS was this bad," Richie winced when Eddie whacked him on the arm. "What?"

"We c-c-can't leave it like this," Bill said finally.

Bill stepped into the bathroom, careful not to slip. Though most of the blood had somewhat dried and was not as slippery as he was expecting. The rest followed, Beverly grabbed some cleaning supplies from under her kitchen sink. Handing out gloves for each of them, as well as rags and towels, they each got to work.

It was Eddie, and he had stepped out onto the landing for some much needed fresh air. He was gagging, and for a moment she feared he would hurl. She retreated up the stairs, carefully keep an eye on the parking lot next door for Bev's dad as well as steer clear from the line of fire.

Beverly focused on the mirror and the sink, Bill and Stan had worked out a system to clean the floor. Richie and Eddie - who had somehow found a mask and was still gagging - gathered trash bags and filled them with anything that was stained

"Hey, you alright there?"

Eddie, who had been grasping the railing, turned to Y/n, having not realized it was her that had journeyed up the steps. Collecting himself, he nodded while reaching into his fanny pack and pulling out the inhaler. He shook it several times before putting it to his lips, and Y/n kicked herself for choosing the worst possible time to speak.

"What took you guys so long, I was worried something happened."

Eddie's mouth was still closed and his eyes widened suddenly. He tried to gesture to his inhaler that he still had to hold his breath, but she had already connected the dots. She shook her head, laughing weakly.

"Right. Sorry,"

He smiled and an awkward silence hung in the air. The pair both felt a wave of relief when Eddie exhaled seconds later breaking the silence, and he capped the inhaler. He shook his head, a small shiver running down his spine.

"Cleaning," he said so quickly Y/n almost didn't catch it.

She had been leaning on the railing, overlooking the small plot next door, and she frowned in confusion.

"Huh?"

"Cleaning. We were cleaning. That's what- that's why we took so long." Eddie wasn't used to tripping over his words, and he hated it had to happen now of all places.

Y/n nodded, mouthing a 'right' and another silence fell between them. They would never know, but at that moment each of them were screaming at themselves to say something, anything to disrupt the awkward tension. Both of their hearts had begun to flutter, painstakingly aware of the fact they were alone together and that had never happened before. But a small part of them was glad they were alone, though neither of them was confident enough to say or do anything.

In silence, they remained, though it did not take long for it to melt into a peaceful ambiance. Y/n found herself looking at Eddie, he had become awfully squeamish like he wasn't used to sitting still for this long. She folded her lips in, trying to hide the small smile that had crept up and she quickly looked away. Eddie, who had felt a pair of eyes on him, hesitantly looked to the girl, fighting the blush on his cheeks. She was looking off in the distance and looked to be deep in thought. In reality, she had focused all her attention on one spot in the distance pretending she didn't know he was looking.

The brief moment between the two children was not picture perfect, nor was it ideal, for either of them. But it was innocent, and it was real. Beneath all the tension and worry, was a sense of excitement. A giddiness that came with a sense of hope and mutuality that they were not alone in their feelings. And at that moment a small bond was formed between the pair that held promise for times to come.

×××

The last remnants of the once bloody bathroom were dumped into one of the many plastic trash bags. Readjusting his rubber gloves on his wrists, Ben grabbed the large plastic bag, trying not to let it slip from his grasp. The blood that remained on his yellow gloves had not soaked in and it became an obstacle to hold the plastic bag without it slipping. He struggled to bring to carry it out into the hall and he found himself hesitating outside Beverly's open room, despite having made many trips past her open door already.

A feeling tugged in his gut, the feeling one gets when the window of opportunity is closing. Beverly and Bill had their backs turned, currently standing over the tub, scrubbing the last of the blood from the tub. Richie and Stan could be heard bickering in the front room, and Ben didn't really know where Eddie was. He knew that no one was looking, no one would notice if he snuck an innocent peek at Beverly Marsh's room. So he did.

He only allowed himself to pop his head in for a brief moment. He had no intention of rifling through her things, no desire to ever cross the threshold. Just a quick peek at the everyday life of Beverly Marsh and he was delightfully intrigued to see the keyboard set up on her desk. He could practically see her plucking away in the wee hours of the morning, a small concentrated frown on her face and the tip of her tongue peeking out of her lips while deep in focus. Her room was untidy, shirts, jackets and other pieces of her wardrobe spilling out of her open drawers and on the floor.

Several books and journals were stacked in small piles in the corner of her room in an organized mess. Her bed was made and laid out across the bedding was a familiar blue dress that lay forgotten. Sprinkled across her faded lilac walls were polaroids and pictures from the photobooth at the Capitol Theater of her and Y/n, smiling and laughing. Some of them silly. And he almost missed the Derry postcard, the poem he had written for her, sitting on top of a leather journal. It filled him with glee that something he had given her was sitting on her bed with everything else she saw every day. Like his heart had the privilege of being another trinket amongst her things. And in a way, it was.

Ben had only taken one glance around the room before pulling himself away. It was quick and he had not known what to expect, and yet every detail he managed to take in did not surprise him at all, it was all so... Beverly.

He was surprised to see the room was unkempt and imperfect. Just like he was. It was a gentle reminder that she was just as human as he was, it made her all the more real and much to his surprise he felt himself relating to her. It was a giddy and warm feeling though it quickly evaporated when he saw Bill and Bev alone in the bathroom.

They were no longer cleaning, they were talking. Giggling. Bill had made her laugh. She seemed as giddy as he had felt the day she signed his yearbook. She was giggly and flustered, and it was all because of Bill. Sparing himself the pain, Ben swallowed the lump forming in his throat and trudged down the hall, leaving the two with their privacy and reminding himself that she was never his.

Beverly looked down the hall, dismissing the thought she had heard footsteps. Realistically, she knew she must still be jumpy and paranoid from her encounter. She shook it off and returned to Bill's side. He had been in the middle of finishing a thought, she realized, but she hadn't caught it. She had been thinking of the poem. While it was signed from her secret admirer, she had an inkling who it must be from. Regardless, she felt the need to clear the air.

"It's not true, you know." She bit her lip fighting the small flutter I'm her stomach. "What they say about me."

Beverly hated what people thought of her. And she hated talking about it almost as much. It was mortifying having to defend yourself of such things. Especially towards someone she might like. Or worse, to someone who might like her, and if they liked her, maybe it was because they heard such awful things. Thought she was easy. But if it was Bill, she thought, whoever wrote the poem wouldn't go to such trouble to write her something so beautiful and innocent.

And she rarely thought about it, but she realized as she spoke of it out loud, Bill had been the one she had kissed all those years ago, in the play. Just a stupid play. She smiled weakly, shrugging her shoulders.

"I was only ever kissed by one guy." A flicker of recognition flashed in Bill's eyes, and she continued. "It was a long time ago. It was a nice kiss though."

Bill prayed he wasn't completely red. Of course, he remembered the kiss the two had shared. Of course, it didn't help that Richie brought it up every other day just to mess with him. Bill remained silent, but he nodded his head slightly.

Beverly knew if she didn't speak now, she would never have the opportunity. And it was rare to have a moment alone with Bill, and it was especially rare Richie wasn't around to hear it and poke fun. But she had to know, and she was really starting to like him. Knowing there was no time like the present, Bev took a deep breath before reciting the words she had been replaying in her head.

"'January embers'"

Reluctantly she peaked at boy's reaction, expecting to see surprise or even a faint blush. But instead, his eyebrows twitched in confusion, before melting into a relaxed smile.

"W-was that in the play?"

She tried not to assume the worst, though it was hard to banish the creeping feeling of disappointment.

"No, the poem."

"Oh," Bill chuckled nervously, embarrassed not to know what she had been talking about. "Oh, I don't really know m-much p-poetry."

Beverly felt her heart sink, and it took her a moment to recover. It had not been Bill, as she had hoped. Once again she was in the dark, and now she began to doubt the credibly of the poem itself.

"Oh. I was just..." she shook her head, her voice blowing in an attempt not to break. "Never mind then."

Perhaps it was all some sick joke someone played on her. How hilarious it was to make her think that she was capable of any genuine affection. Beverly cast the hideous thoughts from her mind, and a small silence fell between the two. Bill, who had sensed he had said the wrong thing nervously spoke up.

"Um... Ju-Just so you know, I... I never believed any of those rumors. And none of us Losers do. We like hanging out with you."

Bill was relieved to see the warm and relieved smile that stretched across her face. A smile big enough to squint her eyes ever so slightly.

"Thanks."

A grin of his own tugged at the end of his lips and he chuckled.

"You shouldn't thank us too much. Hanging out with us makes you a Loser, too."

She laughed, her shoulders moved and her head hung lazily off her shoulders mid chuckle. She looked Bill, grinning ear to ear and gave him a simple nod.

"I can take that."

Beverly could feel the weight of her previous sadness evaporate into the air. He might not have been the one to write the poem, but he still seemed to care for her, and he believed her, and that was enough for her in that moment.

×××

Out on the fire escape, the unlikely duo had found themselves engrossed in a discussion about how much they had in common. Particularly, how they each found themselves as a target to the infamous Bowers gang. Every so often, Y/n would wince at the pounding of her heart when she heard a car go by. She was so encapsulated by her conversation with Eddie she worried she would miss Beverly's father.

"I honestly think he has used every name in the book already. That is the only explanation I can think of that could possibly explain why Patrick fucking Hockstetter could come up with a name as trivial and weak as shrimp. Like, it's not even a slur, I'm like, ninety percent sure there's some type of shrimp that can like shoot these bubble bullets that are loud enough to burst a human eardrum or something like that, I do not see how that is an insult, I mean come on!"

Y/n had thrown her head back in laughter at his odd ramblings and he could feel his insides to turn to jelly. Richie was always the one to make people ache with laughter, not him. With the exception of Richie himself, but that was banter. But with Y/n it was different, it was exciting and it gave him a blooming sense of pride in his chest. Eddie cleared his throat, a nervous tick of his, and he prayed to whatever all-knowing force in the universe that what he was about to say didn't make him sound anymore like a complete fool than he already had.

"Ya know, we're all glad you came to the quarry with us. We had a lot of fun with you." Eddie cleared his throat once more. "I had a lot of fun with you."

Y/n felt the swarm of butterflies in her stomach once more. She couldn't fight the smirk if she had tried. She chuckled and nudged him with her elbow.

"I had fun hanging with you too, shrimp."

Eddie found himself releasing a breath of laughter and shaking his head. His insides were absolutely liquid, he was sure of it and he knew if he wasn't careful his heart would burst right out of his chest. What the hell was this girl doing to him? And did he really just ramble about shrimp for two minutes? Fuck!

Much like their match at the quarry, the pair found themselves to be quite compatible with one another. Each of them brought to the table a much-needed strength. However, this dynamic was interrupted by the screen door bursting open, hitting the wall with a sharp whack!

The two jumped apart, unaware until that very moment that they had inched closer during their moment alone. Out of the apartment came Stan accompanied by Richie who stormed past him.

"Where ya been Eddie Spaghetti, you sprout roots or somethin’?"

Richie's playful demeanor fell for only the briefest of moments when he saw the pair as they were. They both blushing and shifting on their feet. Richie ignored the pang in his chest and smacked his lips throwing his arms around each of his friends. As it sometimes happened - usually, when he was most uncomfortable, like now - Richie opened his mouth and a completely different voice came out without him trying, in this instance, it was heavy southern drawl.

"Come'awn lovebirds, times a tickin and I reckon none a y'all are achin tur answer ta the old man any time soon. Well hop to it, come'awn now, get!"

The lovebirds in question rolled their eyes in near-perfect sync as they were ushered down the metal steps. Y/n cast a glance over her shoulder to Beverly hoping to catch her eye but she was too busy locking the apartment door behind her. The rest of the Losers were somewhere in between herself, Richie, and Eddie and Bev and Ben who held up the back. When they reached the floor below, Y/n gave a quick once over to the Losers and asked them to wait.

Seeing Beverly lock up reminded her that she still had to so, herself. She would be in big trouble if she left the house unlocked again and she smiled weakly at her new friends before ducking inside for her key. Not unlike Ben, Eddie was faced with the temptation of a peek inside the everyday life of the girl that caught his eye. She had left the door open a crack, allowing him the option of poking his head inside though it felt wrong.

Without his permission, his brain began accumulating several different excuses that could get him inside. Can I use your bathroom? Eddie shivered. No, no, no. Too soon. Do you have a tissue? Ech, no. That's lame, and it didn't guarantee an invite inside. Oh, I know! Can I have a small glass of water, I need to take my pills? It wasn't a lie, after all, it was getting close to his afternoon pill. But before he could work up the courage, or even finish his thought, Richie took it upon himself to waltz inside.

Figures.

"Richie!" Eddie hissed, cautiously entering to retrieve his obnoxious best friend. "What the fuck, man?"

"What? She left the door open! Come on Ed's, don't you want to see your girlfriend's house? Or have you already had an exclusive tour?" Richie waggled his eyebrows with a cheeky grin.

Eddie scoffed harshly and shook his head vigorously. "No, and you damn well know she's not my girlfriend, asshole. Come on, we weren't invited."

Ignoring Eddie's pleas and the tug on his arm he finally got a good look around. Richie puckered his lips and a low whistle stretched out over the silence. It looked just like Beverly's apartment, only it was much less furnished and somehow it managed to look both new and old. He was shocked to see it so empty and bare. Aside from basic furnishings like the couch, small rug and lamp the place was somewhat barren. The walls were unpainted and somehow chipped, and everything was faded and was visibly touched by age. A battered and small television set sat across from the moth-eaten couch and it looked to be a couple of models older than what everyone else had.

Eddie felt guilt burrow inside him at the sight. He had already felt guilty for stepping inside without her knowledge but now it just felt wrong. Y/n had just told him not five minutes ago about her family's financial struggles. Her shabby clothes and hand me down things were what gave her away to Bowers. And despite her ripped and frayed attire that earned her ridicule in the first place, Henry and Patrick had deemed it fitting to steal her jackets and on some occasions her shoes just for a laugh. They wouldn't even keep them, they throw them out of her reach, either in a high tree or into a nearby stream. Whichever was closest and most inconvenient.

It only took one look around to see her home life rang true to this fact. Just about everything in here looked to be off the street or handed down - granted, most of it was. Eddie felt his stomach churn when he saw a large faded stain in the faded eggshell carpet. Upon first glance, he had thought it had been from a glass of wine or even a juice box but it was much too dark and it wasn't long before he connected the dots.

A distant voice echoed from down the hall, followed by a thud and several grunts.

"For fuck sake, I just saw it!" Y/n wasn't having much luck finding her key.

Eddie's hand which had still been on Richie's arm tugged harder and he began ushering him towards the door.

"Richie, come on!" He hissed through gritted teeth.

"Jesus, keep your pants on, Eds"

"Don't fucking call me that, now come on!" He grunted under his breath, trying to pull Richie out the front door, much to Richie's amusement.

"I'm coming!" Eddie frowned when he realized the voice hadn't been Richie's.

Much to their surprise, they saw Y/n emerge from the hallway, eyes focused on her fingers as they detangled her lanyard as she entered the living room. She was still shouting, under the impression that everyone was waiting for her outside.

"I couldn't find my-" She flinched when she looked up and she stopped abruptly. "-key."

A confused frown molded onto her face and her eyes flickered between Richie and Eddie. She gulped and consciously shifted on her feet so her sneakers hid the stain, knowing it would only repulse Eddie. She was still too shocked and off-put by the fact the boys where in her home, and they - specifically Eddie - seemed just as startled. The smaller boy's mouth opened and closed feverishly like a fish as he looked between her an amused Richie.

Finally, he jabbed a finger at his best friend and shook his head defensively. "He did it. I came in here after him. To get him. Out."

Y/n blinked a couple of times, processing the abnormality and unexpected turn of events. She stifled her instincts to be embarrassed and forced a shrug, wanting nothing more than to move on.

are we not gonna talk about the elephant in the room?" Richie asked, circling the Losers in his bike as they walked theirs. "I say, we are all moving on from 'Bev's sink went all, Eddie's mom's vagina on Halloween', way too quickly!"

"Alright, just shut up, Richie!" Eddie snapped.

"Yeah, shut up, Richie!" Stan added, all too eagerly.

"Oh, okay, trash the trash mouth, I get it! Look, all I'm saying is, there's got to be a better explanation cause there's no way in hell that happened. You ladies must have a gas leak or some shit, cause I'm willing to bet you good money - you heard it right toots, this thing called currency that gets ya stuff - that what we just spend a good half hour cleaning something that wasn't there."

Y/n rolled her eyes at the side comment. Any other day she'd be offended, but she had known Richie long enough to know he made such jokes when he was uncomfortable and he had no problem with her financial struggles. But that didn't mean she appreciated the comment.

"She didn't imagine it, Richie. Neither did we, and n-n-neither did you, and y-you know it." Bill said.

Bill slowed to a stop, and everyone followed suit. He was lost in thought and he seemed displaced. He had everyone's full attention now and he gulped, trying to find his voice.

"I... I saw something too."

"You saw blood, too?" Stan asked, curiously.

Bill looked to Stan and the rest of his friends. His hands were gripping his bike handles, nervously twisting his palms against the rubber.

"Not blood." He took a deep and shaky breath, it was the first time since it happened he truly allowed himself to dwell on the memory. "I saw G-Georgie."

Even Richie had quieted, and he stood still, standing over his bike and he could feel the tension in the air. He hated it. He hit his tongue for as long as he could, and Bill continued.

"I-It seemed so real. I mean, it seemed like him but there was this…"

"The clown." Eddie finished.

Y/n flinched and she felt the horror settle back onto herself like it had never left. She stared at the ground, though her gaze was miles away. She fought the lump in her throat and she felt a coldness blanket her skin.

Eddie looked around at his friends, a look of unease and discomfort. Apart from Y/n, who looked displaced and disconnected from the world. He felt another spark of guilt but it was easily drowned out in his own fears.

"Yeah, I saw him, too."

"Until Beverly," Y/n croaked, grabbing everyone's attention. "I thought it was just me."

She looked up from the concrete and to each of the Losers. The look in her eyes unsettled them almost as much as the topic. She seemed cut off from reality like she wasn't all there. Like part of her was still back there, where it happened. And in a way she was.

"That's what did this..." she gestured to her ankle and subconscious she shifted on her feet.

The air became even thicker with tension, and everyone's stomachs dropped.

"Holy shit," breathed Stan.

"I saw a clown, too. At the library." Ben squeaked.

"Can only virgin's see this stuff? Is that why I'm not seeing this shit?" Richie asked, breaking the tense silence.

Before anyone could retort, a chorus of shouting brought the seven children's attention down the road.

Eddie gulped. "Oh, shit, that's Belch Huggins' car."

Y/n squinted, her eyes falling to a collapsed bike on the ground near the car.

"We should probably get outta here."

"But look someone's bike." Y/n pointed out. "They're probably tormenting some poor kid, we should help!"

"Yeah, isn't that the homeschooled kid's bike?"

"Yeah, that's Mike's" Eddie murmured.

"Y/n's right, we gotta help him!" Beverly said firmly, looking to each of them.

"We should?" Richie asked nervously.

Y/n looked at him incredulously. "Yes!"

Her bike dropped to the ground forgotten, and she ran in the direction of the bully's car, and Beverly soon followed. Eddie's heart dropped briefly when he saw her disappear through the ferns and he hesitantly dropped his bike, going after her.

"Y/n!" He called.

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Wait up, spaghetti!" Richie was close behind him, and the others followed.

The only one to linger was Stan, who paused to park his bike rather than drop it.

×××

"Come on!"

Mike Hanlon fights the strength of the rubber boot pushing his head towards the unpacked meat. He had been in town for his delivery, only this time he wasn't so lucky. Bowers and his gang had cornered him and chased him off the road. He was laying on his stomach, pushing with all the strength he could muster to keep his head above the ground, but his strength waned.

"Eat the meat!"

"Eat it, bitch!"

"You little fucker!"

Mike winced when he felt his face sink into the slimy cold textures of the exposed packages of meat. The Bowers gang erupted in cheers and their laughter sounded like that of crazed hyenas.

"Motherfucker!" Henry screamed with rage.

"Eat shit!"

The way they acted, it was as if Mike had murdered their entire family. They hated him with such blind disgusting passion. Not only did they not care what trauma they were inflicting upon him, but they were also excited by it.

Of course, each of the bullies seemed to miss the lanky figure lurking in the bushes. It was a clown, It was smiling a wicked grin and It's face - particularly It's mouth - was covered with blood that was dripping from It's unhinged jaw. Any fear of the bullies above him was long gone, completely replaced by the demon in the bushes. Against his better judgment, Mike lifted his head - the boot now gone from above his neck - to get a better look. He had to be imagining it.

But the image only got clearer. The voices of Henry Bowers, Belch Huggins, and Victor Criss were lost to him as he looked on in horror. The clown was chewing on something, Sweet Jesus, he was eating a human arm, he realized. If he wasn't nauseous at all before he was now. The clown was, in fact, chewing on the fingers of a severed arm, a child's arm by the looks of it. The clown made eye contact with Mike, a wild look in It's eye, a primitive, beastly look that no human could ever possess. The clown's smile grew and there was a glint of an almost childlike glee that only intensified Mike's fear.

It took the severed arm out from between It's long and sharpened teeth and smiled once again in a childlike manner. As if mocking him, the clown waved the child's arm back and forth and the hand-rolled around, still connected by its joints making the child's hand wave at Mike. Mike could feel the icy grip of fear tightening in his chest and he could taste the vomit that had climbed up his throat.

Mike's ears were ringing but through the high pitched hum, he could only just now hear the angry cries of Henry Bowers.

"GET THE FUCK UP!"

Mike pushed himself up, but before he could process what had happened, he lay on his back, his face bleeding and throbbing. One of the bullies, he didn't know which one, had kicked him right in the face. Mike was now struggling to keep a deranged Henry away from his face but the boy was just crazy enough to withstand or even register any signs of struggle. A deep and feral roar erupted from the deepest depths of his chest as he releases all his anger on the poor boy.

He knew if he didn't fight back, Henry would kill him. He was just that crazy and he was damn well angry enough. Mike struggled to fend him off but he could only fight for so long. He grunted in a messy combination of fear, exhaustion, and pain when Henry managed to pin Mike's arms to the ground. One hand still pinning Mike's arm into the bed of rocks, he released the other as he retrieved the biggest rock within his reach. He held it high above Mike's head and snarled in victory knowing he had him right where he wanted. Just before he swung the rock down into Mike's skull, Henry felt pain explode in his own.

He tumbled off Mike and into the bed of rocks, several jagged edges poking into his back and spine. Victor and Belch had jumped back in surprise and everyone looked on in surprise to see a seething [h/c] haired girl across the stream. She was dressed in her signature unkempt mismatched wardrobe that both hung off and clung to her [b/t] figure and it was visibly clear the clothes she wore were not originally hers and it was common most things didn't fit properly. She was glaring at Henry Bowers, fire in her eyes and completely repulsed at what she had found them doing.

Six more figures emerged from the bushes, recognizable as Beverly, Stan, Eddie, Ben, Bill, and Richie. Stan looked between Y/n and Henry and smirked weakly.

"Nice throw."

"Thanks," Y/n said. "Felt pretty good."

She could have sworn she heard a small voice behind her whisper. "Woah"

Y/n saw the poor boy Henry had almost killed was struggling to cross the stream and immediately she stepped forward not caring about the risk of getting hurt by the Bowers gang. She could feel her shoes fill with water and her thin socks acted as a sponge bringing in the water to her skin. Y/n extended her hand to the boy who gladly took it and she helped him to the shore with the rest of the Losers.

"Hey, are you okay?" She whispered, her eyes worriedly scanning the boy for any injuries.

Mike would be lying if he had said he hadn't felt his pulse spike just the slightest at her kindness. He didn't even know this girl and she risked her life to save him, it was debt he worried he'd never be able to repay.

"I'm okay." He cast a brief and cautious glance back at the bully before returning to her [e/c] eyes. "Thank you."

She smiled weakly and nodded. She made sure he was back on his feet before she ushered him behind her with the rest of her friends. She knelt down and grabbed another rock out of precaution and glared at Henry. He was stumbling to his feet, eyes completely fixed on her in complete and utter shock.

The other Losers, including their newest recruit, picked up a rock of their own.

"Leave him alone, Henry," Beverly growled.

Y/n didn't bother to hide the proud smirk on her face at her best friend's retaliation. She knew all too well of the horrible things he'd say about her and it was hard for her to stand up.

Henry's eyes flickered to Bev and he zeroed in on her.

"You Losers are trying too hard. She'll do you." Henry smirked, stepping forward. "You just gotta ask nicely, like I did."

The Losers grimaced at Henry's perverted gesture. Stan even looked worriedly to Beverly for her reaction before looking at Henry in pure disgust and hatred. Y/n stepped forward, though she fought the urge to speak for Beverly. Instead, she traded Beverly's smaller rock for her own which was the size of her fist, giving her the opportunity to really hurt Henry is she so desired. Henry gestured to Y/n before his eyes fell back to Beverly.

"After all, why settle for scraps when you can get the three-course meal for free?" He grinned maliciously and licked his lips.

Beverly gripped the new rock tightly, though her newly discovered voice died in her throat. Ben was unable to restrain his anger and he roared at the boy in utter fury, while Eddie had grabbed a bigger rock as well.

"Fuck off, Bowers!" Eddie gulped when he realized the words had come from his own mouth.

Eddie was just as surprised as everyone else at his outburst and he fought a wince when he heard his voice echo down the stream. He felt a pair of hands on his arm, it was Richie who worriedly pulled him back out of the direct line of fire and by his side.

Fortunately, everyone had been so distracted by Eddie they had failed to see the giant rock Ben had picked up and with every ounce of strength he could muster he chucked the rock at Henry. It grazed the top of his head and he winced, backing up into Victor and Belch.

"What the fuck?" He murmured.

Mike stood to his feet, still completely baffled at everything unfolding, though he didn't stop them from their sudden attack on Henry. Beverly was the next up to bat, the fist-sized rock Y/n had gifted to her had been big enough to knock Henry on his feet.

Victor and Belch jumped at Henry's orders and they and scrambled for rocks of their own.

Eddie jumped out of Richie's grip to the edge of the water to grab another rock. Y/n launched another over her shoulder and she smirked when it hit Henry in the crotch.

"Sure you don't want some scraps, asshole?" She roared, chucking another rock at his face.

It wasn't long before Richie's voice echoed down across the barrens as he released a battle cry of his own.

"ROCK WAR-!" Richie was struck across the forehead before he could finish and he was knocked down.

The barrens came alive at that moment and every ounce of hatred and loathing - from both sides - was released in a fiery passion of rage with every rock that was thrown.

"Fuck you, motherfuckers!" Richie cried.

"Get 'em, you fuckers!" Henry roared, scrambling to his feet and grabbing rocks of his own.

Like all the Losers, Eddie was lost in the adrenaline of the moment and had it not been for Y/n's keen eye, he would have taken a blow to the head. He felt a shove on his shoulder and he nearly lost his balance on the unstable terrain, and he gasped when he saw the giant rock fly past his head. He nodded at her in thanks.

Y/n had gotten quite a few strikes in before she yelped in pain. Taken aback by the cut of the shockingly jagged edge that had hooked into her skin. She hissed in pain, a hand covering the wound trying to stop the blood from pouring out. Y/n glared at Belch as she shook it off, grabbing more ammo. This did not go unnoticed by Eddie and he jumped into the creek, water splashing his ankles and soaking his feet but he didn't care. He stalked forward in the water getting as close as possible as he put all his anger into his throw.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as she and Eddie chucked their ammunition at the perpetrator.

Belch had been red in the face and spit was flying from his mouth as he glared daggers at Y/n.

"Fuck you, bitch!"

Much like Richie, his timing was unfortunate for him, as Y/n and Eddie's two large rocks struck him in the head and nose just as the words had left his mouth.

"Get the fuck outta here!" Richie exclaimed.

"Ah, shit!" Victor hissed as he was thrown to the ground from one of Ben's rocks.

Henry was now back on the ground, having been hit in the head a second time, from one of Mike's rocks.

In a mere matter of moments, the Losers had brought the Bowers gang to its knees, cowering in fear. Victor and Belch quickly retreated, leaving Henry whimpering in fear, hands covering his face and he was shaking like a leaf.

The Losers had never seen the boy so afraid and they glared at him in hatred, each of them panting heavily. When he was sure the rocks had stopped, Henry risked a glance from behind his hands. They fell on Y/n who stalked forward next to Eddie, streaks of red running down her arm. She stood only feet away from him and looked down at him as if he was something she dragged in on her shoe.

He looked up at her, not knowing what to expect. She cast one more angered glance before her head jerked in a swift movement, and spit flew from her mouth landing before him. He flinched at her sudden movement, still on edge from his attack and he slowly climbed to his feet. The Losers cast him one more glance before filing back into the brush one by one, grabbing Eddie's hand and ushering him out.

Richie was the only one to remain, and he gave in to one last surge of anger. He looked to the defeated figure of Henry Bowers and said the words he had always ached to say.

"Go blow your dad, you mullet-wearing asshole!"

Richie gave into the satisfaction and gave Henry the double bird, before disappearing in the ferns after his friends.

×××

@seasidecrowbar @bevxmarsh @supernovavisionary @readyforitbitch @geniedocroe @sivords @ravenclawsprincess @pigwidgexn @kricketwritesstories @beep-beep-tozier @plum-duels @edmunds-torch @eddiegaykaspbrak @rosi3e @welcome-to-derry @beepbeep-pennywise @candycorntroll @bibliophilesquared @ongaku-ato-kakikomi @cocastyle @peachysinnermon @mochibarnes @captainshazamerica @kaitlynjones12 @songbird-writes @traceylader @eggytozier @annimalq @lexylovesfandoms @russian-romanova @paigey-mcfreedomly @whitetrash12345 @witch-of-all-things-soft @thatsjoemazzellosbbg @blogforhoes

#it rewrite #it chapter two #it chapter one #eddie kaspbrak #eddie kaspbrak x reader #jack dylan grazer #x reader #reader insert #ch. 6 friends will be friends #it #richie tozier #beverly marsh #mike hanlon #ben hanscom #stan uris #bill denbrough #henry bowers #bowers gang #friends will be friends

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sassycassie-s-writing · 5 years

Text

A Total Boss

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): Final Fantasy XV/Prompto Argentum

Rating: PG-11/T- (for minor peril + spider)

Original Idea: @welovegroot asked: Could I request a bodyguard fic? With Prompto?---coupled with This set of headcanons

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) Heck yes you can! First Prompto one-shot! Isn’t he an adorable sunshine boy? XD Enjoy this Bodyguard!AU

^^^^^

The moment Prompto saw you, his brain stopped working. He wasn’t aware that he was going to be assigned to protect someone so pretty! He had a hard-enough time talking to girls as it was but talking to you? Being around you all day and keeping you safe? He was going to make a complete idiot of himself. Biting his lower lip, he awkwardly approached you.

“Uh… hi. Pleasure to meet you. I'm—” He gulped and stuck his hand out. “—I'm Prompto Argentum.”

You beamed at him and shook his hand, giving him your name in return. He barely heard it over the blood roaring in his ears. “The pleasure is mine, Prompto Argentum,” you said. “I'm grateful for your service.”

OMGOMGOMG, he thought frantically. You were smiling and your smile was breathtaking.

He let go of your hand quickly when he realized his hand was sweating. He was wearing fingerless leather gloves as usual but he didn’t want to take any chances.

“Uh—yeah! Uh, no sweat,” he replied.

Nailed it. Smooth as a cactus. If he’d been alone, he would have smacked himself in the forehead.

Trying to hide the pink rising on his cheeks, he turned to your father. “I, uh, believe there’s still some business to take care of?” he asked.

Your father nodded. “There is. Right this way,” he said. The two step into your father’s study to complete the boring paperwork.

^^^^^

The moment the door shuts, your friend snorts and dissolves into a fit of giggles. She’s been sitting on the couch twiddling with her hair since before your new bodyguard came over. You’re used to her antics by now, but you turn a look at her. “What’s so funny?” you ask.

“He’s so adorable!” she replies. “Who would guess that he’d be a qualified bodyguard?”

You shrug. “My father, apparently,” you say.

“The five-foot-eight blond dork whose bulletproof vest looks like it was made for a man bigger than he is.” She snickers again. “Hey, at least he’s cute.”

“Oh come on, Estelle,” you protest. “That hardly matters—”

“Sure but at least the guy you’re now stuck with all day every day is nice to look at.” She kicks her feet up on the coffee table and twirls a bit of her hair around her fingers casually, her dark eyes glittering with humor. “I, for one, cannot wait to see how this turns out. Two-hundred gil says you two will be dating before he leaves service as your bodyguard.”

“I’ll take that bet,” you say impulsively. “And when it’s over, I’ll be two-hundred gil richer!”

Estelle just grins. “We’ll see.”

^^^^^

Prompto may have seemed flustered and embarrassed when the two of you met, but as time goes on he loosens up. Within the first week of him guarding you, you get a measure of his true personality.

He’s bright and cheerful. A bit talkative, but at least he fills the awkward silences. He gets friendlier the more time he spends with you.

He starts feeling less like a bodyguard and more like a somewhat-overly-attentive friend.

“Look! Puppies!” he exclaims as the two of you walk down the street. He scuttles away excitedly and kneels in front of the couple out walking two very small yellow dogs covered in soft hair. You laugh and jog to catch up. The smaller of the two has a cowlick on the top of its head that reminds you of Prompto’s hair.

“Aw!” the woman says. “You have a very sweet boyfriend, miss.” She smiles at you.

Prompto starts coughing. “Oh, no, no, ma’am, you’re mistaken,” he says politely, pushing himself to his feet. “We’re not… together.”

“He’s a friend,” you put in, smiling back at the woman. “We’re just friends.” It’s too complicated and personal to explain why you have a bodyguard to every stranger on the street—though how they don’t notice his bulletproof vest is beyond you since he doesn’t even wear it under his clothes—so you decide “friends” is the best way to put it.

“Oh. Sorry,” the woman says. “You two have a nice day now!” She and her companion stroll off.

Prompto’s ears and nose turn red. “OMG. I should not have done that. I am so sorry, miss. I’m not supposed to leave your side and—”

“Prompto!” you protest, grabbing his wrist to catch his attention. “It’s okay. No harm done.”

^^^^^

“Boyfriend, huh?” Estelle teases after you tell her what happened in town. Prompto turns a light shade of pink on the armchair in the living room. Estelle gives you a playful raised eyebrow. “I can see why people might think that initially.”

“Estelle,” you begin. “There’s really no reason to—”

“Spider!” Prompto shrieks, waving his hand and arm madly. “Spiderspiderspiderspiderspider!”

Your friend covers her mouth with both hands to hide her laughter as the spider lands on the carpet and gets crushed under Prompto’s boot. When you look up at his face, his eyes are red and tearing up and his lip is quivering. You give him a sympathetic look, get off the sofa, and throw professionalism out the window because goshdangit he looks like he needs a hug. Ignoring Estelle’s barely-muffled snickers, you wrap your arms around him.

Prompto squeaks in surprise. “Uh… miss? What are you doing?”

“This is a hug, Prompto. I'm hugging you.”

“I know what a hug is. Why are you hugging me?”

“Because you look like that spider scared you to death.”

“Well,” Prompto says, slowly prying himself from your hug, “no one likes finding out a spider crawled on their arm.”

“True that,” Estelle remarks with a snap of her fingers pointing at Prompto. She glances at her watch and gets to her feet. “Well, I gotta be off. Boyfriend and I are going out to dinner and if I don’t go put on a nicer shirt my mother will never let me hear the end of it!” She winks at you and ducks out your front door. “Oh, and bye Prompto!” she calls over her shoulder.

“Uh, bye!” Prompto replies.

You roll your eyes at your friend—and immediately rub at your eye as discomfort shoots through it. “Shoot,” you mutter.

“What’s wrong?” Prompto demands, looking around in sudden vigilance you’re not particularly used to.

“Eyelash in my eye,” you say.

“Here. Let me get it out,” he says.

Am I going to trust him with this? Your mind races as you lower your hand and open your eyes wide, looking up so he can get the eyelash out. His face is ridiculously close to yours. You can see every detail in his light blue eyes—and practically count the star-field of freckles across his nose and cheekbones.

You do trust him to remove the eyelash. He does it gently but quickly. Sure it feels wrong to have someone touching your eyeball, but one quick poke and the discomfort goes away. You rub your eye again. “Thanks,” you say.

“Anything for you, miss,” he says professionally—with just a hint of his trademark playful friendliness in his voice.

You laugh and sit back down on the sofa, flipping open the book you’d been looking at before Estelle stopped by. “Hey Prompto?” you ask.

“Yes?” he replies with a bright smile.

“Do me a favor and grab me a pen, would you?”

“You got it, gurl!” He gives you finger guns and does a front-flip over the loveseat toward the kitchen. You can’t help but giggle. He’s a funny guy. Really you couldn’t have asked for a better bodyguard right now. Sure, you were in danger, but with Prompto around life felt almost normal. Like having a friend.

A really overprotective friend who carried a gun.

^^^^^

“LOOK OUT!” Prompto shouted, grabbing your hand and yanking you out of the way of a car that blew through the red light right where you were about to cross. The force of his pull sends you right into his chest. His other arm closes around your back, holding you close.

After a moment of both of you panting with adrenaline and fear, he lets you go. “Oh man. So sorry. I shouldn’t have—oh wow.” He steps back and pushes his hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have touched your bare skin like that. So unprofessional—I'm so sorry—”

“Prompto! It’s okay. You’re just doing your job. And without you I would have been run over, okay?” you press.

He nods. “Okay. But… still. I'm sorry.”

“Don’t be. I'm safe.” You smile at him. “Now come on. Let’s cross.”

He twitches a bit as you cross the road, making sure you’re not going to be run over again. It’s a nice evening, turning into a warm summer night. The heat of the sun has baked the pavement and the stone that the buildings are made from, and as the sun’s power fades toward darkness, the pavement and stone radiate the heat they’ve captured. It’s fantastic weather.

Perfect for seeing a film.

One good thing about having a bodyguard twenty-four-seven is that going to the movies is easier. You don’t have to try and coordinate schedules with a friend so you don’t go alone. Prompto has a difficult time sitting still in a movie, but sometimes he does manage to relax.

“Come on,” you say, nodding toward a gap between two buildings. “This is a shortcut. Estelle and I always cut through here.”

Prompto looks wary but follows you in. You notice his hand rest on his gun. The buildings cut off the sunlight, plunging you both into near-nighttime. Prompto steps closer to you. You can almost feel him vibrating from anticipation.

“Prompto, it’s okay,” you say. “Nothing ever happ—AAAHHH!”

The scream is torn from your throat before you can stop it. It was just a reaction as Prompto grabbed your hand and yanked backward. He shoves you behind him protectively, one hand gently brushing your upper arm to make sure you’re still there and within reach should something happen.

A man almost twice Prompto’s size emerges from the shadows—how you hadn’t noticed him is beyond you. You see yellow, dirty teeth leering at the both of you and the glint in a pair of eyes too far away to really see.

And the barrel of a gun—gleaming in the half-light.

You yelp, fear catching you up.

Prompto reacts fast—and you’re reminded that he’s there to keep you safe. He’s not just a friendly dork who hangs around all the time.

He kicks the gun out of the man’s hand, using the momentum to flip backward. Sticking the landing, his hand shoots into the air and catches the gun, which he then cocks and points at the man. “Don’t try that again,” he snaps at the huge dark figure.

The man looks as surprised as you are. He puts his hands up and backs off.

Prompto reaches back and finds your wrist. “C’mon. We’re going,” he says. You don’t protest as he keeps you behind him, circles the man, and then runs through the rest of the alley. He puts the safety on the unfamiliar gun into place and shoves it into a spare holster you’d noticed but never thought much of. The two of you are standing near the side-door of the movie theater.

“That… was awesome,” you say. “Terrifying, but awesome. How did you do that?”

“Years of training,” he replies, panting. This time he takes your hand gentler and pulls you toward the front door of the theater.

You’re almost there when he starts to cry.

“Prompto… what’s wrong?” you ask quietly.

“I… I failed you, miss,” he says, voice shaking. “I couldn’t stop the threat before it happened. I'm such an idiot. Completely disposable.”

“Prompto,” you say, reaching up to brush some of his messy hair out of his face. “You are not disposable. I couldn’t ask for a better bodyguard. And look at me—I'm safe! You did not fail, okay? You’re a great bodyguard! A total boss!”

He sniffs and wipes his face on his bare arms—you’re fairly certain he hasn’t worn anything with sleeves since the day he began—giving you a melancholy smile. “You think so?”

Impulsively, you tilt up onto your toes and peck his cheek. “Absolutely. Thank you, Prompto.”

“M-my pleasure, miss,” he says. Still holding your hand, he pulls you around the corner to the front of the theater and opens the door for you, as he always does. “Your evening of entertainment awaits.” There’s his playfulness. You grin, making him smile.

“I’ve had plenty of entertainment already,” you say.

“Too much,” he says. “Hopefully you won’t have to have any more of that kind.”

“Well, with you here, at least I know I’ll be safe,” you say.

I think I might owe Estelle two-hundred gil when all this is over, you think as you give your tickets to the usher and head into the right theater to catch the film.

Surprisingly, you’re pretty sure you’re okay losing that bet.

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