Chapter Five
Eddie vs Ringo

THURSDAY 5th JUNE, SUMMER 1985 — FLASHBACK

It was the first time Eddie had been to Betty's new home since she'd moved. And god did it make him hate her even more.

The two storey house stood tall and proud, with straight russet bricked walls, large rectangular windows bordered and a sloped grey tiled roof. There was a garage connected alongside, white painted door matching the sleek new Toyota parked on the drive. The freshly trimmed lawn was so neat and ridiculously green that it looked to have been ripped straight from one of those posh magazines – what with its working sprinkler system, stupidly suburban picket fence, and the concrete trail that led nicely to the wooden steps of the front porch.

It was the kind of place that every kid wished they'd grown up in. And Eddie couldn't help resenting her for it.

He was stood on the porch, hands shoved in his jeans pockets. His beat up van was parked across the drive, looking horrendously out of place. Eddie had considered turning around and leaving. But then the door opened.

"Thought I heard you." Betty had looked unimpressed by his mere presence as she stood in the foyer, hands placed on the exposed flesh above her hips. She was wearing a plain white cropped top, matched with red dolphin shorts that had a white stripe down both sides. Her hair was scraped back in her signature high ponytail, tied into position with a pink scrunchie. "I said six o'clock."

"I..." Eddie glimpsed at his wrist watch. Whoops. "...got caught in traffic."

"Whatever." Betty peeked over Eddie's shoulder. Then she took a step back, opening the door wider. "Come in."

Eddie stepped over the threshold and discovered that the interior of the Angel house was just as irritatingly perfect as the outside. He was welcomed by cream walls, polished oak flooring and a gigantic fucking houseplant. Eddie had tried keeping a plant once but it wilted, shrivelled and died in less than a week. This one, however, was thriving. In fact, it probably looked a little better than he did.

Betty led him down the hall, keeping several paces ahead, as if she couldn't wait to get enough distance between them. Eddie didn't know why. Maybe he'd smelt bad? Although, he specifically remembered borrowing his Uncle Wayne's cologne that day.

As he walked, Eddie's eyes followed the rows of family photographs lining the walls. He lingered in front of a frame filled with childhood pictures of Betty.

"Want something to drink?" She'd asked, glancing over her shoulder. Realising he'd stopped, she halted too.

"Got beer?" He replied.

Betty narrowed her eyes at him, seeming to take a moment to determine whether or not he was being serious.

He was.

"Sure."

Eddie tapped his finger against the glass frame, pointing to a photograph; a younger version of Betty had her  fingers in her mouth, pulling at her cheeks, tongue stuck out. She was wearing a pink, fluffy feather boa around her neck and a princess crown on her head.

Betty's shoulders slumped when she realised exactly what he was looking at. Eddie gave her a lopsided grin. "Cute."

She rolled her eyes, turning her back on him. He strolled after her, passing the lounge. Eddie had caught a brief glimpse inside. There were two matching red sofas situated around a television, a glass coffee table in the middle, and a neatly stacked bookcase that took up the entire back corner.

But, undoubtedly, it was the sleek black grand piano that had centre stage. Eddie had remembered that Betty used to play when she was younger. She was good too, even tried to teach him once, in return for learning the guitar. Neither of them quite got the hang of it, so they stuck to their own instruments. He'd wondered whether she still played, but never got the chance to ask then and there.

Reaching the end of the hall, Eddie hesitated in the kitchen doorway. He always found entering a kitchen particularly strange, since he'd never exactly had a proper one – at least, not one that was disconnected from the lounge. Like, he'd even noticed that their dining table was in an entirely separate room. But in his trailer, they were all mashed into one.

If this was how much was on the first floor, he wondered what the hell upstairs was like.

Eddie's curious eyes swept around the room. His fridge was, at most, a quarter size of theirs. Not to mention, he had about half the amount of cupboards (why the fuck did they need so many anyway?). There was a stacked fruit bowl that wasn't mouldy. And their counter surfaces were potentially the cleanest he had ever seen –  Eddie reckoned that if he looked into them, he'd most likely see his reflection staring back.

It was mind-blowing how spotless everything was. Eddie and his uncle would usually stack up dirty dishes beside the sink until one of them could be bothered to do something about it, but the Angel family had theirs neatly positioned to dry on a washing up rack. Unreal.

Seated around a small wooden table, Bonnie Angel was hunched over a notepad. Several school books and different coloured pens were splayed out around her. She lifted her head curiously at the sound of their approaching footsteps. Eddie smiled weakly when they made eye contact.

He cast his mind back to the last time he'd seen her properly – Bonnie had been around four or five years old, hosting a fake tea party, which he was obviously roped into. He remembered how shy and soft spoken she used to be. And that she always carried a book with her.

"Don't know if you remember, but this is my little sister, Bonnie," Betty re-introduced, gesturing lazily towards her sibling. "Bon, you probably don't remember, but this is Eddie."

Bonnie looked up from her notepad and offered him a soft smile. She wore glasses now, thin, rectangular, navy blue frames. "Hi."

"Jeez, this is Bonnie? You were only, like–" Eddie held a hand just above his waist. "–probably this tall when I last saw you."

Bonnie smiled bashfully, glancing back down at her books. Yeah, still shy.

Betty meandered past them to open the fridge. The back door handle jiggled. Eddie's eyes wandered to the windows, where he caught sight of what was outside. In the middle of the large stretch of garden, white deck chairs surrounded a huge swimming pool, which had a blow up flamingo lilo floating in the water. At the furthest end, in front of a wooden shed that had a sign reading BAR in block black letters (they had their own freaking bar outside?!) was a grey tiled patio space, with a garden sofa and an egg chair, all surrounded by hanging lights.

Donna Angel entered the kitchen carrying a blue laundry basket. She set it down on the mat and closed the door behind her. Eddie hadn't seen Donna in several years, but she'd barely aged a day. She was dressed in her typical work attire, smart black pants and a white button up shirt. She had the same Afro, though, if anything, it had gotten bigger – they had always been in competition for coolest hair.

Donna sighed as she bent down, straightening out the mat. "Betty, don't raid the fridge. Dinner's in an hour."

"I'm just getting us a drink," Betty defended.

Donna lifted her head back up, caught sight of Eddie, and did a double take. "Eddie."

He smiled politely. "Hi Mrs Angel."

Donna waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, don't be silly. You know you can call me Donna." She moved forwards and embraced him in a warm hug. It felt nice. "It's so good to see you."

"And you mrs– I mean Donna."

She placed both hands on his shoulders, eyes softening as they drifted over him. The corners of her mouth tugged upwards. "Goodness. You look just like your mother."

Eddie could still remember the intensity of that deep pang he felt in his chest. Hurt. Loss. That missing part of him that would never be resolved. Even a slight had jealousy stirred – Donna had gotten the chance to know his mother all those years. Know her enough that she could say something like that. A luxury that Eddie was never afforded.

Donna's eyes filled with tears. She squeezed his shoulder and smiled gently.

"Okay, well, uh," Betty interrupted, closing the fridge. "We're gonna go upstairs now. Gotta work on this project so–"

"Oh, you'll stay for dinner, Eddie?" Donna asked him. From the corner of his eye, he saw Betty practically freeze on the spot. The pair automatically cast a sideways glance at each another. Donna's eyebrows raised. "I'll take that as a yes then."

"Uh, I think Eddie has to get home actua–"

"Nonsense," Donna dismissed. Betty blinked in slight disbelief. "Dinner at seven thirty."

Eddie forced a smile in response. He wasn't a complete idiot, he wouldn't want to pass up a decent free meal. But he also didn't want to spend any more time with Betty than he had to. Then again, the horrified look on her face had sold it to him. Maybe it would be entertaining.

Betty huffed. "Fine. Whatever." She motioned her head towards the door. Eddie took brief notice of the two cans bulging in her shorts pockets. He smirked. That was the Betty he knew. Maybe not a girl as good as she got the reputation for. "Let's get on with this, shall we?"

"Oh, take this up with you," Donna instructed, plonking the washing basket in Betty's arms. "And keep your door open."

Betty's features contorted in such disgust that Eddie had to hold back a laugh. "What? Why?"

"Because I want you to keep it open."

"But we're just doing the project," Betty argued. "Why would w–"

"I want you to keep it open," Donna insisted.

"Jesus Christ, mom," Betty muttered. She turned on her heel and stomped to the doorway. "Munson, come on!" She snapped.

Eddie offered Donna a sheepish smile before following. Betty stormed up the wooden staircase, feet thudding heavily on each step. Eddie held onto the thick wooden railing, tilting his head back to look up at the high ceiling, where a small glass chandelier dangled.

Betty ditched the laundry basket at the top of the stairs. She pushed open a white door that had the letter B and a pink butterfly painted on the front.

Eddie ambled into her room and discovered that it was almost exactly how he'd imagined. The walls were light pink, with matching drapes framing either side of the window. The white lace inner curtains remained drawn, blocking out remains of the dwindling daylight. Betty flicked a switch on the wall, and a line of dim fairy lights glowed, spilling over the purple headboard of the double bed situated in the middle of the room. The side table beside it had a turntable, with a whole pile of records that Eddie was desperate to sift through.

And curled up at the end of the bed, on a purple blanket, was a podgy grey shorthair cat. It's striking gold eyes watched Eddie closely.

"Hi baby," Betty cooed, scooping the animal into her arms. The cat wriggled as she rocked it back and forth. "Did you miss me? I missed you."

Pathetic.

Eddie continued examining the room. There was a tall wooden chest of draws to the left, and a huge wardrobe taking up most of the wall opposite her bed. To the right, beside the open door of the en-suit bathroom, was a white dressing table with an oval mirror. All sorts of scattered hair and makeup products and different coloured nail polishes littered the space, but that was probably the messiest part of her room. Otherwise, it was practically immaculate. There weren't even any dirty clothes on the floor.

Eddie took note of the surrounding posters; Tom Cruise, Harrison Ford, Prince, Madonna, Kim Wilde. There were a few movie posters too, like Grease and Sixteen Candles.

Betty removed one arm from around the cat to grab a beer out of her pocket. The animal took the opportunity to jump back to the ground. She tossed the can at Eddie. "Don't tell my mom."

The cat padded over to him. It stopped at his feet, narrowed it's small eyes and hissed.

"Ringo," Betty reprimanded sternly. "Sorry. He's usually friendlier than this."

Eddie chuckled a little nervously, not particularly enjoying being stared down by a fucking cat. Even if it's name was something as ridiculously unthreatening as Ringo.

His fingers fiddled with the can, hooking underneath the tab to crack it open. Ringo's ears pricked. The cat growled, his tail stiffening. It straightened its front legs, arched it's back and then pounced.

Eddie jumped back, spilling a few drops of beer down his shirt. Betty dived to grab the animal but missed. Ringo's paw swiped at him, sharp claws catching his ankle.

"Ringo, no!"

Betty quickly grabbed the cat and rushed to the door. She set Ringo down on the carpet. The cat prowled out the room without a care.

Eddie lifted the bottom of his jeans, checking over the scratch. There were two angry red claw marks.

"Did he hurt you?" Betty asked, eyebrows furrowing as she hurried back over to him.

Eddie released the material, trying to ignore how his stomach had flipped at the fact she cared. "No, it's fine. Just a scratch."

"Sorry, I don't know what's gotten into him. He's usually much nicer to everyone," Betty said, apologetic eyes settling on him. "Uh, do you wanna start?"

"Sure."

"So how are we doing this?"

Eddie shrugged. "Kind of just assumed you had an idea."

Betty scoffed, folding her arms. "Of course you did. Probably just thought you could turn up, sit pretty and do nothing, didn't you?"

Eddie's mouth curved. "You think I'm pretty?" Betty exhaled heavily through her nose. Eddie grinned, taking a sip of beer as he watched her cross the room and fling open the wardrobe doors. "You didn't deny it."

"You're ridiculously annoying. You know that right?" Betty crouched onto her knees and leaned inside, pulling out her school handbag, which she began to rifle through.

Eddie became slightly distracted as her shorts rode higher up her legs. "Mhm."

Betty slammed a pile of books on the fluffy white rug. Eddie immediately averted his eyes so not to get caught. If Betty had noticed his staring, she didn't mention anything.

The pair ended up sitting opposite one another, crossed-legged on the floor with a sheet of paper between them. Betty pulled a black marker cap off with her teeth and wrote Romeo & Juliet in the middle. She drew a circle around it and a few lines branching off.

It was at this point that Eddie realised he would actually have to do some work.

"Ok. Themes," she prompted. "Go."

"Uh...love?" Eddie suggested. The pen made a high pitched squeak as Betty scribbled the word down. "Tragedy." Eddie tried to think of another. Betty looked back up at him expectantly. "Yeah, that's all I got."

She responded with a purposely unimpressed stare before staring to write her own. Family. Conflict. Class. Death. Fate.

As she hunched over, her crop top moved further up her back. Eddie stared at the exposed skin, eyes travelling over the fine, thin hairs, all the way down to the faint birthmark on the small of her back. He looked away, then looked back again. Dammit.

Betty had tilted her head in concentration, ponytail resting over one shoulder. Eddie stared at the spot in intrigue and then frowned at himself. Was he attracted to her neck? He needed to pull himself together.

The next ten minutes were spent filling the sheet with ideas. Eddie wasn't much help. And he got bored pretty quickly. If he wasn't sneaking glances at her, then his eyes were drifting nonchalantly around the room instead.

"Munson," Betty suddenly snapped. "Are you even listening to me?"

Eddie, who had been occupied staring at the photo collage of her friends on the wall, whirled his head around. "Huh? What? Yeah."

"Oh, really?" Betty challenged, hand on her hip. "What did I just say?"

Eddie attempted to think of something Shakespeare related. Or even just a witty comment to impress her with. But he drew a blank.

"You know, Angel, the way you're looking at me...you're kinda reminding me of Mrs O'Donnell right now."

That was definitely the wrong thing to say.

"Are you shitting me? You know what–" She picked up the paper and threw it at him. "I'm going on strike. You finish the rest."

"Wait–" Eddie had attempted to get an explanation out before he had the sheet flung in his face. "I was just distracted by your photos."

Betty aggressively clipped a marker pen lid back on. "I don't care."

"Well, it's a little off putting having the people who've spent the entirety of high school calling you freak, loser, trailer trash – you name it – staring down at you."

Betty lowered the pen, eyes softening as she looked up at him. "They call you trailer trash?"

"What, you've never heard?" Eddie asked disbelievingly. "Or just never bothered paying attention? It's easier for you if you just pretend your friends aren't assholes, right?"

"What?"

"Oh, come on, like you actually care," he gibed. "Your whole sweet, doe-eyed, girl next-door act doesn't work with me, alright?"

"Act?" Betty questioned.

"I'm not an idiot," Eddie stated. Betty gave him a look that said debatable. Which, honestly, was kind of fair. "You built your entire reputation around the perception that you're this nice, good girl. Never gets into any trouble, passes all her classes, everyone loves her. Oh, her friends might be complete jerks, but she? She is a saint in comparison. Just has to flash that perfect fucking smile and everyone's falling at her feet."

Betty picked harshly at a bobble in the carpet. "You done?"

"Nope."

"Then please, do continue."

Eddie's stare scrutinised her for a moment, her perfect hair that rarely had a strand out of place, her perfect brown eyes with that beautiful golden colour bordering her pupils, her perfect pink cupid's bow lips and flattering smile, perfect white teeth, perfect designer clothes, perfect bedroom and perfect house–

"God, everything about you is just...polished, isn't it?" Eddie continued, a little harsher than intended. "I mean, it's why we stopped being friends, right? That scruffy little freak you grew up with ruins your precious image."

Betty let out a dry laugh. "First of all, that is complete bullshit. And totally based on precipitation. A completely wrong one at that."

"Oh, it's bullshit? So how come–" Eddie paused. "Wait. Precipitation? You mean perception?"

Betty threw out her arms exasperatedly. "Oh my god, who cares! The point is, it's bullshit."

Eddie tilted his head to the side, smiling sarcastically at her reaction. "Truth bothering you, Angel."

"Honestly, Munson? I'm surprised it's taken so long to hear you come out with this stupid crap. I can tell it's been a sore spot for years."

"Don't give yourself the credit, sweetheart."

Their eyes met, glances battling. Betty's breathing was heavy. Eddie's pulse quickened.

"You wanna know something?" She began, posture straightening. "You and I remember middle school very differently."

"Oh, yeah? How come?"

"You were the one who distanced yourself. Not the other way around," she accused. "Even when we stopped talking, I used to go to our spot after school for weeks. Waiting for you. Hoping you'd come. But you never showed. So no, I didn't just forget about you. I never wanted to stop being friends. That was all on you."

"We both know you would've ditched me so fucking fast in high school."

"You never gave me the chance."

Touché.

"Betty!" Her mother called up the stairs. "Dinner!"

Betty got to her feet and headed to the door without a word. She hesitated, facing him. "You know, Eddie, you might have plenty of reasons to hate me, but let's not pretend I don't have reasons to be mad at you too."

—

SPRING 1986 — PRESENT

Eddie slammed hard on the breaks when a ball of grey fur unexpectedly traipsed into his path.

Instinctively, his arm flung out in front of Betty. She lurched forwards, but was prevented from going any further. The van stilled. Eddie killed the engine and set the handbrake on. He took a deep breath to re-compose himself.

Staring out the front window, Eddie was faced with an small animal. To be specific, a cat. Ringo. That piece of shit. He was sat on the drive, staring up at them with taunting eyes. And Eddie could've sworn he was smirking.

Betty's fingers latched around his wrist. Eddie's brain tuned into the fact he was still holding onto her. More so, the palm of his hand was clutched against her breast.

"Shit, sorry." Eddie quickly pulled his arm away. He cleared his throat. "Uh, everyone okay?"

"Betty," her father let out a ragged breath. "That damn cat of yours is gonna get run over some day."

With a bit of luck, Eddie thought.

Ringo prowled across the drive and disappeared into the bushes – probably to kill some innocent baby bird, the murderous son of a bitch.

Eddie carefully pulled forwards and parked in the space usually reserved for Betty's Toyota. He switched off the engine, unclipped his seatbelt and climbed out the van, heading to the other side.

Eddie opened the door for George with a rueful smile. "Sorry about the bumpy ride."

"Good job it's cancer and not heart problems," George deadpanned. Eddie didn't know what to do with his face until the man cracked a smile. He clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, son."

"Watch the step," Eddie reminded as George started to climb down unsteadily. His hands hovered in front of the older man's frail arms, prepared to grab him if need be.

"All good," George assured, dismissing him.

Eddie held out his hand for Betty instead. Rather than take it, she leaned her arm against his shoulder to steady herself. Fingers, pulling her skirt down, she hopped to the ground.

George continued along the path, leaving them both behind. Alone.

Eddie scratched the back of his neck. "Sorry for, uh, grabbing your–" he cut off, making a circle with his hand in front of Betty's chest. "You know."

"I know." The corners of her mouth drifted upwards, but the smile never fully formed. "Thanks for giving us a ride."

He nodded, burying his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, any time."

The front door opened. Donna stood on the porch in a pink apron. She held out a hand for her husband as he hobbled up the steps.

"Please don't, um, mention this to anyone," Betty said quietly. "Not even to your uncle. Dad really doesn't want people to know."

Eddie met her eyes, conveying his sincerity. "Of course."

"Is that Eddie's van?" Donna asked, loud enough for the pair to hear.

Betty and Eddie's gazes lingered on one another a moment longer before they stepped out from behind the vehicle.

"Eddie!" Bonnie cheered, squeezing past her mother. 

The younger girl rushed down the drive and hurtled towards him. Eddie grinned, opening his arms to welcome her. Bonnie flung hers tightly around his middle.

Eddie chuckled, placing his hand on her head. "Hey, Bon Bon."

Over the course of last summer, Eddie had formed an unlikely friendship with the youngest Angel sibling. Naturally, Betty had automatically disapproved of her sister getting attached and repeatedly reminded them both that he was only because of the project.

But Eddie and Bonnie had ended up bonding over D&D one night, when he stayed up late to teach her how to play. And, admittedly, he had missed hanging out with her a lot more than he thought he would. Which felt kind of strange to say, since she was ten, but Bonnie felt a little bit like the younger sister he'd never had – that and Betty said they were probably about the same age mentally. He wasn't sure if that was a compliment to Bonnie or a criticism of him. He liked to think it was the former.

Bonnie pulled back, peering up at him. Her bottom lip jutted out. "You haven't visited in so long."

Eddie cast a subtle glance at Betty, who was not quick enough to hide the fond smile resting on her lips.

"Well, I've been busy trying to pass senior year," he responded. "We can't all be a smart as you, kiddo."

Bonnie smiled as he playfully ruffled her hair. "You should come inside," she said, small hands grasping one of his. "I've been drawing some new characters and–"

"Hey, maybe another time, yeah?" Betty interjected, giving him a pointed look. He already knew he'd overstepped several marks today. "I'm sure Eddie needs to get home."

"I–" Eddie was torn, though. He didn't want to disappoint Bonnie. But he definitely didn't want to piss off Betty.

"Eddie, would you like to stay for dinner?" Donna asked kindly. "We'd love to catch up."

Shit.

George nodded from the doorway. "It's the least we could do."

"Uh..." Eddie trailed, looking at Betty for help.

Betty stepped forwards. "Don't you want to rest, dad?"

George shook his head. "Don't sweat it, I feel fine. And I'd like to thank Eddie for driving us."

Realising their doomed fate, and the awkwardness they would be subjected to, Betty forced an obviously fake smile to reach her lips. From then on, Eddie knew he didn't have much choice. He turned back to the Angels, plastering on a false grin of his own.

"I'd love to."

Betty was going to kill him.

A/N

idk if it's because it's almost 1am rn or what but Eddie having beef with a cat is so fucking funny to me