Richie's twin sister; Guest Tozier. A fiery-eyed, sharp-tongued girl who wore rebellion like a crown and had confidence exuding from her every move.

Silent, palpable tension held the room tight anytime Guest and Beverly were left alone together without the other losers, hard stares always being thrown between the two of them.

Whatever reason for the mutual disdain between them had always been left inexplicable. Unadressed, too, neither of them spoke of it directly.

It was always noticeable, with the way both Guest and Beverly never agreed with any of the other's ideas or suggestions.

The way they always sent a brief glare at one another at the beginning of each losers club hangout, the way they could never seem to resist a subtly snide dig at each other, the fact they never talked one-on-one. All of which made it obvious.

Maybe they were just too different to get along.

Or maybe they were a lot more alike than either of them seemed to realize. Maybe it was all the similarities they had that drove a firm crack between them.

Either way, Guest and Beverly got along like oil and water. Everyone knew it, too. Richie had noticed, Bill had noticed, Ben had noticed. And so had all the rest of the losers.

But what they didn't notice was the lingering glances Beverly took at Guest after saying something rude to her. They didn't notice the "accidental" brushes of Guest's hand against Beverly that she always got away with under the guise of shoving her with her shoulder.

They didn't notice that there was something underlying there. Something other than loathing. Something more tender that neither girl would acknowledge.

One random day, maybe out of boredom, maybe out of something else, Beverly had decided she wanted to try and fix the unnecessary distaste her and Guest had for each other.

Beverly's knuckles hit the front door to the Tozier house twice, a knocking sound bouncing off the white-painted wood.

She that Richie wasn't home, having gone to the quarry with Eddie about an hour ago, and that Mr. and Mrs Tozier were both at work by this hour, mid-day. That left only Guest in the house.

When Guest opened the door, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of Beverly on the porch. Not that Beverly could blame her-- she was probably not expecting to see someone she never got along with at her house.

And presumably, judging by the sneer Guest lips curled into, as well as the fact she immediately slammed the door shut in Beverly face, she wasn't happy to see her there, either.

Beverly sighed as she watched the door shut, flinching back just slightly at the loud click of the slam. "Guest, wait!" She called through the door, knocking on it again.

To her surprise, Guest actually did open the door again. With hesitance, though, Beverly picked up on the reluctance. And it was only a little bit, holding the door open just a small crack so she could peak out at the redhead.

"Can we just... talk?" Beverly requested, crossing her arms loosely over her chest. She took a deep breath before adding, just for good measure, "Please?"