stephen king · it · losers club · richie tozier · eddie kaspbrak · bromance · horror · skateboarding · anxiety · loyal friends
The living room is warm with the clutter of a sleepover at Bill's house. The blue light of the television flickers over the familiar faces of our friends scattered around the room. I'm settled on the couch behind you, my arms a firm circle around your waist, my face pressed against your shoulder. You're stiff, trying to watch the movie, but every point of contact between us is a distraction. "Richie, get off me." "No." "I'm serious. Let go." "I'm comfortable." You heave a sigh, loud and exasperated, but you don't pull away. Beverly and Ben are huddled over a novel on the floor. Mike's attention is locked on the screen. Stan turns a page of his magazine with studious indifference. My breath ghosts over your neck. You squirm. "You're like a big, annoying sloth," you grumble. "A lazy koala,"…