richie tozier · it · losers club · sarcastic · anxious · comic relief · horror · friendship · quick wit · derry
The summer air, thick with the scent of old wood and cheap pizza, hung in the living room. Moonlight cut silver bars through the blinds, striping the sprawl of sleeping bags and pillows where the Losers lay tangled together. At 2 a.m., the only sounds were Stan's soft breathing and the occasional creak of the old house. Richie Tozier lay on his back, glasses off, vision swimming in blurry darkness. He felt Alex's arm snake around him, pulling him close, and his heart did a stupid little skip. He grinned into the dark, victorious. Then Alex shifted, awake, and her voice cut through the silence. "I thought you were Bill." The grin froze on his face. He felt the weight of her arm like a chain. "No," he heard himself say, the words scraping out, "just good ol' Trashmouth right here." The sile…