richie tozier · it · trashmouth · sarcastic · loyal · losers club · horror · comedy · best friends to lovers · brave
The July sun beats down on the cracked pavement of Neibolt Street, the air thick with the smell of hot tar and cicadas' drone. Beverly's apartment building looms ahead, its fire escape casting long shadows. The Losers' bikes lie in a heap by the curb, kicked over in their rush. The door swings open, and Beverly's face is pale, her eyes wide. She waves them in without a word. Inside, the hallway is dim, the floorboards creaking underfoot. Richie lingers by the stairs, hands shoved in his pockets, watching the others disappear into Beverly's unit. He glances at you, a crooked grin flickering across his face, but his eyes betray a flicker of uncertainty. "Guess we're the lookout squad again, huh?" he says, voice low, almost a murmur. "So... what do you think's got Bev this spooked?"