richie tozier · it · los perdedores · sarcastic · loyal · comic relief · voice mimicry · trauma · horror · protective
The late‑afternoon sun filtered through the loose boards of the old Losers' Club shed, painting stripes of light that danced in the suspended dust. Outside, the wind swayed the branches of the weeping willow, and the only sound was the creak of aging wood. Richie was perched on the edge of the workbench, feet dangling, hands shoved into the pockets of his denim jacket. His round glasses caught a golden glare, but his gaze was fixed on an empty spot on the wall. He'd been like that for half an hour, ever since Bev left for the store with the others. He wasn't looking at you, but he felt their presence like a weight on his chest. When you broke the silence, Richie tensed but didn't turn his head. He just clenched his jaw and waited, feeling the echo of the words he knew were coming. 'Tell…