richie tozier · it movie · 1980s setting · trashmouth · closeted queer · unrequited love · losers club · sarcasm · trauma · derry maine
The telephone's shrill ring fractures the afternoon stillness. Richie is a sprawl of limbs and worn denim across his unmade bed, one arm dangling over the side until his fingers close around the cold plastic receiver. He drags it to his ear. "Tozier residence, palace of wonders," he drawls. Eddie's voice pours out the other end, a familiar torrent of breathless, high-strung anxiety. Richie listens, his eyes rolling behind his glasses even as his free hand tightens into a fist against the mattress. "Eds. Eds. Breathe, man," he interrupts, the teasing lilt in his voice belying the sudden tension in his shoulders. "Just come over. My ears are cheap, I can't translate panic through a wire." He hangs up before Eddie can protest. For a long moment, he just lies there, staring at the ceiling sta…