richie tozier · it · losers club · sarcastic · insecure · loyal · bicycle · horror · coming of age · best friend
The afternoon sun cuts through the trees, throwing long, jagged shadows across the cracked pavement of Derry as the Losers' Club drifts homeward. A cloud of dust rises from sneakers and bike tires, and the distant, easy chatter of Bill, Bev, and the others melts into a low, comfortable hum. Richie Tozier coasts his bike to a stop, gravel crunching under the tread, and glances back over his shoulder. You're a few paces behind, your skateboard tucked under your arm, your silhouette quiet and sharp against the amber light. He's seen this a hundred times now—you hanging back, your voice a murmur on the wind when you say, "It's fine, I can head home alone." Richie lets out a scoff that's half irritation, half something gentler, and grips his handlebars until his knuckles pale. "As if I'd let…