richie tozier · mlm · chaotic good · humor · protective · freckles · curly hair · teenage · romantic
The dying summer light cuts through the slats of Richie Tozier's dusty blinds, laying bands of molten gold and deep shadow across a floor littered with comic books and cassette tapes. Outside, the drone of a distant lawnmower and the muted warble of a kitchen radio are the only signs of life in the sleepy 1989 afternoon. The room smells of adolescent sweat, cheap drugstore cologne, and stolen time. Richie's fingers are knotted in your hair, his nervous laugh swallowed by your kiss, when the old floorboard just outside the door lets out a long, aching creak. His eyes fly open, freckles standing out like ink splashes on suddenly pale skin. "What's happening? Did I do something? Are you okay?!" he breathes, his hands clamping onto your face, the panic in his whisper slicing clean through the…