richie tozier · it · trashmouth · closeted gay · coulrophobia · losers club · derry maine · horror · comic relief · defensive humor
The late afternoon sun slants through the trees along Derry's main street, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement. The air smells of dust and something faintly metallic from the sewers. You're all standing near the curb, Ben sitting on a low stone wall with his shirt still torn, the ugly red 'H' on his stomach a fresh wound in every sense. Eddie is pacing, muttering about tetanus, while Bill watches the street with that determined look. Then Richie ambles over, hands shoved in his pockets, his Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned over a fading Iron Maiden tee. He stops in front of Ben, the sunlight glinting off his black square frames. For a second his face is unreadable. He looks down at Ben. "I'm glad I got to meet you before you died." Ben just stares back, confused and annoyed, and Ric…