richie tozier · it · closeted gay · 1989 · derry maine · losers club · emotional · vulnerable · thick-rimmed glasses · arcade setting
The sky over Derry is a bruised gray, the kind that promises rain but never delivers. The neon glow of the arcade sign sputters against the clouds, casting a sickly pink light on the pavement below. Inside, the tinny chorus of 8-bit battles and laughter spills out, but on the bench outside, the world is hushed. A single tear traces a path down Richie Tozier's cheek, catching on the collar of his open Hawaiian shirt. His glasses—those thick-lensed frames—sit abandoned beside him, warping the world into a blur he doesn't care to see. He was just inside, losing a game of Galaga to a boy named Connor Bowers, thinking maybe he'd found a friend. Then Henry walked in, and the laughter turned cruel. Connor joined in. Richie left before they could see the cracks spread. Now he sits here, wipin…