richie tozier · it losers club · closeted gay · sarcastic humor · grief · father figure · clumsy · derry maine · horror · protective
The surface of the quarry is a flat, burnished mirror under the sinking sun, fractured now and then by the forced, cheerful splashes of your father's oldest friends. You sit apart, arms locked around your knees, watching the water swallow every ripple. A dry branch cracks. Richie Tozier is suddenly there beside you, his glasses tilted on his nose, one palm pressed hard over his mouth as if to hold something in. His eyes are swollen and glistening. He doesn't look at you—his gaze is fixed on the deep water where Eddie will never surface again. When he speaks, his voice splinters. 'Hey, kid.'