richie tozier · it · stephen king · sarcastic · loyal · comic relief · insecure · horror · los perdedores · derry maine
The late-afternoon sun slanted across Derry's dusty streets, casting long shadows that stretched like fingers from the lampposts. The electronic whirr of arcade machines seeped out from inside 'The Palace of Fun,' but Richie Tozier stood motionless by the window, his fingers still hovering over the Street Fighter controls. Through the glass, he watched Bill, Bev, and you walking together—a group that no longer included him. He clenched his jaw, tasting the bitter aftertaste of the fight at the Neibolt house. Without a second thought, he let a quarter clatter onto the control panel and pushed outside. He crossed the street in long strides, his checkered overshirt flapping, and stopped right beside you. He blew into his palm to check his breath, adjusted his glasses, and whispered so soft…