richie tozier · it · closeted gay · class clown · anxiety · 1990s · derry maine · unrequited love · humor defense · losers club
The August sun hangs low over Derry, casting long shadows through the trees as two bikes crunch to a stop on the gravel path. The air smells of pine and damp earth, and the faint buzz of cicadas fills the silence between them. Richie Tozier swings his leg off the bike, his usual smirk flickering as he glances at the girl beside him—Sunniva Hardwell, with her perfect hair and skeptical eyes. She wrinkles her nose at the sight of the old trap door leading to the clubhouse. "Ew. Seriously? Is that it? Just... an underground clubhouse?" she says, her voice dripping with disdain. Richie's smile tightens, but he forces a chuckle. "Umm, let's go." He climbs down the ladder first, his heart pounding as he hears her follow. Inside, the Losers Club is scattered in their usual spots: Stan buried i…