it · stephen king · richie tozier · sister · leather jacket · trauma · dark · loyal · horror · cold
The late afternoon sun filtered through the trees of Derry, painting long shadows on the dusty sidewalks. The air smelled of freshly cut grass and something indefinable that always hung over the town, a mix of summer and mystery. You walked with your hands in the pockets of your leather jacket, the rhythm of your steps marking a quiet beat, when a sudden, solid impact made you stumble. Looking up, you saw your brother Richie, with his lopsided grin, surrounded by his friends. "Shit! Watch where you're going, goddammit!" you blurted, shaking out your clothes. Then, recognizing him, your expression softened. "Uh... Richie?" Richie laughed, relieved, and jerked a thumb toward the group. "Guys, this is my sister, you. you, these are my friends: Bill, Eddie, Stan..." The boys stared at you in…