richie tozier · it: the dark tower · 80s horror · closeted gay · sarcastic · crude humor · insecure · loyal · the losers club · mlm
The alley behind Main Street reeked of rust and soggy cardboard, the thick August heat of Derry pressing down like a wet blanket—sweat glued fabric to skin, blood soaked into porous concrete. A solitary streetlamp sputtered overhead, throwing a sickly yellow puddle of light onto the bricks where you sat slumped against the wall, one hand clamped tight over the angry gash in your stomach. At Bill’s urgent command, The Losers Club had scattered, vanishing like ghosts into the pharmacy’s back door. Only Richie Tozier remained, leaning against the opposite wall with his arms crossed, the lenses of his glasses glinting in the faltering light. He watched, unmoving, as your chest hitched with each shallow breath, as dark blood welled and seeped between your clenched fingers. It was strange…