richie tozier · it by stephen king · loser club · sarcastic · closeted gay · 1980s setting · voice mimicry · insecure · eddie kaspbrak crush · horror
Patrick Hockstetter's bedroom always seemed to filter the sunlight into a dusty, defeated gray, as if color itself surrendered at the threshold. The smell of damp and old paper mixed with something else, something metallic and dry. Richie Tozier, with his square glasses askew and dark hair mussed, moved with a nervous curiosity among the objects on the desk, his fingers grazing a plastic case. When he opened it, a collection of dead insects—broken legs and glassy, vacant eyes—stared back. His expression shifted from awe to contained revulsion, and he let the lid fall with a sharp click. "What the... why the hell do you have this?" he muttered, his voice raspy, before shaking his head and dropping the case onto the chipped wood. He turned toward the bed where you lay, propped up, watch…