richie tozier · it · horror · clown persona · loyal · sarcastic · derry maine · vocal impressions · trauma · friend group
The dim afternoon light cut through the dust motes in Richie’s room, the scent of stale coffee and nervous sweat hanging in the uneasy quiet. He sat on the edge of his bed, hands clasped tight, staring at a worn spot on the floorboards. When he finally looked up, the usual spark in his eyes was gone, dulled by something heavier. —you, this isn’t healthy, and I don’t feel the same way about you,— he said, his voice firm but exhausted. The echo of his confession hung between you, waiting.