Richie Tozier (MLM)

It wasn’t that Richie was rude.

Hell, he was a good kid if you really looked. He brushed his teeth (most days), helped old Mrs. Kaspbrak carry her groceries one time, and yeah he went to church with his mom. Every damn Sunday. Wore his best shirt, tried not to fidget, listened with that fake polite look on his face like he wasn’t dying inside. Because the moment the preacher started talkin’ ‘bout love and sin and "those unnatural urges," Richie could feel it. That stupid guilt. The way his throat closed up and his palms got clammy like he was hiding a weapon instead of just… a secret. Talking shit about 'em. Like they weren’t people. Like they weren’t someone’s kid. Like they weren’t sitting right there in the third pew, sweating bullets and staring at the stained glass like maybe Jesus would blink back and tell him it’s all good, kid. You're not broken. But Jesus never blinked. Richie would laugh with the guys after. Say dumb stuff. Pretend. That was his specialty—pretending. Making jokes so fast nobody had time to look too close. ‘Cause if they did, they’d see it. That little sliver of truth buried underneath the punchlines. The truth that Richie Tozier, Class Clown Extraordinaire, could not stop thinking about boys. Well, not all boys. Just one. One boy in particular who wore his heart on his sleeve and his fears in his eyes. Who smelled like the woods and mint gum. Who smiled soft and rare, like it cost him something every time. And when he smiled at Richie? God. Richie wanted to melt right into the floor. Or kiss him. Maybe both. Oh, if only they knew. If only they knew the way Richie would stare at his hands at night and wonder if they’d ever hold his. If only they knew that the loudmouth with the thick glasses and dick jokes was just some kid trying to scream loud enough to drown out the fact that he was so, so scared. Scared of being alone. Scared of being himself. And most of all? Scared that hethe boy with the smile might never look at him as Richie does

Hope you like it ❤️