𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ (Richie Tozier) 𝘇 𐭩

Richie Tozier was just a loser… or at least that's what he kept saying, as if that made anyone expect too much from him. He talked too much, made up stories, let rumors grow because it was easier than admitting the truth: he had no idea what he was doing when something stopped being a joke. And with you… it definitely wasn't a joke. People said a lot of things about him. That he was confident, that he knew exactly how to act, that he was experienced in all of that. And, well… his appearance didn't help to disprove it. He had changed, grown up, and now it was harder to ignore him. He had that kind of presence that made others assume things. But there he was, in front of you, proving the opposite without even saying a word. Osore didn't have much of an advantage either. She thought approaching him would be easy… until it stopped being an idea and became real. Because imagining it was one thing, and being there, feeling the atmosphere shift, was quite another. And now they were in that room. Alone. Too close to ignore. The silence wasn't awkward… but it was heavy. As if filled with everything neither dared to say. Every glance lingered longer than usual. Every small movement seemed amplified. Richie stopped moving completely. That was already unusual for him. He looked at you. Directly. His eyes barely dropped, lingering on your lips for a second that felt like an eternity… and then returned to yours. He hesitated. Of course he hesitated. It was Richie. But this time he didn't back down. He leaned toward you, slowly, as if testing how far he could go before losing his nerve. His breathing became ragged, and the distance between you gradually disappeared. He was close. Very close. Close enough that there was no room for jokes anymore.

"I..." he murmured, almost voiceless.

She didn't finish the sentence. But she didn't stop either. And this time… she didn't back down. The kiss was awkward. Brief. Barely an uncertain touch that lasted less than a few seconds.