"we are made of all those who have built and broken us."
— atticus

words were something that came easy to richie tozier. he understood their meanings—their complexities—better than he understood anyone or anything else in his life. yet, words held a lot of power. a simple slip of the tongue had to power to destroy someone and fuck, one day words would be the thing that tore him apart. richie just hoped that they would be able to put him back together just as easily.

and so richie wrote. he wrote thousands of letters penned to no one. penned to people who wouldn't answer. they were barely coherent scribbles, they were complex layouts of emotion. yet nobody knew about them. he never read them. he sealed them away in bare envelopes with nothing but a smudged date in the top right corner. tucked away on the preserved pages was richie's sloppy signature, "always, richie."

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

beverly marsh was one of the few people richie loved, while also being one of the few people that seemed to trip him at every turn. she had called him at home—late—as to avoid the possibility of mr. tozier answering the phone—and requested that he accompany her to the quarry the following afternoon. richie was hesitant, insisting as best he could over the static line that, "—they won't be there right?" followed by beverly's response of, "—unless you want to invite them." richie didn't invite them, but of course, they were there.

richie had taken his bike up to through the winding path, basically breathless upon arrival when he spotted them. my best friend's girl had been humming softly through his walkman when he pulled the headphones down around his neck. the group was gathered around in a circle facing one another, but immediately glanced over at him, different measures of judgment written across their features. it took him all of two seconds to pull his bike off of the ground—unceremoniously yanking his headphones back up to cover his ears—and preparing to mount it again before bev came running up to him, pleading that he stay and promising she would make it up to him later. richie had sighed, because as everyone knew, you couldn't say no to beverly marsh.

the losers' incessant chatter dimmed a bit when bev returned, richie's hand clasped tightly in her own and pulling him forward with renewed vigor. her grin was contagious, showing off her beautifully crooked teeth and the freckles that danced across her cheeks—richie noted that the others seemed to relax in her presence. "hey guys," she came to a stop pulled richie beside her, hand moving up to hold his arm and prevent him from slinking away, "you remember richie."

stan was the first to react, rolling his eyes and huffing, "how could we forget?" richie wanted to shrink away behind beverly—shade himself from the disgust entangled in those words—but instead, glared at the boy and bit the inside of his cheek to steady his rapidly beating heart. beverly mimicked stan's action and rolled her eyes, lips parted in preparation to defend richie when ben spoke first, "hey, rich!" but that was ben hanscom, too good to everyone, even people who didn't deserve his kindness.

he moved forward to clasp richie's free arm and launched into excited chatter. "dude you've got to see how my stomach has been healing, it looks like it's going to scar, isn't that badass—" richie wasn't really listening, just watched ben pull up the front of his shirt to reveal a mediocrely bandaged wound across his skin. a pang of guilt lanced through richie and he had to bite down on the inside of his cheek until he tasted iron to prevent himself from clawing his way out of beverly's grasp.

"thank god you were there, though," richie's head snapped up at the confession, his eyes wide with surprise, "otherwise, i'd have his whole name on me. now, i can just pretend it's a secret admirer." ben's eyes were shining and his face was scrunched up with the smile that pulled up the corner of his too-small eyes. richie knew ben was trying to make him feel at home with them, it wasn't his fault that the others didn't feel the same way.

so richie just laughed and probably said something crude and unabashed as the rest of the losers just stared at him with narrowed eyes.

beverly had been the first to jump down into the murky water below them. boldly stripping down to her underclothes and looking back at all of them with a mischievous smirk spread across her freckled face. "come on, babies." she jumped and the rest followed her like lovesick puppies, all except for richie and bill who sat across from each other but looked anywhere but one another. the squeals and excited cheers echoed around the quarry but bill never moved and instantly, richie was more than a little curious.

"don't like the water, huh?" he questioned softly, as if he was speaking to a startled animal, sparing a quick glance to the boy and then looking back toward the ground. bill didn't seem to register that richie had said something for a few seconds, eyebrows scrunched as if he couldn't quite figure out where the voice had come from. eventually, his wide eyes shot up and his mouth parted in surprise as he tried to formulate a coherent response. richie never really noticed before, but bill was decently attractive. he had hair that appeared dark brown until it hit the light and then shown a soft shade of auburn. his eyes were deep pools of chocolate, accessorized by the sharp contour of his eyebrow. once upon a time in a different world, richie might have blushed under that gaze.

"n-no." was bill's simple reply, not quite as cold and calculating as richie had come to expect out of the losers, but still leaving no room for more conversation. richie just nodded, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning as far back as he could against the tree behind him. he was sweating against the layers covering his skin, but he figured that hiding the gashes and bruises littering his dips and curves would be the better alternative to all of them staring at him as if he was even more of a freak.

bill bit at his bottom lip, fingers fumbling with a few blades of grass before he couldn't contain himself and parted his lips again, "i don't like water." he finished, looking as though he wanted to say more but effectively silencing himself against any further outbursts. richie hummed, eyes glancing across the blue sky with narrowed lids. "yeah," he spoke, words faint and quiet, "yeah, i don't like the water either."

that was the first lie that richie ever told bill denbrough. it wasn't that he didn't like the water, it was thought of exposing his torn and tattered skin to these people—these people who hated him. the only person he ever showed was henry and even then, henry was the reason many of the marks were there. richie loved him anyway. no matter how deep henry's knife dug, richie would take hen's face into his trembling hands, connect their troubled eyes, and whisper broken i love yous until it was all over.

henry never said it back.

but richie understood. if he didn't even love himself, how could someone else find something worthwhile in him?

true love is a myth, he murmured to himself, and with it, the mystery.

unbeknownst to richie, bill was experiencing a turmoil in and of itself—nervously chewing on his lower lip and gripping the blades of grass roughly in his hands. "g-ge-georgie," he began, cursing under his breath at the shakiness of his stutter, eyebrows scrunched together as he looked up at richie, brave and full of courage that the tozier could never hope to have, "ge-georgie d-drowned. it w-was my fa-fault." his voice broke and lost that luster of strength that richie found himself admiring. he had heard about the tragic accident involving georgie denbrough, as had the entire populous of derry. the boy was outside playing during on of derry's infamous flash floods when he was swept away by the current, or so the story goes. they found his body two days later in the barrens, glassy eyes and bloated skin.

the sight of the broken boy tugged at something deep within him, a feeling of understanding washed over him. richie was good at putting his words onto paper, not so much when trying to speak them aloud. it seemed as though the connection that tied his mouth to his brain was severed, so richie sat silently for several minutes before he plucked up the courage to speak. "'s not your fault, what happened," bill's head shot up and he looked like he was going to protest but richie just swallowed his pride and spoke over him, "bad things just happen to good people. whoever is watching over us is a grade-a asshole."

the second the words fell from his lips, richie knew he had crossed a line. he had no right to tell this hurting boy that his grief was invalid and that his brother dying was just him getting a big, fat 'fuck you' from the universe. "i'm sorry, i—" i'm sorry i brought up your dead brother. i'm sorry i'm such a coward. i'm sorry i got stuck loving someone who hurts people like you. but then bill let out a low chuckle, which turned into a soft laugh, which escalated into a side-clutching fit of giggles. richie was stunned. even when he was actually trying to be funny, he rarely got a reaction like that.

so richie just sat there, wringing his hands together in barely noticeable movements as he tried to wrap his head around in what context that was laughable. by the time he had deduced it down to the fact that bill was just insane and gearing up to drag him into the woods to murder him and fingerpaint with his blood, the laughter had ceased.

bill looked at him again, this time with a small smile spread across his lips and a glint in his eye, no longer putting forth the fractured image of a boy who had seen too much. "you're right, richie tozier," he huffed out another laugh, smiling that secret smile that made richie's heart constrict in his chest, like that look was reserved only for him, "the universe can go fuck itself."

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

the others slowly flooded back up toward where bill and richie were sat, now closer to one another and partaking in a very heated conversation about who provided a more insightful look into the passion behind the lyrics in their music, alice cooper or david bowie. richie didn't understand how it was even a choice, obviously, bowie could make a grown man cry, where was the correlation with cooper? the two were still going at it when bev cleared her throat in front of them, hands on her hips and eyebrows raised.

"should we all give you two a moment? you seem to be a—" she didn't even have time to finish her sentence before the two boys were bombarding her with various interpretations of "—don't you think—" "—h-he says t-that—" and "—but it's obvious—" when she looked back to the others for help and they were all just looking on, eyes shifting between the two as if they were watching a tennis match. bev just rolled her eyes with a murmured, "thanks guys."

eventually, the two tired themselves out with arguing, settling on a compromise of, "i guess bowie's got a few good songs," and "maybe alice cooper isn't complete shit." this had the dark skinned boy, who richie had come to find out was named mike, grinning, clapping bill on the back and eyeing between them with a knowing look, "we thought you guys would never stop. not that it was much of an argument anyway, bowie could wipe the floor with cooper any day, sorry bill." bill just narrowed his eyes and playfully pushed mike's hand off of his shoulder, mumbling something about "lack of taste" and "uneducated fools" before he was once again drawn out of his pouting by beverly.

"rich!" she huffed, looking annoyed with herself as her best friend turned to glance at her, watching her dig through the worn bag she carried around everywhere. eddie was sitting next to here, water still dripping from his hair and onto his flushed cheeks, small hands clutching a towel around his slightly trembling body and richie was reminded of why it ached so much to be hated by pretty people. "i got you a tape! i broke into the school's av lab—" that sent stan into a sputtering mess, beverly ignored him, "—and recorded it." the redhead was practically bouncing with excitement as she skipped over to where richie sat, plopping down directly next to him and holding it out with eager hands.

richie felt a small blush spread across his neck, all of the other losers were looking at them, except for eddie and stan who seemed to talking in hushed tones to one another. maybe they were rejoicing in their mutual hatred of him, that made the most sense to richie. hesitantly—and under the watchful eye of beverly, who seemed to not even think about taking the time to blink and possibly miss something—richie took the tape from her and held it softly, as if it was a delicate treasure in his hands.

he flipped it over, eyes falling to the "beep beep" written across the tape in beverly's swirled cursive, a sight that made his heart burn with familiarity and love for the girl enthusiastically gripping his arm. she had decorated the tape to match the outside of the walkman, various shades of brightly colored nail polish streaked across the muted grey plastic. it was so beverly that it made his chest ache.

"it's full of 'get out of your head' songs," she hummed, leaning over and snatching the newly given gift out of his hands, which made him laugh. she flipped it over and ran her finger along the small discography she had written on the back, pointing out certain songs she liked more than others. "that way," bev continued, handing the tape back and leaning her chin on richie's shoulder, "when everything gets to be too loud, you can make it all quiet again." she was smiling her sunshine smile when richie turned to her, making richie's heart flip in his chest. there was nothing he wouldn't do for her—which should have been terrifying—but when beverly marsh looked at him the way she was now, everything was serene.

but, as always, all good things must come to an end.

amidst the presentation of beverly's gift, bill had suggested the whole group ride back to town to catch a movie at the aladdin, a place richie had only been a handful of times with beverly. suffice it to say that when beverly grinned happily, bouncing up and down as she pulled richie close to her side as she dragged them over toward where all of their bikes lay scattered across the uneven ground. "bev," richie licked his lips, eyeing the others in such a way that it could almost be compared to a skittish animal, "i don't think that i—" but she just hushed him, saying he was invited and that bill wouldn't have suggested it if he didn't want richie to come.

richie wasn't so sure about that.

he didn't know these people. more so, he didn't trust these people—excluding beverly—and his point was only proven when eddie kaspbrak pulled up beside him, body tensed and eyebrows knitted in what richie could only assume was anger. the others had already started back down the winding path, leaving just the pair of them to soak in the tension that was spread out before them. richie cleared his throat and moved to swing a leg over his bike when eddie found the words he appeared to be holding down.

"the others may be fooled by you, but i'm not." he began, words venomous and little body trembling with annoyance. richie flinched a little, but kept his eyes downcast as he glanced over at the smaller boy, "what do you—"

"—you know what i mean, tozier. you're not our friend, however hard you try to be. all you are is a bully. a fucking bully who is too much of a coward to stand up to your 'friends.' i've seen how you look at henry. you're just as sick as him."

the words had richie spiraling. his legs felt heavy and his chest constricted painfully. eddie spoke again as he peddled away, but richie's mind was in too much of a disarray to catch the last poisonous words.

one, two, three..

his eyes burned and he barely noticed the tears streaming down his face until he tasted the saltiness on his lips. richie trembled, dropping the bike from his grasp and stumbling toward the relative shadow of a tree. he fell into the soft grass there, arms crossed and fingers digging harshly into the opposing bicep. he couldn't breathe.

four, five, six..

the words lanced through him and left only destruction in their wake. coward— he had spit at him. he knew that. he knew he was a coward. he knew how much of a waste he was to those around him. yet, hearing the words fall from eddie kaspbrak's mouth set him on fire.

and all richie could do was watch himself burn.