derry, maine | it imagines ✔️

2. broken glasses - richie tozier

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No: [✔️]

Song?: No

"I'll meet you guys at the barrens," [Y/N] called to her friends, who are also known as "the Losers Club". The group included: herself, the only girl; Bill Denbrough, the leader with a stutter; Eddie Kaspbrak, a short germaphobe; Stan Uris, a Jewish boy who was the most logical of them all; and Richie Tozier, Derry's trash-mouthed boy with big glasses who liked to think he's a smooth-talking Romeo.

The boys nodded and waved at [Y/N], who walked over to her locker. Spinning her code into the lock, she popped the door open with ease and placed a few books inside. She straightened her shorts, plain jean ones that she paired with a red flannel shirt and black tank top, and slipped on her backpack, which she had placed on the floor.

Spring had just arrived, and [Y/N] relished in the warm breeze as she exited the school. She looked forward to hanging at the barrens every Friday with the boys, then relaxing on the weekend. [Y/N] watched as the new kid at school, Ben Hanscom, struggled with his bike on one of the racks. When he glanced over, she gave him a smile, to which he returned, before she continued over to her own bicycle. She undid the chain, and pulled it out of the rack.

"What are you up too, sweet cheeks?" asked an all-too-familiar voice. [Y/N] turned around to face Henry Bowers and his goons, who all had smirks engraved on their faces. Complete with a mullet and a sour attitude, Henry was not one [Y/N] liked to be around. She rolled her eyes, and pushed her bike away from them. "Where do you think you're going?" he growled, grabbing her upper arm.

[Y/N] pulled against his grip, as his fingernails carved red scratches into her skin. "Let me go!" she cried, tugging harder. Henry smirked and yanked her closer to him. With as much force as she could, [Y/N] kicked her foot up into his groin, making him let go of her arm and double over in pain. She threw her leg over her bike and pedaled off towards the barrens, arm burning in from her scratches.

When she reached the barrens in record time, she was tired and sweaty. "What took you so long?" asked Eddie, as he looked up at her. He sat on the bank with a towel laid out on the dirt. The other three hadn't seen her arrive and all greeted her with smiles.

[Y/N] rolled her eyes at the boy. "Nothing," she muttered, letting her bike fall to the ground. She pulled off her flannel, tying it around her waist and leaving her in her tank top. She noticed Richie staring at her with wide eyes. "Shut up," she sneered at him.

"I didn't say anything," he defended, lifting his hands up. The other boys rolled their eyes at their friend, who knew he had a reputation for always talking.

Putting her hands on her hips, [Y/N] raised an eyebrow. "Don't care. Shut up," she spoke, before placing herself on the ground next to Stan, who was tossing rocks into the water.

The day went on like a usual Friday, the five friends goofing off and talking. The sun began to set, and they decided to get home. Standing up and walking over to her bike, [Y/N] gave a wave to Stan and Bill, who were the first to leave. She laughed at Eddie who was currently slathering his hands in sanitizer. She picked up her bike, but Richie stopped her. "What happened to your arm?" he whispered, cautious of Eddie, so he wouldn't freak out about infections or germs. [Y/N] shook her head. "No," Richie told her, voice serious, "What happened?"

"Bowers got me earlier today as I was leaving school," [Y/N] explained. "He grabbed my arm and scratched me pretty good. I kicked him and got away, but it hurts like hell." She tried to laugh at it, but Richie didn't seem to find it funny. He lifted her arm and inspected it. "I'm fine Richie," she insisted, "and since when did you give a shit about me unless I'm half-naked or taking off my shirt." She pulled away from him and went off on her bike, leaving Richie alone with a very clean Eddie.

The next day, [Y/N] biked over to the drugstore, where she knew she would find her friends with Eddie to get his prescriptions. When she didn't see them inside, she walked around back, where she froze with shock.

Bill and Stan were huddled around Eddie, who was bandaging up a bruised and bloody Richie, who had broken glasses. His eye was black and his lip was split. There was a large gash on his arm that was drenching the gauze that Eddie wrapped around it red. Richie gave her a smile that looked incredibly pained. "What the hell happened!" cried [Y/N]. "Why is he bleeding!"

"Be-be-because he's an i-idiot," Bill replied, shaking his head.

[Y/N] rolled her eyes. "I didn't know idiocy caused people to just spontaneously bleed in various places," she scoffed.

Stan glanced over at her. "I think it must be a new phenomenon," he joked sadistically.

"Can you all just be quiet and let me focus!" exclaimed Eddie as he tried to clean up Richie's busted lip. "You really are an idiot."

[Y/N] turned to her Jewish and stuttering friends. "What actually happened? What did he do this time?" She knew her friend has a record for causing trouble, but she never saw him beat up so bad.

"He got into it with Bowers earlier today," Stan told her. "He got a good punch in before Bowers roughed him up."

Before [Y/N] could ask any questions, Eddie stood up. "That's all I can do." He turned to Richie. "Next time don't be such an idiot."

Richie rolled his eyes. "Can I talk to [Y/N]?" The boys nodded, but stood their ground. "Alone?" he spat. His words sounded a bit lisped, but not as bad as it could've been. The three boys walked off while [Y/N] sat down next to him on a wooden box.

"What were you thinking, Richie?" she grabbed his shoulder. "He could've seriously hurt you, worse than he did." Concern leaked in her voice. Sure, he got on her nerves, but she didn't want to see him hurt.

"I did it for you," he said, and [Y/N]'s eyes went wide. "I couldn't let that fucking dick get away with hurting you like that," he cussed, fists clenching. He sighed. "You know, it's because we care about you. I care about you, for fuck's sake [Y/N}!" he shouted, standing up.

[Y/N] put her hand on his shoulder. "You care about me?" she asked, her tone soft and quiet.

Richie nodded, eye lowered to the ground as his broken glasses slightly slipped off his face. "I care about you, a lot."

[Y/N] pulled the boy into a tight hug, making sure not to squeeze his arm. When she pulled away, she shoved him lightly. "I care about you too, loser." He smiled and dragged her into another hug. "But, next time, don't get yourself beat up, you idiot. You're a lot cuter when you're not bloody and bruised," she said to him.

Still in the hug, Richie smirked so she couldn't see it. "You think I'm cute?"

[Y/N] rolled her eyes and laughed. "Maybe, Tozier. Just maybe."