Hey guys! So this is going to be a one shot (i'm pretty sure at least) featuring Richie and his encounter with Pennywise that we never get to see. I'm going to warn you, this one is going to be relatively depressing. There's no happy ending for Richie, and it focuses mostly on his inner torment and struggle to accept himself.

Richie Tozier had been trying his damnedest to like Beverly Marsh

Like was the wrong word. It was too juvenile, too innocent. What he really wanted to do was beat his meat to her. What he wanted was too feel that tingling sensation ripping through his lower intestines like an overheated ice pick, what he really wanted was to feel normal.

He couldn't quite understand it, he was a thirteen-year old boy and she was a thirteen-year old girl, hot as they come, yo-yo tricks and all. It didn't matter that she liked Big Bill, hell, it wouldn't matter to Richie if she liked Haystack Calhoun Hanscom, sour cream for hair Victor Criss, or even the king of infected genital warts Henry Bowers (though he hoped for her sake that she didn't), as long as he could look at her and honestly say 'I'm jealous of the man that managed to get in her pants.' It didn't even need to be Beverly! It could've been Greta Keene or Sally Mueller and that would've singlehandedly reinforced Richie's belief in a bunny-hugging, puppy-loving God who showers the world with oversized lollipops and rainbow unicorns.

That night in bed, he tried was he had tried a million times, he tried to force a sex dream. He took a deep breath, shifting onto his side before conjuring up a perfect picture of Beverly in his head. She smiled at him enticingly, holding out her hand in a beckoning gesture. Richie forced his dream self to smile stupidly, his eyes scanning up and down her perfect body, every curve, every dip, every… Nothing. Richie felt nothing. Discouraged, he let his eyes fall down to Beverly's waist in his vision, catching a glimpse of something… black? Something black and awkward and slightly hideous. He realized with a shocking suddenness that it was a fanny pack, a fanny pack he knew all too well. Richie's eyes widened as he panned his eyes upward to catch a glimpse of Eddie, smiling in the same way, making the same seductive gesture. Richie opened his eyes with a slight gasp, staring at the ceiling in a state shock. If what he thought was happening was happening, it couldn't be.

In a second of inconceivable terror, a thought slipped from the back of his mind, a thought so horrific that he could hardly comprehend it, 'What would the losers club think?'

He dismissed the thoughts with an almost surprising skill. He decided that before he lost his ever loving shit about nothing at all, he would make sure that what he was feeling was not in fact some sort of cosmic coincidence. So for the first time in his life, Trashmouth Richie Tozier found himself with a 50 cent drug store porn magazine for women wedged between his wang and his inner thigh in his baggy gym pants shuffling nervously on the water-worn road back to his house. He rushed up the creaking stairs to his room, careful to keep the magazine out of sight and out of mind of his parents, locked the door, dangled his legs over the bed, and produced a half-used box of tissues out from under his bed.

That's when he heard It.

It was a whisper, that horrible whisper, the one with an almost coarse texture, and it was coming from directly behind him. "Beep beep Richie," he felt a cold gloved hand rest on his shoulder, finger by finger before clamping down. Richie's heart jumped and he gasped for air, unable to do the slightest thing but clench his eyes shut and pray that he was having some sort of scented kleenex induced fever dream.

"Holy shit," was all he managed to choke out as the hand crept up his neck, playing with one of his black curls.

"I see the way you touch Eddie Spaghetti," It laughed, a playful snicker, "I see the way you look at Eddie Spaghetti. I see the way you look at alllllllll the boys always." The laughter swelled, a childish trill that Richie could feel all the way down his spine. "You have a secret don't you Richie."

"No… no," Richie protested weakly.

"Yoooooou have a secret don't you Richie," It sang, "a sunny, stinkly, splendid secret." It placed a hand over Richie's face, its gloved fingers covering one eye. It stuck a finger in Richie's mouth, playing with his lips and poking his tongue.

Richie felt hot slobber dribble down his back.

"If you touch another boy Richie," it hissed, suddenly malicious, "I'll have to tell them your secret. And you know what'll happen then Richie, don't you?" It disappeared. Richie closed his eyes, rubbing them under his thick framed glasses, taking a deep breath.

A giggle sounded throughout the room.

Richie looked up to see Stanley and Ben, both laughing a slightly broken, twisted laugh. They turned to him, suddenly speaking in perfect unison, "at least the rest of us don't have to be the targets anymore. We're noooo match for you. We'll use you as bait for the Bower's gang." They advanced on him, their steps falling in sort of a broken, unsettling cadence. Ben grabbed his head, holding it in place and hissing in his face, fogging up his glasses before throwing his head to the side. It crashed into Stanley's chest and Stanley hit the side of his face, sending it spiraling back into Ben's chest. This went on for a while, a sick game of catch, until Richie curled up, covering his face with his hands.

'Don't cry, don't cry, for the love of god don't cry.' He thought, desperately trying to hold back his tears.

Suddenly, it stopped. Richie took a deep breath, shaking as he looked up, coming face to face with Bill, who was looking over him with a sneer. "h….h….homo" he stuttered. "I always knew that you were just a good for n…nothing h…h…homo. You should've d…d…died instead of Georgie." Bill slammed the wood of Richie's bedframe, "maybe it's not too late for y…y…you to die instead of G…g...georgie. Maybe It will take you and give my little b…b…brother back. Wouldn't that be a fair t….t…trade?" He started to claw his hand, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he screamed, "WOULDN'T IT?!"

Beverly stepped in front of Bill, "let's not make any rash decisions babe." Richie sighed in relief, Beverly, Beverly had come to save him. "Not before I try to turn him strait." Richie tensed as Beverly straddled him, pressing her chest into his neck. "Don't you want me Rich, don't you want me to be the one to turn you straight?" Richie was getting more and more panicked. He should want this, he had to want this, but he just didn't, he couldn't. He winced, jerking his head to the side. Her grip tightened on Richie's cheek, long, yellow nails extending from her finger beds and digging into Richie's skin, "don't you?" she said, her voice suddenly deep and gravelly, "DON'T YOU?" Richie was frozen, unable to react or even emote. "Disgusting," she hissed before opening her mouth and letting fall between her teeth, dribbling down Richie's shirt and onto his pants. Richie let out a strained scream, frantically scrambled to the other side of his bed, pressing his back against the headboard.

And then there was silence.

Richie sat there, breathing heavily, trying desperately to calm himself down before finally realizing that Eddie was standing at the end of his bed, completely silent. "Eds…" Richie croaked. Seeing Eddie had broken him, and he was crying silently now, tears streaming down his face.

Eddie crawled across the bed, straddling Richie, "am I the one you want Richie?" Richie was frozen in fear, even more fear than when Beverly has been straddling him, because he did want Eddie. He wanted Eddie so bad. Slowly, almost reflexively, Richie nodded. Eddie placed his hand under Richie's chin, slowly tilting his head upwards. Eddie closed his eyes, leaning in, their lips getting closer and closer until they were moments from kissing. Right before their lips touched, Eddie started to laugh, pulling away from Richie, "you know I'll never love you Richie." He shook his head, "your kind, they carry too many germs, my mother always told me." He hissed, "you know you can never have me. You are just…"

"Don't say it Eddie." Richie hung his head.

Eddie started advancing towards him, "absolutely …"

"Please."

"…unbelievably…"

"Eddie…"

"…truly…"

"I'm begging you," Richie said in a tone so quiet it was barely a whisper.

"Disgusting." Richie looked up at Eddie, who was towering over him. Eddie spoke again, the sound low and low, almost like a broken record, "diiiiiiiiisguuuuuusting." As he spoke, he stretched, until his head hit the ceiling. He laughed, a childish, broken laugh, and for a second in his place stood It, yellow teeth fully extended, lazy eye lolling to the side, before he disappeared, leaving behind only a hint of a giggle.

Richie wiped a tear away. It had made what Richie needed to do very clear. This secret was Richie's and Richie's alone, never to be discovered.