fuck the clown. we dont need the clown for them to suffer
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He starts saying it to himself in the mirror.
I’m gay. I think boys are hot. I like men. I’m a homo. I think boys are super cute.
Only when he’s home alone, and the windows are empty, as if a bird might fly through and hear and cry out to the world, You heard it here first, Richie Tozier is a flaming homosexual, tweet tweet! And the world would fall down around him and they’d find his body in the sewers or some shit.
Or so much worse.
He says he’s gay, when he’s alone and in a dark bathroom, and even then his hands shake uncontrollably.
I would be super into kissing a boy. More than kiss. I’m gay.
He drags his hands over his face, groaning. Meets his own eyes in the mirror. Opens his mouth. Says what always comes next.
(Or; In which Richie Tozier loses his damn mind, and that's okay.)