imagine this: trashmouth tozier could be shut up by someone playing with his hair gently and he would talk but in a softer voice and he’d get this sedated smile on his face
like he would place his head on mike’s lap who would silently thread a hand into the wild mess, twirling curls around a pointer finger. the rest of the losers would be bewildered at a sober, quiet richie with half closed eyes and a content smile twitching at the corners of his lips.
so, everyone started doing it.
beverly would attempt to braid the curls whenever they would get high and poor rich would be absently there, the weed making him calmer and the playing of his hair releasing all tension in his body. he would talk in a soft voice, softer than bev would ever imagine was possible, and answer her questions without abrasions of offensive jokes.
ben would use it whenever richie would talk too much and a little too much. (just enough for ben to know something was wrong) “c’mere,” ben would whisper and he’d pull richie close to him before beginning to untangle all the curls with his fingers. richie would continue to fidget until his body slowly relaxed and he would curl up to ben’s side and just cuddle the boy until he was calmer and then, he would ask richie what was wrong.
it took bill awhile to finally do it but he used it when richie caught him in a middle of a breakdown. richie had stormed into bill’s bedroom and caught him holding georgie’s yellow jacket, sobbing violently into it. the boy wrapped his arms around his best friend and started rambling: “i’m sorry big bill i’m sorry georgie got hurt and i’m sorry we couldn’t help him, i’m so-” and bill would look up to see richie tearing up as well and he’d stare at the other boy, unable to say anything so he’d pull richie closer and richie would rub bill’s back and bill would run his hands through richie’s hair. now whenever they notice the other person upset, they’ll do what they know to calm them down.
although, constantly to popular belief, stan was a very affectionate man in private. if he knew the person was clean (and he often got richie to shower at his house how could the boy live in such filth), he’d be wrapped around them like a vine. he’d put on movies and pull richie up into his chest and they’d silently watch the movie, richie’s ear resting against his chest and stan’s hands in his hair. it was the softer part of their relationship, the rarity of silence and contentment. no jokes, no threats, nothing. just the love between them.
and eddie would use it to his advantage, the sly brat. whenever richie would talk or make a mum joke, he’d reach up and tug on the boy’s hair and hiss “beep beep, rich.” if he pulled a little too hard, richie would flush a deep red but the memo was caught. to be honest, eddie loved a silent richie in the middle of the night, especially if he snuck through eddie’s window and eddie knew his mother was still awake. they’d lay in the dead of the night, eddie murmuring softly into the cloth of richie’s t-shirt and richie humming softly as he turn his head into eddie’s hand
they love their trashmouth but sometimes, seeing him quiet and content (and not feeling like he’s talking to just fill silence) is blissful.
