Are You Sick of Me? ||Richie Tozier angst

So How Should I Begin This...

[TW: Mention of SH, panic attacks]

Richie Tozier was A FREAK .

The raven-haired boy had been told this the entirety of his life. I make it sound like he's really old, while in reality, he's merely 15. His alarm sounded through his room, and a lazy arm slapped it down with a groan. Peeling himself out of bed, as if he was one of those annoying stickers that come on items from the store, he slunk to his wardrobe. Grabbing his usual shorts and Hawaiian shirt, thrown over a normal tee, before dashing out the door to meet the other losers. Upon arrival, Eds looked up to him,

"Do you wanna stay at mine this weekend, the others are. Moms out of town!"

A smile spread across his face, as he took the perfect opportunity into his hands.

"I can't, I'm going with her. We're on our honeymoon" he made a clapping sound against his leg, biting his lip.

"Oh my god, thats fucking disgusting, you asshat."

"That's not what your Mom said last night Eduardo!"

"Shut up Richie,'' the smaller boy jokes with a smile. He loved this boy. Eddie always made him feel safe. He was his home, his support... The love of his life.

Mounting their bikes, the Losers all rode off to school. Once the group of unlikely friends made their appearance in the halls, everyone cleared a path, avoiding them as if they had an infectious disease. Well, some thought that Richie did have a disease. They thought he was a fag. It wasn't entirely wrong, but that isn't quite the word I would've used. Lockers flung open and the dorky boys (and Beverly) got their books for the first period. Eddie sighed heavily.

"Dude, are you ok? You sound like your Mom last ni-"

"Don't even finish that sentence, dickwad. I just haaaate history!" Eddie interrupted, dragging out the 'a' in hate.

"Oh shit, last history class I told Ms Garcia to go suck off Mr B-"

"I remember," Eddie smirked, "It was kinda funny tho..."

Rich's face lit up, I love this boy. He dreamily looked off into the distance, as Eddie jogged to history. Before long he snapped out of it. No, no I don't. He's a boy, Rich. That's— wrong. Shaking himself to awareness again, he started walking forward aimlessly. After about 15 minutes he wound up in the right class, more than a little late.

"Mr Tozier, great to see you" Ms Garcia started, eyes poking holes through him like needles. She looked him up and down, "Go sit down, front row please."

The boy obediently sat, dropping his head out of embarrassment as he heard a few voices behind him.

"Did you at least finish your presentation, the one on historical heroes?" Ms Garcia inquired.

Surprisingly, he did. That was the problem. He actually loved researching those sorts of things, he just hates presenting.

"Y-Yeah, I have it" he said with a massive voice crack on the word 'have'. Unzipping his bag, he dragged out his timeline graphs, and his chromebook, somehow managing to drop them both, papers scattering the floor.

"Can you cast it on the screen please, Richie?" the teacher queried, and the raven haired boy nodded, turning a fluorescent shade of pink. He scrambled up the papers he dropped, and cast his chromebook to the screen, before making his way to the front. Timelines were stuck onto the board with blu tack and he clicked the button to start. Richie turned to the class, and he could feel his leg start to tremble. 

"I did my presentation on George Washington, and how he became the first president of the United States" his voice was shaky, and he looked nervously over to the teacher, who nodded him on. The boys hands began to shake at his sides,

"To give a brief background," he started, "Way back in 1492, before Washington had even been considered to be born, America was founded by the great explorer Christopher Columbus. Later on, the area became more popular." his heart was beating out of his chest, and he could feel his eyes growing wet. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "Then in–"

Shit. He had forgotten the year.

"—sometime around 1750, the 7 year war started. This war was about the French buh- b- building towers on the land they shared with England. Washington's first time in the spotlight." his voice was quickening, and quietening, as his heart raced. His leg still bounced, as his hand tapped against it, so fast it looked stagnant. Tugging his collar, he looked down, before dropping his pen and running out of the room. He bit into his wrist, hard, to prevent him from letting out his sobs. It kinda stung, but he didn't really care. Flinging open the bathroom door, he threw himself into a cubicle.

Fuck. Now what... 

Chills ran up his spine, it ran right down through to his hands, like a million bugs had engulfed him. Throwing himself onto the floor, he brought his knees in close to his chest. Breath quickening, he could feel his heart in his throat, pounding to be released from its own imprisonment. He felt the blade sitting in his back pocket... Should I..? No. No, no, no, no! 

He screamed out a sob, tears spurting down his face like a leaky faucet. His whole body was frozen in fear of--- nothing really, yet he trembled, sweat falling from his face, mingling with his tears as they wet his shirt. Head spinning, he became incredibly light-headed from breathing so hard, his vision turning to a vignette getting smaller and smaller, like the end of a movie. Eventually passing out on the cold, hard tiled floor.

[A/N] Guys I haven't posted in ages, and I like, deleted all of my cringe ass stories LOL. So I'm trying to rebuild this account. I know it's short sorry 😭. I really want feedback, and if there is anything you want me to include in the story, like ships, or any scenarios, I can probably try to make them work. I know its also not very angsty, but i dont like going STRAIGHT for the angst y'know

Hope you enjoy it so far!!