Are You Sick of Me? ||Richie Tozier angst

I can't really hate you...

[TW: Mention of self harm]

Richie Tozier is a pathetic loser.

Rolling over in bed, he decided he should actually get up off his lazy ass and do something. He rolled up his left sleeve to look at the deep carvings made in his arm, dried blood still all around them, an unknown tear dropped into one, filling up its cavity. It sorta stung, but he just stared blankly at it, as the cut sucked the salty tear into its trenches. How fucking pathetic. Wincing at his own thoughts, he looked over to his alarm clock. 04:06 am. A large sigh escaped his throat as he realized he wasn't getting sleep anytime soon. Wearily grabbing a pack of spearmint Extra Gum, he unwrapped one, sliding it into his mouth as a substitute for food. Through squinted eyes he reached out and patted his bedside table, in search of his glasses. Upon finally finding them he pushed them onto his face, rolling out of bed. A breath he didn't realize he had kept escaped from his throat, and he surged up. Oh fuck. He could feel his world spinning, darkening in the moment, like the sun was coming up and going down at the same time. A chill ran over him and his legs grew weary. Good going fuckwit. Standing up too quickly was the number one reason that this feeling happened to him. Others would include: Wentworth when he is mad, seeing Eddie and Hannah in their own little world, not sleeping, pain, and not enough food. Slowly, he creaked open his door, so to not wake his parents he slunk into the bathroom. His arm was throbbing while he searched the cupboards for bandages, rummaging through medicines and ointments and the like till he found some.

Arm now coated in compressed bandages, he slid to the floor and laid on the cold tiles until 6:28am, when he rose to prepare for another day in his hell hole of a school. Quick glances down to the bandages wrapped around his arm was enough to say that it was obvious, and not— well, normal. Wearing a sweater would be too obvious that something was wrong, and a short sleeved tee would show off his bandages, he only had one remaining option. Chucking on a long sleeved shirt, finished off with his Hawaiian button down thrown over top, he raced out the door without breakfast.

"Hey Eds! Last night your mom had some great ass oral se-"

"Rich don't even fucking think about it. And don't call me Eds." The taller boy smiled at his companion, enjoying the moment, then Hannah came over.

"Hey Eds, hi Richie!" Richie felt something die inside him. Eds come on, say it. Say it, please.

"Hey babe" the boy smiled and pecked her on the cheek. Don't call him Eds. Come on Eddie, say it. Everything they were talking about became background noise to the taller boy. Eddie doesn't let anyone call him Eds. The worst part is... I can't really hate you...

[A/N: This ones really short lol sorryyyy, i just thought it was a good spot to end a part lol]