Chapter Text
It's 6:34 in the morning, there's a blaring alarm spitting incoherent Japanese lyrics into his ears as sunlight peaks through his blinds. He's just laying there. Too tired to move even though the day's only just begun. He knows why, his friends know why, his Asuka body pillow knows, his Miku figures know, and he's pretty sure Grace's (probably) non-existent god knows too.
He was up all night studying for the absolute dumpster fire that would be today's school day.
It was a Monday. But not just any Monday! The type of Monday that apparently wants to fuck Richie in the bones. Today would bring non-stop quizzes in all of Richie's subjects because for some reason, all the teachers thought it would be fun to toss quizzes at them, all on the same exact day. Don't they talk to each other? Can't they coordinate? Richie didn't know. He didn't care. Well... maybe he did care.. This was his sleep time that was being interrupted. Even though he uses that alleged sleep time to read manga in his bed until one in the morning...
Like clockwork, Paul came through his door. Knocking on it with a cup of coffee in his hand.
"Richie, get up. You're gonna miss the bus again." He checked his watch before taking a sip from his mug and walking our.
"Yeah, yeah... I only missed the bus one time!"
Richie yelled as he listened to the sound of Paul's footsteps clicking down the stairs.
"A one time I don't want happening again!" Paul yelled back from the kitchen. Richie grunted as he walked out of bed... shuffling to the bathroom to take a quick shower, grumbling at his acne that he really didn't care about as he brushed his teeth.
That day he went with his usually unnecessary layers. An anime tee with Asuka's face on it layered with one of his old Hawaiian shirts, and the vest he has yet to wash. All paired with cargo shorts and trainers.
He checked the time on his phone, wincing as it read 7:27. The bus might arrive any minute...
Richie sprints down the stairs, almost falling on his laces. Waving paul goodbye— but not before stealing a sandwich from the table and running out. Waiting as on the sidewalk as the time ticked.
7:28...
7:29...
7:30...
7:31...
Another few minutes passed until the bus arrived. He hopped on, the bus driver sighing as the bus full of kids seemed to weigh down on him.
The bus was like it always was. The loud, messy, disgusting cacophony of students that Richie could really care less about right now. As his back hit the cracked leather, he could feel last night's dreadful grasps creeping up on him. His body was ache-y, his mind was clouded, and he swore he was beginning to see things because he could swear he saw Ruth outside of the bus window being chased by dogs on the sidewalk... Was it Ruth? It was too loud for Richie to see. Does anybody else feel that? When it's too loud to see? Richie could do without the noise.
Richie picked at the frayed ends of his old cargo shorts as he rummaged through his bag to find his headphones. Richie found that listening to music helped him "skip" wait-times he hated. Like sleeping in your Minecraft bed to skip the night...
He nestled his butt more comfortably against thr seat as he popped his headset on and slouched back. Feeling a bit drowzy now... a small nap wouldn't hurt.
Richie opens his eyes with a tired huff. Awoken by the sounds of students feet stomping againts and outside of the bus. The ride to school was alright like it always was... It was inside the school that was the problem.
Grace was in the main hallway, handing out tardy slips like it was Sunday communion. Friends were no exception... "There are rules, Richie! No exceptions!" as she'd put it. Right... they were sort-of friends now. It had been two weeks since the Waylon Place incident, yet they refuse to talk about it... Though that doesn't mean it's effects haven't lingered.
Like Steph and Pete, Richie thinks. They're dating now... isn't that wild? The Stephanie-Daughter-of-The-Mayor-Lauter. Dating Micro-Peter...
Or maybe how chummy Grace and Ruth are. Like... to a weirdly comfortable degree. Even weirder, Max hasn't done anything yet. No pranks, or purple nurples... no wedgies, or flickit-tickets... Not since the incident at Waylon Place. Richie was still on edge either way.
Richie could still remember how genuinely excited Max was when he realized that their carefully planned prank was just for him. And how scared he looked while Richie was holding onto him while he dangled off of the edge of the precipice of death; How scared he looked when the Waylon Place wanted to swallow him whole.
He couldn't daudle on that thought for too long though. And... well... he wasn't sure he even wanted too. Either way, he was late, and he had a test to answer. Multiple tests to be precise...
AP bio was his first test. It was one of the few subjects Paul made him take so he could get into a good college. Unfortunately, Richie hated it. Hated it especially so after last night when he had to mull over borrowed noted and PowerPoints looking at cells he couldn't wrap his head around.
The next was AP literature. If Richie had a healthbar, it'd have like... a quarter of its health missing cause of AP bio alone. This one wasn't as bad though considering Richie actually liked resding literature. That is... if you count manga as literature.
Then Richie had all of recess to mull over the next subjects with Ruth and Pete. Although, Richie couldn't focus what with how strangely close Grace sat by Ruth.
"It was horrible, Gracey, horrible...!" Ruth whined as she shook Grace while she whined about something related to dogs. Gracey was a new nickname...
Then afterwards was Gym. He didn't know how Gym if all subjects coukd have a test, but this was the one time he couldn't use asthma as an excuse to sit out...
By now Richie was already keeling over. Trying not to fall asleep with his pencil on his paper... This final subject was like a nail in his coffin. He couldn't even remember what subject this test was for... But now it was lunch. And his next class afterwards would be a vacant period.
As the bell chimed like angels from Heaven singing, Richie all but bolted out of his chair to pass his paper. Even almost tripping on his laces as he walked out.
Whether he passes or not, Richie really didn't care right now. All that mattered was he did it!! He survived!!!
And he was really fucking tired. Tired enough to want somebody to lean on. Yeah... he could do with that... He could use a pal to hug. And as he shambled towards his locker to grab his... Ah, that's right. He didn't get to pack his lunch that morning... With a huff, he shut his locker and leaned his forehead against it.
He was exhausted, his wrists were aching from writing, his vision was blurry, and his head hurt. He needed to lay down or at least lean on something soft.
Then there it was.
Like a gift from god or something, when Richie turned his head he could see the familiar silhouette of none other than best friend Peter Spankofski..
Peter wouldn't mind if Richie leaned him, right? A hug would be fine... Richie thought. They've done worse together with Ruth.
Richie walked towards Peter. Opening his arms out wide, and sinking his face deep into Peter's back. Letting out a long exhausted groan. Although something was different about Peter compared to before. His perfume was different... Peter didn't even wear perfume. Why wasn't he saying anything? Where were his suspenders? Is this even Pe-
"The fuck?"
oh.
shit...