Finn Wolfhard Imagines

Richie- We'll see

Richie's POV

Y/n passed out today.

I heard it from Stanley who happened to be there at that time. I was in the library, scheming my plans on how to overthrow y/n so I could finally regain my place of being the top student in class.

I know I'm an idiot for the most part, but this time, I really wanted to prove I'm more than just a trashmouth. I'm a trashmouth, alright. But one fucking brilliant trashmouth.

Stanley told me y/n was teased so bad by that mullet-wearing shit-faced asshat, Henry Bowers, at lunch time that she had an asthma attack and couldn't find her inhaler just in time.

The drinks she held in a tray for Bowers and his gang of goonies spilled on her when she fell. Don't get me wrong, I hate y/n most of the time. She was nothing but a show-off and a massive pain in the ass.

Don't forget to mention, she's a spotlight stealer, but knowing how shit Bowers can be as a person, I just couldn't help but feel so sorry for her.

My arms were too frail to carry her so I asked Stan to call the nurse instead. Ms. Jenkins had her assistants carry
y/n to the infirmary. It's not that I worry about her that much. Just wondering. What could've Bowers said to her that made her faint out of nowhere?

I kinda faked a sprain by stealing our make-up monger classmate's kit to make my ankle look swollen and bruised then acted the pain out so I could skip class and ask her myself. You know- I had to know.

I had to know how Bowers shut her down so I could also do it.

You gotta sneak up and observe the enemy to know the tricks up their sleeves.

I saw y/n sleeping on one of the infirmary beds. She looked so troubled even when asleep. I blanked out for five seconds as I was admiring her. She looked less annoying, If I must admit.

"Tozier? What brings you to the clinic?"

"Ms. Jenkins! Shit. Oh God. Sorry. I uhmm- oh yeah. Ohowww! Owwieee ow ow. My ankle got sprained. I don't know who spilled drinks back in the cafeteria but I slipped on it when my friend accidentally bumped me."

"Alright, Richie. Lie down on the bed beside y/n. Let me see your ankle." Luckily, I coincidentally was able to read about how a sprained ankle felt like and how it was examined back in the library when I got bored 20 minutes ago, so it was easier for me to fake one.

I was asked to rest after my feet was slightly elevated and my ankles were treated with ice and a compression socks.

Ms. Jenkins left the room as she had to go to a meeting. She told me to just call her when y/n wakes up or if I need anything.

I looked at y/n and realized how calm her face now looked. Her features were interestingly similar to mine. Come to think of it, she was also as stubborn as I am and was just as much as of a trashmouth. Maybe that's why people hate her a lot too.

"T-tozier? Why are you here?" y/n asked as she regained consciousness.

"I uh, sprained my ankle."

"Oh. Sorry about that."

"At least it's not a concussion or something. Worry about yourself. I mean- What about you? Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Kinda feel better now."

"That's good because you gotta give Bowers a taste of his own medicine soon. He got ya pretty bad, didn't he? What did he say to you this time?"

"Pretty bad stuff. He says my parents got a divorce because they couldn't put up with a burden like me. That I'm just a liability that no one wants. No one likes me here. In fact, he says we both should get together. He says it would be so hilarious that the two most hated people in class fell in love with each other. I got so enraged, I wanted to shove the whole tin tray up his bitchy ass then slice him up in half."

"T-that motherfucker. That's impossible. I can't like you."

"Wow. I know I'm not that interesting. But gee thanks for rubbing it in. Fuck off, asshole."

"S-sorry. That's not what I meant. I mean kinda what I meant. But you're not that bad. Maybe I can kinda like you. Just don't be such a mean bitch. Everytime I tried to talk to you nicely, you'd nag me off like it's really that impossible to get along with me."

"You're not impossible to get along with, Richie. It's just that I'm always impossible to like. I push people away because I have nothing good to offer. I'm not a great friend, not am I a decent company. See, I always find a way to unconsciously ruin the mood. You don't want me around."

"Nah. I think you're alright. If you just talked like this to people often. It's not so hard. You can start with me. I can be your friend. Practice on me."

"This is the sweetest you've been to me. Why can't you be like this often?"

"Because if I was like this often, Henry Bowers would be right."

"What do you mean?"

"The two most hated people in class would actually end up falling in love with each other."

"Sly tongue, trashmouth. But I would never."

"Okay then. We'll see."

-----

On the way home, you couldn't stop sheepishly smiling, thinking about how sweet Richie actually was. He gave you his sweater to change into.

It smelled just like Richie- an annoying but assuring feeling of comfort and a cliché romance brewed up in your bones.