fire. richie tozier angst. (DISCONTINUED)

I

richie didn't remember falling asleep, but apparently he did. he jolted awake when he head his teacher, mrs akers, scream, "tozier!" and throw a chalkboard eraser at his head.

he rolled his eyes and looked at the board, zoning out. eddie glanced back at him from a few seats ahead, smirking, but he couldn't be bothered. he was too busy thinking about more important things, like what he was going to have for dinner. if he was gonna have dinner, that is.

"tozier, what'd i just say?"

shit.

"umm, 69. that's the answer." multiple kids chuckled, eddie slapped a hand to his mouth to prevent himself from laughing. mrs akers turned red, and grabbed him by his ear. "ow! hey—" she threw him in front of the chalkboard and he read it halfway. 

"a book can be one's guide to success," richie groaned. stupid ass quote, honestly. he looked up at her, and she slapped his wrist.

"sit down, boy. go." she shooed him off and continued teaching. richie blew eddie a dramatic kiss as he walked by, earning a glare masking a smile from the other.

it took forever, but the lunch bell finally rang. richie put his textbook in his bag and slung it over his shoulder, not bothering to zip it up. eddie walked over to him, looking cute but nerdy with both straps tucked neatly on his shoulders, his hands lightly gripping them. richie snorted and pet eddie's hair, ruffling it up.

eddie "tsk"d and fixed his hair. "come on, trashmouth. let's go get lunch."

"yessir!" richie replied, marching out of the classroom, ignoring the scoff from mrs akers as he passed her. the moment he was in the hallway and out of sight from teachers, he hoisted up eddie into his arms and sprinted off towards the lunchroom, ignoring the string of curses eddie was sending his way.

when they made it to the lunchroom richie dropped eddie, earning a punch to the gut and another string of curses and swearing. (basically eddie radiating bottom vibes) he chuckled at eddie and sat on the bench, next to mike, leaning his head on his shoulder. mike glanced at him worriedly.

"you feeling okay, richie?" mike asked, worry evident in his tone. richie nodded into mike's shoulder and looked up at him. he offered a sly smile.

"just tired. it's only lunch and i'm ready to pass out."

"yeah, i hear ya. no offense to you or the rest of the losers, but i'd definitely prefer being homeschooled." richie laughed half-heartedly and mike continued to chat with the rest of the losers.

richie closed his eyes and listened to the conversation, not really knowing what they were saying. mike wrapped an arm around richie's shoulders (no homo) and continued listening and laughing with the losers.

like before, richie didn't remember falling asleep, but he did. mike shook him awake as the lunch bell rang, and richie groaned, grabbing his bag and heading towards his sixth period, science, which he happened to be in with stan.

today, though, wouldn't be as boring as the rest of the days. today they had a lab.

he entered the classroom and sat next to stan, smiling halfway. he was still tired and wasn't really in the mood to pretend to be happy today. stan glanced at him worriedly.

"you okay rich?"

richie's smile widened and he leaned closer to stan. "you worried about me, stanlerd?" stan rolled his eyes and backed away from richie, waiting for the teacher to enter the class. 

"don't call me that," replied stan, who no longer seemed very worried. richie smiled to himself. keep annoying them and they won't care how depressed you are.

"alright, idiots, listen up and listen well."

richie raised his hand. his teacher, coach hondra, sighed. "what, tozier?"

"so i we listening up or well?"

coach hondra bit his lip to refrain from cussing his student out. "today we're doing a lab, and you need to follow these instructions..."

richie zoned out during the instructions, like usual. he snapped back into reality when coach h called his name. "tozier, uris, you two are gonna be partners."

richie grinned at stan, who sighed and rolled his eyes. stan stood up and got their supplies, giving richie all the non-dangerous items. richie noticed coach h grab a lighter. now he was interested.

"your goal is to put out the fire using your supplies, but you can not touch the supplies during your test, and you may not personally put out the fire, like blowing on it or putting the flames out with your fingers." coach h looked at richie directly when saying the last part. "i will now come around and light your candles."

richie saw stan set up a candle on the table, and his grin widened. stan glared at him, as if to tell him anything that had to do with fire was gonna be dealt with by stan. coach h came over and lit the candle and gave richie the same look stan gave him. richie rolled his eyes and blew out the flame the moment coach h turned away.

"richard. do the damn lab correctly or get out." richie rolled his eyes as coach h lit the candle again and glared at richie as he walked away. richie scoffed dramatically.

"okay, so—" stan started.

"yeah yeah i get it you do the lab and tell me what to write down and i will. i know the drill jew boy," richie grinned and stan rolled his eyes.

richie couldn't help but look at the flame, small as it was. the way it sparked at the slightest hint of contact, the way the flames twisted and turned as stan breathed over them. richie found it interesting. he almost touched it, but remembered that would put it out and then he and stan would both get in trouble. he didn't give two fucks if he was in trouble but stan would be mad, and richie didn't really want to make stan actually angry. he usually stopped at the slight irritation.

richie got slightly closer to the flame to examine it more, ignoring as stanley tried to shove him away. the flame seemed to dance in the classroom, and richie zoned out, imagining the classroom on fire. the flames dancing and hopping around the room, engulfing the kids and supplies occupying it. richie enjoyed watching the fire gradually come closer to him.

he looked at the fire, right in front of his face. he could reach out, touch it if he wanted. he reached out—

someone snapped in front of his face.