Losers Club fanfics

RichiexBill

"We are all a little weird, and life's a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love."
-Dr. Seuss

     I watched as the stuttering boy stood up from the lunch table and stalked to the bathroom. They were probably making fun of his stutter again. I hated them for it, hell, I even hated Bill for it. He dropped me as his friend, just to hang out with people that called themselves losers.
     "Who even does that?" I breathed silently to myself.
     But, Bill seemed to have forgotten me, leaving the trashmouth in the trashcan.
     After contemplating for another moment, I stood up and made my way to the bathroom.
"Big Bill?" I called out. "Are you ok?"
"G-g-go away r-Richie!" He stuttered angrily from a locked stall.
I felt my heart drop; I knew he was crying. "Were they being mean to you again?"
"N- they are-aren't mean t-to me! Why can't you just l-lea-leave me alone?"
"Because were friends! Or we were at least before you dumped me for those losers!"
"D-don't call them that!"
"Well they are!"
"N-No they a-aren't! C-can't you j-just b-be nice Richie?" His voice wobbled, and I knew he was really upset.
"Why did you leave me Bill?" I suddenly cried. "Why?"
He scoffed. "D-don't make it seem l-like I was in l-love with you. N-Not everybody l-loves a t-trashmouth."
My heart plummeted, but I put a scowl on my face. "Bill," I tried, making my voice as soft and gentle as possible. "I don't know what I did... but I-I miss you... and I just want you to know you meant the world to me..."
He laughed. "Richie you're s-so gay, why n-not admit it already?"
Admit it? Admit it? I would be relentless bullied if I were to ever admit something like that.
"Where the fuck are you getting you information, because I was just doing your mom last night-"
"Shu-Shut the fffuck up ab-about my mom, y-y-you a-asshole!"
I had hit a nerve, and I looked down at the floor. "Sorry Bill," I breathed.
"Richie, j-just go. P-please."
I nodded my head even though he couldn't see me. I walked out of the bathroom, out of the school, and all the way to my house. I fumbled around for my keys, and managed to open the door through the tears I didn't even realize I was crying.
I stumbled up the squeaky stairs to my room, and began sobbing. Thankfully, my parents weren't home, so I was able to go into my dads bathroom and pull out a pack of razor blades.
I went to my room now, rolling up the sleeves of my flannel, showing off my already scared arms. It had been a while since I cut, I was trying to quit; that resolve was out the window now.
I didn't want to end it, not right now at least, but I did want to make a mark. Sitting on my bed, I placed the razor at the soft skin on my wrist and pressed down. I gasped, squeezing my eyes closed at the pain.
     Shaking and sobbing harder, I did it again. And again. And again. Finally, I opened my eyes. Blood was everywhere, and oozing from my wrists at an alarming rate.
     I stood up, my legs shaking. I barely took two steps before I fell to the ground with a heavy thud. I slid myself up against the wall, gasping for breath.
     I felt lightheaded. I didn't know if my parents were coming home tonight, or even tomorrow.
     What if I die?
     I shook the thought from my head, tears racing down my face. My eyes were going heavy, but I forced myself to stay awake. Blinking rapidly, I heard a sound from downstairs. Somebody was knocking on my door.
     But who? I tried to stand again, but fell, hard on my hip. My whole body was shaking, and my eyes refused to open.

Everything went black.