Rainstorm

three

Sorry I don't really like this one but whatever.
I don't think there's any tw,,,
---

Rich wakes up to the blaring noise of his alarm clock. He groans and rolls over, still not quite awake yet.

"Stop," he mumbles. "Fucking stop already..." He groggily opens his eyes and looks over, realizing it's his alarm clock. He groans loudly and stumbles out of bed, turning off the annoying clock.

First day back at school. Fuck.

He feels half asleep as he gets ready for the day, carefully getting changed to avoid hurting his burns, searching for his old backpack from freshman year, gathering all his homework and school stuff. It doesn't help that it's still dark outside, being December, and so he feels like he should still be in bed right now. And the fact that he spent the last week doing nothing but sleep, read, play on his phone, or watch TV.

He's anxious, his whole body shaking, his mind speeding through every possible horrible thing that could come his way. He doesn't want to go back to school. He's terrified to. But he knows he has to, it's his only chance at maybe piecing his life back together, and having an ok future.

Fuck, he's gonna be late. Rich quickly gets all his stuff together, brushing his teeth, pulling on a pair of shoes and rushing out the door. If he's late to class, people will look up at him and notice him. Maybe recognize him. And that's exactly the opposite of what he wants. He needs to stay low, avoid attention, blend in.

He steals his dad's car keys and drives to school. No way he's walking in this weather. It's freezing outside and there's lots of ice because it rained for most of the past week.

Once he reaches the school, he stops for a moment, staring at the building and trying to calm his nerves, though not succeeding.

Shit, school starts in a couple minutes. He hops out of the car and quickly walks inside.

Rich walks down the halls of Middle Borough, nerves spiking. His eyes dart around to see if anyone's staring. His hands are shaking so badly he has to put them in his pockets to hide them. He keeps his head low, hood pulled up to hide his still red-streaked hair.

Everyone's staring. At least, it seems like that. Are they looking at him? They're onto him, for sure. They know exactly who he is. And they're whispering. Don't make eye contact, keep your head low.

Rich makes it to his first class on time, sighing as he slumps into his seat. He made it to first period. Now to face the rest of the day.

---

Rich sits alone at lunch, at a table in the corner. He scrolls through his phone, pretending to be busy so maybe no one will bother him or look his way. He knows if he looks sad and lonely, people will notice. He has to own it, and occupy himself. Then people won't give him a second glance.

Lunch is going well. Halfway over, and though he has nothing to do and is bored out of his mind, no one has noticed him yet. No one recognizes him. Something's finally going right.

Until someone sits down across from him at the table.

Rich jumps, then glances up from his phone, brushing his hair out of his eyes. As soon as he sees the person, he freezes, gaze snapping back to his phone, hands shaking a little.

Fucking. Michael. Mell.

"Hi Rich," he says with fake sincerity. Fuck he recognizes him.

"H-hi-" Rich mumbles, eyes still glued to his phone. "Please just go. Do you want something? I'll do your homework, I'll give you money, whatever. Just please don't beat me up..." He pleads. Michael's here to get revenge, he's certain. But getting beaten up right now, while his burns are still healing, wouldn't be the best for Rich's recovery process.

He glances up at Michael, trying to calculate what he'll do. But Michael makes no movement. Just sits there, a little confused.

"Ok, drop the act. I know you're Rich Goranski, stop acting like a complete loser. I'm not gonna fucking beat you up. So long as you leave me and everyone else the fuck alone from now on. I'm not afraid to hurt you, Rich. I can do it, right now. Try me."

Rich stiffens, wishing he could shrink away and disappear. "Please don't," he mumbles quietly. "I-I won't bother you I swear- I promise I won't. Not anymore. Never again."

Michael seems surprised, not quite sure how to react. Rich understands. Michael thinks he's still an asshole, the kid he was before. He thinks this is an act.

"Goranski, I said fucking drop the act. You think no one can see through this 'disguise'?" He raises his voice a little, getting some looks from people at other tables. Michael doesn't seem to notice, but Rich does, his hands growing sweaty.

"Look, it's just getting on my nerves, I don't see how someone can really change that quickly into such a different person." He pauses, as if waiting for some kind of an explanation. Rich isn't about to speak up at all. He can hardly move.

"Ok, don't say anything, fine. The thing is, you fucked up Jeremy bad and I'm pissed about it. So don't you dare come close to me or him ever again." He pauses again, waiting for the response Rich is never going to give. Finally, he nods shortly, and storms away.

Rich watches him for a moment, before looking back down at his phone. He can't hold his hands steady. If Michael Mell recognized him, who else might have? He scans the tables around him, for any sign that they heard the conversation or recognized him. But no one seems to have.

Rich sighs and slumps in his seat, tapping his foot nervously on the ground. He's more terrified than ever now, knowing that someone recognized him.

---

No one gives him a second glance for the rest of the day. But he still can't shake away his nerves and anxiety.