timing : stozier

22

march 14/15

t/w: homophobic slurs

it was after school, a week or so later that richie spoke to tristan for the first time after he'd seen the texts he'd sent beverly. tristan had been avoiding her whole friend group, but he had seen richie shooting glares across the classrooms at him. richie was so angry whenever he saw tristan.

how dare he talk to beverly like that! richie was by no means a possessive or angry person, but how dare tristan sit there, his friends laughing at every joke like he was funny, like he wasn't a complete dick. how dare greta flirt with him when he just wanted to get in girls pants! how dare he treat beverly like that.

tristan had been walking by, laughing with his friend, something about betty ripsom, when they passed richie's locker. richie had muttered, "dick" causing tristan to turn around.

"yo, richie. you got a problem with me?" he asked, richie closing his locker and putting his lock in.

"yes." richie said, continuing to pick up his backpack like nothing happened. tristan scoffed, looking from his friend (richie was pretty sure his name was connor) to richie.

"you picking a fight?" tristan shoved richie, who sighed and walked away. tristan and connor followed him, taunting him and calling him a pussy. richie pushed it off, making his way to the rotunda of the school. they were still there, and they even followed him outside, connor making chicken noises and tristan laughing.

"oh, i know, this is because of that slut beverly. oh no, she's no slut anymore, she's a goddamn prude." tristan teased, elbowing connor. richie wasn't an angry person, he swore. but maybe, right now could be an exception.

he turned around and punched tristan right in the nose, who stumbled back in shock. connor immediately turned his head in shock, gasping. he looked back to richie, who was fuming.

"how dare you call her that. just because somebody doesn't want to fuck you doesn't make them a prude. i like boys, do you see me sucking your dick like connor here?" richie spat, pissing off both of the other boys. this caused connor to swing at richie in embarrassment and anger, and richie's arm came up to block a little too late, getting hit on the cheek. as he recovered, tristan kicked in his knees.

"shut up, faggot!" richie fell down from the kick, getting up to defend himself when connor (hesitantly, it seemed) kicked him in the chest. richie fell back down onto asphalt. richie kicked his legs up, but connor got them and held his legs still while tristan straddled richie, punching him repeatedly.

"bit of a gay position, tristan" richie managed to spit out between punches, causing more blood to spill out of his mouth. his glasses were thrown astray, probably broken on the concrete.

"hey, tristan, i think that's enough," connor warned, tristan still beating the shit out of richie. feeling sick at richie's face, connor let go of richie's legs. richie wriggled out of tristan's grip, and he kicked tristan in the face. tristan went stumbling back and richie ran. connor held tristan back from running after him.

"that's a warning, fairy!" richie kept running, despite tristan's yells. god, he was begging to get the shit beat out of him. richie did actually have the ability to beat people up, what with his height and strength, but he never had, and didn't plan on it. he just wasn't one for violence.

so there he was, walking home, a bike by his side, a swollen, black eye he could barely see out of. the blood that had come out of richie's orifices had dried by now, in a couple places the skin had split, but that was dry now too. his glasses, which one of the lenses was shattered from a certain part down, and the other lens was cracked, hung on his shirt, the way they would when he read.