A/N: So here we go! Buckle yourselves in and get ready for a major roller coaster!

Disclaimer: I do not own Static Shock.

Warnings: Use of homophobic slurs, talk of suicide, school bullying, very brief slash, highly detailed description of cutting (More so than previous chapters. Please be careful.)


"Richard Foley?"

"Here."

Richie sighed. He was sitting in fourth period, his Art I class. He hated Art. Which was to be expected, really. His world felt whole when it was grounded in solid facts. Math, that was good. History, that was another good one. Science was perfect. English was okay. But Art… Oh, Art was the worst. In Art, there was abstract. In Art, gravity could be flipped upside down and kicked across the room, and it was still considered Art. Richie simply couldn't wrap his head around it. How could these people function with all of this chaos?

But he needed visual arts credits in order to graduate. And thus, Art I. He sighed again. He really hadn't wanted to come to school today, but Robert had insisted on at least trying to keep things normal. All Richie knew was that despite his layers of long sleeves, he still felt like the entire world knew about what had happened over the weekend. Al day, it was as if everyone could see right through his soul to his deepest, darkest secret.

That wasn't the case, of course, and he tried to convince himself that he was just overreacting. Still, the feeling lingered, and it didn't help that his teacher was droning on about shading and cross-hatching or something. He was supposed to be "honing his artistic talent," but instead was doodling ideas for a new gadget that could neutralize bang babies. Which could technically be considered Art. Its components were a lot like a stun gun, but he had yet to figure out how to keep it from actually electrocuting them. That was Static's job.

Richie paused in his drawings, thinking of his friend. He kept thinking about what Virgil had said the day before. "Just please… don't leave me…" "I honestly don't think I could handle it…" "What about me, Rich?" He could hardly even sleep that night because the conversation kept playing through his head. He wondered fervently if it had been a good choice or not to tell Virgil that he was the only reason Richie was still alive. In the moment, it seemed like the right thing to say, but the more Richie thought about it, the more true he came to find it was.

Virgil honestly was the only reason that Richie was still alive. He was the only reason why none of his suicide attempts had worked. Something would always happen to stop him. Maybe it was a call from Virgil, or a surprise visit. One time it was just a stray scent of cologne wafting through the house. Virgil hadn't even been over that day, and the fragrance left just as quickly as it had arrived. Richie often wondered if he had imagined it, but supposed it didn't matter. That day, Virgil had saved his life without even being there.

When the bell finally rang signaling the end of the dreaded Art class, Richie eagerly gathered his things and flew out of the paint-scented classroom. It was lunch time and he was desperate to find Virgil and drag him to the library or somewhere quiet where he could finally relax and calm down. As he was walking through the crowded hallways, someone crashed into him, slamming him into the lockers. He winced as pain shot through his shoulders.

"Hey, watch where you're going, fag!" A pair of jocks sauntered away, playfully jostling each other, and Richie watched them with tears in his eyes. He was used to it, really, what with his dad always tossing him around and the tormenting that began at school after he came out. It was normal now. But this itme, the sharp lockers seemed to sting just a little bit more than before and the pain in the back of his throat refused to leave as he struggled to keep the tears from falling.

"Hey, yo! Gorilla and The Hulk!" Richie turned in confusion to find a fuming Virgil stalking past him towards the two football players. "How about you apologize for bumping into him, huh?"

The two burly teens shared a look and turned to face Virgil. "What's it to you?" asked the one who pushed Richie.

"You could have hurt him, douchebags!" Virgil took a step forward, his eyes lit up with rage. His fists were clenched, barely able to control his electricity. "So just fucking apologize!"

The football players feigned shock before bursting into laughter at Virgil's antics. "What are you, his boyfriend? Do we have another faggy fairy at this school?"

"Virgil," Richie tried to get his attention. He hoisted his backpack higher on his shoulder and grabbed Virgil's arm. "Come on, it's fine."

"It's not fine, Richie. They need to apologize."

"Come on, V!"

Richie pulled at his arm and Virgil allowed himself to be dragged away into a separate, less crowded hallway. Virgil began to pace back and forth, trying to calm down.

"Why do you let them push you around like that, Richie?" Virgil huffed in annoyance. "I mean, day in and day out, they're always pushing you or calling you names and you never do anything about it!"

"Virgil, it's fine. I mean–"

"No, it's not fine! They don't even know what you're going through." Virgil stopped his pacing and glared down the hallway. "Who are they to make your life miserable?" he grumbled. "You've never done anything wrong. I swear, Richie," he turned to face him, "I will make sure that those assholes never bother you again. Even if I have to show up at their houses dressed as Static, they are never gonna touch you again."

"C'mon, Virg, you don't have to do that." Richie ran his hands through his hair and blushed. "I mean, I've been dealing with it for ages. It's no big deal."

Virgil shrugged. "Figured you'd say that, but it's definitely a big deal. You're my best friend, Richie, and I won't stand to see you–"

Virgil was cut off by Richie stepping forward and kissing him full on the lips. Virgil's eyes widened in surprise and his body tensed, confused as to what was happening. Richie's hand found its way to the back of Virgil's neck, but when he noticed Virgil's reaction, he quickly pulled away, his face bright red. The two stood there staring at each other for a few seconds before Richie turned and ran as if his life depended on it.

It took Virgil another few seconds to regain his composure enough to chase after him. "Richie!" he called. "Richie, wait! Come back!" He darted through the halls, trying desperately to not lose the flash of blond hair weaving through the crowds of students. When he finally ducked into a rarely-used bathroom, Virgil gratefully followed.

The bathroom was empty, as usual, save for the two boys. Richie had shut himself in a cubicle and Virgil could hear him trying not to cry. "Rich," he said somewhat breathlessly.

"I don't want to talk right now."

"Richie, I'm not mad at you or anything, I just–"

"Go away!"

"Richie, please, just talk to me! I was just surprised; I didn't mean to hurt your feelings!"

"Fuck off, Virgil."

Virgil started at the bitterness in Richie's voice. "Fine," he spat. "See you at home."

Richie held his breath until he heard the door shut. As soon as the click of the latch sounded, sobs began to escape from his mouth. He bit down on his fist to try and muffle them, but it was no use. He felt so stupid for kissing Virgil like that. He didn't even know what he had been thinking. Oh, right, he didn't think. Instead he just went with his feelings, which he should have known better than to do by now.

Sinking down to the floor, Richie's sobs deepened and he began to shake. He heard the bell ring to call students to fifth period, but didn't budge. There was no way he was going out there like this, and it didn't seem like he was going to calm down any time soon. So he just let himself cry, because he was so sure that he had just lost his best friend. Virgil seemed so freaked out that Richie wouldn't be surprised if his bags were sitting on the curb when he got to the house.

All of a sudden, Richie's breathing hitched as he looked around his small enclosure. The walls were caving in on him, he was sure of it! He scrambled to his feet and burst out of the cubicle, but the bathroom itself still seemed to be collapsing in.

Gotta get out. Gotta get out. Leaving his backpack forgotten on the floor, Richie rushed out of the bathroom and raced to the nearest exit. As soon as he hit the fresh air, his lungs finally decided to do their job and bring delicious oxygen to his cells. He leaned against the building for a minute to catch his breath, but didn't stay for long. Teachers and hall monitors frequently checked this exit for cutters, and he didn't want to be ushered to the principal's office. Richie laughed at the irony. He was a cutter, but definitely not the kind the hall monitors searched for.

He started to walk away, glancing around for teachers, and made it off campus without incident. As he began to wander the streets of Dakota, he paid no attention to where he was going. He just needed to be moving. Standing still meant going nowhere and making no progress. It meant weakness and fear. Moving meant going forward, finding a solution. So he walked.

It took him a good twenty minutes to realize that he still had tears and snot running down his face, earning him plenty of stares from people he passed. They must think I'm a freak, he thought miserably. He felt the tears start to fall faster and ducked into the first building he came to, the Burger Fool, desperate for privacy once more. When he walked in, a few people paused to look up at Richie, who was quickly beginning to panic. He ran into the restaurant's bathroom and locked the door behind him, relieved to have found a place where no one could stare at him.

Richie walked over to the sink, splashed water on his face, and then looked in the mirror. All he could see were his flaws. His red, puffy eyes; his tear-stained cheeks; his limp and greasy hair. It was no wonder that Virgil didn't like him like that. He was disgusting. He was annoying. He was nothing.

Richie tore his gaze from the mirror and sat down on the closed toilet lid. With trembling hands, he removed his left show and pried the sole out of the bottom. A fresh razor blade was hidden there. His shoe fell from his hands as he broke the seal on the cardboard wrapper that covered the shining silver. He couldn't even remember the last time he had used a new razor. He was desperate to finally be able to calm down, so Richie pushed his sleeves up, pressed the sharp edge to his wrist, and sliced.

The sight that followed made Richie's heart stop. Something had gone wrong. He must have misjudged how sharp the blade was, or pressed to hard in his eagerness. Blood began to drip steadily from his arm. He tried to wipe it away with some toilet paper. The red cleared just long enough for him to see the light yellow fat tissue peeking from under his skin before it began to bleed in earnest again. Richie's arm pulsed with pain, but there was no relief. Only pure and complete terror.

Upon standing, Richie swayed slightly, already a bit dizzy from the sheer amount of blood dripping from his fingertips. He stumbled to the sink, leaving a trail of blood on the floor, and tried to wash his wound, like he always did. This time, however, the water stayed the same shade of pink, and never grew lighter to show him that the blood had stopped. He turned off the faucet to confirm that yes, the cut was still bleeding, and decided that it had gone far enough.

Feeling shaky all over, Richie fumbled with the lock on the door, trying frantically to get it open and call for help. When his vision began to swim, however, he collapsed to his knees and resorted to banging on the door.

I don't want to die! He thought. Please, don't let me die! Too weak to continue pounding, Richie slumped against the wall before falling to his side, arms outstretched, reaching for help that might not even come in time. He watched the pool of blood beneath him grow steadily, until his vision shimmered and slowly faded.


A/N: So there you have it folks! Sorry to leave you on a cliffie, but Richie refused to let me continue for this chapter. =/ Let me know what your feels are doing! xD

EDIT: Revised 3/30/14. I did change up the kiss scene a little bit, so that the boys were a little calmer when it happened. It always felt a little abrupt for me and I like it better this way. Also changed it so that Richie left school during fifth period instead of sixth. Made more sense with the time frame for the next chapter. Other than that, just minor grammar and word issues.