Disclaimer: I do not own Static Shock. I am not making profit from this story so no one sue me, please. Any characters whom are not from Static Shock are rightfully owned by me.
Summary: Virgil and Richie haven't been friends for nearly 20 years. They have gone their separate ways and lived their successful live through work. However, how have their personal lives suffered since their failed friendship?
Richie gave a long sigh as he lied back on the couch, the book that his student, Charlotte, had given just a couple days prior in hand. While he had spent the majority of the evening on Friday reading through the book—quickly realizing he already knew everything in it and that most of the information was out-of-date—he was reading it now because he had nothing else to do. As well, he had seen something about heat transfer he wanted to read more thoroughly.
Almost an hour later, Richie realized he could barely recall what had read. He found himself more preoccupied thinking about Angel and their conversation earlier that afternoon. Some of the biggest questions blowing through Richie's mind were: Why had Angel confided in him so much about her life? Did she do that with all her customers who looked miserable? Perhaps Richie was overthinking the meeting but, in reality, he overthought everything. Richie was blessed with the miraculous ability to never shut off his brain.
It was a blessing as much as a curse, especially right around the time everyone else was in bed.
Until a decade ago, Richie had been able to shut his brain off long enough to enjoy fun things like watching mindless movies with Virgil or going to a football game. Once he got accepted to grad school, though, he found himself unable to stop thinking and, as a result, developed insomnia. The problem only got worse as the years progressed.
Currently, Richie was taking 1500mg of Seroquel XR because, without it, Richie literally did not sleep. By the time he went to the doctor, he had not slept for nearly two weeks. He was so sleep deprived that he had a migraine and debilitating muscle cramps, was unable to remember anything (for which he apologized profusely to his boss and students later), his eyes were so bloodshot that he looks like he were doing drugs, and he was so stricken with anger and depression that Mike honestly thought Richie was bipolar. It was one of the most extreme cases of insomnia his doctor had ever seen. They prescribed him 25mg of Seroquel right off the bat, but before Richie was getting any sleep at all, he was 500mg. It took his current dosage just to get him through the night. Needless to say, Richie spent much of that year in and out of the hospital.
Richie was absolutely spent. He pushed himself up and set the book down on the cushion beside him. Clearing his throat, he stood up and began circling the living room, dining room and kitchen in search of his cat. Unless Richie took her upstairs to bed, those were the only three rooms Aria was ever in. It had taken a little bit of effort to teach her to stay in those three rooms, but her safety was important to Richie. Aria was like his daughter and she was all Richie had left. Losing her was a devastation Richie was and was not ready for; he knew it would happen, but he also knew he would be miserable when it did.
After five minutes of searching, Richie found her curled up under a chair in the dining room. Getting down on his hands and knees, he very gently scratched Aria's ear (to let her know it was him) and when she uncurled herself, yawning and stretching, Richie collected her in his arms and they headed down the hallway to the master bedroom. When Richie reached the bed, he set Aria down, letting her curl up on one of the pillows. Richie had bought a king-size bed after moving to Dakota for the sole purpose of letting Aria have one side of it.
Standing at the foot of the bed, Richie slowly began to undress. He slipped out of his jeans, letting them fall as pool of fabric at his feet. Stepping out of them, he knelt down to pick them up and tossed them at the laundry hamper across the room. He then did the same with the red t-shirt over a white long-sleeve shirt he wore. Once he was stripped down to just his boxers, Richie slipped out of those, too, letting them fall around his ankles in a similar fashion his jeans had. Lifting one leg, he pulled the garment from around his ankle and dropped them in the laundry basket as he passed it en route to the bathroom.
Mindlessly, Richie laid his hand on his thigh and scratched the mangled skin of his thirty year old gunshot wound as he began to brush his teeth. It wasn't that his wound itched; any nerve sensation he used to have had been destroyed by the bullet. He did it because he needed to know that part of his thigh was still there. Logically, of course, he knew that it was, but he couldn't feel it; it was like he had a gaping hole in his thigh. It was similar to the one he felt in his chest.
Once he finished brushing his teeth, washing his face and using the bathroom, Richie went back into his room and grabbed pajama pants and sat down on the bed. In his right hand he clutched the white and brown plaid flannel pajama pants he had chosen. Richie groaned, as his brain was on overdrive, but the thoughts were far from academic.
He was having vivid memories of being fifteen years old, in the community center, a group of scared kids standing around him while he was on the ground, clutching his leg, crying, hot tears burning his cheeks. It was the worst pain Richie had ever gone through, but somehow, as soon as Static showed up, the pain became somewhat manageable. It was still more pain than he could bear, and he certainly never wanted to experience it again, but with Static there—with Virgil by his side—he could get through it. The frightened expression his best friend had had was, for some reason, a comfort for Richie; someone was there, someone Richie loved, and it was going to be alright. He was going to be taken care of; Virgil would take care of him.
Richie groaned loudly and clutched his temples, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. He did the best he could to banish the thoughts from his mind. He hated he still thought of Virgil. Everything Richie did somehow reminded him of the man he used to love. The man he still loved. Rhythmically, Richie began to hit his head with the heels of his palms, having dropped his pajama pants to the floor, and began muttering: "Stop loving him. Stop it! God damn it, it has been twenty years! Stop loving Virgil; there is no reason to still love that man! He broke my heart! I'm more logical than this!"
It didn't matter what Richie told himself, though, because no matter what, he was always going to love Virgil. He was always going to love someone he didn't trust, because Virgil was the only person that had ever really understood him; the only person that ever really cared. Except for running off and getting married after Richie gave him everything. Any normal person would have moved on years ago, would have given up trying to figure out what went wrong, and would have just forgotten, but not Richie. No, Richie spent any moment he wasn't working, or obeying his cat, mulling over the past. It was one of the annoying side effects of being a super-genius; Richie overthought absolutely everything. He even overthought love. Perhaps especially love, because love was the most illogical thing another person could feel.
Letting out a sigh filled with distress and anguish, Richie got up from bed one last time and meandered into the bathroom to down his prescribed dosage of Seroquel. It would only be a few minutes before the medicine kicked in, so he went back to bed rather hastily. There had been several times where Richie had fallen asleep standing up because the medicine took effect rather spontaneously. It really was that powerful on him, even if it only kept him asleep for eight hours. However, just to make sure he did wake up, Richie's bed vibrated violently at five in the morning. It was the most effective way Richie found to wake himself from his medicated slumber now that he lived alone.
The thought to cross Richie's mind, as he lazily covered his naked torso with his comforter, was one that he sort of felt bad for having, but at the same time really wished were true. Richie couldn't help but wonder, and hope, maybe, just maybe, Virgil's marriage to Angelica had gone similarly to Angel's marriage. If Richie was being honest, it probably would have been the best Christmas present he could get, to know that Virgil's marriage had fallen apart.
Christmas was on Friday; it was just five days away, and if Richie was being completely honest with himself, the last thing he was in the mood for, and felt, was holiday cheer. If anything at all, he felt like the Grinch, because he would have been okay skipping over Christmas this year. What point was there to a holiday meant for family and friends, if there were no family and friends to spend it with?
Much to his utmost delight, as he was completely worn out from the day, the thoughts that mercilessly filled Richie's brain gradually escaped him and he fell into a deep and restful slumber.
A/N: I was reduced to printing this chapter out and destroying it with a red pen just to make sure it was good. I'm not even kidding, I literally DESTROYED this chapter with a red pen. I'm surprised it's not dripping blood. XD
For any of you who were thinking: "Whoa. Whoa, Aqono, whoa. That is A HUGE FUCKING DOSAGE of Seroquel. Jesus, you're going to kill him." Let me just say that, yes, yes it is a huge fucking dose. However, I talked to my boyfriend about it (he used to be on Seroquel) and he used to be on 1000mg. So, I asked him if 1500mg was out of the question and he said no, some people just need that much; especially people who literally cannot sleep. Much like Richie. I also read up on Seroquel and what it does on the website for it. So, don't freak out, I did my research before writing this chapter.
Now. Who loved the naked Richie scene at the end? XD I didn't want to make it too graphic (because this is rated T) but, come on, we all know he's naked with all his naked male parts. XD
Um... sorry this chapter isn't more, um, interesting? I wanted this chapter to be more about Richie (i.e. who he's become, why he still loves Virgil and all that fun stuff). So I hope this chapter was at least a little bit interesting in that regard.
Anyway. AS ALWAYS, please review! Constructive criticism is welcome! I don't have anymore cookies, but, um... *looks around* I have candy bars? There's some leftover brownies from last chapter. XD