SUPRALIMINAL MAYHEM. jughead jones

i

BELLS

               Loud music blasted from the parking lot. Jughead looked out the window to see a familiar Porsche. The music stopped, and so did the low rumbles of the engine. A boy with (h/c) hair stumbled out of the car, kicking the car door shut. He shivered, running to Pop's with his bulky backpack barely strapped on his shoulder.

He pushed the heavy glass doors with his shoulders, the chime of the bell ringing throughout the diner. The neon lights illuminated his slacked smile. He glanced up at the low ceiling before going to the counter, ordering his food. He slid a 20 dollar bill, throwing a finger gun towards Pops.

"Took you long enough," Jughead smiled, making the boy wave. Y/n took the camera strapped to his neck, carelessly taking the shot. It wasn't unusual to see the boy with it, taking shots of mundane things and wasting the expensive film. A peculiar boy, Jughead thought of him; ever since he moved in five years ago, there was never a bleak moment in his (mainly) miserable life.

"Oh please, it was just 20 minutes! Now scoot over cause my fatass needs to fit in."

Y/n climbed over the booth, his ass landing next to Jughead. "Anyway," he rummaged through his bag, "I brought my baby," he tossed a plastic bag carelessly. There was a loud thud when the donut inside landed on the table.

The raven head arched a brow, tapping the sweet treat with slight intrigue. "You're seriously bringing your frozen donut to the trip?" The sound of the crust caught him by surprise. It sounded like he had hit the table. It felt like it, too.

An offended scoff left Y/n's chapped lips, "Of course I fucking am!" he waved his hands about. Jughead nodded slowly, "I bring Harold with me everywhere, I even read him stories at night," he slapped it, albeit a bit too harshly. Some of the pink frosting chipped off, taking the sprinkles along with it, but the whole thing stayed intact. (For the most part.)

"I can't believe you're attached to this—inedible oil cake," Jughead picked it up, tapping the side against the table, which shook with each tap. The heavy thumps definitely proved his point.

"Bro, you're literally the definition of 'angsty white teen who reads Twain,' Of course you wouldn't get the magic parenthood..."

The diner was mostly empty. Not everyone gets up at 4am in the summer. It only had a handful of staff present to serve the three or five tables filled with students breaking their curfews to enjoy their summer vacation or the burnt out construction workers starving from hours of manual labour. Smooth notes of the swing tune played from the jukebox at the other end of the diner. It added warmth to the otherwise chilly morning.

"Is Ginger-galore here yet?" Y/n blew a raspberry, posture slumping as he slid down the booth seat.

Jughead shook his head, "If he was, we'd be able to see his hulking redhead self in all its glory," he took a sip of his usual order, piping hot black coffee. He rested his elbows on the table, looking up when the server brought three plates of juicy Pop's burgers, a dozen onion rings in the red hatched container lined with parchment paper, and an iconic double Chock'lit shake topped with an unhealthy amount of whipped cream and the single cherry.

He stole the cherry, popping it into his mouth with a sly smirk. Y/n gasped, hogging the three plates after the petty theft. The (h/c) head punched the other on the shoulder. "Dick. At least mold takes 15 days to eat my shit," he bit the straw, taking a huge gulp of the cold drink menacingly.

Despite the empty threats, he let Jughead have a burger, devouring the other two himself. There was no harm in eating now. It was already in the plan. They'd also stuff their faces in Y/n's cramped Porsche whilst they look at the pitch black scenery of the freeway, hoping they'd somehow hallucinate some sort of cryptid. Though Jughead doubts that they'll spot any mythical creatures, he is positive that he would be in a car with one. In fact, he's dining with the said cryptid right now.

The chime of the bell caught the pair's attention. Archie Andrews walked in, though not with the usual soft smile on his face. His expression seemed to be conflicted as he made his way to the booth, scratching his cheek as he sat across from the pair. "You riding naked?" Y/n's brows rose, taking a large bite of his burger.

"What? No," Archie shook his head, glancing down at his shirt. "Actually,"—he sighed—"I don't think I can make the trip.."

Jughead furrowed his brows, eyes narrowed into slits as his chewing slowed to a stop. He shook his head, "But...you're here," he tapped his nails on the table, "Unless you somehow got freaky friday'ed, I don't see what the problem is," there was a slight smile on his face when he grabbed an onion ring. Y/n glared at him as if he'd grown a second head, grumbling to himself.

"No," the redhead paused, gathering his thoughts. "I mean, I can't go because you know—" he scratched the back of his head, blowing out heavy air from his mouth. "Dad gave me more construction work. . ."

"But didn't your dad say we got an off today, Arch?" The (h/c) haired boy asked, "Did I give you guys the wrong dates again—Oh," he saw the look on Archie's face. Intentionally or not, he'd just exposed the terrible excuse. He shrugged, taking a bite of his burger.

"If you wanna bail," Jughead licked his lips, his brows furrowing, "you can just tell us. It's fine," he waved a hand towards the boy sat next to him. Y/n nodded absent-mindedly. "But maybe don't tell us at the last minute, pal."

"Trust me dude, I really wanna go but. . ."

"But what?"

The tension increased when silence was the only response given. Jughead finished the last of his coffee, scoffing as he put the porcelain cup down. He climbed to the other side of the seat, avoiding Y/n's garments as he lifted himself between the furniture. "You know, you've been acting weird all summer."

"I guess you really got switched out for a stranger, Andrews," the boy sighed. This wasn't the first time the redhead had ditched all their plans this summer. He couldn't pinpoint the exact time when Archie fell away, but this was the final straw. "Hope you find your way back, whoever you are."

The bells chimed once more, but no one entered. Instead, Jughead Jones walked out of the diner, marking 4:30 am on July Fourth the end of his friendship with Archie Andrews.

Y/n stared at Archie from the other end of the table, taking a sip of his shake. He sniffled, shifting in his seat. "Now I know what to write for my summer experience," he joked, but he didn't bother to hide the frown on his face. The redhead sighed..

"Do you now?"

He took out his camera, eyes trained on Archie's distressed face. He slowed down the shutter speed. With one eye in the viewfinder and a grin on his face, he said. "Yeah, teenage drama, lifting concrete and how blondes tear people apart."

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(a/n:  putting indents on google docs was a waste of time. Anyone know how to copy the indents with the text? I will literally die for you <3

ALSO THIS DIALOGUE IS REALLY CAMPY AHAHHAHA I LOVE THIS ALREADY IM GONNA HAVE SO MUCH FUN)