SUPRALIMINAL MAYHEM. jughead jones

ii

ED SHEERAN

       This contact cannot be reached, please try again later,'

The autonomous face repeated for the nth time. Y/n sighed, biting his lip before redialing the number, "Pick up already," he grumbled, sighing in contempt. He tapped his fingers on the glossy ebony surface of the dining table, picking on the undercooked eggs on his plate. "What a dick."

He set his phone down, looking down at the donut he had leaned on the dusty vase, it's flowers were starting to falter. "Harold, why don't you get your lazy ass up and drive me to school," he glared at Harold, it's pink frosting glistening under the rays of sunlight seeping through the velvet curtains. "Right, inanimate objects can't get a license. Fuck."

Y/n stabbed the undercooked eggs with his fork, his eyes wandering to the dim screen. He took one last look at the contact before shutting it off. The chair's screech echoed throughout the empty room as it dragged it's legs across the marbled floors. He'd lost his appetite. 

            —-

A sour expression made its way to his face as he trudged his way up the steps to Riverdale High. He looked up when he entered the crowded halls, biting the insides of his cheek as he slithered through.

He wiped the sweat off his forehead, using one hand to unlock his locker. There was a stack of chocolate bars stuffed in the side, barely fitting in the space between the copious amounts of chips and other paraphernalia by the thin walls of the gray locker. A small tin of sealed rat poison accompanied by a small first aid pack at the very bottom of his locker.

He grabbed a handful of the chocolate bars, slamming his locker shut right after. His eyes couldn't avoid the locker next to his. Jason Blossom's locker. What used to be Jason's anyway.

Stuffed animals and flowers surrounded it The symbol of the town's late appreciation for the boy. He was near perfect to some, after all not everyone could be the captain of every sports team, or be the heir to the blossom maple industry. Only a few got to gaze at the imperfect perfection that was Jason Blossom's true charm.

Y/n knocked over one of the stuffed bears on Jason's memorial. "Hey guys! Look, it's Gore freak!" He stumbled about when he collided with a huge hunk of muscle. One of the blockheads in the Bulldogs, Reggie Mantle, pointed at him with a smug grin. Behind him was Moose, another one of his rabies friends, throwing a nod. Maybe this was his karma for being disrespectful to the dead.

Reggie's eyes flickered up and down, scoffing. He squeezed the boy's biceps, "Did you deadlift Jason or something?"

Y/n shook his head, taking a bite of his chocolate. "Yeah, Tits Mcgee. I used him to tear some drywall," his eyes flickered to the firm grip on his arm, raising a brow. The squeeze on his arm grew in intensity. He opened his mouth, his lips slowly curving upwards as he squinted his eyes at the jock. "You trynna fuck? Chill out, it's like the start of the year, dude..."

"Well, I'm sure you don't need me," Reggie shoved the boy, sneering down at him. "You got those old shits at the private homes you worked in, didn't you? Got them to feed your little fetish behind Mr. Andrew's back?"

This football jock definitely looked like he could say a slur.

Y/n bit his tongue, then his lip. "Well, thanks to me, those grandparents have had more sex than you," He widened his smile to a grin, his index finger shoved up against Reggie's chest. "Can you let me go now? I still have to fuck your mom."