Amaurotic.

part 1 // nostalgia.

unaware of the response he was causing within his old friend, jughead's fingers traced tentatively over the indecipherable braille code engraved beneath his blushing cheeks. archie's heart hurtled as jughead's hand trailed along worn, familiar paths and smoothed over bumps he'd grown accustomed to over the years.

archie had almost forgotten how intimate his friendship with jughead had been, how intimate they had chosen to make it. archie had almost forgotten the nights they'd spend awake in jughead's treehouse, lying restless, until one of them could no longer stand the painful silence and break the hush with a loud, roaring fart. he had almost forgotten the way jughead would smile, somewhat bashfully, right after archie had stood up for him to whoever had chosen to bully jug on that particular day.

but archie could never forget the way that meek, humble smile made him feel. he could never forget the butterflies that swarmed his insides every time jughead smiled. every time jughead laughed. every time jughead danced, or asked to be read a story. every time he grasped hesitantly onto archie's waist, in an attempt to guide his way through an unfamiliar place. it was a feeling even betty couldn't replace, not like that. not in the same way. every time, archie's stomach was invaded. not only by intruders he never asked for, but by intruders he never truly tried to kick out.

hidden away in a quiet booth at pop's, jughead's pale hand paused hesitantly over archie's mouth. in that moment, just prior to when he placed a timid hand on his cherry stained lips, recalling from a faded memory the grooves and footpaths intertwined within archie's nostalgic face. in that very moment, he remembered the reason why him and jughead had been such good friends.