efflorescence || bughead oneshots [SLOW UPDATES]

{ petrichor }

     1. (n.) the smell of earth after rain.
2. (metaph.) the revival, recovery after hitting the bottom.

  ❦Post episode 7

     No matter how bright the starry sky was that night, or how peaceful the room seemed to be — other than the redhead's snoring —, Jughead Jones could not seem to possibly bring his mind at peace. His eyes had met with the roof as he let his thoughts drive him to a deep ponder, thinking about his life, everything about it.

As the much dreaded thought of his father came to his thoughts, he quickly attempted to force it away, knowing very well this specific memory was definitely not going to appease his mind. The past two days had been an odd roller coaster of emotions; he wasn't sure if things had really been getting better with his dad—he didn't even know if he could consider trusting him again. There was something else he couldn't stop thinking about either, though.

"Son, listen to me. I'm gonna do what you want, I'll get my act together. I'm gonna get your mom and Jellybean home so we're all under the same roof. I promise. But I just need a little time to do that. Not a lot, not long, a month or two at the most. I will be back on track, alright? You believe that, don't you?"

He wanted to believe what his father had said more than anything in this world, but it was hard... so hard. Ever since his mother had left with Jellybean, his dad had become unpredictable and untrustworthy; he would tell him one thing, but the day after, do something else. It had been that way for so long and he could barely even remember what it was like before.

Before he decided to leave home in order to be in a safest place, away from his drunken dad. A safest place, he thought, and then scoffed quietly. Anywhere would've been safer than having to live with F. P. Jones, the leader of the Southside Serpents; yet, on another hand, never knowing where he was going to spend the night wasn't ideal either. And now, after months of struggles, he could finally sleep somewhere safe, knowing that maybe something better was awaiting him the next day.

✿

Hours or so later, he found himself thinking of his little sister Jellybean, how her dark curls fell from her shoulders as she ran around the drive-in, her tiny fingers intertwined with his. He could still hear her heartwarming giggles, he could feel the warm wind blowing on his face as they ran across the fields. He could picture their parents standing next to each other in front of their trailer, watching as their children laughed until the last drop of sunshine. He had a brief souvenir of what happiness, or not having to worry about the next day, felt like. Everything used to be so good and wonderful, and he made the mistake as a child to believe it was going to last. That happiness was inevitable, and that life was a gift to live to its fullest.

His eyes unexpectedly filled with tears, and the familiar stinging pain in his chest gradually became stronger. Did he really deserve every single thing happening to him?

He needed fresh air— he needed to clear his mind and eventually figure a way to fall asleep. The peaceful breeze of the night usually helped him with that; the countless nights he spent out in the dark trying to get a hold on his thoughts confirmed the theory.

Slowly, the raven-haired boy got up, grabbed his jacket and walked out of the redhead's room, carefully making his way down the stairs.

Minutes later, he was outside, fresh stains of tears still covering his cheeks. The sky was genuinely mesmerizing but staring at it only brought back memories of Jellybean begging him to name all the constellations he cognized. As he pushed the thought away, he wrapped his arms around himself and was about to get on the sidewalk when the phone ringing from his pocket piqued his curiosity.