Different -Jughead Jones X Reader- (Currently Revising)

I : Return to Riverdale (1)

Our story is about a town, a small town, and the people who live in the town.

From a distance, it presents itself like so many other small towns all over the world;

Small.

Decent.

Innocent.

Get closer, though, and you start seeing the shadows underneath.

The name of our town is Riverdale. And our story begins, I guess, with a girl returning to this small town...

I stepped onto the sidewalk, looking back at the house that I continue to call my home. The two-story residence with bay windows was painted a simple white, and the light reflected off of the windows gracefully. All of the view being just the way I remembered it. I smiled up at it, catching the attention of my dad. He patted my back lightly, as if I was a fragile doll that could be broken at any moment. I chuckled, shaking my head and grabbing a duffel bag of mine from the open trunk.

A little information on who I am might help. My name is (Y/N) (L/N), and I'm 15 years old. I grew up here, in Riverdale, but I've never had many friends. I was always considered the wannabe. I always wore obnoxious and too-tight clothing that made me stick out like a sore thumb. I had these oversized glasses that didn't compliment any of my features and such, as well. Just so you're aware, I was friends with Cheryl Blossom -- keyword: was. I ended up leaving about halfway through the first semester of my freshman year, and that's when I decided to make a change. I had to make a change.

I started working with my dad at his At-Home-Car-Shop, and I couldn't help myself when I was offered to be part of the basketball team. I used this as my chance to not only join people on the team in going to the gym to prep and bulk, but also lose some weight. Through this, I was able to gain some confidence in my body and mind. I changed my style completely, I started to wear contacts, and I got my tongue and nose pierced for my fifteenth birthday. I've completely changed, and now that I know what a school full of good people is like, I can't wait to see how I'll be able to compare my experiences when I return to Riverdale High. Either way, I'm not that confident. 

I looked at my dad walking to our house as he was dragging the equivalent of five steel hubcaps in bag form through the maroon entryway. I stopped watching and turned my attention back to the trunk to grab another few duffel bags; I threw two over one shoulder and carried three between my two hands.

Making my way up the driveway reminds me of how I would drag my bike up here and beg for my dad to fix it when it was broken. I may have been crying, but my mother was there to-

Wait. No, stop. You idiot, you promised yourself you wouldn't think about that. You need to stop.

I sighed and stopped walking for a second so I could take a deep breath. Once I had taken that breath and I was able to look back at the house, I continued walking up the drive and into the house.

At first glance, I could see that not much had changed. That fact comforted me a little bit. Something that did piss me off, though, was the overabundance of chipping paint in an atrocious puke green. It looked like a snake trying to shed its skin and turn rainbow at the same time; instead of the paint falling off in big pieces, it looked like tiny, infected scale-scabs. My dad was staring at the walls, too. If I had to guess, I'd assume he was thinking something similar.