Circumlocution ≫ Jarchie

[Chapter Twenty-Four]

Two Years Ago

"I really love your grandparents' house." Jughead sighed happily.

Archie was house sitting for the weekend, which meant that Jughead was house sitting with him. A blizzard was blazing outside, Jelly Bean was staying at a friend's house and everything was perfect.

The house was amazing. It had two beautiful floors with a pretty grand staircase that lead to two bedrooms and two bathrooms upstairs. Downstairs, The kitchen was huge with a white granite kitchen island complete with bar stools that looked so familiar, Jughead could have sworn he saw them in a movie he watched last year. Of course, Jughead and Archie didn't spend much time in the kitchen that weekend since both of them lacked any real kitchen skills. Instead, the two spent their time by the welcoming fireplace in the main living room.

Jughead had a beaten down notebook in his hand paired with a thoughtful expression as Archie lazily strummed a few guitar strings next to him on the floor.

"How come you never write any songs?"

"Because I can't write. You're the one who writes." Archie chuckled. Everything about the boy was easy going. Jughead could never seem to resist his charm. He wasn't sure what it was that made Archie so gravitating. Maybe it was his eyes that sparkled as much as the earth spun, or maybe it was his innocent giggle. No wait, it was definitely the way his rough, calloused hands had the uncanny ability to feel soft in Jughead's. Archie was safe, and Jughead never had safe.

"Have you even tried to write a song before?" Jughead rolled his eyes, scooting over closer to his boyfriend.

"Yes. It was awful, and you can't even pay me to ever show you it." Archie blushed.

"Aww c'mon you're Archie Andrews. There's no way in the world you could be awful at anything." Jughead teased.

"We could write a song. Or more like you could write the lyrics and I can come up with a melody." Archie suggested.

Jughead bit his lip, eyeing the redhead hesitantly. He didn't like to share his writing. Archie didn't even know Jughead wrote until he gave him a book of poems a couple of months ago, and ever since then Archie had been subtly trying to get Jughead to show him more of his writings. "You know what? Okay. It'll be fun." He smiled.

"Really? I didn't think you'd actually say yes." Archie raised an eyebrow.

"Why not? I'm in a fancy house with my boyfriend in front of a fireplace with a notebook, a pencil, and a guitar."

"Exactly. We have to seize this moment." Archie said excitedly. "What should it be about?"

"Whatever you want it to be about."

"Juggy, I need suggestions."

"I don't know babe."

"What do you usually write about?" Archie sighed.

Jughead shook his head slightly. The things he writes about were bound to worry Archie, and he didn't need that. He wrote about how hallow he felt. He wrote about how his life wasn't his, how he didn't even feel as if he was living. He wrote about how scary was love was, and how beautiful it was at the same time. He wrote about rainy days and redheads and things like warm fireplaces inside huge houses in the middle of snowstorms with redheads. His moods were always unpredictable and radical. There was no in between for Jughead. He was either at an all time low, or an all time high. He only felt his highs when he was with Archie.

"Read me something? You have a whole notebook in front of you filled with your pretty handwriting, and you're being selfish." Archie pouted.

"No."

"Why not? C'mon."

"No."

"Fine."

"Thank you." Jughead sighed in relief.

"No, thank you." Archie laughed as he snatched the notebook out of Jughead's hand and held it closed to his chest. Jughead gasped and frantically looked at Archie with fear.

"Give it back!" Jughead whined, reaching his small hands out for the book just for Archie to slap them away.

"I just want to read one thing." Archie mumbled before standing up and flipping to a random page.

"Archie, please don't read it, especially not the page." Jughead choked, his voice cracking. The page Archie turned to was one Jughead remembered quite clearly, for it was the page with the top in it. Jughead attempted to get up, stumbling a bit as Archie's eyes skimmed over the first few words.

"Life is ironic. Life is supposed to be this beautiful thing to cherish. It symbolizes birth and new beginnings. It's a synonym of reality, yet it's supposed to be magical and the stuff dreams are made of, but that's sort of ironic too.

Dreams are dreams for a reason.

If they were possible, they'd be called lifes.

It's also ironic how you live, just to die. That's the whole point of life when you think about it. In the end everyone dies. So isn't it ironic that life has an opposite connotation when the two go hand in hand?

It's ironic to me how my life never feels like my my own. I don't live my life for me, I live it for my sister and for my boyfriend.

I find it ironic how, despite having two people to live for I always feel alone. It's ironic how loneliness never leaves me alone. It stalks me. It haunts me.

It's ironic how silence is actually quite loud. It's deafening. It's pestering.

It's ironic how I've never felt alive despite having functional lungs and a strong heart that pumps for two people I'd literally die for.

It's also ironic how a line like, "I'd literally die for you" is supposed to be an extreme, something bold and heartfelt, when in my case? It doesn't mean much. I'd die for anyone, all they'd have to do is ask. They'd be giving me a gift by doing so. I guess it would be more meaningful of me to say I'd stay alive for them, like what the lead singer of twenty one pilots always sings about.

But that's a promise Im not sure I can keep.

Especially on days when Jelly Bean isn't home and she doesn't know about the razors she didn't throw out and Archie is busy and I'm left alone with my stalker, named loneliness, and my annoyingly loud best friend, silence, in the bathroom. It's especially hard on days when I can't distinguish life between death. That's when life starts to feel like death and death starts to feel like an escape.

This is one of those days."

Archie read out loud as Jughead attempted to hold back tears.

"Are you done reading my personal thoughts?" Jughead snapped, taking the book out of Archie's hand. Archie didn't say anything, just looked at Jughead with concern before pulling him into a hug.

Archie never knows what to do with Jughead. He doesn't know how to make his life any better, he doesn't know how to make him happy, he doesn't know how to get him to stop hurting himself, and he doesn't know how to convince him that's he worth the whole entire fucking universe. Archie never knows what to do.

"I love you. I'll say it and scream it as many times as I have to to drown out silence and I'll make sure loneliness doesn't lay a finger on you as long as I'm around. I love you. I just want to help you, but I can't do that when you never tell me what's going on with you and you act like everything is fine." Archie says softly.

"Everything is fine."

"Clearly you're not fine, Jughead."

"I'm fine."

🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂

I auditioned for a singing contest at my school on Wednesday. We find out the results on Monday, I really hope I get in :) I'll put up the last chapter on Monday and then the Epilogue on Tuesday.