Ever since he can remember, Jughead Jones has never gone a day without wearing a cuff over his left wrist, covering up the colored stripe he was born with. Although meant as a kindness, the cuff only helps strangers know that whatever he couldn't feel was embarrassing enough to require to be covered.
Subconsciously, he fiddles with his cuff as he stares at the computer screen.
"God, why can't I be happy with how this is turning out," he sighs, throwing his head back against the booth.
His ears fill with the sound of giggling, opening his eyes to see the upside down image of his best friend.
"You okay Juggie?" She asks, raising an eyebrow.
"As good as I can possibly be," he replies as she sits down across from him, "writers block sucks."
"The absolute worst," she says, nodding.
The two teens don't miss the look of pity they receive from the waiter as he sets down their order, his eyes locked on the pair of black cuffs adorning both of their wrists.
"Do you ever wish soulmates weren't a thing?" She asks, running her fingers over the cuff. "Or that the universes came up with a less sadistic way to lead us to them?"
Jughead shrugs, looking down at his wrist.
"I suppose," he replies, "I think I wish more that I was blessed with something I didn't have to cover."
The girl nods, all too aware of the various pairs of eyes tracking her and Jughead's wrist like a puck at a hockey game.
"God I just wish they'd stop staring!" She practically shouts, all but slamming her shake back down on the table.
"Y/N," Jughead says gently, placing her hand on top of hers in a calming fashion.
"I know, I'm sorry," she says, sighing audibly, "it's just tiring. Between the looks my parents give me and the things people say at school...it's ridiculous."
"I know," Jughead gives her a half smile, "I know, you know I understand. And it'll go away, I promise."
"They just," she shakes her head, looking around the diner, "they get to live their lives with no hinderance, they get to walk around with everyone automatically knowing that whatever they can't feel is deemed somewhat normal while we have to go through this unrelenting torture of everyone pitying you."
"Bad day?" He asks, he knows she rants about the universe when her day has been particularly rough.
She sighs again, lowering her head into her hands as she nods.
"The worst," she mumbles.
Jughead nods, closing his laptop and sticking it in his bag as he stands, holding his hand out to her.
"C'mon," he says, "let's get out of here."
Y/N smiles, taking the boys hand and following him out of the diner, their hands still intertwined as they make their way down the gravel.
"Why do you think we were cursed with these?" She asks.
"The stripes or these specific colors?" He questions.
"Both I suppose," she replies, "the colors mostly."
"Because we are those special few the universe feels can handle some bad luck," he replies smoothly, "we are the ones that have to deal with this trail because we are the ones equipped to handle it."
"I don't know if I am Jug," she sighs, letting the boy lead her over to a park bench, "I can't stand not feeling this anymore."
"Do you," Jughead furrows his eyebrows, "do you know what yours is?"
