Alphabet ≫ Jarchie

H is for Halcyon

Halcyon— idyllically calm and peaceful; suggesting happy tranquility

☁︎☀︎☁︎

They only hung out when they were high. It was the only way the two saw things the same way, the only time they both felt true bliss.

Archie didn't make it a habit to hang out with his clients but Jughead was different. Jughead was intriguing. He was delicate yet rough, honest yet mysterious, lighthearted yet cold and intimidating. He was a walking contradiction, a gorgeous one at that.

Archie was used to dealing to uppity rich kids from the private school on the north side. Most of the time he'd raise the prices up, tell them to meet up in a remote place to sell the act, and give them what they wanted. Kids like that only wanted to feel like they were rebellious. They wanted the high of doing something that could get them in trouble, something that could give them a rush. They had no interest in the high the drugs actually gave them. It's why Archie never spent too much time on them. He was an expert at reading people. One rich kid in a stuffy, blue and gold uniform was the same as the next.

The first time Archie had met Jughead, he felt something in the universe shift. Here he was, this gorgeous teenager with a cold expression, walking up to him in an empty parking lot with an air of confidence that no one could just fake. And yet, though he approached him abruptly and didn't even say hi, Archie felt warm. He felt himself still as he stared into a pair of lively green eyes, too enticing to read in such a short amount of time, and gave him what he wanted. To his surprise, Jughead paid him, mumbled a thank you, took a seat onto the back of Archie's old pick up truck, and began to roll a blunt like he'd been doing it for a while.

The redhead had been too shocked at his audacity to say something, and only came out of his trance once the mysterious boy asked for a lighter. He passed it to him, though he knew how inappropriate it was, and watched as Jughead took the first hit and puffed out his soul with it. He offered the blunt to Archie and well, he couldn't resist the chance to know his new client, and that was the start of their relations.

"You gotta stop with that asking me questions thing," Jughead chuckled. He was sat with his long legs stretched out in the back of Archie's truck like always, his head craned upwards at the somber clouds above. A slight smile played at his rosy lips. He was always lighter, less obtuse when he was smoking. His heavy school jacket had been thrown to the side, a pile of vibrant colors that still somehow evoked depression, leaving him in an unbuttoned collar shirt tucked into a blue pair of dress pants. His left hand resided in his pocket and his right hand held the blunt, the only thing that kept the two together.

"Dude, I just want to know your name," Archie groaned. He was sat right next to him, sitting with his legs crossed in a pair of old jeans and a blue sweater full of loose threads and soft fuzz.

Jughead turned his attention to the redhead and playfully rolled his eyes. "I told you my name, babe."

He was always more flirty when he was high, though it didn't make him any less complex or confusing. He used names like babe, sweetheart, and baby to address the doe eyed boy. He was happier, way more relaxed, but perhaps even more closed off and hard to figure out. Archie was the same way. He couldn't blame the boy for not wanting to share personal information when he wasn't willing to do the same. "I thought that was a fake name," he said, furrowing his bushy eyebrows.

Jughead passed the winking blunt to Archie and took his school ID out of his pocket. There it was, clear to see, Jughead Jones. "Now you need to tell me something about yourself," he said confidently, a smirk toying at his lips.

"Like?"

"Why do you deal, sweetheart?" He asked cooly, like he was asking why he liked to draw or do puzzles. Archie was used to his blunt way of approaching things now though, so it didn't bother him.