Young Gods || [Not Updating]

•4•

[chapter four]

She probably should have expected to see him.

Pop's is his second home, after all. His safe space. The only place he can actually be free of all the other bullshit. She's insane not to think that he'd be there, hunched over his laptop in the corner booth.

She tries not to think about it. Curiosity killed the cat and her parents will kill them both if she's seen fraternising with the enemy while acting out a punishment.

Not that she doesn't want to. She's always liked hearing about his work. It's sick and twisted and she hates to admit it but it drags her in whether she likes it or not.

Though, tonight, it doesn't look like he's having the best of time writing.

Smiling at Pop, Veronica places her order and turns around just in time to see Jughead bury his head into his hands.

Screw her parents. If Veronica Lodge wants to talk to someone, she's damn well going to.

"You know, most people go to Starbucks and write," she sits down in the seat opposite him. "Not that the smell of grease and the constant talking isn't great for the creative cycle."

His laptop is cleaner than it used to be. The screen is shiny, almost like a mirror, and all the usual decorations -stickers/post-it notes/photos- have been peeled off. The only sign of damage comes from the two pen drives he's got plugged in. They're held together with duck tape and spite.

"Not now, Veronica," Jughead says, his voice muffled by his hands. "Please."

Lowering her voice, Veronica leans across the table. "Are you OK? You look like someone's just kicked your dog."

"Oh, I'm great." He sits up straight, sighing as he leans his head back to stare at the ceiling. "As amazing as always."

"I don't know if it's the lack of eye contact or the sound of utter deadness in your voice, but something tells me you're not telling the truth." She smiles. "Come on Jughead, tell me."

"Why do you care?"

It's harsh but she can handle that. It's not like it's the first time he's been a dick to her. "Well, you know how much I love drama."

"Drama, huh." Jughead looks right at her. "Good job you cleared that up, for a second there I thought that you actually cared."

"Me? You know I'm genetically incapable of giving a shit about anyone and anything."

He shakes his head. "You're so fake."

"It's the Lodge way," she says. "Just like the Jones way is to be all sullen and mean. But, frankly, it's getting old and my foods going to be done soon, so why don't you just tell me what's going on?"

After a second of glaring, Jughead let's out a long sigh and closes his eyes. "I'm selling my laptop. The guys coming to pick it up soon and I still can't decide what's worth keeping and what's not. Turns out I've got more stuff than I've got space for." He opens his eyes. "You happy?"

"How can I happy when you've just told me that you have to sell your laptop? You can't. Honestly, how are you supposed to write without it?"

"It's sell it or be homeless, so I guess I'll have to start writing the old fashioned away."

She shakes her head. "You're kidding right? What about all of your research? Your manuscript? The greatest crime expose of the century. How the hell are you supposed to carry that one with a pen and paper?"

Jughead shrugs. "I'll work it out."

"What are you getting rid of?"

He looks up at her and shakes his head again. "Is it any of your business?"

"Yes, because, excuse me, you could be deleting a future prize winning novel. In this day and age there's no excuse to not having everything you've ever written."

"Being poor isn't an excuse, Veronica."

It takes the wind out of her. "I didn't mean it like that."

"You don't know what you mean it like. Honestly, you've got no idea what it's like."

"I-"

"Stop, honestly, unless you're going to tell me that you've had to sit and pick between photos of your family and stuff you've spent months writing, then stop."

She pauses for a second. It's not a new experience, fighting with Jughead about the differences in their lives. It used to happen all the time. It just hurts a little more now. How did she ever think that she'd changed?

"I was going to ask how much you're selling it for."

It's Jughead's turn to pause. He scans her face for a clue about what's coming next. "I'm not looking for a handout."

"What do I look like, a charity?" Veronica feels dirty saying it but it's the only way he'll even think about letting her help. "I was actually going to offer to buy it."

"You're telling me you haven't got a laptop."

She has. At home. Barely used. It's kind of stupid when she thinks about it. All the things she has that she doesn't touch.

"No, I'm telling you that I need you to have a laptop."

"Why?"

Her brain is going at a hundred miles an hour. This isn't something thar she's ever had to come up with on the spot. Usually she has time to fix things. But not now. If she doesn't do something right now then Jughead will sell his laptop and that'll be one more thing that only exists in her memories.

"Because I want you to write something." She says. "I want you to write something and I want to help you write it."

He's sat up straight with an expression that tells her that he's just about as lost as she is.

Her phone buzzes. The noise bounces off of the table, making it seem louder than it actually is. It's a message from her mother. A reminder to get home quick because her father's due home any minute.

"My dad," Veronica says before thinking. "I want you to write about my dad."

She's said it now. It's out there in the world and she doesn't have the option to take it back. Not now that Jughead's considering it. She can't offer something like that and take it away.

"You want to expose your dad?"

His word choice solidifies just how much of a bad choice this is. People don't expose Hiram Lodge. It just doesn't happen. Anyone who's tried has ended up taking a long nap in concrete shoes.

But she's said it now and there's a small part of her that wants to say yes.

"Only if you'll help me do it."