Alphabet ≫ Jarchie

Halcyon II

Halcyon— the one where a drug dealer and a pothead realize their connection runs much deeper than small transactions.

☁︎☀︎☁︎

Withdrawals.

He was a pale figure, lost and alone. His eyes were yellowed and sunken in, and his ghostly body swayed dangerously at the slightest breeze. He shivered, shook, and blindly stumbled through his daily routine as the days passed without meaning. A perpetual chill had settled in his weak bones and infiltrated his impressionable soul. He was hallow and had been for days.

Archie's heart was barely beating. There was an unpredictable, faint thump that tickled his chest every couple of seconds, but it was never steady. Nothing was steady anymore. The world was always slanted and his head was always spinning. He could never find his balance.

His life played in stop motion. Nothing moved as fluidly as it used to. The world felt rigid and awkward, as if things had shifted out of place.

Withdrawals.

He needed his fix, that was very clear. Yet, every time he decided to indulge in his favorite recreational activity, he was left feeling anxious and uneasy. The puffy clouds of murky smoke did nothing to relax him like it once did, it only kept him more on edge. It wasn't the smoking that had made him like this, it was Jughead. Archie was craving Jughead.

But Jughead never called. He never texted. He never emailed, he never wrote, he never sent a DM, he never visited. To Jughead, Archie was just his drug dealer.

In Archie's mind, Jughead was more than just his client, and it seemed as if the universe agreed.

Lately the stars wouldn't align. No matter where Archie stood, constellations never organized themselves in the magical way they used to. The world seemed dimmer and the sky lost its depth. Archie was breathing, but he wasn't living.

"Thanks man," one of his clients said after a quick exchange one evening. It was the last week of May, a little after 7. It was still pretty light outside, the sky having just started melting into a cherry and orange sorbet.

Archie nodded in response and tiredly pulled up his hood. His body was leaned up against the side of his truck and it was the only thing keeping him upright. He wondered how long this would go on for. He wondered when life would start feeling okay again.

He watched at his client walked off, and sighed as a shiver ran down his spine. He was supposed to be home. He had homework to do, he had dinner to make, and his parents relationship to amend, but something was preventing him from getting into his truck. His legs were on protest, and Archie let them go on strike. Something began to bubble in his chest, and a warm feeling ignited in his cold, brittle hands. It was the first sensation his numb body had felt in days. He stood up straight and tentatively peeled down his hood.

Jughead was here. He could sense it.

The tickle in his chest increasingly got stronger, and his heart was pounding against his rib cage with all the force of a lion. Archie turned around and let his eyes scan the secluded area. He was here. He had to be. With every passing second, he only grew more frantic. The only thing he could hear was the powerful thump of his heartbeat and the name of the boy that was tumbling off his lips.

A tap on the shoulder forced the redhead to still. "It's been a while, huh sweetheart?" A familiar voice asked. Archie turned around, more eagerly than he would've preferred, and let his eyes stare at his favorite stranger.

"Who's fault is that, Jughead?" Archie asked. He wanted it to come out harsh, but it sounded more like a whisper. It was clear that he was hurt. His head had dropped and his eyes had taken to scanning the gravel between them.