the other boys ⇨ jarchie

14

archie.

my eyes snap open. i'm laying in bed, the sky dull grey and coated in clouds. i glance to my side and i see a pale boy covered in purple bruises and blood-stained bandages, with curly black hair and freckles on his back.

i breathe in relief. it's jughead.

wait a minute. jughead?

i gently shake the sleeping boy. "jug?"

the mass of bones and sharp facial features turns around, groaning as his broken rib moves with him. his eyes widen when he sees who called his name.

"archie?" he attempts to sit up. "what time is it?"

"it's 7:30," i say groggily, looking at my phone. "it's also thursday."

i wrap my arm around his waist, frowning when he pushes it off. "what the hell happened last night?" jughead asks, rubbing his eyes.

"what do you remember?" i press, getting out of bed to get myself ready for school.

"well, i know that my dad beat me again, which is pretty obvious—"

my heart drops. "again?"

"yeah, i just didn't tell you all the other times," he replies. i open my mouth to object, but then he carries on. "my dad beat me, i came here, i took a shower. then i had a few drinks and went to sleep."

went to sleep? that's what he calls making out with your best friend?

"oh. okay."

jughead frowns. "what? did something else happen?"

"well, yeah," i infirm, looking through my drawers for my dark green jumper, "it wasn't just a few drinks."

and you definitely didn't go to sleep.

"oh," jughead laughs, "that probably explains the headache."

i turn around. "you know what," i say bitterly, "i hope you don't mind me saying this, but you're kinda acting like your dad right now."

his blue gaze turns as hard as rock. "hm. and why do you think that?"

"because you drank yourself into oblivion last night and you're not even bothered about it!"

jughead stands up, wobbling as he does so. "so did you!"

"that's not my point. my point is, i actually remember what happened last night, and you don't!" i yell back.

"okay then, what happened last night?" jughead shouts.

i stare at him longingly. "it doesn't matter," i mumble.

we gaze at each other angrily, fury lingering the air. i break the tension abruptly by resuming getting dressed. jughead searches through my wardrobe and picks a black turtle neck, and i see worry flash in his eyes when he discovers that he left his beanie at home.

we get ready in silence, occasionally glimpsing at each other's bodies. once we're done, i grab all of my school stuff from my desk and shove it into my backpack, jughead not carrying anything, since he left his at home.