Chapter Text
Jughead just needed space sometimes. Okay, most of the time. He didn't know if it was a byproduct of growing up in a two-bedroom trailer with four people or just his nature, but regardless he needed a lot of time alone. There was so much going on in his head all the time, and with other people always around sometimes things just got too… loud.
He knew Archie had a hard time understanding it, as he was someone who naturally gravitated towards people and needed their energy to burn off some of his own. But Archie had always been the golden child; someone who people wanted to be around and nourish. Jughead had been the opposite: a dark and brooding kid with too much going on at home and relentless bullying happening at school. Both came with their unique sets of challenges, because Jughead knew where he often felt like an alien specimen waiting to be examined Archie felt smothered from the weight of too many expectations on his shoulders.
Betty had the same thing, which was why she and Archie had always gotten along so well. They knew how to curb their expectations of each other and just exist in the same space.
Jughead's foster parents were out for the weekend and into most of the week, leaving Jughead free reign of the house. They had two kids of their own, a boy and a girl, who were already adults off in the world with their own kids. The foster parents, Alicia and Robert, had told Jughead that they missed having a kid around the house, but let him set the ground rules. They'd had other teenage foster kids before and they’d learned quickly that the best thing they could offer was a bed, some food, and the level of attention the child wanted: space or rules, an absent parent or a helicopter one. Jughead was curious about how their own children had turned out, but not enough to ask them.
Alicia and Robert lived in a two-story house on the Southside, just a few streets from where the Jones’ trailer used to sit. It was small, but homey. It had clearly been lived in for a long time by people who were content to stay and didn't want for much. That's how Jughead saw Alicia and Robert as well: simple, quiet, not prone to complaining or drama. Maybe a little on the stupid side, but it could be a lot worse. They’d saved up some checks from Social Services and had offered to take Jughead on a trip. When he'd politely refused, they went by themselves, leaving him the house keys and a fridge full of food. Even though he’d technically been living there for over half a year, it still felt like he was given complete access to a stranger’s house. That level of trust was both bewildering and humbling.
Jughead sat curled up in the corner of their worn red couch, sunk into the comfort of happily-used furniture. He gazed absently around the room, eyes catching briefly on pictures and memorabilia as his mind wandered. The house hummed with electronics and AC, creaking every so often as if to remind him of the strong frame that surrounded him. Sometimes he just needed this; a quiet moment. No books, movies, or music. No writing. Just time to sit and let his mind meander as it pleased.
Archie was working with his dad today, though he'd probably been home for a few hours by now. Jughead had texted him that morning right away and told him he wasn't feeling social, but would try to meet up with him later. Sometimes he just woke up and immediately knew he would be better off not being around people that day. Sometimes he didn't want to talk but was okay just laying around with Archie, but sometimes there were the days where Jughead needed to be alone. Where he needed to exist in a space without eyes on him. Where he could finally let everything that lay so tightly curled in his mind relax and unleash.
Sometimes those things were good, sometimes they weren't, but sometimes it was like today and they all seemed disconnected from Jughead, like he was watching a movie and had no personal affiliation to anything that was going on. It felt good, though. Like stretching out a muscle he hadn't paid attention to in awhile.
Jughead had been this way for as long as he could remember, and had become adept at carving out hiding places for himself when he needed to escape. He was still looking for a place in town after the loss of the drive-in, but hadn't found anything as good yet. He had told the other theater that he would work for them as soon as the college kids left their summer employment and went back to their coastal schools, but he still had a few weeks to wait before he could expect a call. Hopefully he could find a quiet corner there, someplace to hide out where no one could find him.
His savings was nearly dried up from being unemployed for so many months and his road trip with Archie, but he couldn't regret the latter. Jughead and Archie had spent a week driving along rural roads, eating at small local restaurants, and then pitching their tent whenever they needed to stop for the night. It was laid-back, with no plans other than just to drive around and see what was out there.
Jughead hadn't had any idea there were so many stars, or that they could see the edge of their own galaxy just by laying outside away from city lights.
“They make me feel so small,” Archie had confided quietly, as they'd lain next to each other gazing upwards.
The sight had made Jughead feel small, too, but in a comforting way. Like, if there were so many potential planets and galaxies and universes out there, his own life really didn't mean that much. Maybe he didn't have to try so hard all the time.
“Imagine all the stories out there,” Jughead had whispered to Archie that night. “Everything the stars have seen.”
Archie had reached down, tangling their fingers together. “Figures you’d be optimistic about the one thing I'm pessimistic about.”
A grin had stretched across Jughead's face, hidden in the dark. “Look at you using your big boy words.”
Archie had snorted. “Jug, if I had a dollar for every time you called me a ‘hopeless optimist’ I could keep you fed at Pop's the rest of our lives.”
“You romantic,” Jughead had teased flatly, happiness swelling inside his chest despite his words as he'd rolled over and buried his face into Archie's shoulder. “I know your evil plan: fatten me up so I can never leave the house while you swan around all Greek god-like.”
Laughter had made Archie's whole body shake, jostling them against each other. “Now I'm just imagining you fat!” he'd howled. “Like, so fat your beanie wouldn't fit!”
“That is not how that works, Andrews!” Jughead had retorted, trying to keep his amusement from lacing his tone without success. He'd chewed lightly on Archie's shoulder through the fabric of his t-shirt for his insolence. Laughing, Archie had retaliated by flipping onto his side and pinching at Jughead's tender sides, making him yelp loudly.
I wonder what the stars would think of us idiots, he'd thought as they'd wrestled, laughter permeating the still night air.
Jughead's mind lingered on Archie, as it so often did. He really couldn't believe that they, as a couple, were working so well together. If he was completely honest with himself, he'd thought that Archie would split after a couple of weeks, realizing that his relationship with Jughead, like with Betty, was better spent platonically.
And yet, he'd stayed. Through Jughead's sporadic fits of self-loathing and low self-esteem, where he would try to push Archie as far away from him as he could get, the other boy had stayed. Through Jughead's silences, self-imposed isolation, and bad days where his pessimism threatened to drown him… Archie had stayed.
And even better, Archie hadn't tried to change him at all. He teased Jughead, but he didn't tell him to lighten up or stay positive or any of those bullshit platitudes. There had been this one time, back in middle school, where Archie had begged Jughead to try and be “normal,” telling him that his life would be easier and he wouldn't get bullied so much if he wasn't such a weirdo.
But Jughead didn't know how to be normal, how to act like anything other than himself. And he'd flat-out told Archie that if he couldn't handle it then he didn't have to stick around, sullying his Good Boy Reputation with a kid from the wrong side of the tracks. They hadn't spoken for almost a month, but they'd eventually found their way back to each other, scowling and flustered that they didn't seem to know how to function without the friendship that had run alongside most of their lives.
It had taken a long time to return to normalcy, but they didn't know how not to advocate for each other. Archie didn't know how to stand up for himself and talk back when adults asked too much of him and Jughead lacked the physical prowess to fight his bullies, though neither boy lacked in spirit. That was the foundation of their friendship: standing up for each other when the rest of the world got too close, asked for too much, wanted them to be something they weren't. Jughead had his brain and a razor sharp tongue while Archie had his golden heart and his fists, and somehow they worked together.
He deserves better than me, came the thought, unbidden, rising like black tar in the back of his mind. But on its heels, Let Archie decide for himself. He's smarter than he looks.
Jughead smirked to himself and unfolded from his couch corner, heading into the room he occupied whenever he slept in this house. Reaching under his pillow, he grabbed his phone and found a single missed text.
jsyk im off work. miss u but lmk when ur ready.
Fondness rose in his chest again, as it so often did when it came to Archie. A part of Jughead hated himself for it, but a larger part really didn't, at all. He thumbed a quick text back.
Hey.