Fluorescent Adolescent~Jughead Jones

two

"Fuckin' Northsiders." 

Poet rolled his eyes as he shut his phone off. 

What the fuck kinda name was the red circle anyway?

The video has spread rapidly amongst Riverdale's social media, Kusho sending the link to Poet along with a crying laughing emoji. Poet supported the black hood. Sure, killing people probably wasn't the best way to go, but he did target Northsiders. 

He grunted as he opened the door. Poet hated that he had to go this far into Northside territory but for food he'd do anything. 

The bright neon lights of Pop's Chock'lit Shoppe blinded Poet, causing him to squint in pain. He was used to darkness and this was the exact opposite. Pop's was filled with the sounds of laughter and joyful conversations. People enjoyed themselves while bonding over milkshakes and burgers. Poet had to resist the urge to cover his ears. 

As he walked towards the front counter it was obvious he didn't belong there. If the dark clothes and jacket didn't give it away, the stares would. People started to quite down, doing a very bad job of whispering and pretending not to look. Poet couldn't care less. He was used to it.

"Can I help you?"

Poet smiled at the old man who was dressed in a striped shirt and apron. 

"Uh yeah-" Poet looked at the name tag, "-Pops. I'll take a two large burgers, both with no onions or tomatoes. With fries please and a cookies and cream milkshake, no cherry." Pops smiled and nodded at the boy, saying it'd be ready in ten minutes or so.

Poet turned around and rested against the counter, using his elbows for support. He scanned the room, something he often found himself doing.  There was fourteen people in all. Three sitting at the counter. A woman and man sat in a booth, sharing a milkshake and smiling at each other. A group of three sat in front of them. A mother, a father, and their young child. 

Poet smiled at the family. The boy laughed and so did the parents. They were happy. He wished he could have had that. 

The Ghoulie-Serpent shook his head clearing his thoughts and continued to observe his surroundings. The rest of the fourteen were all Northsiders looking at or talking about the video. 

The boy's eye feel on a familiar face, or should he say beanie. Poet smirked and made his way over.

"Jughead Jones," Poet stood next to the booth, looking down at Jughead, "Here in the flesh."

Jughead's head jerked up from his computer, his eyes meeting Poet's.  "Oh, hey."

"You mind if I-" Poet motioned to the seat.

"Sure." Jughead gave a curt answer and went back to looking at his laptops and books.

The two sat in silence, Poet observing the boy. Jughead's eyes flickered between the luminous screen and pages. He barley even seemed to realize Poet was there.

Poet picked up the open book earning a disapproving noise from the other boy.

"Hey I-" Poet stopped him with a look.

"Serial Killers, huh? Not exactly my cup of tea but I do know a thing or two." 

Jughead raised an eyebrow. "Just a thing or two?"

"Well, just a thing or two about serial killers. But about murder and mystery, I'm a slut for that kinda stuff." Jughead furrowed his eyebrows at the boys choice of words before sighing and leaning back into the booth. He crossed his arms and looked at his computer.

 "Why you lookin' at this kinda shit anyways? You aren't into necrophilia, are you? Cause I'm into a lot of shit but fuckin' the dead's were I draw the line." Poet said, tossing the book back with the others.

"Wh-what? No, no I'm not. I'm just trying to learn about serial killers and how they think. Because of the Black Hood and all, you know?" 

Poet nodded slowly at Jughead's response. Putting his arms behind his head, he leaned back into his seat, copying Jughead.

The two sat in a comfortable silence.

Then Poet's phone rang.

He took his phone out and sighed dramatically.

Jughead almost smiled at the Price boy's expression.

"Yes Robbie?"

A muffled voice responded.

"Calm your tits, I got your food."

The voice talked again.

"Yes I remembered no tomatoes and no onions. And yes, I remembered your milkshake."

Jughead and Poet's eyes met, Poet rolling them at the voice making Jughead snicker.

"Yeah, I'll see you soon. Bye."

"Who was that?" Jughead spoke, naturally curious.

"My friend Robbie, he claims he's starving even though he ate an hour ago."

Poet's last name was called, announcing his done food. 

"Well, that's me so I should probably go." 

Jughead nodded and rubbed his neck. Poet started to walk before turning on his heels.

"Here's my number, ya know, in case you want to talk more about serial killers or some shit. Or if you just got questions." Poet wrote it at the top of one of Jughead's pages.

The two boys smiled. 

Poet's phone rang again. 

Poet pulled it to his ear, "Jesus Robbie, I'm coming now! You're not gonna starve!"

The Price boy winked at Jughead before walking and getting his order. 

After he was gone, Jughead finally looked down to wear the boy's number was written.

Here's my number. xxx-xxx-xxxx 

Call me Beanie Boy♥︎