Fluorescent Adolescent~Jughead Jones

fifteen

Poet woke up cold and shaking. The letter last night had left him on edge and with his nerves shot. He didn't spend the night at Jughead's as much as he wanted to, but he left after Jughead had fallen asleep next to him on the couch and Poet had carried the Jones boy into his room. Poet left a note saying he locked everything and had the spare key for when Jughead wanted it back.

Poet groaned and fell back into his bed. He turned onto his side, peaking at the clock through barley opened eyes. 

5:00am

He groaned once more and rolled up into a sitting position. He cracked his back and stretched out his arms, wiggling them around like a toddler. He giggled quietly to himself.

Poet hummed to himself lightly, trying to step on the ground without making much noise, not wanting to wake up Derek and Angel. He stared at his closet trying to decide what to wear. Well it wasn't a closet as it was more of a large box Poet had found and put a poll through. Either way it worked.

He threw on an old band shirt and jeans, along with his jacket, boots and mismatched socks. Poet crept down the stairs and out the front door into the crisp morning air. He took a deep breath and picked up the newspaper, scanning the front. He froze.

"People of Riverdale, I have rid this town of the drug-dealing child killer and others like him. 

Now you must choose your fate. The next 48 hours will be a test. And I will be watching you very closely. 

Show me you are pure of heart, and my work ends. Continue to sin and I will take up the sword again.

So watch what you do. Watch how you treat others for it may be the begging of your beloved town's demise. Although, without my work it seems to be doing it itself. 

Take care Riverdale. And may God have mercy on your souls."

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Poet frowned, looking at his cracked phone screen for the fifth time in the past minute. Jughead hadn't answered any of his calls or texts and this morning when Poet dropped by he wasn't there. It was nearing ten at night, Poet's anxiety growing with every tick of the clock. He brought his phone up his ear pressing the call button once again. Please pick up your phone, Juggie.

The line rang before the annoying little lady spoke, Poet mouthing the words angrily. He huffed and was about to hit the button again before Kusho stopped him.

"Hey. He's fine. You can't always be there for him, you need to trust that he can take care of himself." Kusho narrowed her eyes but Poet could feel the love in her words. She was right.

Poet nodded and put his phone into his pocket. "You're right. But I can't help but worry. You know? For all I know he could be broken down on the side of the road, being picked up by some psychotic stranger."

Kusho shook her head and rested a hand on his shoulder. "No offense. But shut up. You're here with your gang. Your friends. Now fucking stop worrying and pay attention to us." 

Poet nodded once more, following her back to where their friends were rifling through the boxes of records. Poet smiled softly as Lars cheered and hugged him. He hugged Lar's back, rubbing the boy's back. Just stop worrying, Po. Jug will be fine.

He tugged Lars off of him and threw him over his shoulder, the young Ghoulie shouting in protest but still laughing. 

He spun around once before dropping the small boy back on the ground, holding him till he got his footing. "Find anything good?"

Southside Record Shoppe was one of the gang's favorite places despite none of them actually owning a record player. They usually stayed late into the night until the owner-who was actually Robbie's second cousin-kicked them out, insisting he had to close up shop. 

Enoch shrugged at Poet's question and looked at the ground, leaning against Robbie. Robbie nodded egerly and pushes two records towards Poet. "Pink Floyd and Black Sabbath. Not my normal taste in music but what can I say? I'm a wild card."

Poet rolled his eyes and took the Pin Floyd album, putting it on the record player by the front desk, the sweet sounds of The Wall flowing throughout the small store.

The five rested against the bins in silence while Robbie and Lars filed through the bins. Kusho called Enoch's name, the small boy looking up. "Were going to be okay, okay? We haven't done anything wrong. He's not gonna get us." Enoch bit his lip and nodded, pulling his arms closer to his body. 

Poet gave Kusho a questioning look who waved him off. Poet was still mad at Enoch but something was bothering the small boy and Poet's worry overpowered his anger. 

Robbie hopped onto the top of the bins, flipping his second cousin off as he yelled for Robbie to get down. Robbie turned to Poet and poked his cheek.

"Sooooooooooo. You and the Jones boy done it yet?"

Poet grinned and shook his head, not noticing the way Enoch seemed to freeze. "Come on, Rob. You know I'm saving myself for my one true love Mothman."

Robbie snorted and pinched his cheek. "Better be careful. If you don't act on it soon, people might start to think you're an Axesexual like her over there."

Kusho rolled her eyes but smiled. "First off, it's Acesexual, dipshit and second it's none of your business. If Poet chooses to be a wimp and not ask Jones it's his choice."

Poet flipped her off, Kusho returning with one of her own. He stuck his tongue out, her returning the gesture again.

Poet turned back to Robbie and shoved him backwards off the table. "You're such a shitty friend Rob."

Robbie clung to Poet's leg. "Hey, I may be a shitty friend but I'm your shitty friend."

Poet growled at him, Robbie growling back before the older boy placed a wet sloppy kiss on his cheek. Poet pulled a pouty face and wiped his face roughly. "Robbie! Now I've got at least three new diseases."

The others laughed at his expression, Poet blowing a raspberry at them all.

"You guys suck."

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What's your guys's favorite kind of ice cream?