Fluorescent Adolescent~Jughead Jones

twenty one

The Black Hood was dead. Riverdale was saved. The threat that once loomed over the small not-so-innocent town was gone.

But if the Black Hood was gone, being revealed to be some fucked up janitor at the Northside High School, then why was there a packaged marked with Poet's name in blood on the Jones's front doorstep?

Poet's face paled. His breathing stopped in fear. His blood ran cold, every muscle in his body freezing. The dark, black hole left from Enoch's death in his chest felt miles deeper than it had before.

It couldn't be the Black Hood. It couldn't. That blonde bimbo and that red head jock had caught him the night after Enoch's death. The Hood and Enoch were pronounced dead and currently sat frozen in the coronary's office. But the dripping red handwriting was too similar to be a mistake. His name, plane as day, spread across the package's top. Those four simple letters struck Poet to his very core.

Poet shook his head, coming back to reality and let out a choked breath of air. What should he do? What should he do?

As afraid as he was, Jughead couldn't know. The Jones's were already being nice enough, letting Poet stay here. He couldn't let the weight of the Black Hood fall onto them, too.

So, without thinking, Poet reached down, grabbed the package and ran.

⇠⇢ ⇠⇢ ⇠⇢ ⇠⇢ ⇠⇢ ⇠⇢ ⇠⇢ ⇠⇢ ⇠⇢ ⇠⇢ ⇠⇢ ⇠⇢ ⇠⇢ ⇠⇢ ⇠⇢ ⇠⇢

Poet hated this park. It was cold and barren, yet uncomfortably familiar. He had no idea why; he'd never even played here. All of the foster homes he'd been to had never cared enough to let Poet play with other kids, let alone bring him to a park. If it hadn't benefited them, it didn't happen.

The park was empty. Freshly shed snow, laid on the ground and the jungle gym. Poet walked over to the swings, shaking. He pushed the snow off the seat and sat down, barley even feeling the cold. He was too numb to feel anything, really.

He placed the small box on his lap and brought his hands up to his face. He can't do this. There was no guarantee what was in there would make him feel any better let alone be safe. With Enoch only being dead three days he couldn't do this. It wouldn't be right.

Poet bit his lip, the chapped skin breaking under his teeth. Fresh blood spread across his lips and over his tongue but Poet ignored the pain.

He opened the box and furrowed his eyebrows. No finger. No heart. No blood. Just...paper. And an envelope.

The envelope on top had a large P on the front and Poet waited no time ripping away the covering.

He read the first sentence.

Greetings Young Poet.

It's been a while since we've last talked and I sincerely apologize. I've had to matters to deal with especially concerning that blonde headed Nancy Drew wannabe Betty.

But now the town thinks I'm gone. But you know the truth, don't you?

I was never truly caught. That lowly janitor was just a copycat. A fake. I advise you not to tell anyone I am truly dead, though. At least not until I'm ready and I make my grand reappearance. Besides, you wouldn't want to loose any more friends, would you?

I didn't think so.

Enoch Yearling was fun. He was a sinner in his own way. You'll soon discover that for yourself. But something about his screams were just so...breathtaking.

The rest of what's in the box are copies of the letters I'd sent Enoch, leading up to his untimely demise. They're not the originals so don't even try to figure out by finger prints and what not.

I'm excited to see your reaction, Young Poet. And remember, talking will get you killed.

Till next time, my dear boy.

-Black Hood

Tear pricked at his eyes, a few strays escaping and running down his cheeks. They landed in the snow, melting small circles into the pure white. Poet brought his hand to his face, cupping his mouth.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

This was bad. This was way out his safety zone. This was...evidence. Proof the Black Hood was alive and still killing. But his letter and the package weren't dated after the death so it wouldn't be enough. Plus no one even knew who the real Black Hood was.

But he'd killed Enoch. Written him letters that sat not even a foot away from Poet's face. So he had to be strong. He had to read them. He had to know.

Know why the Black Hood chose Enoch.

Know why Enoch hadn't been himself.

Know why his best friend was dead.

So, taking a deep, shaky breath, Poet placed his letter aside and pulled out the others.

His thumbs flipped through the corners and he counted seven in all. Each dated and copies of the originals. Of course the Black Hood wouldn't send him the originals. He was to smart for that. Lingering finger prints and DNA could get him caught.

Poet, with tears streaming down his face, started to read the letters, letting himself be thrown into Enoch and the Black Hood's twisted game.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Happy Pride Month my loves! ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🌈

Sooooo, I know this chapter was short I'm really sorry but the next chapter will be all of the Black Hood's letters to Enoch so mentally prepare yourself. And going with the themes of Riverdale, things are not always as they seem, including people.  

I wanted this chapter to be a little sort, though because it's just leading up to Enoch's letters. I feel kinda bad posting these sadder chapters because there's a bunch of bad shit going on in the world right now and I'm sorry. But these next chapters are key to the story, I'm sorry. 

Also for a few chapters Poet's not going to be his a peppy self so it's going to get worse before it gets better but it's building up and creating plot n shit.  

Anyways, vote, comment, read! Love you guys! I'm sorry!

(What's your favorite timothee chalamet movie?)

Mine's lady bird even tho his characters a dick. Cmbyn is a close second