Jarchie Oneshots

||My God, you're soaking wet||

• Jughead going to his boyfriend's because he's soaked
• plays before 01x01
• sickfic
• trans!Jughead

Sophomore summer break was supposed to be great. Instead it was the worst thing that ever happened to him.

His mother finally had enough of his father and one night, she just grabbed his sister and left while she had told him to stay there. If FP should get back on track, he had to call them in order to tell them that it's time to come back now. But nothing like that has happened yet and instead, his father only got worse.

When he started to hurt him, the boy couldn't stand it anymore and packed a bag, leaving the trailer, his home, shortly after that. He and Archie were supposed to have a road trip but the redhead never showed up.

He had lived at the Drive-In-Theater for the next few weeks — he stayed there until they shut it down... or well, he still stayed there then. He only ever left once the bulldozer had come to tear it down and the only thing left of his temporary home was the dust and pieces. After that he went around for a bit until he ended up in a janitor closet at school. That's where he stayed for a while, until he got caught.

Grabbing his bag again, he had sighed but then left and found a new place, none other but their old treehouse. It was okay, as long as it was warm. He, Archie and Fred had build it when they were younger, in the middle of the forest where they were cast off from the world and spend most of their summer nights in middle school at. However, now that it was November and the temperatures liked to drop down to 0°C (32°F), or even more, it wasn't a surprise to him when he ended up getting a cold, especially once the rain set in at night too.

When it had rained for three days straight, the wood couldn't hold the rain back anymore. Everything got soaking wet over the past two days. He was able to mildly protect his laptop, in its laptop case, wrapped around multiple layers of clothes in his sleeping back. He put his headphones and chargers in the clothes pile as well. Anything else was ruined. Thankfully he had saved most of his school work on his laptop, for all of it was probably ready for the trash, his books caught some black spots and any handwritten things had gone blurry or completely vanished from the paper. Jughead hoped that his laptop would stay dry that way or at least only get damp. It could survive that — hopefully.

Jughead awoke from another thunder growl, his body shooting up. His frame was shivering, the five layers of clothes not helping since everything was wet anyways. He shivered, his teeth clattering. Nevertheless, he just got back in his sleeping bag, pulling it as far as possible, before trying to sleep again. He had wrapped a trash bag around the end to at least keep his feet dry, and the laptop. Keeping his feet warm, helped him to not freeze to death every night and morning. He couldn't solely rely on Pop, who left the heating on at the weekends at least. He didn't want to burden him too much.

He couldn't stay at the tree house for much longer though. It was too cold. The thunder was too loud. His chest was too tight and the floor beneath him too wet. He had been drenched for the past four days, or at least damp. Tomorrow would be Saturday. He had hoped to spend those 48 hours in Pops — warming up, getting dry, eating a full meal and not just half frozen canned food, and lastly making sure that his laptop was still alive.

In another coughing fit, Jughead hurled over himself. It wouldn't soothe it though and everything swam. He groaned, falling to the side, though it made everything worse.

He couldn't do this anymore. He needed a break, right now, in the middle of the night. He couldn't wait until tomorrow morning, which was only a couple of hours away but it felt like eternity. He couldn't wait until Pop came to work at 6am, granting him shelter.

He needed a solution right now.

He sat up again, this time slower. When he felt steady enough, he got out of his sleeping bag and grabbed the backpack from within. The only really necessary things were in there, the rest had to stay here: the many cans stacked in towers of four, his washing set with his soapy toothbrush that he hasn't touched since the first rain hit seven days ago, his school things which were cramped in one corner, his books — which he would throw out once the mold took over, for now it was his only form of entertainment. The only item added to the backpack was a thermos bottle that he had filled with hot coffee at Pops before Pop finished his shift at 2pm. It was lukewarm now, so the only warmth that he had left.