Derrière le Rideau (Behind the Curtain)

•Trois•

But can't."

"Atlas," her eyes glaze over and go dark with the fact he doesn't believe it, "Atlas? You are quiet, that never happens." Even though he may not always see but he does hear correctly, sometimes.

Silence is the loudest and most overlooked cover of a cry.

"I, I'm just tired. I've been studying French lately, that's my lowest class." Lies on top of more lies. My mouth tastes foul from what I'm hiding and what I am lying about. Tired? Studying? She may as well write a book about 'Believable Cover Stories' that everyone will fall for.

"That's your lowest class? Don't you have a ninety-three? I don't think you need that pressure on you right now." He says smoothly, anyone would be joking if they wouldn't fall for his voice. So calming and comforting.

"Well, I have to stay at the top," Jughead rolls his eyes and pulls out bent and extremely faded notecards, "w-wait-" he stops, "I, Jughead, I just really want to sleep right now. Is that alright?"

"Yeah! Don't let me stop you. But I do have to say, you saved me this summer with the whole Archie situation. The fact that he canceled last minutes made me, furious and you were there for me. So I'll be there for you." Now, this is a shock, and once again, have clean thoughts. Atlas is his best friend that's a girl and Jughead needs her to survive. And the fact she is in love with him and his mind is elsewhere.

On top a wholly comforter with a thick quilted blanket the two get cozy in a situation others would find unclean and unsanitary. But here all the problems of their lives are washed away. With arms around each other and his head above her's and his eyes open till she falls asleep in one of the hotter nights of summer and fall. Now a few days ago it would have been the opposite, Atlas protecting him while he sleeps and when she does, she never sleeps.

Minutes pass as her ears listen to the noise of his steady heart, a rhythm that no one could copy. A question sits down in her brain and pesters her constantly like an old man poking at an immovable object and telling it to move and do tricks.

"Jughead,"

"Atlas," he breathes out.

"I'm sorry for going conspiracy psycho on you, the thoughts, they don't stop, it hurts..." A hand cups her head and begins to stroke through her sleek yet lightly curled raven locks. Jughead presses his lips against her forehead and sighs.

"It's okay, I am here now. I am sorry for leaving you, I won't ever do it again. Unless something important happens," Atlas breathes out a laugh and moves closer to him (as if they could get any closer, but apparently they can).

"If you must leave, you can, just give me a heads up."

"Anything for Atlasmaps since you get me places."

Love is a word people use when they want objects or want physical things, it is entirely taken out of context to what it actually is. Society has bent the meaning, society has formed our own thoughts to how men should act, how women should act, and how power should be used.

All of that is a lie.

It's all made up.

Women are human beings.

Men are human beings.

Women can wear whatever the heck they want.

Men can wear dresses and not be ashamed.

But no, that is 'unacceptable'.

Love is sex. Sex is love. No.

Love is a connection that brings two people together and when strong enough it will pull through any circumstance that comes their way. Love is a bond of trust and having the other's back no matter the events. Love is accepting who they are, and everything about them. Love isn't picking out the parts they like, love is taking in everything and smiling while saying, "you are the very best you can be." Love is, love.

Atlas' love has no boundary to Jughead, though he may not see it, it is there and it won't ever leave.

"Jughead?"

"Yeah Atlas?"

"Would it be weird for me to say what I want to say?" He raises his eyebrow and lifts his head.

"Say it then. I'm listening."

A long drawn blank goes on and Atlas fights the urge to back down.

"I love you, and not in a weird way, I love you and I always will. I know your heart is elsewhere-"

"Atlas, I love you too..."

But he doesn't mean it like that. Not how you actually feel. That sensation in your chest, that emotion that erupts inside and is hard to control, love.

And love only towards him.

With his lips meeting her head they both fall asleep in a deep slumber that will last until the afternoon, but thankfully it's a Saturday and school wasn't necessary.

But both of them had a weight that once held them down now is letting them fly. The three simply words that tear kingdoms down or builds them up.

I love you.