Nameless ≫ Jarchie

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Dear Jughead,

This is not a joke. I know it may seem crude to start a letter this way but I vow to you that everything I write here is the truth. I am your father. My name is FP. Your sister's name is Forsythia P. Jones, but everyone calls her Jelly Bean. The torment that comes with our family's names is what I like to call "initiation". Your mother's name is Gladys. Boring. Jughead? Not boring. To tell you the truth, I didn't believe your letter at first.

       I was reading through it blankly until you said you were running. You always ran, everywhere actually. You used to race people down the block all the time and nobody could beat you. You were pretty fast, where you got that speed from I don't really know. Your mother turned away from reading the letter once you got into the part about the accident, but she read everything after that part. I have always found it pointless to apologize for things out of my control, but I'm so sorry these things have been done to you.

       To answer your questions, yes, you used to love Lucky Charms. I'm glad that you still do. You never really had a hatred for contractions though. I'm not sure where that came from. You used to say words like 'ain't', 'momma', 'gonna'. That has definitely changed. You used to hate the rain. Every time a thunder storm came you'd hide in your closet or run into your mom and I's room. You were so scared of it, especially lightening. It was probably the only thing you were afraid of. Other than that you were virtually fearless. Your sister used to look up to you like a superhero, saying that rain to you was like kryptonite to Superman. You hated reading. Getting you to pick up a book was difficult. You much rather had liked to spend your time outside.

You have grown into such a good-looking young man. I'd like to take credit for that, but you look more like your mom. The minute I saw the picture I knew it was you. Your mom cried, and so did your sister. She's 15 Years Old now. She loved you a lot, you know. You two were very close. Sometimes it was hard to pull you two apart. She spent a lot of her time trying to keep up with you and when you disappeared she shut down. It wasn't until recently that she's becoming herself again. When I told her about the letter you sent, she didn't say much. I feel as if she is excited, but skeptical. She wouldn't read the letter, but I'm hoping she will want to soon. I get her hesitance though. Life has been pretty grim these past few years but I'm glad you reached out. I know you're not ready, but I would like to see you or at least talk to you again. We can just write letters back and forth. I don't mind if you say no. I don't want to push anything on you. I attached my phone number anyways. Hope I answered your questions.

Yours truly, FP

———

Jughead should be happy. Everything felt as if it were falling into place after years of thinking that nothing ever would. He had a boyfriend who loved him, a family who loved him, a name that he loved, and a resolution to his internal dilemma that he'd been battling with for years. Things were good, great actually, so why did he wake up this morning empty?

He woke up, opened his eyes, and sighed. It was raining, but he didn't feel the excitement he usually felt in his heart at the loud tapping of raindrops dancing on every surface in their sight. He checked his phone with blank eyes, staring down at the good morning text from Archie that usually caused a smile to spread across his face.

Things were good, great actually, so why did everything look so grey?

Something about the way he was feeling was regretfully familiar, the emptiness and lack of excitement about being alert, awake. It almost scared him, but he couldn't really care enough to indulge in the emotion. Something about today was off, and he wasn't feeling it.