❝ I was never broken. I was cracked. But you― you fixed me. I need you, Jones. Before I really do break.❞
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Rosario Lodge, brother of Veronica Lodge, had known nothing but money, cigerattes, and sex. He didn't know what friendship w...
Jughead sighed heavily, drawing Rosario's attention away from his own mind when he spoke. "Tell me it's more," said Jughead— no, not said, pleaded. "Tell me you are just putting up some walls, or some stupid shit because there is more to the story. Rose—"
"If you are looking for some— some hurt soul beneath this exterior, some sort of human," Rosario forced himself to laugh. Short. Bitter. Cruel. "Than you're barking up the wrong tree because I'm not the lost cause you're hoping to find, Jughead."
Jughead dragged a hand down his face as he shook his head disapprovingly—as though forcing himself not to believe Rosario's words. "No," Jughead said to himself more than to Rosario. "Where is the guy who I saw earlier?" asked Jughead. "The guy who made me help him with his Spanish homework even though he was fluent? The guy who made up an excuse to see me? The guy who said he'd change at Pops—the guy who said he wanted to be better?" Rosario tore his stare away from Jughead, unable to meet the other eyes.
"I don't know."
. . .
Rosario's fist pounded against the door—his hand aching at the impact, but Rosario could hardly feel the tearing of skin on his knuckles, or the chill burn. He was too numb to care. He was too numb to feel. "Keller"—Rosario called out in a drunken cry—"Keller, get your scrawny ass out here so I can kill you!" Rosario leant his weight against the door, sinking in his own weight. "Keller," he attempted again, the bottle of Gin he held cradled against his chest as he gnawed on the straw he placed in the bottle. "Keller—"
The door swung open.
Rosario's weight caved as the door opened, nearly collapsing onto the porch had it not been for Kevin who reacted quickly. Sweeping downward, Kevin caught the Lodge son, and with ease, raised him from the ground. "Rosario, what the hell are you doing?" Kevin demanded, his arm held securely around the others waist to keep the ladder from falling. Rosario squirmed in the Keller's grasp, the bottle of Gin between their chest nearly spilling. "Let go of me," Rosario said—his string of slurs near inaudible, "so I can kick your ass."
Kevin jerked back as the Lodge spoke—the stench of alcohol stronger than the cologne he wore. "Jesus, Rosario, you reek." he complained as he drew both deeper within the home, his foot raised to kick the door closed. "If my Dad was home he'd kill you!"
"Good," Rosario said, taking the former by surprise. "Maybe then I'd have some fucking peace." Kevin leant back with surprise, as though the words had struck him. He doesn't mean it, Kevin insisted. He's drunk, but despite the lie Keller attempted to fool himself with, he knew it was the thought of a sober man. "You're just upset," Kevin attempted to reason, "you don't mean it—" Rosario sunk into the brunettes hold—the Gin he held, slipped from grasp. Kevin winced as the bottle fell to their feet, the bottle of Gin never spilling. He drank it all. Kevin acknowledged. His grasp tightened around Rosario's waist, unsure what to do—unsure what he could do.
"Do— Do you want me to call Veronica?" Kevin stammered, desperate for a solution. "Or, Jughead—"
"It's all your fault," Rosario claimed, "I hope you're fucking happy!" Kevin winced with a knowing guilt. He knew what he had done when he typed those words—he knew what he had done when he sent those words. But that isn't why he felt the pang of guilt. It was wanting this to happen, and not caring that it had, that lead him to feel this guilt.
"Rosario—"
"Uh oh."
Rosario winced at the voice. The voice not drawn by Kevin, or his own damned thoughts but the voice drawn from a memory. A ghost, brought back to life by the very sight of Jason Blossom.
Henrik.
— — —
Daniel Radcliffe|Henrik
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