ED SHEERAN
This contact cannot be reached, please try again later,'
The autonomous face repeated for the nth time. Y/n sighed, biting his lip before redialing the number, "Pick up already," he grumbled, sighing in contempt. He tapped his fingers on the glossy ebony surface of the dining table, picking on the undercooked eggs on his plate. "What a dick."
He set his phone down, looking down at the donut he had leaned on the dusty vase, it's flowers were starting to falter. "Harold, why don't you get your lazy ass up and drive me to school," he glared at Harold, it's pink frosting glistening under the rays of sunlight seeping through the velvet curtains. "Right, inanimate objects can't get a license. Fuck."
Y/n stabbed the undercooked eggs with his fork, his eyes wandering to the dim screen. He took one last look at the contact before shutting it off. The chair's screech echoed throughout the empty room as it dragged it's legs across the marbled floors. He'd lost his appetite.
—-
A sour expression made its way to his face as he trudged his way up the steps to Riverdale High. He looked up when he entered the crowded halls, biting the insides of his cheek as he slithered through.
He wiped the sweat off his forehead, using one hand to unlock his locker. There was a stack of chocolate bars stuffed in the side, barely fitting in the space between the copious amounts of chips and other paraphernalia by the thin walls of the gray locker. A small tin of sealed rat poison accompanied by a small first aid pack at the very bottom of his locker.
He grabbed a handful of the chocolate bars, slamming his locker shut right after. His eyes couldn't avoid the locker next to his. Jason Blossom's locker. What used to be Jason's anyway.
Stuffed animals and flowers surrounded it The symbol of the town's late appreciation for the boy. He was near perfect to some, after all not everyone could be the captain of every sports team, or be the heir to the blossom maple industry. Only a few got to gaze at the imperfect perfection that was Jason Blossom's true charm.
Y/n knocked over one of the stuffed bears on Jason's memorial. "Hey guys! Look, it's Gore freak!" He stumbled about when he collided with a huge hunk of muscle. One of the blockheads in the Bulldogs, Reggie Mantle, pointed at him with a smug grin. Behind him was Moose, another one of his rabies friends, throwing a nod. Maybe this was his karma for being disrespectful to the dead.
Reggie's eyes flickered up and down, scoffing. He squeezed the boy's biceps, "Did you deadlift Jason or something?"
Y/n shook his head, taking a bite of his chocolate. "Yeah, Tits Mcgee. I used him to tear some drywall," his eyes flickered to the firm grip on his arm, raising a brow. The squeeze on his arm grew in intensity. He opened his mouth, his lips slowly curving upwards as he squinted his eyes at the jock. "You trynna fuck? Chill out, it's like the start of the year, dude..."
"Well, I'm sure you don't need me," Reggie shoved the boy, sneering down at him. "You got those old shits at the private homes you worked in, didn't you? Got them to feed your little fetish behind Mr. Andrew's back?"
This football jock definitely looked like he could say a slur.
Y/n bit his tongue, then his lip. "Well, thanks to me, those grandparents have had more sex than you," He widened his smile to a grin, his index finger shoved up against Reggie's chest. "Can you let me go now? I still have to fuck your mom."
CRACK
The world around him spun. His nose stinging with unbearable pain as he stumbled down to his ass. He glared at the jock, getting up. He grabbed the boy's collar, "I'm also fucking your dad, bitch!"
-
Archie left the music room with a sour expression. He couldn't help but look back at each step he took away from it. He mulled over who else could help him with his newfound interest, blowing out hot air through his mouth. The only options left were Ms. Grundy and one of his ex best friends, Y/n L/n. Ever since their cancelled road trip, the only face he'd regularly see was the latter. He made snide remarks about blondes sometimes, but he still gave Archie a fair share of the burgers that he buys. (fair as in he'd get 1 of the 5 burgers Y/n buys for himself)
He really did scare Archie sometimes.
Riverdale High's bathrooms weren't the cleanest, but Archie tried his best to wash his hands of any dirt he might have gotten from his short silence break. He rubbed the soap on his hands thoroughly, sighing as he looked up at the mirror.
"Hey, Arnold," he saw a tuft of (h/c) hair peeking from one of the stalls, followed by (e/c) eyes peering down at him. "I've been watching you."
Archie froze, scanning the mirror. "What are you doing?" he asked. Why did he even ask? A small laugh left his lips when the boy adjusted his position, now resting his arms on the stall, they comfortably nestled his chin between them. "I just said--"
Y/n was interrupted by his own yelp as the stall door swung open. His body went along with the momentum. He almost lost his footing on the toilet's cover as he hung on for dear life. "OW FUCK—Watching!" he repeated, hand flying to the bridge of his nose. "Using those muscles on me right now would be really helpful!"
Of course, Archie came to the aid of his questionable friend. He was anything but malevolent. Y/n sat back down on the toilet lid with a lax posture, legs spread as he faced the sides of the stall, patting his outer lips with a cotton ball. He motioned for Archie to close the door.
Albeit hesitantly, Archie complied. His eyes widened. Y/n's lip was busted. There were marks of dried blood above his lips. A small first aid pack laid on the tank's cover, beside a hill of crumpled tissue papers stained with bright red. "What the hell happened?" his brows furrowed, holding out a hand, "We should go to the nurse's office."
Y/n placed a gauze wrap on his hands. He tapped his nose, a wry smile in response to the small crack produced. "One of your puss and marmite shwirled shitdick bulldogs found out I had hot sex with his mom," he laughed. He froze when pain hit his swollen nose. He put the red stained cotton ball with the rest of the bloodied supplies. "Well, I was about to anyway."
He grabbed the gauze back from Archie, "Was it Reggie, again?" the redhead asked. "I'll talk to him, but—we should really go to the nurse's office, you're gonna make that worse..."
"It's just like a broken dick, no big deal," Y/n laid the gauze over his nose, flinching at another wave of pain. "Fuck--" a groan left his mouth, shoulders slumping as he let the other side of the stall catch his slouched back. "Okay, maybe I made it worse."
The walk to the nurse's office was quiet. Archie carried the first aid pack whilst Y/n held the bridge of his nose, spinning his donut around. The halls were deserted, save for a few students running late to the assembly. When they arrived, the nurse simply prescribed pain killers, bandaged it up, and gave him an ice pack for the swelling. They were asked what happened and Y/n blamed it on his stupidity. He's been here before, blaming the Bulldogs for any of his injuries yielded to nothing. Clayton, and to an extent, Weatherbee, would never let their dude-bro-ball-grabbing team's records be tainted, not for him anyway.
"Look," Archie sighed, "About the road trip—I'm sorry." A late apology is better than nothing, he thought. Why did it take him this long?
Y/n hummed, "ChugJug and I are always at Pop's," he informed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his spread legs. "Drop by soon because we can't be a social club with only two people."
"We're a social club?"
"Yeah, dead poet society," Y/n grinned, "You're society."
The two shared a short laugh. Silence soon overtook them. Archie coughed as he looked around the sterile room. He could hear the distant laughter bouncing from the walls; they weren't this awkward before, especially with Jughead around. Y/n would either stuff his face with food or somehow set things on fire with a frozen donut while Jughead tries his best to contain him. Archie would be watching, laughing harder when Jughead finally stopped the insanity with nonsensical bribery.
He sighed, scratching his cheek. "Y/n... I was wondering," he started, making eye contact with the other. "Can you help me with music? With song writing—I mean?"
Y/n's slacked smile returned. "Did you just apologize so I could suck your musical cock?" he kicked Archie's shins. Archie was quick to deny, shaking his head profusely, wide eyed. Of course he wouldn't, Archie probably doesn't have enough brain to think of such a scheme, Y/n thought.
"I can only help you with sheet music. If it wasn't obvious enough,"—he pointed at himself—"I'm the dead guy. I don't do poetry."
"Ms. Grundy can help you too, I think..." Archie tensed, averting his gaze to the uninteresting wall. Did he know? Perhaps his talk of blondes wasn't just all for laughs, "My fingers almost ripped off from how hard I had to press at the fucking cello strings," Y/n switched to using his left hand for the ice pack, looking at the ceiling in thought.
"You have lessons with Ms. Grundy?" Archie turned to face him, searching his wandering eyes.
"Like, 20 years ago, with dead boy. He decided sports clubs weren't enough." A warm chuckle left Y/n's lips. His head turned to the floor, looking at his swinging feet. "Decided to take over the rest of Riverdale and dragged me along to literally fuck everything up."
The redhead gave a wry smile. "Right, I remember...You and Ja—" the ice pack interrupted him, it was shoved up his mouth.
"Anyway you can thank me by making up with Jughead" Archie's smile faltered. The redhead took the ice pack off his mouth, tossing it back to the boy, who didn't catch it. Who would want to catch something covered in Archie's slob? "He won't admit it cause he's a constipated emo, but he misses you." Y/n looked at the ice pack. "And you better thank me, dipshit. I don't do things for free. I'll bludgeon you with Harold if it's the last thing I do."
"Your bagel?"
"He's more than a bagel, he's a fucking donut."
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(A/n: not proofed. This chapter feels lackluster sigh)