Hey guys, a quick note before we start, this chapter talks a little bit about depression and self harm, but nothing to graphic or deep and I just wanted to let you guys know in advance.
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Mrs. Keaton's office was small but cozy. Soft lighting filled the room, comfortable chairs and beanbags sat around the room and the walls matched her rosy pink smile.
Mrs. Keaton smiled at Poet, one leg crossed over the other, a small notebook resting on top of them. Poet gave a forced smile back, his nails digging into the purple corduroy chair.
They sat in silence, the room quiet except for the gentle trickle of her stone fountain.
Sensing Poet's discomfort, Mrs. Keaton started. "This is a safe place, Poet. As was explained in the packet I gave to you in the lobby, anything you say in this room says here unless it involves you hurting someone, someone hurting you, or someone getting hurt. Then I'll talk with your guardians and anyone else to insure your's and other's safety, alright?"
Poet nodded, his combat boot tapping on the floor. "Okay."
"Now," She smiled, picking up her pen to begin writing. "Let's start. Tell me about your life, your family. Who is Poet Price?"
Poet thought for a moment. "Uh, I live with a foster family so other than that I don't have any living relatives. I've got a few friends both from the North and Southside but the ones from the Southside and I aren't really, uh, talking, I guess."
She nodded, "Why's that?"
"The-the kid who died near Christmas he was um one of our best friends. And since then everything's been...different."
Keaton nodded again, pushing back her long dirty blonde hair. "Well that's normal. Death is scary and can bring people together or apart. How have you been handling all this?"
Poet shrugged and leaned back into his chair, growing more comfortable. He thought for a second before answering. "I don't really know." His fingers tapped faster against the chair's arm. "I think I've been getting more angry, kinda? I've been trying to control it but sometimes everything just feels like to much and overwhelming, you know? Enoch was one of my closest friends and now my other friends aren't even talking to me. An' I think I'm coming to terms with it, though. Slowly. But I don't know." Poet took a breath, rubbing his hands across the thigh of his jeans to calm himself.
Keaton gave him a soft smile and stopped writing, having taken notes while he was speaking. "I understand. It's hard. Especially for someone your age. Life isn't easy." She paused before leaning back into her chair. "Poet, if you don't mind me asking- and it's okay if you don't answer, you have total freedom in here. Do you ever have...bad thoughts?"
He cocked an eyebrow, tilting his head in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"Well...like thoughts about hurting yourself or causing yourself pain. Those kinds?"
Poet gave a light sad chuckle, clasping his hands together. He leaned forward. "Well, yeah. But who hasn't right? I've always kinda had them."
Keaton bit her lip and sighed. "Poet, those aren't normal. They aren't a regular part of life, I need you to understand that. Do you know when you first started having them?"
Poet thought for a second, the sinking feeling in his chest growing. "Um...I guess since I was twelve or thirteen maybe. I don't know. They've gotten better. Or were better. Enoch's dea- ...everything with him kinda messed it up. It's like everything's dialed to eleven, you know? I've never acted on any of them, though. I've already got a bunch of scars, I don't really need anymore."
Mrs. Keaton frowned. "You mean from the fire?"
Poet gulped. "Yeah. From the fire."
She leant forward, rubbing her hands together. "What were your parents like? I know you lost them at a young age and I'm very sorry."
He shrugged. "It's okay. I don't...they're not my main concern lately. My mom was pretty. Beautiful even. She had beautiful long brown hair that I liked playing with and the nicest smile. And my dad...he was funny and had a laugh that could fill the whole room, it was so contagious."
Poet paused with a soft smile. "Wow. I haven't thought about that in a long time."
The therapist gave him a loving look and glanced at the clock, slowly standing up. "I'm afraid our times up for today, Poet. I'm looking forward to our next visit though."
He raised his eyebrows, slightly surprised at how fast forty five minutes had gone by. He got up and walked to the door, sending her a grateful look. "Me too, doc. Me too."
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A week later, Poet sat in the student lounge with his eyes closed, leaning back into the couch. He listened to his peers talk around him as he sat quietly.
Since his therapist appointment last week, everything had been okay. Or going smoothly at least. He'd seen her again a few times, Veronica and him had gotten closer, with Hiram often suggesting she take him on her shopping trips and Poet agreeing. The uniforms the Lodges had donated were actually pretty comftable which was rare for a school uniform.
Poet heard Veronica laugh with her group and Toni talking with Sweet Pea in a corner before they all went silent. Poet opened his eyes with a confused expression. He looked over at Veronica and followed her gaze. His breathing hitched.
Jughead walked into the lounge, his hands stuffed into the pockets off his jean jacket. He kept his shoulders slouched as he examined the room, his eyes thrifting over everything before landing on Poet. He froze, the two boy's gazes intertwined.
The whole room went quiet, everyone's attention fixed on the two boys and their award tension. Jughead shuffled on his feet, keeping his head down. "Hey."
Poet stayed silent, his eyes widening before he looked over to Veronica with a panicked look. She met his gaze with an equal expression before letting out a quiet 'oh'. She smirked and stood up, grabbing her handbag. She turned to the other chairs where Kevin and Betty sat before gesturing with her hands. "Come on, I need your help with something."
They sent her a confused look before she jerked her head. "Come on, guys." They stood up and walked out, Betty with a small smirk on her face at the two boy's tension. Veronica shot Poet a wink and followed her friends, Toni, Sweet Pea, and any other students following as well until it was just Jughead and Poet.
The two stood in silence before Jughead walked over, taking a seat on the couch next to the curly headed boy.
They sat before turning towards each other.
"Sorry!" They spoke at the same time, immediately blushing in embarrassment.
Poet lifted his leg up onto the couch so he was fully facing Jughead. "I-I'm sorry, I was mad and I shouldn't have blown up at you like that. I just... a lot's going on right now."
Jughead franticly shook his head, holding up his hands. "Hey, no. I'm sorry. You were right and have every right to be upset. I talked to my dad and Toni and I was wrong. You snapped me out of it, so thank you. And whatever's going on you can tell me, I'm here for you, Curls."
The boys both went silent, small smiles on their faces. Poet slunk back forwards, away from Jughead, empty of words. Jughead shifted and turned to Poet
"Why didn't you call me?"
"I didn't think you wanted to hear from me"
Jughead frowned, placing a hand on Poet's shoulder. Poet looked up at the beanie wearing boy.
"Are you kidding, Po?" Jughead spoke. "We had a fight, it's normal. I would've one hundred percent loved to here your voice." After his sentence, Jughead's face went red at his tiny confession, him quickly avoided eye contact.
Poet chuckled. "You like my voice, beanie boy?"
"Well it-it's not bad. I just, just... stop! You're embarrassing me!" He said while laughing.
They both laughed before it faded into silence once more. Jughead took a deep breath and blew it out between his teeth. "What's been going on with you? You seem a lot happier now than you were before-not that that's a bad thing!"
Poet scratched the back of his neck in anxiousness. "Oh um. I started seeing a therapist. See her like twice a week. She's pretty cool. Figured between Enoch and my parents one of them messed me up." Poet forced a laugh, Jughead keeping quiet at the self deprecating joke. Jughead reached over, placing a hand on Poet's thigh.
"I'm happy you are and that you have a professional to talk too."
"Me too, Jugsie. Me too."
Poet placed an arm around Jughead's shoulders, pulling him in and kissing him on his hat. The once tension filled room melted into comfort as the two boy sat, Jughead resting his head on Poet's shoulder as Poet played with his hair, humming gently.
Then Jughead popped up, Poet ripping his hand away in surprise. "Oh! I almost forgot! I need your help. Come with me!"
He pulled Poet up and out of the room, speed walking past a grinning Veronica and a seething Betty who stood outside the lounge door.
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"Welcome to the inaugural meeting of the Swords and Serpents club."
Poet smiled as he stood with Jughead at the front of the room, leaning on the teacher's desk.
"Which is what, exactly?" Toni asked, sitting on top of a desk, her fellow Serpents sitting in various chairs around her, all facing Jughead.
Jughead peeled his orange, looking up at her. "Like I told Fogarty to lure him back to dear ol' Riverdale, we are a gaming group. Sanctioned by Mr. Weatherbee himself. Where like-minded students can meet and concoct world-building, role-playing scenarios, inhabiting fantastical heroes and dispatching mythological creatures."
Poet smirked to himself, muttering under his breath. "I'd be a griffin. They're bad ass."
Jughead shot him a playful look and shook his head, handing him half of his orange. "No way. You're a vampire." Poet smirked back at him, nudging his side.
Toni scoffed, a smile in her voice. "No, but really?"
Jug handed Poet the rest of the orange, brushing his hands together before walking forwards and using his hands to lean on a desk. "It's a club, for us. A safe haven where we can be Serpents, during school hours and under everyone's noses. We're not shedding our skins. We're lying low, in the tall grass."
Poet smiled at the boy, watching with a mix of excitement and pride as him and the Serpents cheered. Jughead smirked and gave a tiny bow before walking back over to Poet, letting the rest of the Serpents talk amongst themselves.
"That went well." Poet nodded at Jughead's words, handing him back his half of the orange.
"It did. I'm excited."
Jughead smiled. "Me too."
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holy crap thank you all so much for 43 thousand reads! sorry, I haven't been updating as much, I'm planning a few other books which are still in the works and school's approaching and I still have literally no idea what I'm doing. the story should start to pick up soon so I'd say we're about half way done maybe? Poet with his therapist is kind of the start into his main story line but I won't give to much away
thank you all for your support and love! It makes me so happy when I see you guys comment and vote and give love to my story, it means a lot
love you guys!
vote, comment, follow! ~underrated human
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