Work Text:
If Jason was a lighter, Jughead was a box of matches.
Together they burn bright for one passionate moment.
Lighters, however, burn for far longer than matches and when the final match is burnt out, there is nothing left but charred wood and perpetual darkness.
Lighters, when paired with another lighter, burn brighter, for much longer than the matches ever did.
Proving matches to forever be the inferior fire tool.
The thing about lighters is that they eventually run out of butane, leaving them without so much as a spark.
Even so, when a used lighter is paired with a new one, the former is bound to burn out sooner than the latter, leaving one with the possibility of a spark, a singular flame in the darkness.
The matches, nevertheless, are in a darkness all their own. |
-
Jughead sighed and took a sip of his coffee. He was getting absolutely nowhere on his novel and writing his personal connection to Jason Blossom. Metaphors weren’t exactly his style, but there was no was to explain the shattered love triangle between Jason, Polly, and himself without it sounding purely calamitous, so a metaphor would have to do.
The fact he was in the book both answered and raised questions.
It also caused memories, ones he thought he blocked out, to come back in flashes.
-
It was the middle of September of his freshman year when his dad had completely fallen off the wagon and mom had taken Jellybean and fled, leaving Jughead behind. He should be resentful, but he’s not. He understands that his mom can’t support three of them.
He just remembers waking up to an empty house and a note on the counter.
His dad isn’t home either, but he doesn’t find himself caring that much.
He doesn’t know where his mom and Jelly went. Or even if they’re okay. But they note mentioned that they’d call him when they were safe.
He can’t lie though, he feels neglected.
Tossed aside like trash.
He wonders if he’ll ever be valued by anyone.
-
That was what really started his downward spiral into who he is now. His family troubles had fractured him, but it was really Jason who broke, or rather destroyed, him.
He took another his coffee, his eyes far off. He’s been sitting here so long that the coffee has become almost lukewarm, yet still drinkable. His Macbook has fallen asleep.
He gazes out the window, staring emptily into the sunset, drowning in his thoughts yet again.
-
He was walking to the drive-in after sitting at Pop’s for a few hours after school. Jughead’s made the drive-in his new home after his father had made the house unbearable. He still can’t believe that when times got tough, his father re-joined a gang rather than trying to get his life together. When at rock bottom, his father seemed to bring a pick axe.
It was around 7 PM on September 30th when a red convertible rolled up beside him, Jughead’s hands subconsciously gripping his backpack tighter than he thought possible.
Sitting inside the car was the one and only Jason Blossom. Without his sister.
It was rare occurrence.
Jason gave him a long once over, as if scanning every inch of his body, with an appreciative smirk. The smirk turned into a friendly smile with predatory subtext as Jason shifted his eyes to meet Jughead’s. They stared at each other for a moment, some tension between them, but Jughead couldn’t decipher what it was.
When Jason spoke, it was charming, edging on flirtatious, “Hey, Jughead,” the way he said it was different than how he’s ever said it before, without any noticeable ill intent, “Want a ride?”
He said it so causally, yet Jughead still doubts there wasn’t an ulterior motive behind the favor.
Jughead eyed him cautiously, “And what would you want in return?”
Jason smirked like he knew something that Jughead didn’t, “Oh, nothing much.”
He didn’t like where this was going, but he couldn’t lie, he really, really didn’t want to walk the rest of the way.
Jughead got in the car.
The ride was quiet. Half-way to the drive-in, a hand that didn’t belong to him found it’s way to the inside of his upper-thigh.
This was how Jughead Jones the Third, a mere freshman, ended up losing his virginity to junior, Jason Blossom, varsity star of the football team, in the backseat of Jason’s convertible outside of the drive-in.
It may have been the first time, but it sure wasn’t the last.
-
A pale hand gripped the handle of the mug, knuckles turning white.
Jason’s touch was as fiery as his hair, a pleasant contrast to Jughead’s icy exterior.
The younger had melted beneath the elder’s hand.
And melted.
And melted.
Until there was hardly anything left.
-
Jason told him that he had felt drawn to the outcast from the beginning.
That he wanted something physical and real.
Maybe emotions later, if the day ever came that he felt comfortable enough to come out.
The day never came.
Emotions, however, did.
Jughead ended up falling for someone with a false interest in him.
With that came scratched backs and jokes in the locker room.
Wearing scarves to school to hide evidence of the night before.
Stolen glances.
To Jughead, it was love.
To Jason, it was planned manipulation.
-
He stiffly raised the cup to his mouth, glaring into the cooling liquid, taking a disgruntled slurp.
Despite his best efforts, there were things he just couldn’t forget about Jason Blossom.
The way his hair felt as fingers ran through it, getting caught on the strands stiff with hair gel.
The way his cheek was rough beneath hands when he forgot to shave that morning.
The way his hands could make someone wreathe and fall apart with sensation.
The way his eyes looked when he told someone that he loved them. Genuine.
Jughead guessed that he wasn’t as good at reading people as he thought he was.
-
Jason suggested that maybe he should stop hanging around Archie and Betty so much, because they barely saw each other as is.
Jughead at first refused, causing another argument.
Jughead started bailing when Archie or Betty wanted to hang out.
“Sorry, I have work.”
“Hate to miss it, but I am swarmed in homework.”
“Dude, get me out of my algebra test tomorrow and I’ll be there.”
The excuses started getting less and less excusable.
“Sorry, can’t.”
“Maybe next time?”
“Sorry.”
They didn’t hang out as much anymore, maybe once or twice a month at max, and even then Jason still thought Jughead was spending more time with them than with him.
-
The road trip Archie and Jughead were planning was a last ditch attempt to save their friendship. After Jason broke up with him, he really needed a friend, someone like Archie by his side. On their road trip, Jug was planning on telling Archie everything that was on his mind and why he had become so cynical.
Tell him everything that went wrong.
He never got the chance to do that.
-
As with every relationship, there was a honeymoon phase. It was still shiny and new.
Rusting and breaking came later, with a possibility of repair.
The honeymoon phase will inevitably end.
Their first disagreement, mere bickering, would be over Jason always leaving his jacket at the drive in.
This quarrel was easily ended with sweet apologies and whispered nothings.
Their first fight would be over Jason’s rebuttals to coming out with their relationship.
There was screaming, crying, slamming doors.
This was solved by Jughead returning to Jason, like a lost puppy with his tail between his legs, apology on his tongue.
This solved every fight until their last.
When the relationship would be broken beyond repair.
-
Jughead woke up his laptop and stared at the words on the screen, none of them making sense at the moment. Words died in a flurry of memories.
No matter how hard he tried to distract himself, Jason just kept popping back up into his thoughts.
It had been a couple weeks since Betty’s confrontation and since then his life has gotten considerably better and worse at the same time.
He tried to focus on the good, recent memories to block out the bad emerging ones.
It wasn’t working.
The worst memory of them all forced its way to the surface.
-
They were snuggled together in Jason’s bed, Jason toying with Jughead’s hair, both of them breathing heavily from their previous activities.
It was midnight, February 28th at the Blossom residence, everyone was asleep, the two male teenagers were laying in comfortable, sedated silence.
Jason gazed thoughtfully into the younger’s eyes and whispered words barley audible, “Hey.”
Jughead moved his eyes up to meet Jason’s and smiled into his shoulder from which he was pillowed, “Hey,” he replied, words slurred with sleepiness.
Jason kept carding his fingers though the dark locks, “So, I was thinking…” he trailed, as if thinking of the right way to word his thoughts and approach the subject carefully, “I was thinking that maybe you could help me and a couple friends out…”
Jughead used Jason’s bare chest as a support to sit up a little and look and the older teen more directly, “With what?” he questioned, slightly suspicious of what his boyfriend wanted.
Jason answered, coy, not meeting his lover’s eyes, “We want some weed and word on the street is you’re the person to ask.”
Jughead shook his head, incredulous, “Jason… I love you, but no. You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”
Jason scowled, his kind exterior suddenly cruel, squeezing Jughead’s arm, “You idiot, you get us some dope or I’ll break up with you.”
The teen in question flinched, fear lighting up in his eyes, “Jason, I don’t have my father’s connection. I hardly see him anymore. Giving in to him means I give up my freedom.”
The grip on his arm got tighter, sure to leave a bruise, “Fine,” Jason sneered, shoving Jughead into the mattress, “Have it your way.”
The “Stop” was ignored.
So was the “oh god, Jason, please stop”
And the “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
And so many more desperate cries.
After what felt like an eternity of anguish, Jason threw Jughead’s clothes at him and scoffed, “Leave. Never talk to me again.”
Jughead left the Blossom estate at 1:05 AM on March 1st, feeling used and betrayed.
-
Jughead bit his lip so hard he tasted blood.
He swallowed it and took a sip of his now cold coffee.
The memories wouldn’t stop.
-
The following Monday was nothing less than agony.
Jocks that shoved him in the hall were smug, and irritated, being more forceful than usual.
No doubt that they knew.
Jughead did his best to avoid Jason, but inevitably saw him.
He didn’t speak to him, he didn’t have a death wish after all.
Jason was talking to a sophomore girl, Polly, Betty’s older sister.
She was obviously into him.
To Jason, she was probably just another notch in his belt.
Or another resource, waiting to be drained.
After Jason left with the other football players, glowering at him as he passed, Jughead approached Polly.
“Hi, Polly,” he started awkwardly, unsure how to approach the situation.
She observed him, “Hello, Jughead,” she was obviously uncertain as to where this was going.
He took a nervous sigh, “Listen, Polly, Jason’s not the kind of guy you want to get involved with,” he glanced off in the direction where Jason left, “Please,” he desperately added, “Be careful. He’ll tear you apart. Trust me on this one.”
She tilted her head, considering his words, “Okay, I’ve listened, but now you listen, whatever Jason did to you, I’m sure he had a reason. He’s different than the other football players. He seems…” she trailed, a dopey smile on her face, “sweet. Look, I appreciate the concern, but I can handle myself. See you around, Jughead,” she smiled and turned to leave.
Jughead was incredulous, like he couldn’t believe his ears. By the time he formulated a response, she was already gone, lost in a sea of teenagers.
At least he tried to warn her.
-
That’s what he told himself, anyway, but it wasn’t enough. He still feels guilty for not protecting her from the monster that was Jason Blossom.
At least he’s dead now.
That’s also what he told himself, but deep, deep down, there’s a minuscule piece of him that’s still in love with Jason.
He hated that part of himself.
He wondered what ever happened to Polly, hopefully he and Betty would find her soon.
The kaleidoscope of memories had finally ceased, but now, he’d been staring at the empty place across from him for so long, zoned out. He had no idea how much time had past, only that the sun has now set.
He jumped a little when Betty sat down in the seat he was staring at, smiling kindly at him, concern laced into her features.
She had no idea how much she meant to him and that’s okay, because she cared for him more than anyone ever had.
He wants to tell her everything.
He doesn’t tell her anything.
But he will, eventually.
-
If Jughead was a box of matches, Betty was a flashlight.
Flashlights indefinitely light up the dark, more than enough light for the matches as well.
They may sometimes run out of batteries, but those can always be replaced.
The light never truly dies.
-
delete
delete
delete
-
Jughead stared at the blank page, then preceded to then close his dying laptop.
He looked up and smiled at girl right in front of him.
There was no need to write that into his novel.