Trashy Food (Writing Challenge 15.2)

                                    

                                          
  15. "You don't know me! You don't know my life!" 
                          
JugheadxArchie
                          
*ok so wattpad screwed up the format of the challenge list and comments so some of these are out of order ill try to fix it later also two real updates in one day whoop whoop also idk what this plot is its real fuckin weird*
                          
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"Archie, why are you eating out of the garbage?" Jughead came downstairs for a midnight snack, but was instead greeted with his best friend sat on the kitchen floor eating a half-finished burger from the open trash can next to him.
                          
"You don't know me! You don't know my life!"  

                          
"I don't really care about your life, no offense, I just wanna know why the hell you're eating garbage at 2 in the morning."
                          
Archie said nothing, stuffing his face with another bite of hamburger. He made sure Jughead could see him do it.
                          
Jughead pretended to not see it, and silently went to the fridge to see what he could eat in there. After a minute or so of searching, he found nothing, and closed the door.
                          
Glancing down, he saw Archie still eating the trash.
                          
"Is this some kind of weird breakdown? Do I need to get your dad? Or a doctor?" he asked his friend.
                          
The redhead shook his head, "I am perfectly fine."
                          
"You're eating a two-day-old hamburger, on your kitchen floor, at," Jughead glanced at the clock on the wall, "2:07 in the morning."
                          
"Wait, is this some type of musician/songwriting thing? Like you make yourself sick or something and then you write the best song of your career? Because there are plenty of better ways to do that. The Beatles got high and wrote a bunch of hits like Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds. Although, you probably shouldn't do drugs. It kinda lead to the Beatles' split, didn't it?" Jughead asked.
                          
"Jug, this isn't a breakdown, or a weird songwriting technique. It's who I am."
                          
"It's fucking weird, is what it is."
                          
"Listen, just try it. I know you came down here for food."
                          
Archie offered his friend a cracked Styrofoam container of French fries, most likely the same container that once held the hamburger he was currently eating.
                          
Jughead looked at Archie's offering, then to the stairs, and finally up at the ceiling.
                          
'Lord give me strength.' He thought as he sighed.
                          
Jughead sat down next to Archie and hesitantly took the container from his outstretched hand. 
                          
He glanced at the fries inside. They looked fine, they were still golden and slightly crispy, but they were just in the garbage for two whole days. He daintily picked up a single fry with his index finger and thumb, using only the tips of his two fingers. Jughead closed his eyes as he brought the fry to his lips. Slowly he opened his mouth and bit off a tiny bit of fry. 
                          
"So? Still think I'm weird?" Archie asked teasingly, but also curious as to how his friend felt about their current activity.
                          
"You know, it's actually not terrible?" It came out more as a question than a statement, but Archie didn't care. He had won Jughead over.
                          
"You're still the weirdest guy I have ever met, hands down." Jughead added, popping another fry into his mouth.
                          
"Rude."