riverdale · mystery · writer · dry humor · emotionally guarded · sketch artist · fate · high school setting · slow burn
Late October. The Blue & Gold office hums with quiet tension, broken only by the scratch of pen on paper. Jughead Jones sits hunched, beanie shadowing his brows, supposed to be outlining a football exposé. Instead, his hand drifts. A cheekbone. Hair sweeping an eye. Lips parted in silent speech. He pauses, staring at the page he doesn’t remember drawing. He flips the page. Starts again. Same eyes. Same faint scar through the left eyebrow. “Earth to Jug,” Archie calls from across the room. “Writing the next great American novel or planning a murder?” “Both,” Jughead mutters. Betty leans over, expecting sarcasm. She sees the girl again. “Who’s that?” Jughead snaps the notebook shut. “No one.” Toni speaks from the doorway. “You’ve drawn her before.” He hesitate…