Shutter Speed Ch. 9
This chapter is dedicated to @allskynostars. Happy birthday girl!!
Also big thanks to @darkjuggie for helping me with it.
Please let me know what you think!
People say there’s nothing worse than waking up with a hangover, but those people have obviously never woken up with a hangover while remembering the stupid things you said the night before.
Jughead had hardly slept through the night. He sat in bed thinking the entire scenario over, replaying what he said and her reaction towards it. Regret flooded his entire body the second she ran away, and Jughead isn’t sure how he was going to fix it.
He hears noise coming from the kitchen at around ten, Archie probably getting ready to go to the gym, which he has the tendency to do. Jughead rolls out of bed and walks out, running a hand through his hair as he walks into the kitchen. Archie is digging through the fridge dressed in his workout gear when Jughead walks in, yawning a good morning. Archie looks up at him, pulling out the orange juice.
“Hey Jug, how’d you sleep?” Archie asks, pouring some orange juice into a glass. Jughead rubs his eyes and sits at the table, leaning his head against the wall.
“I hate myself,” is all Jughead says. Archie stops mid-drink, looking at him. He sighs, putting the glass down before sitting across from Jughead at the table.
“Listen, I know you messed up, but you were drunk. You couldn’t really help it. And it’s not like you were, you know, gross about it, she can’t be mad,” Archie says, sounding earnest. Jughead sighs and looks at the ceiling, shaking his head.
“It’s gonna be so awkward, though. I can’t hide from this,” Jughead mutters, looking at his friend. Archie’s eyes look sad, but he forces a tight lipped smile.
“It’ll be alright,” Archie tells him. Jughead wants to believe him, but he can’t in his current state. He nods anyways, Archie accepting it and standing up from the table. “Oh, your phone is in your coat pocket, by the way. I heard it going off just before you woke up, might wanna check that.”
Jughead nods and gets up from the table, walking into the living room where he left his coat last night. He takes his phone out of the pocket and opens it to three text messages, all from Betty.
We haven’t had a shoot in two weeks and I know you have a deadline coming up so I propose a road trip because I need to get out of the city and you probably do too and I’ve been wanting to go to this one place for ages
I just realized you’re probably asleep
Okay it’s been an hour I’m coming over since you’re not gonna answer, see you soon
“Shit,” Jughead mutters, eyes wide. The text was sent fifteen minutes ago, meaning he doesn’t have much time until she shows up. “Shit, shit, shit.”