Prompt: In which You're a waitress at Pops and a certain boy stops by every friday.
...........

A sigh escapes your lips as you count the tips you made. You look down at the watch on your wrist to see 11:30 displayed on it.

You're struggling to keep your eyes open due to a young boy typing away on his laptop, the keys clacking as his fingers danced across the keyboard. 
You don't want to be rude so decide to wait until the boy leave to close up.

As the weeks go by you start to see much more of the boy. Sometimes he'd order something, other times he'd sit at the same booth with concentration as he typed. Your curious mind wondering what he wrote with such concentration. He came in every friday and left approximately at midnight. You didn't mind though, the boy always left a tip and had a comforting vibe around him.

The bell at the top of the restaurant door dings signaling someone walked in. You don't have look up from the counter to know that the boy with the beanie and laptop had entered the diner.

You pull out your notepad from your apron approaching the young boy. You plaster on a kind smile "What can I get you?" "Chocolate milkshake" the boy states bluntly, eyes focused on the screen in front of him.

You enter the kitchen giving the order and stepping outside to continue cleaning the counter and booths.

Minutes turn into hours and before you know it, its almost midnight. You rub your eyes as a yon escapes your mouth, struggling to stay awake yet again.

You push back your exhausted state and walk up to the booth the boy was sitting at. Your curiosity getting the best of you as you confidently slip into  the booth sitting across from the boy.

"Sorry, I'm staying so late" the boy says apologetically looking up from his laptop. You smile lightly "It's no problem. I don't really have anywhere to be at midnight anyways."

The boy nods his head as his eyes stayed glued to the laptop. You raise a eyebrow "I'm curious as to what you type on your laptop every friday for endless hours?" the boy bites the inside of his cheek "You wouldn't be interested". "Try me" you say with confidence. 

He looks at you, a slightly shocked expression on his face, not being used to someone taking interest in what he wrote, let alone a girl who looked like all she wanted to do was sleep. You frown "Come on. I promise I won't tell another soul" you say in a attempt to get the boy to open up.

The boy sighs finally giving in. You both spend the night talking about the novel he was writing on Jason Blossoms death. You took much interest in it and even offered to help. 

Your eyes widen once you glance at your watch to see its five minutes past five am. "Have we really been talking all night?" you ask with a chuckle.

"It seems so" the boy replies. Just as your about to exit the booth he stops you in your tracks "I didn't get your name?"

You turn to him with a light smile "Y/N, and yours?" "Jughead" the boy says with a slight smile. That night was the start of something addicting and destructive but managed to be magnificent at the same time.

This is literal shit, sorry for the shitty imagine

Written by fogartysbitch