A/N: As a long time fan of Archie comics, I was excited about Riverdale because I liked the sound of it and the look of the actors. I wasn't disappointed- Riverdale is my new obsession. I've shipped Betty and Jughead for thirty years and I'm so excited for their relationship to become canon!

Anyhoo this isn't a Bughead fic, it's just a short character study type thing about Jughead. They picked the perfect actor to play Jughead, he is absolutely wonderful. They ALL are. I can't believe how much I love this show! *fangirl flail*

All characters copyright of their respective owners, fanfiction written for fun, not profit.

Flicker

It's Saturday night at the Drive-In, and the first of a double bill is about to commence. In a dusty booth above the half dozen cars parked in the lot, a dark haired boy wearing a beanie slots a reel of film onto a projector and begins to feed it through. The giant screen springs into life; a series of flickering shapes and numbers, the jerky countdown of the film leader. Horns toot and laughter ripples. One of the Riverdale jocks yells across the lot and the warm smell of popcorn is everywhere. It was fairly quiet up until now, but the start of the film has sparked people into a frenzy of activity.

A couple more cars arrive, tires crunching over gravel. There are always latecomers, people who don't care about missing the first five minutes. They park up, get out, and head straight to the cafeteria as the opening theme fades and the action begins.

The boy in the beanie sits down next to the whirring projector. Safe in his bubble, away from the mess of hormonal teenagers, his eyes seem to melt into the screen. He's seen this one so many times he knows it off by heart. Two women are in love with the same man. He anticipates the inevitable with a sinking heart; no matter how he wills it otherwise, this particular story will never change. Eventually the movie will end and he will sit back with the same air of dissatisfaction, shadows flickering on his face.

'And they lived happily ever after.'

Horseballs did they. The guy ends up divorced and broke and she ends up with the house, the car and the money. But he got what he deserved for choosing the wrong woman.

That's not how the movie ends of course, but it gives Jughead Jones the Third a small sense of satisfaction to keep the story running in his head until everyone's lives are in tatters. He's not usually one for schadenfreude, it's a waste of time and energy- but the writer in him knows that misery and hardship is way more interesting- way more relatable, than sunshine and happy endings. No one ever gets those. Not in Riverdale, anyway. It's weird, because you'd think a small town like Riverdale would be filled with joy and happiness. But it's not. There are dark corners everywhere, and bogey men hiding under every bed.

The next 90 minutes passes way too quickly for Jughead, but with seven minutes left until the movie ends, cars are already pulling out of the lot. Headlights sweep across the screen, someone gives an impatient blast on the horn. With mild irritation, Jughead observes a line of red tail lights heading for the exit. They're already looking forward to cheeseburgers and fries at Pop's, trying to beat the queue, as if ten cars at the most are really going to get backed up at the gate. So much impatience, and before the film is even over. Won't they be forever wondering how it ended?

Yeah, right. You're a fool if you think any of them were actually watching the movie. Jug knows exactly what goes on in the flickering darkness, but he'd rather not dwell on it. There's a world of difference between a Hollywood love story and the awkwardly unpredictable chaos called real life, and he knows which he prefers. The unattainable, of course. A safe, scripted story with no surprises, because you already know when the twists and turns are coming, and any pain you suffer is yours to deal with alone.

He looks down onto the now deserted lot. So much for the double bill- all the cars are gone, headed over to Pop Tate's. The spool of film rattles round and round until Jughead switches off the projector. A burger would sure hit the spot right now, but he'd rather wait until he can have Pop's to himself. Just him and the nighthawks, bathed in flickering neon, living their own private movies and disturbing no one. Jughead likes to go from one bubble to another with the minimum amount of fuss.

He stands up and stretches his arms. He walks over to the shelf and takes down a fresh canister. Someone might turn up- but even if they don't, it's pretty cool having a whole Drive-In theater to yourself.

The projector starts up again, and a new set of people fill the screen. Walking, talking, laughing, crying... and yet it's all a big illusion. They aren't really there. You can't touch them or talk to them. They are like ghosts living in their own world, neither looking at or acknowledging us in any way, and yet they draw us in like bees to honey until we don't know what's real and what isn't anymore.

Jughead's face flickers in the dark, his gleaming eyes reflecting images in miniature. Because this is what he does, and this is what he's good at. While other people get tangled up in the webs of their own lives, Jughead, like the spider, simply watches.