yellowcrownn:

Hurts So Good | FP Jones + Alice Cooper

Riverdale, 1992.
Senior Year: the last year to make yourself a somebody or a nobody. A chance to fall in love or break apart. An opportunity for FP Jones and Alice Cooper to figure out their purpose.

Author’s Note: I am very anxious to post this. I want to thank @ryanalexandermadej​ @jsmndns​ @tory-b​ for being super supportive through this. If you take the opportunity to read, thank you.

Chapter One

When summer ended in Riverdale, the autumn always brought cool breezes and damp air. The water in Sweetwater River was frigid and collided with the rocks, splashing up onto the grassy land. The weather always seemed to mirror the town’s mood and today was no different. Everyone donned a gloomy expression as the rain trickled down from the grey covered sky. The time passed at an exceptionally sluggish rate. It seemed like the hands on the clock above the chalkboard weren’t ticking. By the looks of it, Mrs. Burnell didn’t appear to be in the mood for lessons either. She had handed out a worksheet and popped in a VHS to pass the time. It was a easy way to teach but not to at the same time. No one was going to pay much attention, anyway.

FP had been chewing on the end of his pencil, a bad habit. He was craving a cigarette and deciding whether or not to skip the last twenty minutes of class. That wasn’t a foreign thing for him either and honestly, he doubted Mrs. Baxter would even notice. Closing his notebook, FP shoved it into his backpack and quietly got up from his desk. The room was dark and he kept along the walls as he slipped through the cracked open door. Easy as pie. He shrugged his bag onto his shoulder as she headed outside to the smoker’s pit in the side lot of the high school. There were always a few people lingering around: burnouts, loners, stoners. He took out the pack of Marlboro Blacks, placing the cigarette between his lips as he lit it with a white lighter shortly after. He nodded towards a duo that was sitting at the old green picnic table. FP slouched against the wall, flicking the ashes away from him.

A forest green Volvo wagon pulled into the parking lot, the brakes creaking and the engine making a slight whining noise. FP glanced over seeing the car park in its regular spot.  He raised his hand to his mouth, inhaling the nicotine, pushing himself off of the brick wall and wandered over in the direction of the car. He opened the driver’s side door once he was in arm’s reach, holding onto the frame of the door.

“You need your brakes fixed, and someone to look at the engine.”

Alice got her bag from the passenger’s seat, stepping out of the car as she glanced at FP with a unimpressed look. “I’m aware.” She replied, closing the car door. She had a free first period.

“I can look at it for you, you know.” FP suggested. “Fred and I fixed up the bus and it’s been smooth sailing since the summer.”

Alice breathed a stiff laugh. “And what do you call it? The Shaggin’ Wagon?” She asked. “How’s the success rate for you?”

FP licked his lips as he half smiled at her, taking another drag of his cigarette. “Good boys don’t kiss and tell, Ali.”

She rolled her eyes, starting in the direction of the school. “What did I tell you about calling me Ali? That’s not my name. And you know I absolutely hate it.”

“I’ve been calling you that since we were nine. What makes you think I’m going to change my ways now?” FP looked at her as he met her stride. Alice was always a quick walker; she always had somewhere to be.

“Perhaps because we aren’t nine anymore, FP. We’re practically adults and a name like Alice is taken more seriously.”

FP laughed. “Right. Alice sounds like the name of a ninety-four year old grandmother that sits around all day knitting her grandchildren socks.” He held out his cigarette to Alice but she pushed his hand away. “Now you don’t smoke either? We start senior year and now you’re a whole different person?”

“I’m trying to get into a nice college so I can get away from this place.” Alice stopped before the stairs, turning around to look at the tall dark haired boy. “I quit after Hal and I got back together. So no, I don’t smoke anymore and neither should you. You’re going to die when you’re forty.”

His shoulders shrugged, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m going to hell anyways, sooner the better.”

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