chapter two: borrowed time
The best thing about morning is that it can be a time of healing for many of us. When we awaken to a bright new day, full of promise, we are given a blank slate. The ability to choose whether we sink or swim. It can also be healing in those brief, blissful moments when you first open your eyes and don't remember the day before, or anything bad. It's just calm. Peaceful.
Unfortunately in those cases, once we have come to, we are reminded all over again.
Still, battling our demons, we have a choice to seize the day… or let it seize us.
Jughead awoke feeling the emotional hangover from the night before.
It hit him the moment he opened his eyes. He knew it was early; he could make out the faint break of day through Betty's faded white curtains and soft, pink walls. It didn't matter that he'd gotten a few dreamless, thoughtless hours of peace from his own racing mind. Everything came rushing back to him immediately.
His jacket still lay rumpled on the floor, a reminder of where they'd left things before they had silently drifted off to sleep.
Jughead rolled over, draping an arm over Betty and brushing golden hair from her face. While part of him wanted to dissolve into her, stay there for the rest of time even, he knew better than to linger. The more time he spent with Betty lately, the more torn he felt.
And he couldn't stay. He had a lot to do today - his conversation with Grinder was far from over before Betty had interrupted them last night. He was glad she didn't ask what exactly their plans were, mostly because he didn't want to lie to her. And secondly, because he didn't totally know. Grinder had been so cryptic that he wasn't quite sure exactly what he was agreeing to.
Not that it mattered.
He was a Serpent now - although that was the first time he'd thought that with such certainty. Before, he'd teetered on the safe side, but as time went on, his choice was becoming more obvious. And he knew he couldn't have both.
Jughead heard Betty begin to stir, giving a soft moan as she awoke. He leaned over her, pressing a kiss into her hair.
"Juggie?" she mumbled but her eyes remained closed.
He shushed her gently, "It's still early. I gotta go." She reached her hand up, taking ahold of his arm and pulling him even closer to her.
"No, just stay. Five more minutes." Sleep was still thick in her throat.
Jughead was torn, but for some reason he couldn't resist her request. Really, how many more times was he going to be able to sleep beside her? Hold her in his arms? He let out the breath he'd been holding, letting his mind go blank while he nuzzled his face into her hair. She sighed too, and it was a soft, heavenly sound. Like she was at peace just knowing he was still there.
After she dozed back off, he was able to finally slip from the room. He crept down the stairs and started heading for the door when he heard a rustling in the kitchen.
"Leaving so soon?"
The words stopped Jughead in his tracks. Any other day he would have crept out the way he came - back through Betty's window. But with Hal and Alice being out of town (allegedly), he thought he'd take a chance to avoid the cold just a little longer.
Wrong move.
There, waiting for him at the kitchen table, was Alice Cooper. Her icy eyes pierced into him, making his stomach drop and his mouth go dry - the last thing he wanted was the wrath of Alice coming down upon him.
His gaze veered off to the clock above her. It was 5:00 in the morning, but with her perfectly pressed skirt and coiffed hair, it appeared that she'd been up for a while.
He slowly raised his hands up, a slight surrender, as he told her, "I swear this isn't what it looks like."
Alice glowered at him, her head tilting to the side, "well, it looks like you're sneaking out of my daughter's room after staying the night." His face and shoulders fell, his breath hitching as he ran a nervous hand through his hair.
"Okay. So. It's kind of exactly how it looks." He lazily pulled his beanie onto his head and anxiously shifted his weight from foot to foot. He was waiting to be yelled at or dismissed. To his surprise, Alice just nodded. Her expression softened but still failed to tell him just how much trouble he was in. He could deal with that - it wasn't the first time Jughead Jones had worn out his welcome somewhere. That wasn't what he was worried about.
His immediate frame of thought fell to Betty. Surely she'd never hear the end of this from Alice, and he felt awful for that.
"Mrs. Cooper, nothing happened," Jughead assured her. She gave him a faint, tight-lipped smile and walked toward the cupboard. Her heels clicked on the hardwood floor. It seemed so deafeningly loud to him for some reason. He wondered if he should just leave before things became even more strange.
"Breakfast?" she offered before he could turn for the door. The thought alone made Jughead's stomach grumble in response. He couldn't really remember his last meal that wasn't nuked in a microwave or bought at Pop's.
Still... this felt like a trap.
She glanced at him over her shoulder, "you can't leave without eating something, Jughead. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, you know."
Alice must've had some kind of super mom-powers, because he found himself staggering toward the kitchen table and having a seat. The unlikely pair remained in awkward silence as she poured herself a cup of coffee, then him.
"Cream? Sugar?" she asked politely. Too politely.
He shook his head and took the mug in his hands. He took a sip of the black, swirling coffee even though it burned his tongue.
Jughead watched on suspiciously as Alice scooped his oatmeal - making sure she wasn't poisoning him. She expertly sprinkled brown sugar across the top the same way he'd always seen on TV - the way he always wished his mother had. Hell, he wished he had just one memory of his mother even making him breakfast. Until he had learned how to make his own, it was usually just a granola bar thrown into a brown paper bag. Alice was not a perfect person, and certainly not a perfect mother, but he felt a slight pang of envy inside of him. At least Betty had someone who cared enough to make her life hell.
Alice placed the bowl neatly in front of Jughead and gracefully lowered herself into the chair adjacent to him. The only sound between them in the quiet house was the clinking of his spoon against the bowl as he stirred.
"Did your father ever tell you how we met?" Alice asked curiously, her voice bright as she leaned toward him. Jughead didn't answer aloud, merely cocked an eyebrow and shook his head. Alice leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. She stared past him at nothing, seemingly pulling a memory from the back of her mind.
"We were neighbors." Jughead felt disappointed by such a simple statement. Her dramatic lead-up had made him think there was more to the story than that.
"I figured you guys just knew each other in school…" Jughead mumbled. Alice shook her head somberly.
"No. We grew up together, right next door." Jughead tried to picture it, his dad and Betty's mom, young kids. What did they ever have in common. Other than geography. Then he thought about what that meant.
"So, that would make you-"
"A Southside girl," she finished for him. She picked at her napkin apprehensively, and Jughead wondered why she seemed so nervous all of a sudden. He ate his breakfast uncomfortably and didn't interrupt as she went on. Her story shifted, "We were best friends, actually. We did everything together. A lot like you, Betty and Archie growing up."
Jughead shrugged, his eyes flashing to hers, "what changed?"
"High school. It was a different time, back before the lines were so divided. We all went to Riverdale High. It was only the bad kids that ended up at South Side High School, back then."
"Well, then I'm surprised my dad didn't go there," Jughead muttered, his appetite plummeting at the ongoing conversation about his father. Alice just smiled, mostly to herself, her gaze far away.
"No. FP wasn't a bad kid, Jughead. He was actually quite popular… charming. He had a lot of friends."
"So… nothing like me." Jughead deadpanned.
"Not necessarily," Alice said running her hands along the table cloth, smoothing out any imperfections. "He was also very smart. He was a little dark, but funny." Jughead's throat tightened, his eyes involuntarily tearing. He'd only ever known two FPs: the deadbeat one, and the sober one. He realized now that maybe he didn't know his father at all.
Alice went on, "in some ways I'd say you remind me a lot of him, Jughead." Jughead wasn't so sure that was a compliment. "Same demeanor. Same kind eyes. It's probably what makes Betty care for you so much."
"I always thought she had bad taste in guys," Jughead said before he could stop himself. He smirked at his own self-depreciating joke. Alice laughed a bit, bringing her mug to her lips. She looked a lot like Betty when she smiled. He hadn't noticed it before because, well, Alice very rarely smiled.
"You can take the girl out of South Side, but you can't take the South Side out of the girl. And we seem to have a soft spot for you Jones boys. That's why I've never minded you, Jughead. I know first hand. Too well."
Jughead's eyes bravely found hers now as she looked at him with an expression he'd never seen in her before. He didn't ask her to elaborate, but he instantly wondered just what exactly Alice and FP had really meant to each other.
Was it the same as with him and Betty?
"And I don't think you're a bad kid, either."
"Good, because I'm not," Jughead found himself snapping defensively, even though he wasn't sure how much truth was in that anymore. He flinched, hoping his sharp tone didn't upset her too much. Alice just seemed to shake it off - with two teenage daughters, she was used to being snapped at. Her hands tightened around her mug.
"Jughead… we need to talk about something."
That simple phrase killed his appetite entirely. Nothing good ever came after 'we need to talk.' He pushed his bowl away from himself, sitting up in his chair.
"Alright. Let's have it."
"I've heard you've been wearing that jacket around," she told him, glancing down at the black, leather coat poking out of his messenger bag. He wasn't expecting that. His jaw clenched, his cheeks warming. She narrowed her eyes at him, "Do you know what that even means?"
"It means… that I will be looked after. Family. That someone has my back."
Alice leaned back in her chair again, sighing exasperatedly and shaking her head, "no, Jughead. It's so much more than you could possibly understand right now. I know you're a smart kid. This is above you. You are signing on to a life you may regret. I'm telling you now: people don't get to just leave the South Side-"
"You did." Her stare turned dark.
"I married a Cooper. I got lucky... Not everyone gets that lucky." Jughead was starting to become frustrated with all the cryptic things she was saying; he hated the way adults tended to talk in circles. Why didn't she just say what she meant?
"What exactly are you trying to say, here?"
"What I am trying to say is… I didn't have the same opportunities that we've allotted Betty. I got out, but most never do. You resigning to be a- a Serpent, is just sealing your fate in that decrepit part of town-"
"Thanks for breakfast, Mrs. C," Jughead said abruptly, pushing himself up and away from the table. He snatched up his bag and hoisted it over his shoulder, "But I've gotta get back to the other side of the tracks."
"Jughead, wait," Alice stood quickly, her arm outstretched to halt him. He'd heard about enough of this already, he knew where this conversation was going now. He'd always known that it was just a matter of time before Alice decided to meddle. He was actually surprised it had taken this long.
And with everything he'd already been feeling - the fear of dragging Betty down with him prominently weighing on his mind - it could not have come at a worse time.
He shrugged at her again impatiently, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"What?" he practically hissed. She rounded the table, stepping towards him slowly, as though she were approaching a scared, stray animal that was backed into a corner.
"If you are going to be running around in a gang, well... I can't stop you. That's your business… But since my daughter is in love with you and has proven more than once that she is willing to give up anything to be with you? It becomes my business."
Jughead couldn't look at her again - he felt ashamed. He already knew what Betty was sacrificing just being with him. It was all he thought about, most nowadays.
But… he couldn't just turn away from the Serpents. He loved Betty, more than anything… but this was his father's legacy. This was the first time he'd ever felt protected by a family, felt like he had any kind of power to change things around him… felt like he actually belonged somewhere.
How was he supposed to choose?
One thing remained true: one day, Betty was going to wake up and realize that he was no good for her. He'd said it before: they were on borrowed time.
The Serpents, however? They were bound by blood. The only way he'd leave them would be in a body bag. They would be there for him no matter what.
Jughead's lack of a reaction seemed to irk Alice. She sat again and began stirring her coffee absently. Her tone turned chilly as she told him, "I will not see my daughter throw her life away because you've decided to carry on the Jones legacy, Jughead. It's not fair to her. She has a future."
And her being with him would drag her down. Just like his parents, and their parents before them.
The Joneses were poison.
Just like he'd always known.
But she loved him so much that she was blinded. It was exactly what he'd tried to talk to her about the night before, but she'd shut him down. She'd never hear it, never have it. She was a fighter, she would never let him go so easily.
All because she'd made the stupid mistake of falling in love with him.
And like an idiot, because he had loved her so much for so long, he let her.
"She loves me," he whispered.
"I know she does. And she'd do anything for you, Jughead."
Against his will and despite how he was feeling at that moment, he felt a smile crook his lips; the confirmation made his stomach flutter. Sure, he knew Betty loved him. But it was always nice to hear it aloud. Be reminded of it. Especially as he felt like it was all falling apart.
Alice's hand rested warmly on his, but her stare froze him once more, "that's why… if you love her like you say you do, if you love her at all… you'll do what's right for Betty."
Jughead's voice was small, cracking as he asked her, "and what is that, exactly?"
"If this is true," she nodded her head towards the jacket once more, "if this is the path you've chosen? Then you need to let her go now, before it hurts too much. Because you will never be able to give my daughter what she needs."
Jughead wanted to fight back, say anything at all to let Alice know he was worthy of her beautiful, amazing daughter. But when he parted his lips, nothing would come out. Perhaps because she had crawled inside his head and pulled out everything he'd been agonizing over lately. And because... she was right. He swallowed, even though his throat was dry and hoarse.
"Thanks for breakfast," he said, collecting his things and heading for the front door. When he got outside, the cold air hit him hard. His eyes burned and he had a lump deep in his throat he couldn't seem to choke down. He looked back at the house, then down at his jacket.
Without another thought, he slipped it back on.
"Helloooo, space cadet? Did you even hear a thing I just said?" Veronica asked across the cafeteria table, jolting Betty out of her thoughts. She blinked the confusion away, then shook her head bashfully.
"No. Sorry."
Veronica snapped her fingers three times, waving her hand in front of Betty's face, "girl, where are you? You've been out of it all morning. Late night with your loverrrr?" she purred, but stopped smiling when she noticed Betty squirm uncomfortably at her words. "Or not?"
Betty sighed, her whole body slouching like she'd been holding in her breath all day. She rubbed her forehead with her palm. Veronica was right about one thing: she had been out of it all morning, and the day had hardly started. She couldn't stop thinking about the night before and how strained things had been with Jughead lately. She barely remembered him leaving this morning; it was almost like he slipped out while she was still sleeping on purpose. Like he was avoiding her.
"Is it Jughead?" Veronica guessed, spot on as usual. Betty's eyes widened in confirmation, causing Veronica to turn toward her friend."C'mon B. You can talk to me, you know that. I know a thing or two about matters of the heart, believe it or not." Betty flashed a small smile in Veronica's direction. She was grateful to have a girl to talk to about these things with. Growing up with two best guy friends (and one best gay friend) didn't suffice compared to some good old fashioned, girl-talk.
Veronica took a sip of her cola, "Spill, Cooper. I know you're dying to talk to someone…"
"Okay," Betty finally caved, shifting her body to face Veronica too. She felt foolish, getting so emotional about this. But the fact was… she was terrified that Jughead was slipping away from her. She felt him pushing further and further and she wasn't sure if things were ever going to feel normal between them again. And she knew she had other things to worry about, like all of her various school activities and college, finding her brother… but this was weighing far too heavily on her. She was worried about him. Someone had to. She just couldn't seem to focus on anything else.
Veronica stared at Betty expectantly, waiting for her to divulge her conundrum. Betty was certain that Veronica lived off of drama and cherry cola.
"It's just things have been kind of - different - between Jughead and me. I thought it would pass but… it just seems to be getting worse."
"Worse how?" Veronica asked, nibbling on an apple slice from her breakfast tray. Betty didn't really know how to explain it. Her mouth fell agape as she searched for the words, but nothing seemed to sound right.
"I don't know it's like… it's like he's distant. Distracted." Veronica just laughed and waved off her friend, an air of nonchalance about it.
"Oh. That's just because he's a boy. You just need to rock his world, bring him back to reality and what's right in front of him. You know, sex can be a very powerful weapon." When Betty looked hesitant, Veronica's mouth dropped open and her eyes seemed to widen twice their size. "W-w-wait. Betty. C'mon now. You guys haven't-?"
"NO, not yet, at least," Betty said quickly, defensively. She tucked some hair nervously behind her ear and cleared her throat. She lowered her voice before continuing, "I mean… we were going to. The night of the jubilee-"
"Oh. My. God. Seriously, B. You need to tell me everything." Veronica was now even more invested than she'd been before. Betty could tell she couldn't believe her best friend had been holding out on her with such juicy gossip. "I totally thought you guys had already been there, done that, like 100 times already-"
"What?" Betty choked, shaking her head. "No."
"Well why not?"
"We got interrupted. By the Serpents - remember?" She'd already told Veronica (mostly) about that night. She'd neglected to tell her the torrid details of how close she and Jughead had been to having sex for the first time. Veronica looked flabbergasted. She couldn't understand how they had never picked back up where they'd left off.
"And you just… never got back to it?"
"It kinda killed the mood," Betty replied flatly. She picked at her breakfast pastry. She wasn't hungry. Betty let out another sigh, a frustrated groan. "It's not like I haven't tried since. It's like he's afraid to touch me. Afraid to get too close. He's just shut off. I mean, we used to talk about everything. It's not just that I feel like I'm losing my boyfriend. I miss my best friend." Veronica shot Betty a look, so she made sure to clarify, "other than you, of course."
Veronica smiled, leaning back in her chair. Her hand rested on her chin contemplatively as she thought about Betty's situation. Sure, she'd never been in the same situation but she figured she could still try to offer her some seasoned advice - at least from someone who'd dated a whole lot more than Betty Cooper had.
"I think… you need to surprise him," Veronica suggested earnestly. She even added a determined nod, as if to agree with herself. Betty snorted loudly, her head falling back in laughter.
"Right. Tried that. He hates surprises. Oh, wait… 'abhors' them, as he said."
"Who says abhor? What is this, 1850?" Veronica asked, mock disgust on her face.
Betty just giggled, "Jughead, apparently." She was thankful she had someone like Veronica in her corner; someone who could make her laugh when she felt like crying. Veronica leaned in, taking Betty's hands in hers. She was serious now, full-on best friend mode.
"Go to him, Betty. Go visit him at school. Take him lunch. Just… don't stop trying. In every relationship, there's always one person doing most of the heavy lifting when the other one can't. Then, you trade off. Jughead is lost right now. Confused. I mean, his whole world is upside down. Show him that you're not going anywhere. That you are supportive of his decisions, no matter what they are-"
"But-" Betty started to object, more than likely to bring up the subject of the Serpents, but Veronica cut her short.
"No matter... what they are," she reiterated. Betty nodded, but she didn't like it. "He needs to know you love him unconditionally... sexy leather jacket or not. Show him that you will be constant."
It was actually great advice, and Betty found herself nodding along.
"Yeah," she said, nearly breathless. She felt reinvigorated. Excited. She was just going to have to work hard for the both of them. She loved Jughead. She wasn't going to let them waste away and become just another average, high school couple who didn't work out. She knew they were so much more than that.
"Yeah?" Veronica smiled brightly through perfectly purple lips, her eyes glistening with excitement. Betty stood suddenly, full of a newfound energy.
"Yeah! Let's go. I want to see my boyfriend."
"Wait… right now?" Veronica asked, suddenly regretting her enthusiasm a moment before.
"You're right. I need to see him. Let him know I'm still here. That things haven't changed. And you're coming with me."
"Who's going where now?" Archie asked, joining the girls with a tray in hand. He hadn't even sat down when Betty threw her breakfast away in the trash beside the table.
"We are going. To see Jug. Now." Archie shot a light glare at Veronica, somehow knowing she was behind this. She gave him a shrug in return.
"Betty, it's the middle of the morning. He's probably in class," Archie reasoned. Betty couldn't think reasonably right now, though. The only thing in her mind was that she needed to see Jughead, and she needed to see him now. She needed to look into his eyes and see that things hadn't changed, that they were okay. And she missed him. They'd gone from spending every waking moment together, to hardly seeing each other at all. To hardly talking. Hardly touching. She had to fight for him.
"So what? By the time we get there, it'll be lunchtime. We'll meet him outside." Betty grabbed her bag, swinging it over her shoulders. She gripped onto the straps so tightly her knuckles were turning white. Her eyes were wild as she asked him, "So? What's it gonna be? You coming, or not?"
Archie stared down sadly at his uneaten meal. He heaved a heavy sigh, pushing the tray away from him.
"Fine. But you owe me breakfast."
Jughead 's conversation with Alice still loomed heavily over him as he pulled into South Side High's parking lot - he couldn't stop thinking about what she'd said and how hard it was going to be to do as Alice had asked. He wondered briefly about telling Betty, but he knew Betty would never forgive her mother for getting herself involved. Especially when the outcome was going to hurt so badly.
He tried to push the thoughts away, although that was proving to be hard - Betty was never too far from his mind. Even still, he had to focus on sorting out all the other things swirling around in his head. He was starting to feel like this was all too much. It was enough to drive a guy crazy.
Walking up to the gates of his new school, Jughead could still sense how wrong it felt - at least ever since he'd joined the Serpents. At first he'd found South Side to be a reprieve: he seemed to fit in right away with all the other kids that were rough around the edges, just like him. But already so much had changed.
And it wasn't just one reason. Part of it was knowing that Betty wasn't waiting for him inside the Blue & Gold, two coffees in hand: a vanilla latte for her and a straight black for him, and two beautiful eyes that reflected her adoration for him. His gold was back at Riverdale, and her blue was slumming it on the South Side.
But another part of it was simply...juvenile. All those kids in there had rough lives, no doubt about that, but they still held a young air to them. Jughead wasn't quite feeling that innocence any longer. Not since the serpents took him in and his new crowd consisted of an older more seasoned crowd of guys that were concerned about guns and inside jobs than grades and attendance.
He stuck his hands into the cool pockets of his jacket - the very jacket that Betty now leered at. The look of shame and disgust in her eyes when she glared at it the night before was undeniable. Jughead pictured his heart sewn into the seams, and her eyes still looked at it the same. And just like any patches, it would slowly start to fade and become weathered.
"Jug!"
Hearing his name called, he turned around to see Grinder across the street leaning back against his parked motorcycle, a cigarette between his lips. Jughead looked around at all the students walking to the school's entrance, though none of them seemed interested in him.
"You really gonna waste your day in there?" Grinder asked when Jughead reached him, speaking of the school like it was a place of diseases. He coughed out a smoker's cackle.
Jughead adjusted the strap of his backpack on his shoulder and made his way toward the big man, "You do realize I'm only sixteen, right?"
Grinder flicked his half-smoked cig, "Age isn't important, it's about what you're doing with your life."
"Ah, yes. I think I saw that quote on an inspirational page before," Jughead commented, then his tone fell flat and vapid, "Funny that it doesn't sound inspirational when you say it."
"That smart mouth of yours is going to get you in real trouble," Grinder warned, halfheartedly.
"Hasn't failed me yet."
Pushing himself from his bike, Grinder took a step toward the teen, "We have a few things we need to finish discussing since we got so...rudely interrupted by your bit-."
"Finish that sentence about Betty that and see how fast my loyalty shifts."
Grinder noticed how quickly Jughead's demeanor changed when he brought Betty up, and even with his eyes narrowed and his mouth frowning, his love for the girl radiated from him. Just as he suspected - this was a bit more than just puppy love. Good. That fact would work more in his favor.
"Jug, let me tell you some - obvious - details about being with the Serpents. We do illegal shit. We get involved with bad people...some of them may even be called evil. Clifford Blossom, just for a recent example. He was so far invested in his own scheme, that he killed his own son in cold blood. Jason wasn't the first one to get killed because he made the wrong choices."
Grinder paused here, waiting to see if Jughead would ask any questions, but his face remained set in stone.
"You best be careful. I had a wife, once. Ellen. She knew I was a Serpent. I didn't even try to hide it from her. And she knew the golden rule: don't ask, don't tell. So never once did she stick her nose where it didn't belong. But you know what, kid? That didn't even matter. I got involved in a deal, the opposing side found out about Ellen, next thing I know, I'm coming home to see her lying in our bed with her throat slit wide open."
Jughead closed his eyes and breathed in deeply even though he felt like all the air in him was being stolen. Grinder didn't even go into gory details, but the image flashed in his mind like he was watching a movie. And worse… he was picturing this wife as Betty. Her golden hair hanging over the side of the bed, her vacant eyes staring at him blankly, accusing him of letting it happen to her.
It made what little he consumed to rise within his stomach. He didn't even have to ask what Grinder was getting at by telling his story. It was only a stronger confirmation of the advice Alice gave him not a few hours ago: Jughead couldn't have both. It wasn't about him anymore. Not that it ever was.
"Now I'm not trying to tell you what to do," Grinder broke through Jughead's racing thoughts, "I'm just giving you an idea of how this could possibly end."
Jughead didn't answer him. He couldn't tell him that the image he created in his mind would never leave him now.
"I didn't come here to tell you that though," Grinder dismissed as though he didn't just tell him the worst possible story ever. He lit up another cigarette, "Hermione delivered the pillows around three this morning." He seemed to be speaking in code.
Feeling his stomach drop at the mention of Veronica's mom's name, Jughead stepped closer to Grinder so no one else would hear, "What are you talking about?"
The older man blew smoke into the air, "Did you forget already?"
Jughead grew annoyed, "No, about Hermione Lodge. Why is she-"
"Another example of a wife getting pulled into her husband's business with the Serpents."
Jughead sighed. He shouldn't have been surprised. This wouldn't be the first time Hiram pulled Hermione into doing deals for him on the outside. When was this guy going to make an appearance, though? He was supposed to be back in Riverdale any day now. He had a feeling it would be like reaching a boss level in a video game, and suddenly the heat would be on, and one wrong move could end up getting him killed.
Or someone close to him…
He shivered as the image flashed across his mind again.
"Let's head to the Whyte Wyrm and discuss this some more," Grinder said, pursing his lips to hold his drug as he swung his leg over his bike.
Jughead agreed and headed back to his dad's truck. It probably wasn't a good idea to talk about this in front of a school. And if he stood out there any longer, the security guards were sure to pull him into the building - if they even cared enough to do that.
"What do you mean he's not here?" Betty asked the South Side High secretary in the front office. Her name plate read 'Carol.' "I just saw him this morning." Carol looked up at Betty from her stack of papers, blowing a loose strand of hair from her eyes. Her stare flickered between Archie, Betty, and Veronica.
"I mean he was marked absent for his first two classes. We've tried calling his guardians but-"
"Are you sure he didn't just get overlooked? He's pretty quiet. Tends to blend into the background..." Betty pressed.
"Yeah. It's not like Jughead to skip school," Archie agreed.
"Jughead?" she repeated, confusion painting her features. She was clearly unfamiliar with the owner of the endearing nickname.
"Uh, Forsythe. Jones," Archie corrected.
"The third," Betty added with a nod.
"God, no wonder he goes by Jughead," Veronica quipped under her breath behind them.
"Can you just… check again?" Betty asked, tapping the pads of her fingers against the desk nervously. The three friends stared down the frazzled secretary as she grumbled and thumbed through her papers again. Betty was hoping there was some kind of mistake. But something in her gut told her it was true: Jughead never made it to school today. And given his recent behavior, she wasn't sure why she was so surprised.
Carol looked up at them with a shrug, "Sorry. I wish I could help, but he's not here."
Betty stormed out into the parking lot of the school, her heart pounding against her chest. She was worried, of course, but she was also fuming. She had a pretty strong idea where he would be and it made her face flush and her palms ache.
"Betty," Veronica called out, catching up to her with Archie in tow. "Where are we going now?"
"We are not going to the Whyte Wyrm," Archie said, reading Betty's thoughts entirely. Betty shot him a look.
"Fine. You guys can go back to school and I'll go to the Whyte Wyrm," Betty rattled over her shoulder, her pace never slowing. Archie reached forward, grabbing her arm to keep her from taking off further.
"Stop. Will you just wait?"
"No!" Betty nearly yelled. She was suddenly very close to tears. "If he's at that bar again-"
"If he's at the bar… then that's his decision." Betty's mouth snapped shut, her teeth instantly clenching. Archie continued, "Betty… I know this is hard. But you can't control him."
"I'm not controlling him, I'm trying to keep him safe-" Betty countered.
"Arch is right," Veronica said, stepping closer to her friend. She comfortingly brought her hands up to smooth down Betty's arms, trying to calm her. "He's going to resent you if you keep checking up on him there. Can't you just ask him where he was when you see him tonight?"
Betty bit her tongue, mulling on that for a moment. She knew she was acting crazy, and she knew she couldn't stop Jughead. Whatever this whole phase was, he thought he needed to figure it out on his own. She felt like everything she'd tried to do where he was concerned lately was just pushing him further away.
But she loved him. She wanted to know where he was. Betty reached into her pocket to take out her phone. She'd tried calling and texting him, but still hadn't heard from him. She wasn't just afraid of losing him… Betty was afraid that Jughead would lose himself in the process of trying to live this new life. She needed to find him, even if just to see he was okay with her own eyes.
"You guys go ahead and go back."
"You're not coming with us?" Archie asked. He knew there was no point in arguing with her, she was going to do what she felt she needed to do. She always did. Never one to give up, that one.
"I'll be right behind you," she assured him. Veronica arched an eyebrow; she didn't look so convinced.
"You're not going to that bar, are you?" she asked skeptically. Betty gave them a fake grin to ease their worries.
"No. I'm just going to stop at Pop's. I need some time to myself. To think."
It seemed to work. But once they'd gotten back in the car and headed out of the parking lot, Betty zipped up her coat and headed straight over to the next logical place Jughead would be.
But the search was turning out cold.
She tried Pop's Diner, but Pop said Jughead hadn't been in all day. Not even for his morning coffee.
That was unusual.
But even more disturbing was the story Betty got when she tried him at his foster parent's house. Jughead had driven her by it once but she hadn't met them. It was a nice, small house just barely on the South Side in a decent neighborhood. Betty straightened and smoothed her jacket as she walked up to knock on the bright red door. It only took a few moments before an older woman with blonde hair and an upturned nose answered the door.
"Can I help you?" she asked Betty, drying her hands with a dishrag. Betty tried not to peer past her and into the house. She gave the woman a polite smile.
"Hi, I'm Betty. I'm looking for Jughead, is he by chance around?"
"I wish I knew," the woman said, worry in her eyes. "He never came home three days ago. We called Child Protective Services, but they haven't found anything yet… why? Have you seen him?"
Betty's mouth opened to answer, but she found herself stumbling over what to say. She'd seen him less than 6 hours ago, but she wasn't sure she wanted to tell her that. This new information sat like a rock in the pit of her stomach. Sure, she knew he spent most nights over at her house, but she just assumed he snuck out and snuck back in before his foster parent's had woken up.
"N-no," Betty lied. She clasped her hands together in front of her and squeezed to keep from digging her nails into her skin. "No I was just looking for him, myself."
"Do you go to school with him?" Betty gave her a sad smile.
"I used to. I'm his-"
"Betty," the woman sudden said, putting two and two together. "Right, right, right. You're his girlfriend. He mentioned you. A lot." That made Betty happy to hear, although she was still so upset that he wasn't living somewhere safe.
"I am. And you're..."
"Susan." She reached her freshly washed hand out to shake Betty's.
"Thanks for your help," Betty told her. Susan nodded.
"If you see him, let him know we're looking for him. And he's welcome back."
Her next stop was the Whyte Wyrm, even though she'd somewhat promised Archie and Veronica she wasn't going to go there. She didn't hesitate, walking right up to Grinder at the bar, her hands on her hips.
"Where is he?" she demanded. The big, rugged man looked her up and down.
"You again," he croaked. She could see amusement in his annoyance.
"Yes, me again. Where is Jughead? And why isn't he staying with his foster family?" Grinder stood, and Betty gulped. She hadn't noticed just how big he was until he was towering over her. Still, her chin remained high, her (shaking) hands planted firmly on her hips.
"He's got new family, now." He blew the last of his smoke from his cigarette in her direction and Betty scrunched up her face, fanning it away from her.
"He's my family. You can't have him. I know he skipped school today, was he with you?"
"He mighta been. But I ain't no rat," Grinder cackled. "Figure if Jughead wanted you to know where he was, he'd tell you himself."
Fire flashed in Betty's eyes, anger rising within her once more. As if this thug knew Jughead better than her.
"You have no right to be messing with his head like this! Jughead is smart and good, he doesn't need to be wrapped up in all of this. You're ruining his life-"
"Hey, Jug joined the Serpents on his own. You need to deal with it or leave him."
"I don't want to leave him!" she practically shouted.
"Then you need to deal with it," he snarled back. He lurched his huge body back toward the bar, back to nursing his beer. "Now get outta here. Jug said he don't want you hangin' around here." Betty could tell that Grinder wasn't going to be any help. She didn't care to argue with him any further, so she left.
At a loss, Betty wandered around town for a few hours. She was simultaneously looking for Jughead and trying to get her head on straight. She glanced down at her silent phone again: still nothing. She couldn't tell if she wanted to cry or punch something. She didn't want to go home. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep. It was nearing dinnertime and beginning to get dark when suddenly she had an epiphany.
She was mad at herself for not realizing it before.
There was only one last place he would be.
Jughead ended up back at his dad's trailer, sprawled out on the couch. His hand covered his eyes, a migraine pounding in his head. Something about being in the Whyte Wyrm made him feel sick afterward - every time.
Maybe it was the constant loud noise, maybe it was the way all the smoke clung to his jacket like he was the one inhaling the cigarettes one after another. Maybe it was just thinking about all the conversations he's already had in there. Maybe it was because Jason was murdered there. Maybe it was all of the above.
And he was so tired; his whole body was exhausted. He hadn't been getting much - or good - sleep lately, especially last night with Betty. And thinking of her just made his mind race all over again. He thought about the night before. How he could feel the beginning of the end happening. She was slipping through his fingers and trying to grasp firmly onto her was just going to drown both of them. Alice made that very clear. Grinder made it even clearer.
He wondered if there were any sleeping pills in the cupboards.
Before he could get up to find out, there was a loud banging on the front door. He groaned. If that was Grinder coming back to discuss more of this master plan of his, Jughead was prepared to slam the door in his face.
He certainly wasn't expecting to yank the door open and see Betty on the other side.
"Let me guess. Your phone died," Betty said, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes burning into him. Jughead's hand sheepishly found the back of his neck.
"I'm sorry, Betty-"
Betty stormed past him and into the trailer, discarding her jacket into a nearby chair. Her heart was racing and she had no idea where to even begin with him. He closed the front door and leaned against it. When she looked at him she could see the shame on his face. He made it so hard to be mad at him. Even though she had been so angry at him she could scream, she resisted. She also resisted the urge to wrap him in her arms and never let go. She had no idea what to do. So instead she just shrugged and tried her best not to get too emotional as she spoke.
"So. You're skipping school now, too?"
Jughead's expression changed, his eyes widening and his lips softly parting. He looked quilty - caught off guard. But then, she could see his features shift to anger - his default reaction to anything unpleasant. He neared her, his own arms folding and his glare mirroring hers.
"You went to my school?"
The accusatory made her chest ache. She dropped her arms helplessly, "To see you, Jug!"
"To check on me, is more like it-" he said, running his fingers through his hair frustratedly. "Betty. You have to stop doing that! I am fine-" She almost didn't want to tell him she knew he'd left the foster home, but it came tumbling out of her mouth anyway.
"And what, you're living here now? Alone?" Jughead's arms flew up in exasperation.
"So what!?" He rolled his eyes, "I did it for a long time, and you didn't even know. I can do it now, just fine." Betty grimaced at his asinine reaction.
"Who is even paying your bills? How are you doing this?" She stopped herself short when she saw the abashed look on his face. She huffed out a short, humorless laugh and shook her head. "Right. The Serpents."
"You don't have to say it like that, Betty! It's not as bad as you think it is-"
"So it wasn't that big, dumb Serpent that got you to skip school today?" Jughead didn't answer, and that was an answer enough. "That's what I thought."
"What do you want me to say? I have other obligations right now."
"Right, and you won't tell me any of them! You didn't tell me about your foster family or about living here… you're slipping away from me Jughead, and I can feel it happening." She didn't mean to start crying but the tears still came. She wiped them away, feeling quite foolish.
"Things are on a need to know basis right now. It's complicated-"
Betty went to him, her hands cupping his face, "Well, I do need to know. I need to know that you're okay. That nothing is going to happen to you." Jughead never meant to make her worry so much. He hated himself for that - even more so that he seemed to just get angrier and angrier at her didn't understand why he couldn't just appreciate how much she cared for him. Every time he made her worry, all he saw was what a burden on her he'd become.
"I can't tell you that, Betty. I don't know what's going to happen."
"Just tell me what these plans are. Are you getting into something dangerous?" She pushed. He took her hands and moved them from his face. He was getting worked up. It was too much. It was all becoming too much. She stared up at him with so much sadness in her eyes; sadness he couldn't ease because he wasn't in the right mind lately. "Is this what you really want?" Betty finally asked.
"I dunno! Maybe!"
"Jughead, don't you understand? You're better than this-" He couldn't help but notice the way she gestured toward his leather Serpent jacket hanging closeby as she said this.
"And what if I'm not, Betty!?" he finally shouted. "What if I'm not better than this? What if this is me? Did you ever consider that? Maybe I am not this person you see me as!"
"I know you," Betty said, her eyes glistening. She bravely stepped toward him again. Never one to give up. "I know who you are. Who you really, truly are."
"I don't know if that's true anymore," Jughead said before he could stop himself. Betty sucked in a sharp breath, a gasp. Her eyebrows sloped over two glossy, green orbs. He didn't mean for his words to hurt her like that, but he could literally see the pain on her face. She looked dumbfounded, and he didn't blame her. He had no idea why he'd said it as soon as it left his lips.
He just wanted it all to stop. The self-doubt, the fighting, the angst. His heart couldn't take it, and he knew hers couldn't either. Just for one brief moment, he wanted to shut everything off in his brain and just be with Betty.
No Serpents. No nosy friends. No meddling mothers. No horror stories about dead wives and ruined lives.
No.
For just a little while, he wanted to be just like the snow outside: the way it shut everything down and made it all quiet and still. The way it seemed to freeze time and gave everyone an excuse to go slow. Just take in the beauty. Suspended in air. He hadn't felt that way in a long time.
Everything that was going to happen, even their impending doom, could be put on hold for just a little bit. He needed this. And he knew she did, too.
"Get your coat on," he finally told her. Confusion flashed in her eyes, her forehead creasing.
"What?"
Jughead crossed the room, picking her coat up off the back of the chair and tossing to toward her. Betty caught it just before it hit her face; Jughead had thrown it a little too enthusiastically.
"C'mon. Put it on, let's go." Jughead was nearly running now, heading toward the trailer door. He was feeling almost manic at this point, but couldn't stop himself. Still baffled but now intrigued, Betty slipped her arms through the coat as he instructed.
"Where?" she asked, not expecting a real answer. Jughead was putting on his own coat. Betty felt relief inside of herself when it was just his wool-lined jacket and not the leather one.
"Oh, don't break my heart and tell me you don't trust me," he said, feigning offense. His hand even fell to his chest for extra melodramatic emphasis. Betty felt the corners of her lips twitch and then curve; she hadn't heard him crack a joke in some time. Too long. There was even a lightness that had been missing in his eyes.
"I just wanted to know what you had in mi-" she began, but before she could finish, Jughead had her by the shoulders. He gave her a brief, playful shake, but his face was dead serious.
"I'm tired of fighting with you-" Betty shrugged her shoulders from his grasp, feeling a bit defensive at his insinuation that what was happening between them lately was fighting. The only fighting she was doing was for was their relationship.
"We're not fighting, Juggie. We're just…" But her words trailed off when she realized she had no idea how to finish that sentence. She bowed her head, staring at her fidgeting hands. She figured she should just quit while she was ahead. She had become increasingly good at ruining good moments with him, lately.
Jughead stepped closer to her. He crooked his finger under her chin, tilting her face back up toward him. Betty's breathing ceased; it had been a while since he'd taken the initiative to touch her like that. Even the look in his eyes was reminiscent of who he was only weeks before. Betty's heart both expanded and deflated, the sting of tears in her eyes at that very thought. She wasn't sure if they were happy or sad, so she didn't dare let them come.
"Betts," he started, his voice soft and low. "We need to get out of here. Out of this town, out of our heads."
Betty found herself slowly nodding, her eyes unable to leave his lips. She was relieved when she saw the hint of a smile - something else she hadn't seen in quite a while.
"Like where?" He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and all the anger and ire that had built up before was starting to thaw. When he gave her a real smile, the kind that reached his eyes and reminded her of her past and her future, all at once, it melted away altogether. She almost forgot why she was even angry with him before.
"Anywhere but here."
Anywhere but here happened to be just on the outskirts of town, up in the hills. It was right along the border of Riverdale and Shepherdsfield, off an old farm access road that hadn't been used in at least half a century.
And anywhere but here had a view of the whole city.
The truck stopped with a shudder and Jughead pulled the park brake. Before Betty could ask what the plan was, Jughead was already hopping out of his side of the truck. He trudged around, pulling Betty's door open and instantly taking her hand.
"Jug, it's beautiful up here," she said with wonder in her voice. She took in the scenery, all white and glistening and bathed in moonlight. The snow looked like it was glowing. She stood beside him, holding back a shudder. "And freezing."
"Thank goodness for blankets, eh Betts?" he said with a grunt as he hoisted himself up into the bed of the truck and got into his dad's metal storage. When he opened it there were various tools and supplies from his dad's odd jobs, but also an old, musty blanket. Betty scrunched her nose when he held it triumphantly in front of her.
"Well sorry, your highness. Spontaneity has its pitfalls, you know," he teased. "The alternative is most certainly freezing to death, and that's just no way to go." She lowered her head but a giggle escaped as she snatched the blanket from his hands.
Still up in the bed of the truck, Jughead kicked away the remaining snow that hadn't fallen off during the drive up the hill. Once it was fairly clear and mostly dry, he reached a hand down for Betty.
"Coming up?" he asked. Betty twisted her mouth contemplatively and rocked on her heels, as though she were even remotely having to consider it. "C'mon, you know begging isn't my style," Jughead added, coolly.
Betty snorted, bundling the blanket under her arm while her other hand rested on her hip.
"Oh really? And what is your style, Jughead Jones the third?" He always felt a lovesick when she said his name like that.
"If you have to ask, I can't help you." Betty finally accepted defeat, her desire to be up there with him outweighing any witty quips. Her hand hungrily reached for his and let him help her up onto the truck. She faced him, their bodies close, their breath shallow. Jughead took the blanket from her and carefully draped it over her shoulders. She gripped it over her chest, leaning into him.
"Awww… aren't you sooo romantic," she smirked, only a hint of mockery in her tone.
"I can be," he replied with a grin. Betty's hand slipped from the blanket, gently resting on Jughead's cheek. He was right. They needed this. For just a moment, it felt just like it used to - the way it should feel. Easy. Effortless.
He leaned down into her lips, brushing his softly against hers. Betty found herself melting into him, and Jughead loved that this was the first time he'd kissed her in a while where he didn't taste her desperation. Her lips moved over his, the kiss deepening as his grip on her tightened.
Their lips slowly parted, and Jughead rested his forehead to hers, his arms wrapping her up in a hug. Once again, Betty choked back a sob.
"I miss you," she found herself murmuring softly into his lips without meaning to. She didn't want to push him, but she felt it in her heart and she wanted him to know just how much this meant to her. Much to her surprise she felt him nod his head, which nodded hers right along with it.
"I miss you, too."
His eyes lazily opened to see hers staring back at him, large and hopeful and just as beautiful as always. She felt him squeeze onto her again, and then released altogether. Jughead pulled his hat more securely over his ears to keep them warm, then shoved his freezing hands in his pockets to do the same. His eyes cast skyward, taking in the vast, never-ending blanket of stars strewn across a black void. The sky was so clear up here - it was harder to notice back in town. Jughead glanced sideways, noticing Betty also noticing the stars.
"Makes you feel so small, huh?" he observed, looking back up. They stood silently for a moment while they took it all in, but then he heard Betty sigh wistfully.
"No," she said, a small grin pulling at her lips. She shook her head slightly, her ponytail swaying back and forth like a pendulum. "No, it makes me feel invincible. Like I could do anything." Jughead's eyes trailed back down to her, beside him.
"That is such a 'Betty Cooper' thing to say."
"Shut up," Betty chuckled and nudged him lightly.
She looked back up at the stars, but he found himself staring at her. He took in the gentle curve of her neck, the angular line of her jaw. The cold air was turning her nose and cheeks a soft pink, the kind of pink she would get when she blushed. He wished he could take this moment and bottle it up in his memory to keep him warm on nights just like this. Bring it out and play it like an old movie.
Jughead reached for her hand in the blanket, lacing his fingers with hers, and led her to the front of the truck bed. He crouched down, leaning his back against the metal storage box and guiding her down between his legs. She scooted up close, curling up into him as she rested her back on his chest and her head on his shoulder. She peeked up at him as he wrapped his arms around her.
"Do you want some blanket? It's so cold up here…"
"Nah. You're keeping me warm," he told her quietly, his voice tired but at ease. He rested his cheek on her head, taking in the scent of her... and a little bit of the blanket. "That blanket really does stink," he admitted with a soft chuckle. They didn't mind, though.
"Tell me a story," Betty yawned when things got too silent. Jughead's eyebrows raised as he thought on that. He was, after all, a storyteller. He leaned his head down, warming his freezing cheeks in the crook of her neck.
"What kind of story?" she heard him ask, muffled and vibrating against her.
"Tell me one about when you were a kid."
"You were there for all my stories when I was a kid," he reminded her. She gave a slight, lopsided grin.
"No. Something I don't know." She turned her body slightly more toward him so she could see him. "I want to know you, Jug. All of you. Remember?" Jughead thought back on his childhood - it wasn't a happy one. The only happy times he really recalled involved Archie and Betty, and then eventually Jellybean. His dad was always drunk or in trouble, his mom was always tired and depressed. He couldn't fix his father, and he couldn't make his mother happy. It was the most frustrating thing, both loving and hating them so much.
"Did you ever go on a trip?" Betty asked, trying to give him some kind of jumping off point. He thought about that a bit, but no. None that he could recall. "Not even a day trip?"
Jughead went to tell her no, but suddenly recalled one day when his family drove a few hours away to this national park. It was just his mom, dad, Jellybean, and their family dog, Hamburger. Hamburger had been in the family longer than even Jughead, and he remembered the old dog struggling to even get up in the car that day.
"What was that day like?" Betty asked. She just wanted to hear him talk.
"It was great. One of those rare, happy days. We didn't have them often, but that day my mom was excited. She was singing loud to the radio. She had her bare feet on the dashboard."
Jughead could still see it now, his mother looking back at him, laughing with all of her teeth. Her dark hair whipped around her from the wind, her window rolled down. That was how he loved to remember her.
"My dad was sober and in an uncharacteristically good mood, he actually played with us when we got there. I was about 10, Jellybean was maybe 4…" His sentence tapered off as he recalled the way that day was so vivid, even now, and yet he hadn't thought about it in years.
"So, it was a good day then?"
Jughead hesitated answering her at first, because even his happiest memories seemed to mask even sadder ones. He cleared his throat, shifting a bit beneath her to get more comfortable.
"It was a good day."
"Then why do you sound so sad?" Betty asked timidly, catching his tone. He couldn't get anything past her. He shook his head, not really wanting to go into it, but knowing she wouldn't stop asking until she knew exactly what was going through his head.
"It's just… it turned out that it was kind of this last trip for Hamburger. He was old and my parents had to put him down the next day, so they decided we'd take him out and treat him to an amazing, last day…" Jughead caught a lump in his throat - not over the loss of his childhood dog, but because he instantly saw the parallels between that day and right now: one last hurrah. One last good time before the inevitable goodbye.
Betty turned herself all the way around this time, resting on her knees between his.
"I'm sorry Jug, I didn't mean to make you-"
"Most of my stories are sad stories, Betty. It's fine," he said, his voice shaking. Betty leaned into him, once again resting her forehead to his, setting her warm hand on his cheek. He always felt calmed by her touch.
"I love all of your stories. Happy or sad. I love you, Jug." His hand reached up and rested on hers. He couldn't regret his decision to get away with her tonight, no matter how much harder it made things. He wanted to keep this memory for the rest of his life. It was perfect, just the way it was. But tomorrow was still coming.
"I love you, too."
Once again, Jughead had another happy memory that was tangled up in some kind of sadness.
To Be Continued...
