Chapter 6: I don't wanna believe that I belong to you
I don't wanna believe that I belong to you
I move myself in ways that you could never do
I want you more, I want you more, I
Tears in the club (tears in the club)
'Cause your love's got me fucked up
Tears in the Club – FKA Twigs
Radio silence.
It had been two weeks and not so much as a word between them.
He'd never gone so long not talking to Betty and it was slowly killing him inside.
Each day that passed without even a glance or a sound from her was pure torture.
He hadn't realized how much he depended on her in his day-to-day life. How seamlessly in touch they'd always been.
The reality of the intensity of their friendship only came crashing down on him now.
They talked or messaged each other almost every day, even when he was away at college. His gallery was filled with ridiculous selfies they'd sent each other of their boring day-to-day activities. Their text chain was the longest and most frequently updated on his phone. Jokes and complaints and encouragement. Voice notes analyzing the books they were each reading for school. His email inbox, too, was starred with her long-winded responses and edits to first drafts of stories for his fiction workshops. He couldn't lift up his phone without being reminded of her.
Nor could he go anywhere. She haunted him everywhere. And not just the fact he was currently living in her parents' house. But all of his favorite places in Riverdale—Pop's, the Twilight, the swimming hole at Sweetwater River. It became nearly impossible to visit any of them. They all made him feel nauseous.
He missed her. And not even the nascent physical aspect, although his body ached for hers as well. He just missed her. Cracking jokes at Archie's expense over the breakfast table, sending each other groan-worthy Shakespeare memes, arguing over which serial killer documentary to watch in the evening.
If breaking up with Tabitha has been a bad storm, then the silent treatment he was receiving from Betty felt simultaneously like a flood and a drought. He was starving for her presence and equally overwhelmed with the rush of never-ending memories her absence dredged up.
How, in the span of four days, he'd managed to royally fuck up his most meaningful relationship was beyond him. What in the actual hell had he been thinking?
When he'd woken up from a fitful sleep the Saturday morning after slinking pathetically out of her bedroom, he'd contemplated knocking on her door. He wasn't sure how to fix the situation aside from profusely apologizing. Or attempting somehow, despite feeling pitifully tongue-tied whenever she was near, to explain the conflicting thoughts in his head. It didn't matter anyway. Alice casually informed him when he came down for coffee that Betty was gone. She wouldn't come back home until late Sunday night. He was already in bed trying and failing to fall asleep when he heard her bedroom door slam shut. Jughead convinced himself there was no use in going over there now.
She was starting her summer internship at the Riverdale Register the following morning, and he didn't want to bother her with his shit. That job was too weighted.
Her parents had co-run the local newspaper before Hal died of cardiac arrest. Alice, too bereft to continue working there, had given up management back to Hal's parents. Now that Betty had reached 18, the editorial staff they'd since hired had agreed to offer her an unpaid position. She'd mentioned to him in the weeks before that she was excited but also hesitant about the opportunity, that going to the Register's offices was like picking open an old scab. He hadn't really pressed her on that statement. Now he wished he would have provided a more sympathetic and reassuring ear. Just another regret to add to his ever expanding list.
As much as he understood prolonging even a half-assed effort at reconciliation would only make things worse, he couldn't bring himself to walk the few steps to her room that night.
Instead he endeavored to communicate via text. He sent her several messages that first week with a variation on, "Hey Betts, can we talk?" but each of them sat unread. He eventually stopped trying, resigned to the fact that she didn't want to hear from him. He couldn't really blame her, either.
Betty was now spending almost all of her daylight hours at her internship, followed by evenings with Kevin or Midge, her closest female friend. Jughead scarcely saw her around the house, which he knew was intentional. She clearly didn't want to see him. It broke him a little considering how much he was drowning without talking to her. But he couldn't even be mad at her for hating him. He just felt incapable of fixing it. Of giving her what she wanted. What she deserved.
He preferred to stew in his own self-created pit of despair. It was easier that way.
The morning of the second Thursday was the first time he'd spent more than 10 seconds in her presence since that horribly ending night. Fred had organized a family breakfast for his and Alice's eighth wedding anniversary and there was no avoiding each other.
Jughead hadn't really had much of an appetite in the last two weeks, but there was no way he wasn't going to keep himself occupied somehow with Betty four feet away from him.
He sat at the dining room table shoveling an everything bagel smeared with cream cheese into his mouth. Washing it down with large swigs of bitter black coffee.
Between bites, he snuck lovesick glances at Betty, but she avoided his gaze entirely.
So he kept silent, listening to Fred drone on about the charming bed & breakfast in Vermont he was taking Alice to for the weekend.
When Alice and Fred were out of earshot, having gone into the kitchen to retrieve more freshly squeezed juice and pastries, Archie leaned over the table so only Jughead and Betty could hear.
"What do you say, guys? Perfect opportunity to throw a party tomorrow night at Casa de Andrews," Archie declared, looking as excitable as a puppy.
After marrying Alice and moving in with the Coopers, Fred had kept the old Andrews house, alternately using it for short-term rentals and a place for when Archie's mom visited from Chicago. The latest tenants were leaving the next day before Mary arrived the following week for her annual Independence Day trip to Riverdale. Archie had already agreed to check them out so Alice and Fred could get an early start in the morning.
Betty shrugged at the suggestion, aggressively spearing a blueberry on her plate.
"I don't know, Arch," Jughead mumbled, not in any mood for a party. If anything, he felt like the piece of fruit being flayed by Betty's fork.
"Come on, guys. It'll be fun," the redhead pleaded. He looked back and forth between Betty and Jughead. "We'll invite all your friends to celebrate graduating, Betty, and all our old gang from high school, Jug."
Betty was the first to relent. "Fine whatever," she sighed.
Archie pumped his fist in victory.
"But I am not helping with clean-up after," Betty warned him. "That's all on you."
"Sure, no worries," he insisted.
"I'll tell Kevin," Betty added as an afterthought. "I'm sure he'll be psyched to invite everyone he knows."
"Amazing, that's the spirit," Archie proclaimed, looking over to Jughead for his affirmation.
Jughead smiled tightly, pouring himself another cup of coffee from the thermos and downing a giant gulp, not caring about burning his tongue in the process.
"What's up with the two of you anyway?" Archie asked after a beat. "Are you in a fight or something? I feel like I've barely seen you interact in the last week."
Jughead swallowed air, an unmistakable expression of panic creeping onto his face.
He looked helplessly at Betty, who still refused to meet his gaze. She shook her head imperceptibly, rolling her eyes in irritation.
"No," she said, her voice dripping in artificial honey. She offered Archie a fake enough smile before shooting Jughead a quick, pointed glare. "What could Jughead and I possibly have to fight about?"
That seemed to satisfy the unaware redhead, who simply shrugged and went back to chomping on his own bagel.
Rather compelled to bang his head against the table, Jughead made do with shoving an entire chocolate croissant into his mouth. It was going to be a long weekend.
He'd purposely gone to Pop's alone after work on Friday, hoping a burger and fries and a few solitary hours with his laptop at his old haunt would even him out.
Not that anything could, but it was worth a shot.
Archie had asked for help setting up, but he'd begged off. Veronica could handle it.
Jughead planned to get back to the Coopers at 9:30 on the dot, shower, change, and then head over to the Andrews house when the party would already be in full swing. It was the best way to avoid any potential awkwardness with Betty.
He'd drink a beer, catch up with the few people from high school he didn't absolutely loathe, and then retreat to his room. Archie had no leg to stand on for complaints. It's not like Jughead was known to be an especially big partier, the horrid four months with Jess notwithstanding.
Pop's had proved to be a good idea. He hadn't exactly succeeded in writing, but at least the burger was delicious as always. He felt better on the ride home, speeding against the hot summer breeze whipping around him.
After parking his bike on the curb, he crept into the Cooper house through the garage. He was relieved to see no one was home. Archie and Veronica were clearly already next door. Betty, likely in an effort to avoid him, had probably gone to get ready at Kevin's.
He walked upstairs to the shower, running the water and stepping inside. He allowed his mind to unfrazzle as he washed himself.
He just needed to get through tonight and maybe things would mellow. He knew Betty probably wouldn't speak to him for a while longer, and that their relationship wouldn't return to what it was right away, but she'd have to forgive him eventually. Especially with her coming to Centerville in the fall. She couldn't avoid him forever. Maybe then they could put this whole debacle behind them and go back to being friends. He knew it was part wishful thinking, but he needed something hopeful to cling onto. The nothingness between them was crushing him.
Despite his resignation to them moving forward only platonically, he put far too much effort into what to wear to the party knowing she'd be close by. After staring at the few nicer outfits he'd hung in the closet, he finally decided on black jeans and a jean button down shirt, the sleeves rolled up over his biceps and the top buttons left open. He finished the look off with his suspenders, remembering her compliment the night of her graduation.
Satisfied, he headed out.
He ran into Archie on the porch steps. The redhead was chatting animatedly to Munroe Moore, a fellow Centerville football player, who like Jughead was from Riverdale's Southside. Archie slapped Jughead on the back as he passed by on his way into the house. Jughead liked Munroe, but he knew better than to get sucked into one of the pair's endless conversations about tackles and drives.
In the foyer, he found Veronica gabbing with Cheryl, who, the brunette claimed, was actually much less of a queen bee bitch since going to Highsmith College and coming out as a lesbian. Jughead found it hard to believe.
"Hobo! Look at you all cleaned up," Cheryl greeted him.
Even though she sounded semi-sincere, he was not in the slightest bit eager to be reminded of his impoverished background tonight. The fuel for all his self-sabotage, and latest screw-up.
"Good to see you too, she-devil," he cracked in response.
High school Cheryl probably would have torn him apart for that remark, but this one just threw her scarlet hair back and laughed.
"You have no idea," she said, winking at him seductively.
"Okay then," he mumbled, shrugging uncomfortably.
"Go get a drink, Forsythe," Veronica said, shooing him away. "Girl talk. You don't look half-bad, though."
"Right," Jughead said, rolling his eyes. "Always a pleasure, Ronnie."
After getting a beer from the kitchen, he made his way into the living room, taking up his usual spot next to the fireplace. It gave him a good view of the room, which was quickly filling up, and was also close enough to the front door to make a quick escape.
"Hey man, what's up?" Reggie said, nodding over at him.
He'd never much cared for Archie's jock friends from high school, but of them, Mantle was definitely the most tolerable. There was something way too arrogant and weaseley about the others, especially Chuck, who was standing on the other side of Reggie.
He nodded hello back, taking a sip of his beer, half-listening as the pair continued some mind-numbing conversation comparing tips on how to pick up sorority girls.
Just as he was thinking he hadn't caught a glimpse of Betty yet, the blonde appeared with Kevin through the front door.
His jaw dropped upon seeing her.
Aside from the pink A-line miniskirt with silver buttons up the side, showcasing her phenomenal legs, Betty was basically wearing lingerie as a top. The sheer black bustier cupped her breasts and was decorated in lace, leaving little of her body to the imagination. Her hair was down, just as he liked it, too.
Jughead momentarily stopped breathing, his eyes bugging out of his head. True, he'd seen her naked, but this was beyond lascivious. His immediate reaction was visceral—alternately wanting to take off his own shirt and cover her up so no one else could see what was supposed to be his, or drag her upstairs to one of the vacant bedrooms and have his way with her. Neither of which were really realistic options right now though.
From afar, he saw her murmur something in Veronica's ear, with the brunette motioning toward the dining room. Betty and Kevin disappeared in that direction.
Suddenly the music playing got even louder and then a sensual R&B-pop beat came on.
He didn't recognize the song, but when Betty glided to the middle of the living room with Kevin in tow, her hips starting to sway, he knew a message was being sent.
Betty began to dance seductively, lip-syncing along to the lyrics.
I wanna get you out of my hips, my thighs
My hair, my eyes, my late-night cries
I wanna take my clothes off, wanna touch my hips
My thighs, my hair, not yours, all mine
Wanna dance you out of my, gotta dance you out of my
Hips, my thighs, my wrongs, my rights
Listen to the rhythm and make no compromise
'Cause you hurt me
Her eyes purposefully met his as she mouthed the last four words.
Jughead studied her intently, his heart dropping out of his chest. The dance was obviously meant to rile him up. And it was working. But as devastating as watching her was, a part of him held dearly onto the fact she was trying to get his attention. That she cared enough about him to put on a show aimed directly at him.
His entire being would have stayed fully hypnotized on her, if his ears hadn't perked up in agitation at what next came out of Reggie's mouth.
"Mini Cooper looks hot tonight," he said, eyeing the blonde appreciatively.
"Who knew under all that ponytail and pastel was a slut dying to come out?" Chuck joked, leering at Betty like she was a piece of meat at a buffet.
Jughead scowled as he listened in, his eyes darting angrily between the alluring twirls of Betty's body and Chuck's obnoxiously smug face. As if that idiot had any chance in hell with her.
"What I wouldn't do to her," Chuck continued. "Look at the way she's dancing, man. I bet she's on the prowl for some good dick tonight."
Jughead's nostrils flared, his mouth dipping open and jaw quaking in fury the more Chuck unknowingly goaded him.
"Come on, bro," Reggie said, awkwardly laughing him off. "It's Archie's step-sister."
"No, man, I know girls like that," Chuck proclaimed. "She's probably really nasty. The kind of bitch who wants you to pull her hair and smack her around."
Jughead was seething. He clamped his mouth shut, gulping unsteadily, his breathing accelerating. That was the last straw.
Gritting his teeth, he placed his beer on the mantelpiece behind him and then sucker punched Chuck straight in the face.
Pain immediately shot into his knuckles and then up the veins of his arm, and he staggered backward at the sensation.
"What the fuck, Jones?" Chuck shouted, already up and lunging for him.
He nearly fell over into the glass coffee table as he tried to dodge Chuck's fist, but was caught and dragged backward by Moose, one of Betty's friends. Reggie, meanwhile, had gotten hold of Chuck and was holding him back from pummeling the shit out of Jughead.
Jughead shook off Moose, turning around to see the eyes of practically everyone in the room on him. He searched for the only pair that mattered.
Betty was staring at him, her brief flash of worry instantly replaced by unbelievable disappointment. She shook her head and stalked off, disappearing into the sea of bodies.
Stricken by her response and his breathing still not returned to normal, Jughead pushed out of the room, dizzily making his way back to the kitchen.
There had to be whiskey around here somewhere.
He found a bottle among the parade of alcohol on the kitchen table. He grabbed a glass from the cabinet, immediately downing a shot of the brown malted liquor.
It relaxed his pounding head enough to know he wanted another. And another. As much as was necessary to vanish into oblivion.
Of course, at that moment, Veronica decided to show up.
She took one look at him and opened the freezer door to extract a probably expired bag of frozen peas. She tossed it to him and he placed it reluctantly on his bruised hand.
"Thanks," he mumbled, not bothering to look at her.
The brunette put her hands on her hips as she gave him the once over.
"Do you want to tell what that little display was, or do I have to guess?"
"What do you want from me, Veronica?" he sputtered irritably. He was so not in the mood for an interrogation and her holier than thou attitude right now.
"Well, first I'd like an apology for having to tell Chuck I would definitely be into a sticky maple with him if I ever broke up with Archie, just so he wouldn't come in here and rip you limb from limb," Veronica shrilled.
Jughead winced.
"Exactly," she continued, cocking her head triumphantly at him. "And second, I want to know why Mr. Brains Not Bombs decided to punch a guy almost twice his size in the face."
Jughead sighed. There was no way she was letting him walk out of here without some semblance of an explanation.
"He said some shit about Betty," Jughead grumbled, unwilling to go into more detail.
"Wow," Veronica retorted. "I didn't realize casual misogyny worked you up into such a tizzy, Forsythe."
"You know me," he muttered.
She smirked bitingly, leaning against the counter and glancing back at him, her expression softening slightly.
"Look, I know we don't always see eye to eye…"
Jughead snickered into his glass. That was an understatement.
"But," she continued, her brown eyes piercing his, "You're Archie's best friend, which means you're my friend, too. And I care when my friends are upset, or acting like boneheads."
"Oh yeah, which one am I?" he asked caustically.
"In this case, both," Veronica said, shooting him a cloying smile. "And I know it's about Betty. Don't even bother to deny it."
Jughead swallowed down the protestation that had immediately alighted on his tongue. "What do you know?" he asked, his voice low.
"I just know what I saw," she informed him. "Which, in addition to watching the two of you stupidly pine over each other since the day I met you, was Betty practically glowing the night of her graduation."
Veronica appraised him once again. "I'm guessing something happened earlier that day?"
He shrugged, kicking an invisible piece of dirt off the floor.
She lifted her hands up in mock surrender. "You don't have to tell me. All I know is you've both been acting extremely weird since. And that stunt with Chuck was projection at its finest."
"Yeah…" he admitted, sighing in agitation. "It's just, it's complicated, Ronnie."
He didn't have to explain it to her. She understood.
"Yes, and I get that," she replied, her voice bordering as close as Veronica approached to gentleness. "But I really don't think this," she added, dancing her finger in a circular motion, "Is working."
Jughead hung his head. He knew it wasn't.
"Look, I've seen you run to alcohol before when you didn't know how to handle your feelings for her," Veronica continued. "Don't think I don't know the real reason you came to that frat party freshman year and hooked up with that horrid Jessica person."
"So what?" he carped. Even when she was being a good friend, Veronica always had to push and push.
"So what is that I don't want to see it happen again," Veronica almost hissed at him. "If you care about Betty at all, please don't get drunk now and try to drown your sorrows in some other girl."
"Of course I care about her, Veronica," he said, his blue eyes flashing angrily.
"Great," she replied. "So man up. Go talk to her and figure your issues out."
Jughead sighed. It was really that simple in her mind. And perhaps it was? Maybe he'd been the one overcomplicating all of this. He liked Betty. Betty liked him. Maybe nothing else mattered.
"And let's say I talk to her and we magically work it out," he posed, unable to keep the edge of disbelieving sarcasm out of his tone. "What then?"
Veronica's eyes twinkled. "You work it out, and I'll work on Archie. Deal?"
Jughead glanced up at her. More than anything, he realized, he longed to speak to Betty. It terrified him, but after feeling like such shit for the last two weeks, he knew nothing else would rectify the mess he'd made. He had to fix this. He had to make things right with her. There were no excuses anymore. Not if he wanted his friend back. Or the glimmering potential of more.
"Okay," he said slowly. "Deal."
Veronica smiled and pulled herself off the counter. "I'll see you later, Jughead." She patted his shoulder patronizingly as she walked out back toward the living room.
He couldn't help but shake his head in amusement. It might have been one of the only times he'd heard Veronica use his preferred name.
Taking a deep breath, he followed her out of the kitchen, searching for any sign of Betty (and trying to ignore Chuck's continuing glare on him). Unable to find her, he tracked down Kevin, who was canoodling with some guy by the stairwell.
"Kevin," he said, and the brunette boy turned to face him with a fake smile on his face.
"Jughead Jones," he chirped. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Jughead grimaced at Kevin's saccharin performance, before shooting his own smirk back. "Do you happen to know where Betty is?"
When Kevin didn't answer, merely raising a mocking eyebrow up at him, Jughead sighed and added, "Please."
Kevin smiled in victory. "She said she wanted some quiet. I think she went back to her room."
"Great, thanks," Jughead replied, turning away and preparing to exit the house.
"Hey Jughead," Kevin called.
"Yeah?" he said, looking back.
"You know you're a fucking moron, right?" Kevin proclaimed cheerfully.
Jughead winced, letting his expression settle into a tight unamused smile. "Thank you, Kevin."
After letting that barb sink in, he walked purposefully out of the Andrews house, cutting across the lawn and ignoring anyone in his path. He pulled open the bright red front door and marched up the stairs.
The door to her bedroom was closed. A pale orange glow slanted out from underneath the sill, the muffled strains of soft music audible.
Jughead gathered up his courage and knocked on the door.