Jughead didn't sleep that night. He lay awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, endlessly going over what Betty had told him. The words that poured from her mouth were stuck in his mind, rattling around and repeating themselves in her voice, emotionless. All he wanted was to sleep, to forget about the horror that was Betty's life for a few hours, and then he could try again, then he could face her, then he could come up with a plan to help her.
But he had no such luck, sleep proving to be just as elusive as Betty's desire to actually do something about her shitty situation.
Jughead hadn't wanted to leave Betty alone, but she had insisted that she couldn't risk Lucas coming home in the middle of the night and finding a strange man asleep on their couch. And after everything she'd told him, Jughead couldn't blame her.
Betty had been reluctant to admit anything to Jughead at first, but by the time she'd stalled long enough that her hot cocoa had gone cold, her resolve wore thin and she finally told him everything.
Her voice was monotonous, as though she was detached from the living room, from Jughead, as though she was just mechanically repeating the events of the past four years without any involvement in them.
"He wasn't always like this," She started, eyes glazed and staring at a point above Jughead's head. "When we first met, he was…incredible. He was everything I'd ever wanted, and it seemed so perfect. I didn't have the best home life, so when I moved to the city and started college, I felt like I was at a turning point in my life. Like I was finally in control of what happened to me and that everything would be okay from here on out. And then I met Lucas shortly after, and it just felt like my life was finally coming together, like things were finally going the way they were supposed to be going. Looking back, I guess I was naïve."
Betty sighed, and shifted into a more comfortable position. Jughead didn't miss the slight wince of pain as she moved her bruised body.
"We moved into this apartment at the start of my sophomore year. He's three years older than me, so he had already graduated and gotten a job. Something in business, I think he has connections with his family. He never tells me much about his work. And things were okay in the beginning, at least for a while. He had a short temper, but he never hit me. But everything was always my fault, you know? He blamed me for things that were outside of my control."
Betty paused to sip her hot cocoa.
"Things only escalated from there. It started out minor, just some pushing and shoving. He started…hitting me by the time spring semester started. The first time, he punched me in the face because I'd gone to get coffee with a friend from class and hadn't told him. I walked out that night, stayed with a friend for the night. And he was so apologetic the next day, he told me it would never happen again, that he didn't know what came over him. And I believed him. I believed him every time he would do the same thing and then apologize and swear he would never do it again.
"I dropped out of school at the end of that year. I quit my job, and I declined the internship I had for that summer. Lucas was making enough money to support the both of us, so there was no point in me finishing my education and getting a job afterwards. He's more than capable of taking care of us for a long time."
Betty's eyes finally met Jughead's.
"I know we have some issues, Jughead. I know this relationship isn't as healthy as it could be. I'm not an idiot. But I love him. And Lucas loves me. He just…he just gets angry sometimes. But we're working through it. That's what love is – working through the bad parts because you care about each other."
Jughead finally broke his silence, unable to hold his tongue at her words.
"Betty, are you…are you even listening to yourself?" He said, incredulously. "You're obviously an incredibly intelligent person, you have to realize that this relationship isn't just unhealthy, this isn't a bad part, it's abusive. What he does to you? That's unforgivable, no matter how many times he apologizes and makes empty promises that he won't do it again!"
Betty was shaking her head.
"You don't understand." She said.
"You're right, I don't." Jughead said, pulling off his beanie and tugging his hair in frustration. "This isn't love, Betty. Love does not involve physically abusing your partner."
Betty remained silent, staring down into her cocoa.
"Can't you leave him? Isn't there someone you can stay with, your parents, with Polly?"
"My parents made it very clear they wanted nothing to do with me anymore. Polly is happy with her life, and I don't want to burden her with having to take care of me on top of her twins. Lucas is all I have, and he's all I need."
"Do you really believe that? Or did Lucas drill it into your head?"
Betty's eyes flashed, for the first time showing some sort of emotion during their whole conversation.
"What gives you the right to try and lecture me on my own life?" She said, anger bleeding into her voice. "I'm not some – some porcelain doll that's going to break at any moment. I'm not someone who needs saving, Jughead. This is my life. This is the way it is, okay? You're going to have to respect that."
Jughead stared at Betty in shock. Lucas really had one hell of a hold on her. He sighed and set his cocoa – long gone cold – down on the coffee table.
"I'm sorry, Betty." He apologized, replacing his beanie. "I didn't mean to make you upset. And you're right, I'm not one to dictate your life or what you do with it. But Betty," he paused, looking up at her, "if you're going to say that I have no right to tell you what to do with your life, then you can't let Lucas do that either. It's your life. You're the only one who has any say in it. Not me, and not Lucas."
Betty didn't answer, and Jughead quietly cleaned up the mugs of hot chocolate.
"He's WHAT?!"
Jughead winced at Archie's tone, holding his cell phone away from his ear.
"Jeez, a little quieter, please. You've gotta save those pipes for your next big hit, not for blowing my damn ear off."
"Sorry, sorry." Archie hurriedly apologized. "Just, that's so crazy. She actually thinks everything is fine?"
Jughead sighed, cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder and returning to chopping up an onion, soft music playing from his open laptop. He'd finally decided that his bank account deserved a break from ordering food out all the time and was attempting to cook for the first time.
"Yeah," he answered. "the whole situation is completely fucked up, and I don't know what to do about it."
"Call the cops?"
"Yeah, because cops have been so helpful in the past." Jughead snorted. "It doesn't matter anyway, they won't be able to do anything unless Betty admits it. And there's no proof. She's covered in bruises but she lies about where they came from."
Archie sighed on the other end of the line.
"I'm sorry, Jug. This is really shitty. Maybe just keep talking to her, try and convince her that she needs to get away from Lucas."
Jughead set down his knife and tipped the chopped onions into his pan, where minced garlic was hissing at him in the oil.
"Yeah, that's what I'd figured I'd try. It just feels like my hands are tied until she decides that she needs help. Anyway, I gotta run, I'm trying to cook and I think I already burned some garlic."
"Jughead Jones, eating something other than greasy hamburgers and takeout?" Archie teased, chuckling.
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Andrews." Jughead said, rolling his eyes. "Not like you're any better."
After some indignant comments from Archie ("Hey, I boiled pasta yesterday!"), they said their goodbyes, and Jughead returned to trying to save his meal.
Halfway into chopping a pepper, his phone rang again. He wiped his hands off on his jeans and reached for his phone, expecting it to be Archie, but instead Betty's name lit up the screen.
"Betty? What's up?" He answered.
"Um," her voice was shaky. "I – I think I need you to take me to the hospital."
Jughead's blood ran cold, and he immediately flipped the stove off and closed his laptop.
"Okay, okay," he said, trying to sound calm. "Are you in your apartment? Can I come over or is Lucas there?"
"No, no, he left." Betty said, voice tight with pain. "It's nothing major, it's – there's just something wrong with my arm. I think it might be broken."
"Okay," Jughead said, already running out the door, grabbing his wallet and keys on the way. "I'll be there in two seconds, don't worry."
He ended the call and sprinted to Betty's apartment, heart racing at the thought of her being hurt again. He burst in, calling her name as he turned corners to find her.
"In here," she answered.
Jughead turned into the living room and found her sitting on the edge of the couch, phone beside her and left arm cradled in her lap, bent at an odd angle. Her eyes were full of tears that didn't fall.
"Betty," he said softly, sitting down beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Jesus, what happened?"
She shook her head, gritting her teeth.
"It doesn't matter. It was my fault. He just got drunk and mad because I made a mistake."
Jughead bit his tongue, fighting the urge to tell her that this was getting out of hand. Lucas was breaking bones for fuck's sake.
Prioritize, Jughead. He told himself. First order of business was getting Betty to a hospital.
"Let me call an ambulance. Are you hurt anywhere else?" He asked, pulling out his phone.
Betty shook her head.
"No ambulance, please." She begged. "He'll get mad if he finds out. Just – just call or taxi or something. It's just my arm, it can wait until we get there."
"Christ, Betty." Jughead sighed, dialing the local number for a taxi service. "You can't live like this."
Betty remained silent while Jughead gave their address to the service. She remained silent while they rode in the taxi to the emergency room. She didn't say a single word except to tell the nurse at the front desk that she'd fallen down the stairs.
Jughead sat in the waiting room, alone, while Betty was taken for x-rays and a cast. He watched as people came and went, and wondered what they were there for, whether any of the other people with broken bones and bruises were lying and covering up for their abusive partners or parents.
Eventually he retreated to the bathroom, where he locked himself in a stall, dialed Archie's number, and cried.