"I'm not living at school," he said, pushing himself off the ground. God, he must look like such a loser. He didn't even have a home. Why would Betty want to be with someone like him, especially when she'd just been pinning after the golden boy of Riverdale High? Archie had everything he'd ever wanted handed to him when Jughead had at to scrape and fight for what little he had?
She picked up one of the books and flipped through it. Her voice softened when she spoke again."These are your clothes and books." She stood up, too, smoothed down her skirt and buttoned back her shirt. "Juggie, what's going on?"
He grabbed his cap from off the ground and pulled it down until it covered his ears. He shoved his trembling hands in pockets as he glanced around. Everything he owned was here, and it all fit into a backpack. She was going to break up with him now that she'd seen his pathetic living conditions.
"Juggie?" She touched his forearm, and looked at him, her wide, blue eyes, searching and sympathetic. "Why are you staying at school? I thought you and your dad just had a fight."
Unable to meet her eyes, he looked down. He wanted to disappear, to be swallowed up in himself, to not have to explain the embarrassing fact that his dad was a mean drinker, who had been drunk for as long as Jughead could remember. The last argument he'd had at home with his dad flashed back into his mind.
"If it wasn't for you, I would have been able to stay in school. I could've graduated and made something of myself, but no. Your ma got knocked up, and then Forsythe Pendleton Jones the III was born, a pink screaming baby, always hungry, never still, here to ruin everything. You're the reason your mom and Jelly Bean left me. It's your fault. You are weak and pathetic. I wish you were never born."
Jughead sat in one of the cracked kitchen chairs, rocking back and forth, hands over his ears, trying to stop himself from hearing everything. His dad's sentences were slurred, but he understood every harsh word. He had them memorized because he heard them almost everyday of his life.
He'd packed his bag, months ago now, and had sworn never to go back. It was isolating and hard at times, but it was better on his own. No one could hurt him.
"Things are bad at home," he admitted.
"How bad?" she asked. Her hand slipped down his forearm and she wove her fingers through his. He looked down at their joined hands, and didn't feel so alone. Betty would never hurt him.
"I haven't been home since May."
She gasped, but tried to pass it off as clearing her throat. "That's almost five months. Where have you been living?"
He shrugged. "Here and there, mostly the drive-in until yesterday."
She stepped in front of him and cupped his face in her hands. "How have you taken care of yourself for so long?"
His shoulders rose and fell again. "I'm used to it now."
"I'm so sorry. We're going to fix this. It's going to be okay."
Out in the hall, the bell rang again. "Let's just put this on pause right now. I'm afraid if we miss anymore classes, Hayden will have us in detention for the rest of the year."
"But we're going to figure this out. You could stay with me."
He chuckled. "Oh, I'm sure Mama Cooper would just love that. White trash Jughead Jones soiling her white, 600 count sheets."
"Don't say that about yourself." She squeezed his hand tighter. "You're not trash."
He shrugged, not believing her. "I know what people think about me."
"It's not what I think,"
He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. "But you're not most people, Betts. You saw how your mom looked at me when I showed up for breakfast at your house the other morning. She never took her eyes off of me, even walked me to the bathroom, just in case I tried to pilfer the Cooper's prized candlesticks."
"I know it's hard to tell, but my mom has always liked you. She and your mom were friends growing up. She could help."
He shook his head. "No, I'll figure it out. Please don't tell her. I'll stay with Archie. He already offered." She nodded, but didn't move to follow him out of the room. "What?"
"Why didn't you tell me what was going on?
He slipped his fingers from hers and put his hands in the back pocket of his jeans. "Why do you think? It's embarrassing."
"There's nothing to be embarrassed about."
"So you could have fixed it? Fixed me?" he said, his tone harsh. Betty flinched. Shit. He just reminded himself too much of F.P. And that wasn't who he was, not at all. He was his mother's son, thoughtful, sensitive, and kind-all attributes that the jocks of Riverdale didn't see fit for a man. It often got him picked on, but it never really bothered him. But sometimes, F.P.'s personality pushed its way through and it always scared him.
"I'm sorry, Betty. I'm just frustrated It's just like I said . . . embarrassed. I don't like to admit to anyone that my life is so shitty that I have to be a squatter at school."
She stepped forward, took his hands out of his pockets and held them in hers again. "You don't need to be embarrassed, not with me. We're a team, Jug. You and me. Jones and Cooper. We're in this together. We'll figure it out."
"You have so much on your plate right now. I don't want to burden you with this."
She took his face in her hands and pulled him down for a long and gentle kiss. When he opened his eyes, he saw that hers had tears in them. "It's not a burden. You're not a burden."
He rolled his lips inward, trying to stave off the overwhelming emotion of gratitude for her caring as much as she did for him. It had been far too long since anyone had given a shit about him.
"You've been taking care of everyone else and it makes me sad to think that no one is watching out for you. Let me be that person," she said.
"But you already take care of everyone else. You give and give and give."
"So do you. You've done so much for me the last week."
He shrugged. "That's nothing."
"No, it was everything." She went up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. She nuzzled his neck with her nose. "This has been everything."
He let out a heavy sigh when she lightly bit the thing skin beneath his earlobe. Her hands moved up his chest. He felt himself instantly hardening again. If they didn't get out of this closet soon, his balls were going to be blue for hours, which would make for an uncomfortable school day.
"As much as I don't want to, we've got to get to third period before Hayden gives us detention for the rest of the year," he said.
She pulled back. "You're right. I have an Algebra test. And after school, I want to head up a search party for Polly."
"Okay. I'll be there." He cracked open the closet door and peered out. It was empty. He placed his hand on the small of her back. "You go first. I'll meet you in the student lounge at lunch. He kissed her briefly and hustled her out into the hallway.
The door closed and he was engulfed in black stillness. The small, closed in room reminded him too much of where they'd locked him away in juvie. He couldn't stand being alone in the darkness, so he pulled open the door and exited without even looking to see if the coast was clear.
Jughead shifted and turned over to lay on his back on the air mattress on Archie's bedroom floor. His day had started out with his hands and mouth on Betty Cooper's breasts, and had ended with him almost spending the night in jail, accused of Jason Blossom's murder. And even worse, F.P. had shown up drunk and too late to do anything but embarrass him in front of the Andrews and Betty. But thankfully Betty didn't look down on him. She'd comforted him, kissed away the pain away for a little while.
What hurt Jughead the most was the fact that he'd believed his dad the other day when he promised things would be better. Jughead had foolishly hoped that his dad would do the right thing for once in his god damned life, but of course he didn't.
His stomach growled. He couldn't remember the last time he had a Jughead-sized meal. When Archie's mom was around, she made sure Jughead spent the night almost every weekend. While he was there, she kept him full of hot dogs, pizzas, and frozen hamburgers. Mrs. Andrews wasn't much of a cook, but she cared enough to make sure he was always fed. He missed her, almost as much as his own mother, who was always working or too busy or cleaning up after F.P. Jughead didn't blame his mother for leaving his dad. He just would never understand why he didn't take him, too.
He checked the time on his phone. It was a little after midnight and everything was still and quiet in the Andrews house, in all of Riverdale. Most of the time, he welcomed the quiet, but tonight it gave him too much time to think about the day when all he wanted to do was forget it.
He'd taken a shower and changed his clothes after they'd gotten back from the police station, but he could still smell the jail on him. As he sat in the interrogation room, he prayed over and over and over, even though he'd never been a religious person. Then heaven had shown up in the flesh when Betty Cooper came into the room with him. Soft and comforting, she sat with him and held his hands while Keller and his officers tried to find something to hold him on. Betty had believed him when no one else had.
With the exception of Betty, it had been just like the last time he'd been in an interrogation room. He wasn't guilty then either, but it hadn't mattered. He was a troubled kid, and when the elementary school caught fire that summer six years ago, he'd taken the fall for it. He'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he'd spent two months in a dark, windowless room with three other boy. He'd kept to himself and mainly out of trouble, but he never forgot how he'd cried himself to sleep every night, hiding under a thin, scratchy blanket.
Last time, it was just been a stint in juvie, this time it was a murder wrap, with the chance of the death penalty. He had to find Jadon's killer, not just for the news story he could write about it to bring justice to the Blossom's, but also to save himself.
Jughead sat up. He wasn't going to sleep any time soon, and he was hungry. He grabbed his phone and got up from the air mattress. As he searched the room for his cap, he looked across the way to the neighboring house and saw that Betty's light was still on. Her silhouette passed by the curtain.
Are you awake? he typed into his phone.
Are you okay? she asked.
Can I come over?
There was a pause in her response, but after a moment, she typed, Mama Cooper took a sleeping pill and my dad sleeps like the dead. The ladder is still against my window. Come up.
He smiled at the idea of climbing up her window in the middle of the night. Romeo would be so proud. He yanked his cap on his head, slid on his shoes, and made his way downstairs. On the stairwell, he heard the loud roar of Fred Andrew's snores. Fred was such a deep sleeper that Jughead and Archie and been sneaking out since they were eleven years old.
They'd walk down to the all night drug store and buy candy or go down to the lake for a midnight swim. Never in his most secret dreams did he ever thing that he'd be sneaking into Betty Cooper's bedroom in the middle of the night.
The dew on the grass of the front lawn, dampened the cuffs of his pajamas pants. He stopped for a moment when he reached the driveway to look up at the night sky. There were a few street lights so the Milky Way beamed brightly. This was his favorite time of day. Everyone was quiet and asleep, but the world still spun in the silence.
The sheer pink curtains covering Betty's window parted and she peaked out. The light from her bedroom glowed behind her like a halo as she smiled down at him. She beckoned him forward, like an angel welcoming him into heaven.
He took the ladder a rung at a time as she waited for him at the top, arms opened to help him in. He stumbled a little as he came into the window. She caught him by his elbows, and with one gentle touch, every emotion that he'd been through in the last twenty-four hours bubbled up to the surface. He sank into her, his head against her breasts. The pent up tears came hot and heavy, wetting the front of her tank top. He encircled her waist as he pulled her tighter against him.
She removed his cap, ran her fingers through his hair, and kissed the crown of dark waves. Jughead never willingly took off his hat. It might seem odd to most, but that dark grey cap had been there with him since he could remember. It was his one constant. Without it, he felt too open, too exposed to a world that all too often cared too little for him.
He straightened up and she used the pads of her thumbs to wipe his cheeks free of tears. "Today has been awful for you," she said and he nodded in agreement. "Let me help you forget it, Juggie. Just for a little while."
She stood back, reached for the hem of her tank top, and removed it. She didn't have a bra on, her breasts full and soft until the cool night air hit them and her nipples puckered in response. He came forward, his hands outstretched, but before he could touch her, she pulled his t-shirt over his head, too.
She paused to survey him, touch his chest and arms, rub her hands over his stomach. He'd spent the early weeks of summer ripping up concrete for Mr. Andrews as a side job. It had lined his pockets with extra cash and had helped him develop muscles on his normally thin frame.
"Very nice," she said, her lips brushing over his chest. She ran her hands over his newly rounded biceps as she leaned over and kissed the spot over his heart. He wanted to enjoy the naked view of her chest, but he had to be close to her. He pulled her against him, and just held her for a moment, bare chest to bare chest, skin to skin, heart to heart.
They breathed in time with each, enjoying the intimacy of just being together like this. He could feel her heartbeat, feel her breathe. His hands moved up her her spine until they were tangled in her blond hair, bring her head up to his. Their lips parted, tongues rubbing against each other, desperate and rough, needing more and more of each other. As the kiss continued, she angled her pelvis up and pressed herself against him. He hissed out a heavy breath as her hand caressed him through the thin fabric of his pajama bottoms. In the moment, he could have died of happiness right then and there, but then heaven escalated. Her searching hand slipped past the elastic waistband of his pants and then into his underwear.
"Fuck," he whispered when her fingers wrapped around his shaft, stroking him up and down, up and down. Her movements were slow and deliberate, firm and strong. Perfect. But if she kept it up this would be over far too soon. As much as he didn't want to, he placed his hand over hers and stilled it.
"Did I do it right?" she asked, her blue eyes wide and innocent.
"It was perfect, Betts, but I don't want this to be over yet, and if you keep that up, it will be."
With her hand on her chest, she pushed him backwards until the back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress, and he fell onto the bed. He scooted back until his head rested on the pillow. Betty stood at the foot of the bed and pulled her shorts off, and stood before him in only her tiny blush colored panties.
Wanting to touch her, he sat up, his arms outstretched. But she crawled up the length of him until she straddle his lap. She hovered over him for a moment, teasing him, but he couldn't stand not to be in contact with her, so he grabbed her hips and brought her down onto himself. She sank down a little more and rocked her hips over him, grinding her core over him against him, making him swear again. He kept his hands on her hips, his fingers making little dents in her flesh. Her breasts bounced slightly as she moved over him. She was enjoying herself, too, because her eyes closed and her head fell back, exposing her slender, pale neck.
She created the perfect amount of friction, just enough to make him want to beg for more, but he didn't have to because she knew what he wanted, even without him saying it. She leaned over to kiss him, and her breast brushed against his chest. She swung her leg off of him, and he wanted to protest, but stopped himself when she reached for the waistband, reached beneath it and released him from the confines of his pants.
He sighed when, just like before, her fingers wrapped around him. Starting at the base, she stroked him all the way up, circling the very tip of him. His head thrashed against the pillow, the sensations she was stirring up was almost too much to handle. As her hand moved up and down, she kissed his chest, and he could feel her plump breasts pillowed against his side. God, how did Betty Cooper know how to do this?
She kissed him deeply, her tongue plundering. With her hand moving over him like it was, he'd let her do anything she wanted. But he couldn't stand not touching her, too. He positioned his hand in between them, brushed across her leg, moving until his fingers slipped past the band of her underwear, and he found her slick with wetness and wanting.
She let out a sharp cry when his fingertips circled her core. "Juggie," she said, trying to protest, but he watched her bit her lip as she squirmed under his touch.
She never stopped touching him either. Her strokes got faster and faster as he increased the pressure on her. Little moans escaped her mouth, and the best part was that he was causing them. Her breath caught as her body relaxed and that was all it took for him. His release was quick and tumultuous.
He lay there on Betty's soft, girly comforter, trying to calm his breathing. He'd made a mess on his stomach that he needed to clean up. He
reached to grab a tissue from her bedside table, but she stopped him. Then Betty leaned over him, and he watched her pink tongue dart out and lick
everything up. Then she sat up and smiled.