Jughead groaned at the sound of his beeping alarm. He scrambled for his phone, silencing it. His eyes squinted in the darkness at the faint blue light of his screen. 10:30 pm. At least he'd gotten a solid six hours.
He stretched his arms out and forced himself up, tugging his jeans up from where he'd shoved them off on the floor. He'd fallen asleep almost right away, beat from waking up at dawn to sneak out of Betty's house and then working at Pop's into the late afternoon. And now the graveyard shift at midnight loomed.
Jughead grabbed his beanie off the dresser and pulled open his bedroom door.
The narrow hallway was pitch black, the rest of the trailer completely dark, too. Jughead's brows creased together. His dad never failed to "accidentally" leave the hallway light on, despite the many times Jughead had hectored him about not running up the electricity bill. It was odd he hadn't this time.
Was he home at all today? Jughead wondered. Did he even come back to sleep here last night?
It didn't seem so. FP hadn't been at the trailer early in the morning after Jughead left Betty's house to swing back and shower before his shift, or when he'd arrived home in the afternoon. The living room looked no more slovenly than he'd found it at 6 am.
Frowning, Jughead walked into the kitchen and scanned the surfaces for a possible note. There wasn't one, of course. Not that he actually expected anything. The only out of place item on the scuffed table was the same bottle of cheap whiskey his father had been drinking the previous evening before Jughead had left to work the projection booth at the Twilight's Saturday night screening, only now empty and overturned. Fucking typical.
Jughead's stomach growled loudly, but all he found when he opened the fridge was the remnants of a six-pack of beer and some moldy bread. He sighed. Pulling extra shifts at his two jobs and trying to see Betty as often as possible hadn't left him much time to pick up groceries. He made a mental note to go to the store sometime tomorrow. In the meantime, he'd just have to survive on whatever leftovers Pop would scrounge up for him when he got to the diner. Infinitely better than anything semi-edible he might find in the trailer.
Settling for caffeine to wake himself up for the time being, Jughead filled water for a pot of black coffee. He considered himself rather nocturnal, but even he needed a boost before a full nights' work. When the coffee finished percolating, Jughead poured himself a large cup. Cupping the white ceramic mug in his hands, he pushed open the front door and stepped out onto the trailer's landing. He narrowed his eyes, peering around the trailer park on the off chance he might spot his father hanging around with his usual crowd of Sunnyside's more unsavory residents. No sign of him though.
Jughead's ears perked up when he heard the distant rumble of bikes passing by the trailer's park entry sign. But FP wasn't among those arriving. Only his friends grinding their motorcycles to a halt a few feet from Toni's grandfather's trailer. Jughead waited for them to dismount before shouting out to them.
"Hey," he called.
"Hey Jug," Sweet Pea greeted back.
With Toni and Fangs on his heels, Sweet Pea crossed over the patch of overgrown grass that separated the two trailers. Jughead rested his elbow on the wooden railing, waiting for them.
"What's up, man?" Fangs asked, as they approached.
"Snooping on the neighbors again?" Sweet Pea teased.
Jughead's darkening blue eyes scrunched into a frown. "Yeah, I'm a regular L.B. Jeffries," he deadpanned.
"Huh?" Fangs asked.
"I'd wager he's making another obscure movie reference." Toni faked a bored yawn.
Jughead ignored her sneering. "Did you guys drop by the Wyrm tonight?"
Sweet Pea cracked his knuckles. "Yeah, we went to play a few games of pool."
"Got his ass kicked is more like it," Fangs grunted under his breath.
"Shut up, Fangs." Sweet Pea roughly shoved the other boy's shoulder.
Jughead snickered at their horseplay, before getting serious. "Was my dad there?"
Fangs shook his head. "Sorry, man, didn't see him."
Jughead's frown deepened. "Huh." He scratched the back of his head under his beanie. Not a good sign, the warning light in his brain flashed.
Sweet Pea met Jughead's gaze, sensing the apprehension in it. "Maybe the Wyrm threw him out before we got there and he drove up to that dive bar in Greendale."
"Just what FP needs," Toni grumbled. "A cross-county bender."
Jughead didn't bother to defend his father or even retort something snarky back. He honestly felt the same irritation with the man. "Yeah, maybe."
But even as he said the words, a chill ran down his spine. Something felt off.
"Hey, if your dad's AWOL, you should invite Betty over." Fangs winked at him. "Enjoy your second-to-last night of freedom with some nookie."
Jughead rolled his eyes. "I'm working tonight," he barked, unamused. "And please never make a Limp Bizkit reference ever again."
Toni nodded heavily in agreement. "Seriously, Fangs. Your taste in music is so embarrassing."
"And in girls," Sweet Pea mocked him. "And boys."
Jughead sipped from his mug, contemplating as his friends continued to harmlessly rib one another. His dad not being home for approximately 24 hours was worrying, but his mind was soon preoccupied with other concerns. Fangs' comment, dumb as it was, only served as a reminder that summer was on its last gasps. And their impending senior year brought its own set of complications. Jughead would inevitably have to scale down shifts at Pop's to keep up with his schoolwork, not to mention the copious amounts of time he'd have to invest in filling out college and scholarship applications. And with the Twilight season coming to a close at the end of October when it got too cold for outdoor movie showings, he would soon be in urgent need of another source of income.
I can always try to get work at the Bijou, he mused. They might need a projectionist, or worst case, someone to work the concession stand.
"Zoning out on blondie again?" Sweet Pea joked, interrupting Jughead's thoughts. "You're so whipped."
"Har har," Jughead replied, downing another large gulp of coffee.
It was only an offhand mention of Betty, but his thoughts immediately drifted to her. The prospect they'd be seeing less of each other with school starting again had crossed his mind, but he wasn't too worried about it. They'd just make time together after classes and on weekends.
Jughead couldn't help but smile as thoughts of his girlfriend readily consumed him. His heart pulsed at the not-so-distant memory of nestling deep inside Betty in her bed at dawn. God, he loved feeling her wrapped all around him. Warm and needy and wanting.
She made him feel invincible, like he could strike any problem away with the scratch of a pen when he was all blissed out on her. This summer had easily been the best of his life. Every moment together in the last two months, even the insignificant, lazy ones when Betty would sit beside him on the trailer's lumpy couch and read as he pounded on his laptop keys, filled him with giddiness. And the fact he also got to touch her still boggled his mind. That she actually craved him just as much as he craved her.
Jughead fingered the corner of his phone peeking out from the opening of his front pocket. Maybe I should write to her to check in. Betty had struck him as more anxious than usual these last few days, although she hadn't been super forthcoming about why. Jughead had his suspicions, though. But he wouldn't dare voice any concerns out loud unless she brought them up first. After all, who knew better than him not to press when someone was trying to keep their warring emotions close to the vest?
He shot a text to Betty and they shared a few casual messages back and forth. His sense of disquiet spiked, though, when she wrote, "I really wish you were here." Even more so when he asked if she was alright and she responded "not really."
Jughead's brow furrowed, his lips crooking downward. He hurriedly typed out a message offering her to come visit him the next morning at Pop's.
A pensive expression remained on his face as he slipped the phone back into his pocket. Something must have happened at her slumber party. Betty had been fine when he'd left her in bed that morning. Better than. She had looked cozy and bundled up and satisfied, if he did say so himself. Jughead grimaced. The wicked bunch of mean girls strikes again.
"Yo," Sweet Pea said, waving his hand in front of Jughead's face. "What's up with you?"
"It's Betty," he mumbled, too on edge himself now to concoct some fake story. "I think her friends are being assholes again."
"What do you mean?" Fangs asked.
"Dunking on the Southside." Jughead's voice lowered to a murmur. "And me." He didn't really care to elaborate much beyond that, especially considering Toni already had that irritating "I told you so" gleam in her brown eyes.
Sweet Pea lightly kicked at one of the trailer steps. The glass bottles on it rattled. "Fucking Northsiders."
Toni cocked an eyebrow up. "You should be careful. They're probably filling her head with poison about you and the rest of the 'Serpent trash.'"
Jughead snorted at her. "Well, then it's a good thing I'll be injecting her with an antidote of truth serum tomorrow morning."
Fangs and Sweet Pea chuckled.
Toni shrugged. "Just telling it like it is."
"Yeah, you keeping it real too?" Jughead mocked, his voice razor sharp.
Toni glared at him. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
Jughead rolled his shoulders back and drained his coffee. But his nonchalance was a show of confidence. Inwardly, he felt something weird batting around his stomach. He hastily swallowed it away.
"It'll be fine," he asserted.
Jughead slid the industrial mop along the black and white linoleum tiles, guiding the last of the soapy water outside to pool on the circular stone steps of the diner's entrance.
The last few truckers had left about an hour before daybreak, and Pop's Chock'lit Shoppe had been eerily quiet since, so Jughead had set about the thankless task of washing the floor. He didn't know what time Betty planned to arrive, but he figured soon. Light was already breaking outside.
Jughead headed back into the kitchen, wringing out the mop's wet strings into a bucket. As he finished up, he heard the faint tinkle of a bell. Someone was coming inside. He rushed toward the dining room.
Betty stood under the open door's archway, the sun rising behind her. Gorgeous as she was with streaks of rose-pink light flecking her face, Jughead couldn't help but notice how stricken she looked. Her green eyes, usually so bright and curious, were dull and red-rimmed, like she'd been crying or hadn't slept a wink. The rest of her appearance was off, too. Her normally buoyant ponytail was loose around her shoulders and she was still in her pajamas, a pair he recognized from the night she'd slept over at the trailer. The only gesture Betty appeared to have made toward looking outwardly presentable were the floral Keds neatly laced up on her feet.
She let the door close gently behind her and took a small step forward when she spotted Jughead emerging from the diner's back room.
He shot her his most playful smirk, hoping it might cheer her up. "Did you dress up for me?" he teased.
Betty attempted a smile, but it barely reached her eyes. Soon, her lip was wobbling and Jughead feared she was two seconds away from breaking down into sobs.
He flung forward from behind the register and pulled her into a hug. One of his arms slung around her waist, the other her shoulder blades, while her arms instantly slotted under his, her hands resting flat on his back. The hug was long and bone-tight, Jughead reluctant to let go. He had never witnessed her so sad and vulnerable before. It frightened him a little. After a few minutes, Betty's arms went limp around him, falling down to his waist. She buried her head in the crook of his neck, taking staggered breaths into the starched collar of his uniform shirt.
She seemed to be shivering, and Jughead's hand rose to stroke her hair. He whispered softly in her ear, "Hey, it's gonna be okay."
Jughead could feel Betty swallowing against his chest and then she nodded slowly and pulled away.
"Come, sit," he said, gesturing to the row of metal stools along the diner counter.
Betty dutifully followed after him and perched on one of the stools. Her eyes, wide and glassy, glimpsed up at him as he shuffled behind the counter.
"Coffee?" he offered.
She nodded gratefully and Jughead poured them each a fresh cup. Betty began to sprinkle a large helping of sugar into hers, but then seemed to think better of it and stopped herself. She placed the sugar caster down and clutched the mug in both hands, as if it weren't already a muggy 80s degrees outside.
"What's going on, Betts?"
It took Betty a while to answer. Jughead watched as she arranged her thoughts, carefully composing in her head the exact words she wanted to say. Jughead had picked up on the fact that she only got this ruminative when they were engaged in a pitched battle over the analysis of a movie, or if there was some piece of news she wasn't sure how to relay to him.
Betty eventually looked up at him. "Veronica brought up homecoming. It's in a couple of weeks."
"Okay."
"That's when Cheryl mentioned you." Betty bit her lip and traced her thumb over the handle of her mug. "And how no one from school would agree to take me if they knew I was dating a Southside guy."
Jughead couldn't help but bark out a laugh. "And the thought of me taking you never crossed anyone's mind?"
Betty flushed and took a long sip of her coffee.
"I'll be the first to admit that me attending a Northside dance would be the equivalent of tectonic plates shifting, but I'm not immune to the prospect of free refreshments." Jughead's lips curved up into a smirk. "Or seeing you in formalwear."
Betty offered him a bashful smile at that, but she was otherwise quiet.
"So?" he prodded. "What's her bullshit reason for why I wouldn't take you?"
Betty's mouth dropped into a small frown and she began to fidget in her seat. She didn't offer an answer at first.
His piercing gaze penetrated hers, and she squirmed. "I'm sorry, Jug. I don't know why I got so upset. It's stupid. They were just being really harsh."
Jughead quirked up an eyebrow, beginning to understand despite Betty's attempt at deflecting. It wasn't that her friends thought he'd weasel his way out of taking her to homecoming, it was that they didn't want him attending, or anywhere near the event, to begin with. Somehow, though, he didn't buy this sentiment stopped with him being Betty's date to some ridiculous school dance.
Jughead sighed and appraised her. "Let me guess. The conversation then magically arrived at them trying to browbeat you into not dating a Southside guy at all?"
Betty looked down at the counter, suddenly very interested in the napkin holder. "Yes," she squeaked out.
"Fuck them," he spat. "Who gives a shit what they think?"
Betty winced at his cursing. Her fingers plucked out a paper napkin from the holder, tearing it into strips.
"You know they're being fucking malicious, Betts," Jughead grumbled, annoyed he even had to defend himself against a bunch of conceited witches who hadn't deigned to ever actually meet him. "They have these ridiculous preconceptions about me based on nothing but their own warped prejudices."
Betty's voice barely rose above a whisper. "They're just worried about me."
"What do they think is going to happen exactly? That I'll corrupt you and make you drop out of school to run drugs across the Canadian border? That I'll force you to get up on the stripper pole at the Whyte Wyrm and take your clothes off to prove your loyalty to the Serpents?"
Betty snickered at his overactive imagination. "I don't know, Jug."
The veins in Jughead's arms thrummed with anger. He could feel himself growing progressively more agitated. He took a deep inhale to calm himself.
"We've been dating for two months already." His harsh breaths punctuated the words. "Why don't they just move on?"
"I don't know," she repeated glumly. Betty sounded so helpless and it shredded his insides that she was this cut up over their bullying.
He tugged at his hair under his beanie and glanced toward the floor, trying to keep from stomping his feet on it. Why can't she just tell them to fuck off?
Jughead looked up to see Betty jerking her chin, lost in contemplation. Their gazes met.
When she spoke next, her voice was hushed, like she didn't want to admit the words aloud to him. "They make it seem like it's you or them."
Jughead's jaw hardened. He swallowed several times before answering, coolly. "If they're making you feel like you have to choose between us, then maybe they're not such good friends."
A sudden change seemed to come over Betty and her green eyes blazed sharply into his. "But they are my friends, Jug."
Jughead took a step back. Betty had never really snapped at him before. Incensed as he was, his first impulse was to argue the point that real friends usually reserved judgment before meeting the guy their friend was dating. But from the irritated way her irises were flickering at him, he realized doing so would only serve to dig him into a deeper hole. It was clear how upset Betty was, and he was wary of making the wrong move. There was no way Jughead would let her slip through his fingers so easily.
He held his hands up as if in apology. "Okay, you're right. I don't know them."
A frown played on Betty's lips. She still looked unsettled.
Jughead forced the corners of his mouth up into a self-assured smirk. "I honestly think they'll be disappointed whenever they do meet me. I'm more of a literary nerd than a hardened gangland criminal."
Betty bit her bottom lip, but he could see the tiniest glint of laughter behind her eyes. It gave him the confidence he needed to keep cajoling her.
"Seriously, Betts. Did you know I frequent the public library in my spare time for fun?"
She granted him a shaky smile now.
"There, you see? It's not all doom and gloom." Jughead took a purposeful step forward. "Everything will be fine."
He tenderly booped Betty's nose over the counter, inadvertently making her giggle.
Jughead grinned and cupped her cheeks in his hands. When she didn't protest, he leaned in slowly to kiss her. Betty's arms looped around his neck, holding him as close as possible despite the slab of formica between them. Jughead caressed her neck with his fingers, kissing her sweet and thorough. She mewled softly and parted her lips for him. That's it, he thought. All she needs is comfort and love from you right now. He stroked his tongue against hers, smiling to himself when she let out another tiny whimper. You can deal with everything else later, when she's had some time away from those jerks.
Just as he was about to ease his mouth away to nip kisses along her jawline, a high-pitched and demanding voice sounded behind them. "Ahem."
Jughead broke away from Betty to come face-to-face with two teens standing several steps past the door. He observed them casually. The skinny, bespectacled boy wore a survival scout uniform, while the tall, curvy girl bore light ginger hair and hazel eyes.
Betty's posture stiffened when she whirled around and spotted the pair. She hesitated for a moment and then spoke. "Hi Dilton, Ethel."
"Good morning, Betty," Dilton replied.
Ethel's eyes narrowed as they raked over Betty's pajamas. Her nose wrinkled, showing off the array of freckles on her pale skin.
"Sorry to interrupt you and your boyfriend, Betty," she sneered.
Betty bristled at Ethel's words. Jughead frowned. Did her discomfort stem from the label or who she was talking to? He assumed the latter. He hoped. Something tightened in his throat.
"You two are up early." Betty's voice was polite but strangely vacant. Jughead hardly recognized it.
Is this what she's like at school? With other Northsiders? Some deferential, manufactured doll?
He didn't have long to muse on it though as Ethel's response was almost immediate.
"We just finished a quest," she explained haughtily.
Jughead snuck a raised eyebrow at Betty, but she simply shrugged her shoulders, apparently just as mystified. He glanced back toward Ethel. "A quest?" he repeated.
"Yes, for Gryphons and Gargoyles," she exclaimed. "Have you heard of it? You should definitely play with us sometime."
Jughead stifled a shudder as Ethel began to not so subtly ogle his exposed forearms under the folded up sleeves of his button-down shirt. He wouldn't begrudge her looking, but, jeez, did she have to be that obvious in her objectification of him? Jughead peeked over at Betty. She looked like she was suppressing the urge to shoot daggers at the girl. Time to defuse.
"Huh." Jughead scratched his neck. "How about I get you guys some coffee?"
"Great," Dilton intoned. "Without lactose though, please."
Jughead nodded, filling two mugs and bringing them over to the booth Dilton claimed. He left them there to pore over the menu.
As Jughead idled by the counter waiting for Dilton or Ethel to signal they were ready to order, he felt Ethel's beady eyes darting between him and Betty. Her leering gaze was positively gleeful. It made Jughead a tad bit uncomfortable, but Betty downright looked like she had a case of the heebie-jeebies.
"You okay?" he murmured.
"It's not good that they saw us." Betty chewed at her lower lip. "Well, that Ethel saw us."
Jughead detected the flash of panic in her eyes. "Why not?"
"Ethel has always been kind of…" Betty paused, her chin trembling. "Envious of the River Vixens."
Jughead knitted his brows together. It wasn't hard to deduce what she was really saying. "She's the type the popular girls like to pick on, you mean?"
Betty's gaze fell downcast in shame. "I've never been mean to her, Jug."
Jughead sighed. Of course, Betty wasn't like that. But she couldn't seem to wrap her head around the fact that her fellow cheerleaders definitely were. Of this, he was certain. If they had no issues tormenting their own so-called friend over who she was dating, all the more so a girl as obviously dorky as Ethel.
His voice was gruff when he spoke next, an odd rasp to it. "What do you think is going to happen, Betty?"
Betty flushed. "All I'm saying is she can be a bit of a blabbermouth. I feel like she'll make a thing of this." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Of us."
"Is it really the worst thing if people at your school find out we're together? Who cares?"
Betty shifted in the stool, her eyes wandering to the wall behind him. "Maybe you're right."
Jughead could tell, though, that she didn't quite believe what she was agreeing to. The realization pulled at his chest.
Betty moved to stand up and Jughead's hand lifted to stop her. He gently gripped her shoulder. "Hey, what's wrong?"
"Nothing." Betty's lips curved up at him, but just like when she'd arrived at the diner, the smile didn't reach her eyes. "I should head back before the girls wake up."
Jughead nodded, the pad of his thumb brushing softly over her collarbone. "Okay, Betts."
He tried to pull her in for a sound kiss goodbye, but she wriggled out of his grasp, squeezing his hand lightning fast instead. "I'll see you later, Jug."
And then she was gone.