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Jughead felt Toni’s lips pressed mildly against his own. He heard a raging voice inside his head telling him that he should not have let this happen and that he should be pushing her away. But there was an expanding hole in his heart, gnawing at him from the inside, slowly convincing him that he was becoming nothing but a shell of emptiness.
He felt nothing. He felt numb. He thought the warmth provided by another person’s touch would preclude him from diving into the darkness inside of him that he had always tried to restrain.
He closed his eyes, but he saw a different woman’s face - beautiful, soft, and comforting; with green eyes that offer promises of support and faith.
It was as if a bucket of ice was splashed unto him, and then he pushed the woman in front of him, turning his face sideways.
“I’m sorry, Toni. That shouldn’t have happened,” he croaked, averting his eyes from the woman trying to offer him some semblance of comfort.
“No. No, don’t apologize, Jughead. I don’t know what came to me. Look - I know you’re hurting, and I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry."
She started going for the door, and he didn’t stop her.
When he heard the front door closed, he released the air he didn’t realize he was holding. He tasted a salty tang in his mouth, and realized that he was crying. And with that, it was as though a dam inside him broke, and all these emotions that he has been keeping at bay in the past weeks up to a few hours ago had been let loose.
Jughead had never felt like he belonged. He had long accepted that he’s somewhat of an outcast- someone who’s dispensable, easily thrown to the wayside. He didn’t put much weight into it. He was always able to carry on alone. He would hold his head down, avoid getting involved in people, and take on the world one day at a time. That was before a certain golden haired woman quietly sneaked her way into his life. Betty Cooper singlehandedly bulldozed every high wall he built around himself to protect him from the world. And before he knew it, he felt like his life is irrevocably intertwined with hers.
“I believe you, Jughead,” a flash of memory came to his mind - that of a beautiful face looking up at him, offering unshakeable faith as if he is not capable of erring. He felt his heart beat quicken.
A succession of flashbacks came to him.
“Whatever you need to do, or explore… I support you,” it was uttered with so much tenderness; he couldn’t believe how Betty Cooper could leave him just like that.
He couldn’t believe Betty Cooper could leave him just like that. She wouldn’t.
He took a sharp intake of breath, and stood up so suddenly knocking down the chair he was sitting on in the process.
That’s right. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t unless she was pushed to a corner. Knowing Betty, he should have known that there must be some bigger picture that he was not seeing. She was probably doing this so she could protect the people she holds dearly, ultimately sacrificing herself.
He recalled the look on her face the day prior, when they had their little reunion at Pop’s. She looked tormented to say the least; and she was careful not to let on too much. But he knew there was something wrong, something clawing at her from within. He felt it, and he should have asked her. But he remembered his own dark secrets that he was trying to keep from her, so he settled on rambling about a great escape out of Riverdale instead, away from all the ghosts that both of them were trying to battle.
He knew he was being selfish– and cowardly. But at the time, he was overwhelmed. He thought of the impending civil war between the northside and the southside, the struggles he had to face at his new school, which is teeming with all sorts of juvenile- ranging from gangs and drugs and who-knows-what. Then, the recent development in the saga, which his good-natured, albeit impulsive best friend unknowingly started. He had to step up so that he could protect the people he loves, including her—especially her. He didn’t think he could handle any more weight added on his baggage, so he kept quiet. He stared at her, tears threatening to escape from his eyes, as he took in her pained expression—while she humored his folly about escaping on his motorcycle, away from the hell that their home had become.
But right now, Betty allegedly wanted to have nothing to do with him, because she saw where he was headed— to an inevitable darkness, laid easily for someone like him to tread. A part of him somehow believed that this path to darkness and ruin was what was meant for him; he all but struggled against it, and thankfully, Betty was there to support him in it. She believed in him, she supported him, convinced him that he had the capacity to break away from the clutches of inevitable ruin looming way ahead of him. In his heart, he knew that she would understand. If only he had talked to her about it. If only…
He had to see her. He had to know straight from her. And that although a huge part of him believed that he didn’t deserve her, he also believed her when she said in her most tender language that she loved– no, loves him. So, he had to know.
He scrambled to his feet, wincing at the growing pains all over his body, ignoring the sputters of blood from his broken lip. He knew he looked badly beaten, and probably in no good state to walk, much less to drive a motorcycle, but it is now or never. So, he grabbed his Sherpa jacket that was sprawled across his sofa, and went for the door.
Minutes later, he found himself on his motorcycle, driving through the chilling darkness looming over Riverdale. It wasn’t long before he reached the familiar streets of the northside, stopping abruptly in front of a familiar lawn—one which he often found himself getting lost to—an all-american home, complete with picket fences and front porch.
He glanced instinctively at the window he often climbed a lifetime ago, his mouth running dry, as he recognized a familiar shadow perched on a window seat. It was Betty– looking like she was having a seizure with the force her tiny shoulders are shaking. From where he was standing, he could tell that she was weeping, and he felt his heart shatter even more—if that even was possible.
Then– he all but leapt towards her.
He had to know. He refused to let her go.