Chapter Text
it always ends the same way
“It could only be fate - some sort of universe aligning kinda shit,” he mumbled, hands deep in his pockets.
She didn’t usually smoke. He always did. This time, she was happy to do it. She had nothing better to do.
The Drive-In was empty. And worn. And torn . Veronica thought it looked like how she felt - lonely. Cup-half-empty-esque.
Jughead said something else and it wasn’t until he was clicking his finger in her face that she said; “Hmm?”
“Am I talking to a brick wall?”
“Half empty cup, actually,” she muttered back. He didn’t get it all. She can tell. But he’d never say it out loud. Never admit to not understanding something.
“You and I,” he stated again. “It’s always you and I in the end…”
“It’s not that deep, Jughead,” Veronica replied with a roll of her eyes. “It’s not all fate and shit…”
He cut her off; “Destiny…”
“Yeah,” she agreed sarcastically. “Destiny…”
“Why are you always so… fragile?” he asked, taking a drag of a menthol cigarette.
“Says that guy who’s in a constant state of feeling forlorn… ”
He sniggered, flicking the ash of his cigarette out of the window of the car. “If my memory serves me correctly, you’re the one who’s all forlorn in this situation.”
“Cup-half-empty,” she muttered again.
“I get that when shit doesn’t go right, we gravitate -”
Jughead didn’t even get the opportunity to finish before Veronica stopped him. “Can you for once even act seventeen?” she snapped irritably.
She could see that he enjoyed it - the rise in her. Shrugging his shoulders, he started again. “What? We can’t ignore the truth. Shit hits the fan, one of us is finding the other. It’s just the way it is… Icarus flying to the sun, V…”
She shook her head, taking another sip of pre-mixed bourbon and cola. “You’re so full of shit sometimes.”
The car fell silent, even if only for a moment. “Let’s go back to mine.”
She didn’t know why he even said the words out loud. It always ended the same way.
He was right, she knew that. He’s always right. Somehow, they always end up in the same old position. One of them finding the other.
She hadn’t even been broken up 48 hours and yet, there she was, sitting in Jughead’s parents’ trailer staring at a bottle of vodka and cigarette butts.
Veronica hated the fact that it always started because they were lonely . She hated the fact that when she thought about it, it always ends up being Jughead who makes her feel that she’s somewhat not alone.
He always spoke about the time they first met. Pop’s. That night. “You know, the one when you rolled into town…” he’d say. As if it was supposed to mean something to her.
She was almost certain he’d bring it up again. Especially if they were drinking Vodka. Vodka-Jug was Nostalgic-Jug and it was perfect timing for nostalgia - since everything’s fucked up now, she thought.
She was lonely. He was too. They always were. Her loneliness never meshed well with his desperation, yet, they kept running back.
There was something in the way he would scuff his Docs on the floor of his trailer, swinging on the back legs of his chair while he held a cigarette in the air that just screamed at her.
For some reason, listening to his sad stories while Jeff Buckley played in the background made the nostalgia hit. “It’s been a long time since we’ve been like this, V.”
She didn’t know exactly what he meant. It had been a long time since they had hung out? Since they had drunk alcohol stolen from her dad?
Since they finally ‘aligned’ as he would say.
“Always so vague,” she said in an exhale.
“Let me be clearer then,” he shrugged, pursing his lips. “Life can be pretty fucking dull when you’re pretending not to know me.”
Veronica didn’t know what to say. Playing with the packet of cigarettes that sat on the table, she didn’t want to meet his eyes. There were a thousand and one words she could have thought of on the spot that were nothing more than lies. The ones she wanted to say were; ‘It’s because you shouldn’t confess your love for someone while they’re at work in the middle of the night while you’re still dating their best friend…’
She instead said; “You know me,” she shrugged. “I’m just so busy.”
“Pretty sad for two seventeen year olds to be sitting in an old trailer drinking while listening to Jeff Buckley,” he mused, the change of subject appreciated. “Shouldn’t we be clubbing? Searching for the nearest house party?”
“It wouldn’t be us if we didn’t sit here listening to Jeff Buckley…”
“Didn’t realise there was an ‘ us’ ,” he mumbled.
“Didn’t realise everything was so deep…”
“I get that being dumped isn’t your niche, but being a rebound isn’t good for my self esteem..”
“You’re telling me,” she snapped back.
She wanted to shut him up, his lips tasted like cola. In retrospect, it was a mix for disaster.
She had never been that drunk. Or at least, in a long time. He made sardonic jokes about moving on to his father’s stash. She questioned him on his stash of weed.
They tried both. They were laughing on the floor of the trailer.
Veronica had kissed him before. It was both foreign and not. It was probably more comfortable than she would ever care to admit, but he was a little stoic. He kept bringing up Betty, which Veronica just found irritating. Betty had broken up with Jughead almost a year ago.
Archie broke up with her only days before.
His lips were quick on hers. And his fingers seemed to touch every bit of skin they could find.
Only for one moment, probably to go through the motions, he asked her if it was okay. He mentioned Archie, she didn’t want to talk about it. So they didn’t and before she even knew what she was doing, she had his hand by the wrist, guiding it down her body.
Even afterwards, she laid in his arms. He spoke about school. She spoke about forever. He spoke about Icarus and the sun. Why he insists on speaking in riddles, she’s not sure.
He told her his wings were melting. She was almost certain she was the sun.
Surely there was a condom. There always was.
Until there wasn’t.
She’s not even sure there was one at all. Did he even have any? Did she ?
Veronica sits on the floor of her bedroom. Knees to her chest. Shoes strewn on the ground. She hadn’t even managed to get her clothes on before the tiny stick sitting on her desk showed itself.
Two tiny lines. Pink.
Disastrous , she thinks. Shit, shit, shit.
One time, she tells herself. You know it only takes one-fucking-time.
She stands up, brushes herself off. Pulls her dress over her head and lines her eyes. Mascara is waterproof because now that she looks back, the tears flow a little easier.
“Fuck you you fucking stupid fucking idiot!” she hisses to herself. At him. To the Universe. Hoping that somehow, the words will reach him and absolutely fuck his day up.
Jughead Jones.
Jughead Jones, she thinks. Of course it would be him and his sad-sack, all-forlorn asshole-ness that would make me forget a condom.
The day still starts as it should. As much as she enjoys normality, Veronica despises it a little. Part of her thinks that the world should crumble and fall or something life changing should happen.
She reminds herself that there is something life changing happening. And maybe she should be careful of what she wishes for.
Her head spins - she feels sick. Not sure if it’s from fear or the reality of what’s happening. Reality seems non-existent when everyone is still walking around her, school bags sitting on shoulders.
Everything is so plain and normal, so why is it actually not ?
She walks up the pathway into Riverdale High, arm being half detached when Betty comes up behind her, linking her own arm with Veronica’s. “Morning, V,” Betty almost sing-songs.
Veronica forces a smile. A smile for the ages, she reminds herself. “Morning Queen B,” she replies. Too much sugar in her voice. Too sweet.
“How are you feeling?”
Veronica almost chokes until she realises this is yet again just another normal moment in time. A normal question.
Her normal answer; “Yeah, of course”
Betty’s eyes look sad. Yet another one with forlorn eyes, Veronica thinks. “I hope you’re okay after everything with Archie… I know for a fact he feels terrible about it.”
For a split second, Veronica almost forgets what Betty is even talking about. Of course you know for a fact… you’re the reason. Veronica doesn’t feel any malice about it. That’s high school, isn’t it. You don’t live forever with your High School Sweetheart. “Oh yeah,” Veronica forces out. “Of course.”
Betty reads it immediately. “Are you okay?”
Her world does crumble a little bit with the simple question. It was too much. Too invasive.
Veronica doesn’t know the answer to the simple question. She lies; “Yeah, fine - just tired, B.”
It wasn’t a full lie, so she doesn’t dwell on the guilt.
Betty accepts it and rushes to the door, hurrying Veronica alongside her. “Come on, we might be late,” she almost shouts through the ring of the bell.
The bell is booming in Veronica’s ears and she feels sweat on her forehead. “Just need to go touch up my face, B,” she lies to her again.
Two lies in one day to Betty, Veronica thinks. I truly am going to hell for this.
She gets into the bathroom. She heaves a couple of times in the basin but once she comes to the conclusion you have to actually be able to eat to bring something back up, she gives up.
She just stares at herself in the mirror. She looks much the same. Sadder. Maybe , she thinks. Too much time with people who look sad…
Her phone buzzes on the counter: - Are you in today?
She’s almost tempted to delete Jughead’s number.
She doesn’t reply, instead re-glossing her lips before pushing back her shoulders and walking out of the door.
It couldn’t have been anything other than fate. Or bad luck. Ill-fate. Jughead’s denim jacket leans against the wall just outside of the school bathrooms, but before Veronica has the chance to turn around and head back into the bathroom, he spins on his heels.
His smile is too smug. He chews on the end of a pen - teeth on plastic. It’s bitten down to nothing. “V,” he drawls, arrogance floating in the air above him. “You didn’t reply to my text…”
There’s a thousand and one words that cross Veronica’s mind but she only manages; “If you think you’re high on the priority list, you’ve been sadly mistaken.”
He clutches his chest, patting his heart, feigning heartache. Although he fakes amusement, there’s a small shadow of genuine irritation that flashes on his face, she can tell. “I just -” he stumbles slightly. “I just haven’t heard from you in a few days… I wanted to make sure you were okay.. You know? Some people have this thing called empathy and it shows from time to time.”
Veronica didn’t want to have to listen to one of his spiels. Not when I feel like this, she thinks. Not when I know what I know. “A week,” she tells him.
“Pardon me?”
She hates the formality. “One week - I haven’t messaged you back in one week.”
Jughead scoffs, rolling his head back. “Well that doesn’t make it any better, Veronica. In fact it makes it fucking worse.”
“I didn’t tell you to make you feel better, Jughead,” she snips back, rolling her eyes.
“Do you want me to feel worse then?”
Veronica doesn’t know what she wants. She knows she doesn’t want to be stuck here arguing with Jughead Jones about nothing. “Yes, always.”
She clears her throat, pushing past him quickly but he catches her wrist in his fingers, stopping her in her tracks. “Veronica,” he mutters in her ear. “I know we…”
“Fucked?” she asks, raising her eyebrows. She watches his neck flush red.
“I mean… Yeah…” he shrugs, looking a little hurt. “I wouldn’t put it like that…do you always have to be so… crass ?”
She smiles at him, all fake and shiny. “We’ve done it before, Jughead ,” she says his name thickly. “I don’t know what you’re making a big deal about it…”
She watches as he processes her words in his mind, probably coming up with something complicated to reply with that will leave them both more confused than before. “I’m not making a big deal about it, Veronica ,” he replies thickly as well. Her name is sticky like honey on his tongue. “This time it was different.”
For a moment, his words shake her - unsure of exactly what he knows makes this time different. “Wait - What ?” she spits. For a moment, every single thought Veronica has ever had runs through her mind. Surely he can’t know from having sex that this time was different, right? Some sort of father-spidey-sense.
He widens his eyes, the look almost demeaning - or so she feels. “No Archie, no Betty… we, I guess, well, I feel like a fucking asshole saying it, but I guess we were allowed to sleep together…”
Veronica’s amusement is genuine when she laughs, her relief flooding over her. “We’re allowed to do what we want, Jughead, we’re not babies…”
“I guess your moral high ground isn’t so high then?” he asks, rolling his eyes. “I mean it’s not like sleeping with each other before was a good thing… It’s just that it’s becoming a lot more…” he doesn’t finish the sentence.
She’s had enough of listening and she doesn’t think her stomach could handle another five minutes without feeling sick. Instead, Veronica pats Jughead on the chest, readying herself to leave. “Great chat, Torombolo,” she snips. “I’ll just go right ahead and work on my moral high ground.”
“You’re so god damned fragile all the time.”
She appreciates that he doesn’t try to stop her. He usually does, but she doesn’t think she’d be able to hold it together if she had to spend another moment with him.
“Hey, V,” he calls after her. “I’m Icarus flying towards the sun right now, you know, if you’re wondering.”
She doesn’t even know what he means. And she wasn’t wondering until now.
Archie stands in front of her desk, hands holding into books so tightly, she can see his knuckles turning white. “Ronnie,” he says, clearing his throat afterwards. As if even saying my name is tortuous…
He looks good - even a little sleep deprived himself if she looks closely. It was the closest she’d looked at him in a few weeks. Two and a bit, to be exact.
“It’s my -”
“- birthday,” she finishes. Standing up from the desk, head spinning a little more.
He looks at her confused. “How did you -”
“ - know?” It's almost comical. She can hardly contain the snigger. “We broke up, Archie. I didn’t suddenly develop amnesia…”
Archie clears his throat again. “Right… well… It just wouldn’t be right if you weren’t there,” he mutters. The sudden interest in his shoes is astounding, she thinks.
“Not into drinking..” she shrugs. Everything turns back into that one night. And the one time.
She doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to drink again.
Archie laughs this time, throwing his head back and laughing with his entire soul. “Ronnie? Not drinking? Ronnie is the life of the party, come on, I still want you there - you’re still one of my best friends!”
Veronica knows that Archie thinks that’s a compliment. She’ll let him assume it is. “I’ll think about it,” she lies. Another one down.
“I know things haven’t been the same between us since I broke up with you…”
Hearing the words out loud like that makes Veronica blush. Maybe Jughead was right, she thinks. Maybe being dumped isn’t my niche…
“Things aren’t usually the same, Archie. That’s kinda the point.”
Archie’s cheeks turn red. “Right.”
“Right.”
“I want you to know that I still value you as a friend.”
Veronica smiles, and this time, she thinks she means it. “Oh little Archie,” she replies. “We still have an entire lifetime to go, this is only one step.”
Archie smiles back. “You sound like Jughead…” This time, Archie’s face turns serious. “I really want you there, Ronnie. It just won’t be the same without you. It’s next week so you don’t have to worry about it until then, but seriously, it would be awesome if you could come.”
Fuck, she thinks. How the hell am I going to get out of this one?
Relief washes over Veronica when she gets home and no one is there.
The more she thinks about it, the more thoughts seem to stall in her mind. It’s like she’s forcing herself to think about something she has no idea even exists - imagination , she thinks to herself. You’re living in it, Veronica…
She manages a glass of juice. It’s sour and still makes her stomach churn. She has a piece of dry toast with Nutella.
She enjoys it just as much as she usually would.
Then, she’s standing in her bedroom, standing in front of her mirror in her school uniform.
The tears come. They fall freely.
She doesn’t know what to do. Or say. Or to who.
She doesn’t know how she could be so stupid. There were things that you just know. Protection was one of them. So how did she become so careless?
She feels herself falling to the floor slowly, sobs shaking her entire body. Teeth chattering as she makes her way to the ground.
Suddenly, she’s in a ball on the floor. And her school shoes are still on her feet. The carpet is rough against her cheek.
She has no idea what to do. For a girl who prides herself on knowing every single step she makes, she feels like she’s only taking steps into the depths of Sweetwater River.
A text shines on her screen:- I just feel like that of all times, this would be the perfect time for us to actually be talking. I know you can talk, you’re not a mute - we’ve spoken before.
Anywho, Archie’s birthday - want to be the two misfits in the corner? Maybe a night out would break the ice - house parties, amiright?
Xox Gossip Girl xox.
She replies back:- Fuck off, Jughead.
:- Heartless, Kanye West
Maybe she was fragile after all.
As much as it hurt, she wasn’t surprised. You give a girl a spritzer and suddenly she’s the centre of attention.
Betty wasn’t everyone’s centre of attention, Sweetpea was brooding in a corner and Fangs was hanging off Kevin but she was definitely Archie’s centre of attention.
His entire world, Veronica can see.
She watches them only for a minute. The match made in heaven. The match made in white-picket-fenced heaven…
Archie has Betty against the wall, leaning into her ear, Betty is all smiles. And though it doesn’t necessarily hurt, because you can’t cheat fate - or destiny - it’s written in the stars that those two should be together, Veronica muses. It still feels like shit, even if it’s just a little bit.
As she walks through Archie’s lounge room, again she’s pulled through the wrist into a corner. “Watching the rom-com?” Jughead asks, nodding his head in Archie and Betty’s direction.
“Not my genre,” she shrugs.
They both stand in silence and people watch for a moment. She’s acutely aware that his fingers are still wrapped around her pulse. That even in the silence, it’s almost a comfort.
Though there’s no silence at all, she realises. The music is so loud…
“You’ve been avoiding me.” It’s a statement.
Veronica finally turns to meet his eyes. They’re deep. She knows them too well. Too many times looking into them when I shouldn’t have been…
“Does it upset you?” she asks, brushing it off - rolling her eyes.
He shrugs, taking a sip of another bourbon and cola. “What if I said yes?” he replies. “Would you do something to fix it?”
She doesn’t know whether to feel amused or annoyed. She hates that the conversation is so easy, so carefree. It always is. He always speaks of some gravitational pull. Magnetism . Her and him.
So why did they never meet in the middle?
She thinks briefly on the pregnancy test. How it’s positive, yet here she is, standing with Jughead Jones in Archie Andrews’ house while they party. The irony almost kills her. Just another day in Riverdale, so why does it feel like she’s drowning?
She wonders if maybe when she wakes up, it will all be a bad dream.
She thinks about how regardless of the fact that she took the test two weeks ago, the days are still horribly mundane. Normal .
He clicks his fingers in front of her face and she slaps his hand away, giving him an incredulous look. “No drink for you, V?”
Even looking at the bourbon makes her feel sick. “No, not today…”
He shrugs, wrapping his arm across her shoulders. “Come outside,” he mutters in her ear. “I need a cigarette… and some stimulating conversation.”
The cool air whips her skin and the breeze doesn't cooperate with her Pop’s uniform, making it fly in the air. Jughead tucks one cigarette behind his ear and places another one between his lips. He offers one to Veronica that she declines before sparking it up, getting lost in smoky-haze. “My mom’s,” he explains. “Menthol.”
“You don’t need to tell me,” she says. I already know what you smoke…
“He’s eighteen,” Jughead says, referring to Archie. “Out into the big, bad world and shit. Where do you think he’ll go?” he asks, blowing smoke into her face. “California?”
Veronica knows what he’s implying. California… with Betty… “I don’t know.”
“You should know,” he says, pointing in her direction. “He’s your ex.”
“And he’s your life-long bestie.”
“You’ve got a point.” He closes his eyes for a second, already starting to lose his footing from the amount of bourbons he downed. “Do you think what they have,” he says, roughly pointing to Betty and Archie inside the house at Betty and Archie, “That it’s fate?”
Veronica knows it is. There couldn’t be any other logical explanation. “You’re the one who always goes on and on like a broken record about fate, what do you think?” she sighs though, looking inside through the window. “But on the other hand,” she says with a grin. “Of course…”
“Of course,” he repeats. Smiling gently. “Do you think it was fate that our paths aligned when you moved here. When I saw you at Pop’s?”
She hates that he always brings it up, when he’s a little too drunk. When he’s a little too high. She didn’t understand fate, so how was she to know? If that was fate, she thinks to herself. Then what is this?
“What exactly do you think fate is, Jughead?” she asks, taking a seat next to him on the doorstep.
“Two people always finding their way back to each other…” he explains matter-of-factly.
“Like Betty and Archie.”
He shrugs again. “Maybe like you and I…”
Veronica sniggers. “You and I never found each other, Jughead,” she tells him straight. “It was forced upon each other - coincidence .”
“You and I at Pop’s,” he says, lifting a finger in the air. “You and I at Lodge Lodge,” he says, lifting another one. “Sweetwater River last year… You and I now…”
He goes to stand up but he can’t seem to find his footing. Veronica shakes her head as she slings his arm over her shoulder. “Honestly, I really fucking hate you sometimes, you know?”
He smiles with his eyes closed. “I know that… You didn’t even spend time with the birthday boy…”
“I’m sure he’s missing me like a bullet to the brain.”
Jughead’s breath smells like bourbon and menthols, flickering light scatters across his cheekbones as he smiles with too many teeth - too much freedom.
Veronica holds him up - kind of - barely . He mumbles something. “You’re so pretty in purple… Purple on your lips.”
The bourbon makes her feel woozy, weak in the knees. Dizzy . “Let’s find you a bed, huh, Jug?” she says, gritting her teeth together.
Somehow, they make it to Archie’s bed. Jughead’s long legs hanging over the edge. His leather jacket looks a lot like a straight jacket as he lies uncomfortably on top of Archie’s sheets with it still on. “You look ethereal in the moonlight, V…” he says in a drunken haze. He chuckles for a moment with closed eyes. “I count my blessings, knowing you.”
“Yeah, me too, Romeo,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“Why didn’t you drink with me?” he asks, closing his eyes again. “We usually do everything together… Juliet… ”
“Never thought you were one to get into theatre - I think you should try out for the lead.”
“One more drink, for old time’s sake.”
Veronica stands at the bedside. A split second feeling like an eternity. Even the weight of her school bag still sits on her shoulders and she’s got bourbon spilt on her red-bottoms and her Pop’s uniform all stained. “I’m pregnant, Jughead.”
A glass shattering echoes through the house. It’s almost meant to be.
Jughead doesn’t hear it. The bourbon is drying. Or maybe he does, because he starts laughing in his sleep. “Me too…”
Her shift starts in thirty minutes.
She’ll await the moment Sweetwater takes her under.
She knows what he means now. He just can’t help himself. Icarus just could not resist.
But they’re only seventeen and she has a world to figure out.
She doesn’t even want to think this pregnancy into existence.
“I’m saying it; there’s something off about you.”
Veronica knows it comes from a place of love, but it doesn’t mean that Betty’s intuition should just dim itself down a little.
“I’m sick, okay?” The words come out a little more irritable than she would have liked and she can tell by the way Betty’s lips purse that she’s picked up on it.
“Okay then…” Betty says quietly.
Betty’s books are strewn all over Veronica’s bedroom floor. Studying usually means a lot to Veronica but now, it’s void of all feelings. Betty’s shoes are bright yellow in some places, all stained and ripped in others. Her knees poke out of ripped denim and her lips are soft pink.
The scene is totally normal, Veronica concludes. Her best friend in her bedroom, Betty’s furrowed brow looking over trig, then glancing back over at Veronica. Veronica doesn’t miss the glances - she catches and stews over every single one.
Veronica feels like a bird trapped in a cage. Something wanting to burst out, explode all over the place. Molten lava over Pompeii , she thinks. Her seams are barely holding anything together.
Tears prick in eye corners, everything is heinously normal when nothing is normal at all. It had been two weeks since she took the test. And sixteen days since she was late. W hy does the concept of moving time not affect anyone the way it affects me, she wonders.
She wants to tell her best friend what’s happening. She knows Betty. She knows Betty will be nothing but understanding. Maybe she’d help her. Help her do what, she’s not sure, but doing something is better than nothing .
Betty keeps pretending to be invested in her school work and Veronica sits there not even pretending at all. “Something isn’t right and I’m not ready to talk about it yet…” Veronica tells Betty.
Veronica sobs even harder on Betty’s pink sweater when she doesn’t say anything other than; “I’ll be here when you’re ready then.”
“Thank you,” Veronica sniffs.
“Chocolate? When the time comes?”
“King size please.”
The vanilla of Betty’s perfume stings her nose.
Veronica doesn’t need to see him until school starts back on Monday but for some reason, Jughead finds her during a midnight shift on Saturday. And to make things worse, she had just vomited into a paper cup. And placing eyes on him again makes her want to do it all over again.
“Shouldn’t you be at home?” she asks, not even looking up from the bench she’s wiping.
“Felt like a shake,” Jughead replies. “Is that such a crime?”
He wears his Southside Serpents kutte but in contrast, he pulls out his laptop and starts tapping on the keyboard without looking up either. “Is this the sort of time to be doing school work?” she asks. “Or is this Serpent's paperwork? I mean, someone has to balance the books, right?”
Jughead snickers; “This is more than just school work, V ,” he drawls. “I’m hoping this piece will get me out of here.”
The conversation is normal. They’re seventeen. There should be prospects of getting out of here. But again, it’s just another day that pasess on by normally and she’s stuck in a whirlwind of everything being anything but normal for her.
She’s obviously aware that time is passing. In a wave of selfishness, she wishes away the years and hopes that tomorrow, she might wake up old and grey. Withered and worn. Gone away as dust in the wind.
But time doesn’t pass so quickly and she’s still working her shift at Pop’s, each minute slower than the next. She’s still pregnant… she assumes. She hasn’t even been able to face another test. Or Doctor.
She’s obviously aware that she’s running out of time. That if she doesn’t decide what to do quickly, she’ll rapidly run out of options.
The smell of the deep fried food makes her mouth dry and suddenly, she feels drained. Taking a sip of water before handing Jughead’s shake to him. “Mmmm, perfect,” he replies with a grin but it falls just a little bit. “No rest for the wicked, then?”
As much as the normality was eating her alive, she couldn’t bear for things to be different. She still faces work. She still faces him . “Nope,” she says awkwardly. “No rest for me, the wicked…” her tone is too cheery and she knows he’s picked up on it - fake .
Finally, he looks at her over the laptop screen, cocking an eyebrow. “ Okay… ” he says slowly. “Weird, but okay…”
She just sighs loudly, chest rising and falling as she takes deep breaths. “So,” she starts slowly - small talk. “How was Archie’s birthday?”
Jughead shrugs his shoulders. “Haven’t seen you since then?”
“Nope.”
“Right.” He pauses for what feels like a lifetime before saying; “One minute I was with you, next minute I was waking up in Archie’s bed with Toni - not like that -” he corrects, almost in a whine. “I was on top of the sheets, she was under. She was also wearing, like, full pyjamas. Long pants, button-up shirt, socks… I think she showered before hopping in. She was ready for bed , bed.”
Veronica chuckles, the easiest smile she’s had in days. “You don’t remember me leaving then?”
Jughead shakes his head. “Nah. But I woke up in the morning wondering where you might have gone. Then I remembered you would have had a shift that night so, you know, like the Detective I am, I pieced it together that you must have ditched my ass and gone to work…”
Veronica laughs humourlessly. “You know my roster?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, V,” he winks at her. “I know everyone’s roster here at Pop’s.”
Conversation flows a lot easier than it had recently and Jughead orders another coffee with no sign of leaving anytime soon. “You’re not going?” Veronica asks.
Jughead just looks up from his glowing screen. “Probably not until you finish.”
She doesn’t argue.
Veronica and Jughead pull up outside of the Pembrooke, his car now smelling like spilt shakes and grease.
The car is quiet. When she should be hopping out of the car, thanking him. Saying good night. She finds herself instead looking at him gazing out of the car door. “Do you remember anything about Archie’s birthday?”
Jughead nods. “Yeah,” he says quietly, sitting in the 1am moonlight.
For a moment, her heart feels like it’s sitting on her tongue. Like she can’t swallow anything down.
Like she can’t breathe.
She inhales through her nose, trying to catch his eye in the rearview mirror. “Do you remember what I said to you? When I took you to bed?”
This time, Jughead meets her eyes with his. Brows knitted together. Lip between his teeth. His skin turns from blues, to reds, greens in the flickering street lights.
She’s almost certain that she can read something in his look. That his brows knit together because he remembers something. That maybe his fingers gripping on the steering wheel is because he didn’t want to face what she was about to say because it would confirm what he thought he heard that night.
“No?” he says gently instead. “Why? Was it important?”
He speaks in one breath, she notices. Like it was nothing. All nonchalant.
“No,” she replies quietly. “Though everything I say is, in fact, important. I will let it slide.”
Jughead just smiles with his lips together. “Cool. Well, here you are - Chez Lodge.”
“Back to the snake pit, huh, Jug?”
“Something like that.”
They say goodnight. Her heart still sits on her tongue. She’s not sure what she wanted to say to him. Or what she wanted him to say back.
Hey, I’m having your baby! She thinks. But she feels stupid even thinking it. Jughead, I need your help, plays on her mind too.
A thousand and one different words cross her mind. Some that she wants to say to him, others she hopes he might say back. By the time she’s run through every single heart-achingly painful scenario, she finds herself unlocking the door to the apartment.
She kicks off her shoes in the doorway. Throws her handbag in the corner too. She doesn’t even take off her Pop’s uniform when she slumps onto her bed.
She lets the sobs run through her. They move and shake her and make her feel something. Anything. Anything that makes any kind of sense.
She doesn’t even know what she’s crying for. The embarrassment to her family? The fact that she’s still at school? The fact that she’s acting like nothing is even happening at all?
Jughead?
She doesn’t know.
“Mija?” her mom asks, red nails dancing on the frame of her bedroom door. “Are you okay?”
Fuck me, Veronica thinks. Kill me right fucking now…