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Your name is Sweet Pea. Not the name your mother gave you, but your mother's been dead a while, so what does it matter.
You are an Alpha. You don't particularly care for being it, but it's better than being an Omega. You didn't understand before, but you do, a little now.
You stumbled onto Jughead scraping his arm off. You had to bite him.
He was crying.
He's not happy here. You know. You've tried to help. You can't fix this.
You helped bandage Jughead's arm up. He barely looks at you.
You've been trying. You can't help him.
He had a girlfriend. You were so glad to have him for yourself, but you can't handle it. You can't take care of him. It burns more than watching him kiss his girl.
He's been asleep. You bundled him in a blanket, and snapped him in.
Drove to his girlfriend's house. Knock on the door.
(Betty) “What's going-Oh. Sweet Pea.”
You nod. She stiffens up, probably waiting for something awful.
(You) “I can't take care of him anymore.”
It burns, having to say it. Having to admit it out loud.
(Betty) “What?”
You take the surprise as well as you can.
(You) “Jughead. I-he's miserable with me. I don't want to leave him with you, but he loves you-I know it- and I can't help him, so. It's up to you.”
She's gaping a little.
(You) “I-his dad can't help. Come on.”
She straightens up.
(Betty) “Alright, alright. What's do you want from me?”
Okay, okay.
(You) “Take care of him.”
You grab him, carry him gently up.
(Betty) “Wha-”
(You) “Shhh.”
She nods.
(Betty) “Put him here.”
You set him on the couch. Take a deep breath.
(Betty) “Thank you.”
You hiss, a little. Wave goodbye, get in your car, and drive off.