#riverdalefamily

I really need this in one of the episodes but I know better so I just decided to write a tiny little short fic and I know it isn’t perfect but I hope you guys like it.

It was muggy out, warm for September, the leaves hadn’t begun to fall yet and the air felt kind. Jughead walked as quickly as he possibly could without running down the street, down to Betty’s house, down to safety. He didn’t know what was happening in his mind, or why, his thoughts were just rushing against his temples like a faucet turned up too high. Beads of sweat glimmered at his hairline, he wiped them away with the palm of his hand. All he could focus on was step after step to Betty. Step after step after step.

He straggled his way up the metal ladder and suddenly stopped at her window, hesitating for only a moment to slow his heavy breathing and to swallow the dry feeling in his throat. He inched the window up slowly, his heart beating out of his chest, into his ears and eyes and pushing it’s way out, running down his face in soft, burning streams.

“Bets?” He asked softly, his voice quivering.

“Betty? I need you Bets.” He said a little louder. The breeze pushed past him into the room, cooling his face a bit.

“Juggie? Hey what’s wrong Juggie, why are you crying?” Betty sat upright and immediately crawled across the bed to her beloved, “Jughead, are you okay? hey, please tell me baby.” Betty’s voice was so soft and caring and Jughead just couldn’t hold it anymore.

“I-I, my-my dad he,” His voice cracked and the tears ran down, hot and fast soaking his shirt collar. 

“Betty, my dad he-he was the one who hired Jason to deliver those drugs, he was the one who g-got him killed!” Jughead lowered his face into his palms sobbing, hacking, trying to breathe, his nose running and mixing with the tears.

Betty pulled him off of the windowsill guiding him to her bed, still warm from sleep, holding him tight. She wrapped her hands around his face and pulled his face to hers and looked deep into his eyes. The moonlight crept into the room making his tears shine like trails of glass on his cheeks.

“Oh Juggie, sweatheart.” she crooned “My love, it wasn’t you who did it, it wasn’t you.” She pulled him so close her lips brushed his ear, his hair was damp with sweat and his face wet and she just held him close and whispered, “It wasn’t you, it wasn’t you, you didn’t know baby, you didn’t know.”

Jughead gasped for air, he shivered, “Betty” he said into her neck, “Betty how could you love somebody as broken as me? My dad lied to us, he created me, I’m- I’m gonna turn into him.” He pulled tight to her T-shirt trying to hold on to her memory so he could never lose it.