Just the Two of Us

Chapter Seven: Lost and Reclaimed

Her blonde hair lay like waves of gold against her shoulders. Her cheeks were rosy and strained, her nose red as she sniffled. Her eyes salt-wounded, clouded over and puffy as tears still dripped down her face. Her red plump lips wanted to curve into a smile when she saw him but her eyebrows furrowed and her heart skipped so many beats she thought it would stop.

He had blood on his cheek.

Jughead pained when he saws her, his heart tightened and his stomach dropped because he was the dickhead that hurt her. Her fists were balled so tight...

He ran to her kneeling down and becoming level with her. She turned away.
         "Betty, I'm sorry." He trembled.
"Oh you're sorry?!" She mocked in a fowl whisper.
         His lip tremored, "I know, I know..." he gently held her hands.

Her heart wanted so desperately to forgive him with every pump of blood it surged into her body. Her head wanted to slap him so hard he'd have another bruise. But her eyes and her hands and her soul was telling her to listen, to empathize, to love. Because she did love him. And although his words stung she could see it hurt him; it tormented him. It wasn't okay, but Jughead was the kindest most caring person she had ever had the pleasure to meet.

"Betty I said some really bad shit—I know I did and—and I'm so sorry." He whimpered. Holding her hands tight and warm. She knew he could feel the scars on her hands and that he was secretly wondering, far in his mind, why he could feel scars on her hands.
His face told her he hated himself in this moment, his eyes begging her for forgiveness.

           "You have to know I didn't mean it—please Betty—" he cried.
Her heart was breaking; slowly tearing apart with every grip of his hands.
       "Why did you say those things Jughead? I doubt they came from nowhere." She spoke, her voice was angry, for once, angry.

Jughead stared at her, chin trembling, eyes watering. He had to tell her.
Fuck his instincts and his pride and the walls he built in his mind, all to keep beautiful, wonderful people out. fuck it, because if he didn't tell her then she would be gone for fucking good and she was the most beautiful and most wonderful out of all the people in the world.

     He clutched her and took a deep, unnerving breath. "Every birthday I have ever had, my parents would fight..." he started.
Betty watched him, his teeth gritted as if his words were glass in his mouth.
           "N-not just fight...scream, hit, throw..." he hated that this made him feel weak, he hated being unable to share his feelings.

         "It was as if having to be in the same room, even if it was for me, drove them into insanity and reminded them of the worst parts of each other..." he took a breath. "they—they were just the worst.—so when you threw that party I shut down and I remembered all the worst things as well, and I used all that other bullshit as an excuse to be mad." He tremored. "I am so sorry." his expression was of tremendous coiling despair, a deep dark well of misery.
Suddenly her head didn't want to slap him anymore. And all reason was telling her that, truly, the dumb guy didn't mean it. She gripped his hands back.

Jughead slowly faced her. "Betty I am a piece of shit for what I did—but please believe me I didn't mean it—none of it!—you are the best person—you are my favourite person!" his words were a waterfall that covered her in a warm, refreshing embrace.
He kissed her hands, nuzzling into her lap. "I'm sorry—I'll always be sorry." He cried into her.
       "I promise I will never do anything like that again. Never." He whispered.

She slowly ran fingers through his hair, still clutching one of his hands in hers.

He was so sad, she could see that, and his heart was racing erratically and he was sobbing into her lap rapidly. "Jughead..." she trembled, her chin quivering.
             It dawned on her like the fresh morning sun. It was just irrational generational trauma and fear that made him act out. And by the quivering, adorable mess on her lap that he was, she knew he would keep that promise.
          "Do you really promise Jughead?" she asked, her hands were running softly in his smooth black hair. "Yes, I promise! ...Betty, I love you." He gazed up at her.