the town with darkness | bughead

ch. 11 | the losing battle

Jughead sat stock still in the pickup as FP sped closer and closer towards the Whyte Wyrm. He pressed his fingers between his thighs to stop himself fidgeting but he was humming with kinetic, anxious energy. FP looked furious. Beyond furious actually and Jughead knew he was in for it now. He hadn't seen FP this angry in a long time. In fact he'd only ever seen him like this one other time. Luckily Jughead had passed out pretty quickly from FP's harsh treatment on that occasion so he didn't quite remember all of it but he did remember sleeping on the couch for a fortnight. His father had been amazing for those two weeks. Brought him coffee and donuts from Pop's most mornings, made him a home-cooked meal a couple nights and even came up with a convincingly good cover story for Weatherbee - that Jughead had been hit by a car just outside of the trailer park.

That was the tricky thing with FP. Deep down, Jughead knew that FP was well aware that his behaviour was wrong. When he went too far he'd always try to make up for it. It was partly why Jughead didn't tell anyone, why he stayed and endured.

"Dad, I"-

"Shut up Jughead," FP snapped. "You...goddamnit, you catch me when I'm drunk and get me all worked up and pissed off at you. And there's a fight on tonight and you're gonna freakin' lose and I'm gonna lose the couple hundred I've already bet on you."

Jughead didn't know what to say. On the one side he was still tired from his weekend from hell and in pain from FP's beating but on the other hand he was getting angry now. It was so far from being his fault, it wasn't even funny and, before he could even stop himself he said as much to his father.

"Excuse me?" FP asked back, his tone low and dangerous.

"I said, this is not my fault," Jughead replied, his voice shaking slightly. "I shouldn't even be fighting. I'm a sixteen year old kid for crying out loud. I should be worrying about schoolwork and girls and - I don't know, the fact that there's a murderer on the loose in town. I shouldn't be worrying about losing a fight in a biker bar and then having to deal with you beating me up later on."

FP slammed on the brakes and pulled the pickup over roughly. Jughead's shoulder bumped the car door and he winced. He almost didn't comprehend it though. His heart felt like it had lodged in his throat and he clutched the door tightly to keep at least one of his hands from shaking. He stared straight ahead and down, his breaths coming in quicker and quicker.

"Alright first of all, you need to shut up and stop talking right now before I beat you to hell and back in this goddamn pickup," FP said, leaning across the centre console and getting right up in Jughead's face. Jughead swallowed nervously but he nodded. "Secondly, I don't care how dirty you have to fight but you're gonna win tonight, you hear me?"

Jughead was silent. He honestly didn't know how to respond to that.

"Good," FP said, pulling out onto the main road again.

Ten more minutes later and FP slammed the pickup into park outside the Whyte Wyrm. Before Jughead could even make a move to get out, FP jerked open the door and grabbed Jughead's shoulder, pulling him forcefully out of the truck. With a heavy hand on the back of his neck, he pushed Jughead towards the biker bar.

"Where are we even going?" Archie said, as Betty turned the key in the ignition and sped off with Archie in the front seat of her car.

"I don't know, Jughead's place?" Archie suggested. "Did you hear what FP said to him?"

"I didn't," Betty said. Her eyes were glassy and her hand was holding onto the door so hard her knuckles were white. "But I know we need to get there fast. FP could already be laying into him."

"What we need to do is call the cops," Archie said.

"No!" Betty all but shouted. "No, we can't call the cops."