Cigarette Burns // FP Jones

Chapter Thirteen

1 week later

I woke up the next morning beside Jughead. My eyes were crusty from dry tears, so I went into the bathroom to wash my face. Today, I didn't want to go to school. Jug hadn't pestered me any further about pregnancy, and my morning sickness was at its worst, and I felt dead inside. I still wasn't sure what I'd do, but Jughead had agreed to go to me eight week scan, which was today. This also marks the two months that FP and I have been together. If you could call it that. I didn't think he'd be counting, but I was. 

After vomiting quietly, avoiding questions from FP, I brushed my teeth and threw my hair up, then put on some baggy clothing to conceal how bloated I looked, and then ate. The two men woke up, coming out to join me. My lover and I hadn't been having as much sex the past week, as I'd been upset consistently. He shot a worried glance at me when seeing the bags under my eyes, and began to eat his own breakfast. 
"I'm gonna go to the Wyrm today." I said, wondering if they would care. Technically they couldn't control what I did, as they weren't biologically connected to me - even if I was carrying FP's son or daughter. Jughead shook his head, obviously knowing I shouldn't be drinking, but at this point I didn't care. I was stressed, I needed alcohol to keep me going. 
"I'll meet you at 4, okay?" Jughead said, standing up and walking out of the trailer to school. That left FP and I alone, but I didn't reach for him. I stayed where I was, hunched over a bowl of cereal. 

"What's gotten into you?" He asked, causing me to raise my face. 
"I'm just not feeling so good." I told him, brushing it off. I shot a smile, in an attempt to deter him, though I don't think it entirely worked. However, he didn't pester me, he simply stood up, kissed my forehead and left. On a Wednesday morning he'd had a shift at Pop's, and he left at lunch. I decided to leave at two, after watching some teleshopping commercials for some sort of cleaning products, and making lunch. It must have been the nesting instincts. 

I walked up to the trust bar, pulling out a cigarette. I stood outside for a little while, making my way through my smoke before going inside, ordering a beer. 
"You're never in here alone." An older male spoke, one I'd seen in the crowds but never spoken to. 
"Well here I am." I replied, sitting on the bar stool. He sat opposite me, and I could see his poorly lit face well. He had a brown beard littered with stubble and a shaved head, tattoos covering the most part of his chubby arms and neck. 
"What's up, kid." He questioned, before taking a sip of his whiskey. 
"I can't tell you, because I can't even tell FP." I replied, truthfully. He didn't act shocked, he'd obviously known about us. 
"Ah, yes. The loving Forsythe." His accent sounded Southern, which was refreshing in the town. I was sick of all of the Riverdale folk. 
"You know?" I questioned, taking a sip of my beverage. He nodded, laughing heartily. 
"I was his best friend when we were your age." He explained. "When you two had your first little encounter he came to me, asking if I thought it was wrong." I nodded, interested. 
"What does he say about me?" My voice wavered slightly, worried to hear. The male continued to laugh before answering.
"He called you a number of words I can't repeat to a little girl. But he refers to you as his 'girl', so that tells you something, doesn't it?" 

I grinned. FP's girl. 
"You know," He continued. "I am also aware of your condition." 
I stared at the man. Did Jughead tell him? I couldn't move, my mouth opened to speak, but it was impossible. 
"It's obvious by looking at you. And not to mention the amount you're sick. FP hasn't caught on, stupid bastard." He looked much more serious. 
"Wh-" I stuttered. "What do I do?" I'd been slightly frightened to ask. 
"Look, FP is far from perfect." He placed his now empty glass on the bar, looking at me directly. "But he deserves to know. He'll want the little one more than you can imagine, he loves his kids more than anything in his fucked world." The male stood, turning to walk away. 
"Wait!" I shouted. He looked over his shoulder. "What's your name?" I asked. 
"Johnathon." He replied, walking away. 

I withdrew back to my beer, huddled over the bar again. He deserves to know. Johnathon had been right, FP needed to know. After the scan today, I'd tell him. Guiltily, I stood up, leaving the half drunken beer alone. I couldn't drink, it was bad for the baby. Looking to my phone, I realised I'd been here for a good two hours, and I'd have to meet Jughead outside. I walked out, slighting a cigarette without thinking. Baby. I reminded myself, but I couldn't refrain from continuing to smoke. This would be my last one, then I'd stop. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" I heard Jughead shout, and I watched as he stormed over, putting my smoke out. "Do you just not care about your kid?" He continued, and I shook my head. 
"I do, this is my last one." I spoke, looking into his eyes for reassurance. 
"Your last one should have been the one before you found out you were pregnant." Jug's voice was still raised, so I shushed him. 
"Shut up-" I started, but he interrupted. 
"Or what? The father will rightfully find out?" He laughed in my face. "Who is it? Sweet Pea? Fangs? Or do you not know? Are you a whore, did you fuck everyone in that bar?" Saliva started to spray from his mouth as he screamed at me, and I started to cry. 

"I'm not taking you to your scan, you can go alone." He told me, walking back to his bike. I ran after him, beginning to cry more. 
"Jug-" I sobbed. "Please, I can't do this alone." I begged him, holding onto the black seat on his bike. 
"You decided before I got here." He told me, riding off, leaving me alone, crying in the parking lot.

He was right, it was my fault. I'd have to walk to the hospital, and go to see my baby alone. It hadn't been his responsibility to support me, it was my own. I had to be a good mother, because no one else could look after this baby. I had to. 
My legs started to draw me closer to the hospital, walking quickly so I'd make it in time. 

And, as I finally arrived there, I'd stopped the waterworks, trying to pull myself together. This was happening, it was real. I would go in there, see my child, then go and tell its father. Walking through the sliding doors and going to the desk to inform the nurses of my arrival was a task for me, as I was so anxious. But I did it, and I was determined to make a change. As I sat on the white chair in the waiting room, I thought of the future, a happy future. 

"Dad!" My little girl shouted, grabbing for FP's hand. I watched as he smiled at me, letting our daughter pull him along to the climbing frame, where he lifted her in the air. She laughed, going down the silver slide, her dark hair waving in the wind. I looked down to my hand, looking at the gold band around my ring finger, one FP and I shared from our wedding day. There was a picnic basket beside me, and upon the blanket were Betty and Jughead, they too were happy to see us as a family. Everything was so beautiful, the freshly cut grass, the smell of the flowers dotted around the field, the children playing in front of us with their families. FP and our daughter came back after playing, and my girl sat beside me, placing a hand on my knee. I handed her a sandwich, her favorite of cheese and pickles; something I craved throughout my pregnancy. I had placed an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in to kiss her head. Looking back to my husband, he grinned, showing his white teeth. 
"I love you." He said, and I replied with an equal amount of admiration. 

"Jasmine Cole." An unknown voice came from behind me, but as I turned, I couldn't see anyone. My arms began to prickle with goosebumps, something wasn't right. 

"Jasmine Cole." I looked up, seeing a nurse in blue call my name. Sadly, the daydream had ended, but I still had a chance for it to happen in a few years. I could have this baby, our baby.