Us [bughead]

Chapter 9

~Him~

"I'd take down the moon for you." A rather common phrase. We all have that person that makes us want to take down the moon for them. And in a way, we would try to if they just asked us. Because they deserve everything, even the moon. But you can't give them everything, you can't take down the moon for them.

***

It had been almost two weeks since they left the hospital. Jughead had talked with his dad about getting his shit together, yelled at him, cried, begged him to stop drinking. And FP did, he stopped every day, but then every time Jughead got home from school or from Betty he found his dad drunk off his ass. Which meant that Jughead always had to let his sister down. He heard the excitement in her voice every day when she asked if she could come live with Jughead and FP but all he could say was 'soon'. He heard her heart break a little every time he did.

Jughead opened the door, let go of Betty's hand and walked inside. His dad lied on the couch and he sighed. Betty walked to the table and placed the takeaway food on it.

"Dad?" He mumbled but FP didn't answer. "Dad?" He once again said, walking closer to the couch. It smelled of liquor and vomit. His eyes wandered over his dad's body. He was sweating like crazy and it looked as if he was trying to catch his breath.

"Mr. Jones?" Betty said as she walked closer. She looked worried and Jughead wondered what had happened while they were at school.

"Wake up, asshole." Jughead hit his dad softly on the shoulder but got no response. No matter how mad he was that his dad was drinking until he forgot his own name Jughead was now getting worried. Something seemed wrong.

Betty got a glass of cold water and gave it to Jughead who just splashed it in his dad's face.

A silent murmur left FP's mouth and he slowly opened his eyes. His hand's flew to his face and he glared at Jughead.

"What the..." He mumbled slowly. "What are you doing?" He was wasted, so so so wasted.

Jughead sighed and felt the intense fear of losing his dad turned into hate and disgust.

"Fuck off." Jughead mumbled.

"What did you say?" FP sat up on the couch and he tried his best to focus his bloodshot eyes on Jughead.

"I said fuck off." Jughead said through gritted teeth. FP stood up on weak legs and stared at Jughead.

"You do not get to say that to me." He stumbled on the words, messing them all up. It was almost impossible for anyone who didn't know him to actually understand what he was saying.

"You are literally ruining everything you touch, fucking up everything and everyone around you." Jughead said and FP raised his hand. Before he could hit Jughead he caught FP's hand and they stood face to face.

Jughead stared into the dead eyes of his dad. The eyes that once held so much joy, that lit up his own eyes every time he was sad and hurt, the eyes that once saw the world so colorful. Now, the eyes were grey and bloodshot. Filled with pain and suffer and alcohol. And no matter how much those eyes once comforted him he could do nothing but hate them right now.

"Shut your mouth. I am doing whatever I can to fucking provide for you." Betty backed a few centimeters and stared at the two men.

"You are not providing for me, you are drinking up all of our money. My money."

"I deserve a drink every now and then."

"Every now and then?" Jughead yelled. "Every fucking now and then my ass. You drink every fucking day. And it is ruining so many lives."