Deadline ((Jughead Jones)) 4

18

JB helped me dress in a black and plain dress. She had then sat me down on a chair as she fashioned my hair, pulling it into a delicate braid. We had stayed out of the room of the casket until we all had to be seated. When we entered, SweetPea and Fangs helped to walk me in, hoping that having some Serpents around me would make me feel stronger, I kept my eyes on the floor. If I didn't look up, it wasn't real.

"I want to thank you all for coming. I know you all...loved my son. So, before I give my speech, I'd like to invite the only other person who loved Jughead nearly as much as me up here. Cynthia Blossom." FP, eyes red and full of tears, stepped down from the raised platform.

I sat beside Jellybean, only now looking at the casket and nothing else. It was made from a smooth wood with red and white roses on top. Jughead would have hated them, thinking they were cliche and I would agree.
"Thi?" JB said, touching my arm slightly. I sat with my arms crossed over my stomach and wrapping around myself as my knee bounced uncontrollably. She was holding an order of service. I couldn't bring myself to hold one. I looked at her, and she nodded her head to FP who was holding out his hand for me to take.

FP guided me to the podium, resting a hand on my shoulder for a sense of reassurance before returning to my seat beside Jellybean. I looked out to the sea of black, FP, JB, Alice and Betty making up the row nearest to me. Archie and his family, Veronica and her family were all here. I saw Donna and Bret. All the Serpents were crowded into the room and Toni and Cheryl were watching me intently, Cheryl especially, fearing I was about to run out of here and head straight to Sweetwater river. But I couldn't do that.

"Uh, Jughead was..." I trailed off at using past tense. My voice was broken, weak, barely audible. My eyes locked with Sweet Pea's who sent me a nod of reassurance, trying to urge me on. FP had told me to try to speak. He said I would regret it if I didn't, that I would look back on this day and wish I had said something. Alice had added that Jughead would have wanted me to. Later Betty would be reading a passage from Jug's favourite Sherlock Holmes novel, and his dad was bound to make everyone cry with his speech.

"Jughead was..." The eyes of his former classmates were piercing through me. They were looking at me with expectant looks, not an ounce of sadness on their faces. It was clear they weren't just here for the funeral. I told myself then, if they so much as said a word out of line that day, I would take great pleasure in wrapping my hand in her perfectly placed curls and dragging her and every other preppy asshole out of the building. I needed something to take my anger out on, and they were an easy target. "Everything."

I would be facing my life without him, a life I had never thought to consider. There would be no reality where I would ever forget a single memory with Jughead. I believed that if by some miracle I ever married in the future, he'd be the first face I thought of every day and the last person on my mind every night.
"Jughead Jones was a writer," he had written almost every day since we got together and I had the pleasure of reading every single chapter of each revision of every book. "A detective," That boy had pursued mystery after mystery until he found my brother's killer, the black hood, the Gargoyle King, "A King," I looked to the Serpents at this, seeing them wipe away the tears that were falling, trying to be tough for me and for their fallen member. They were incomplete. "A hero," Jughead had saved his fair share of people, whether they were in his friend group or not, he had a mission to save everyone and he should be everyone's hero. "A friend," Archie and Veronica could barely bring themselves to look at me. Archie was the worst for it, struggling to be able to look at the pure depression on his sister's face. "A son," FP hadn't questioned me as I sat up with JB for nights on end, barely leaving the room Jughead and I shared. He lost his son. He understood. "And a soulmate." I finished, ending with what he was to me.

"He was everything to me, and meant so much to so many people. He didn't deserve this." I then looked at his coffin. It was silent, unmoving. I wanted nothing more than for him to burst from the thing and laugh at our expressions or to walk in through the door and apologise for leaving me for so long. This was a time where I needed him, when we should be happy and celebrating. Instead I stood at a wake trying not to break down. "And I'll miss him forever, until my last breath."