Bughead Oneshots part 3

Till Death do us Part 2

Betty's POV
I rubbed my running nose with the sleeve of my long sleeve t-shirt. I nod and turn back to face the lake out in front of me. I feel him sit beside me, but leaving enough space for someone to sit. I glance over at him and study his face. He has a sharp jawline, and black curly hair that laid almost perfectly on his head. A curl laid on his forehead and he made no move to push it away. His eyes are a beautiful, captivating sky blue. His nose was perfectly angled and the slope had no imperfections. I'm not stupid. He's really really cute. I look away before he can catch me staring and continue making little splashes with my feet. 

"You don't look okay." He says. His voice is deep and rich. The sound of it cuts through the silence and forces me to answer. 

"I am fine." I reply. He just smiles and glances at me. 

"Do you wanna about it?" 

"I'm fine!" I yell. I sigh heavily and roll my eyes. He doesn't make a move to say anything else, and immediately turns away from me. Guilt settles in the bottom of my stomach. He's just trying to be a good person, and trying to help someone. 

"I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that. I'm just going through some stuff right now." I whisper. He nods in response but doesn't look at me. 

"I can get that. My sister is actually in the hospital right now on life support. She got in a bad car accident. The doctors aren't sure if she's going to make it." 

I look over at him this time, and see his eyes water just slightly. I lay my hand tentatively on his shoulder and pat it once showing my sympathy. I let the silence sit for a while, and he does too. It's a comfortable silence filled with the sound of nature. The light wind rustling what's left of the leaves on the trees, the melodic sound of birds chirping. 

"I have cancer." I blurt out. I regret it as soon as the words leave my mouth. That is not something you tell a stranger, but for some reason I knew I could trust him. His mouth opens to say something, but I bring up my hand to stop him. 

"To answer your questions, I have Acute Myeloid Leukemia. That is when cancer cells crowd out all your white-blood cells. For your other question, no I am not getting any better. I'm getting worse if anything." I laugh, but there is no humor in it. It's a dry, sad laugh. I take a breath before continuing, "I was crying because I just found out I went up a stage. I'm getting closer to when It's going to be terminal." 

He stares at me with this look on his face. I can't quite figure out what it is, but it looks like a mixture between sympathy and shock. 

"I'm sorry..."  

"Betty." I fill in for him, "Betty Cooper, and you are?" 

"Jughead Jones. Pleasure to meet you Betty." He puts out his hand and I shake it. We hold gazes for longer than necessary and our hands stay connected for an extra beat. I look down to see us still holding hands and pull away awkwardly. Jughead clears his throat, and leans back a little bit, resting on his hands. For the rest of the time, we just sat there. Making small talk every little bit, but it's silent for the most part which neither of us seem to mind. When we both see the sun start to dip below the horizon we bid our goodbyes. He heads over to his car and I go back into the hospital to get ready for bed. 

I walk into my room, and take my jacket off that I had been wearing. I limp a little bit into the bathroom, because the cancer is making my bones and joints have been aching a lot more than normal lately. I turn the faucet on to ice cold water, and wash my face. I don't have any clothes here so I'll have to go home and get some tomorrow, but for now I'll just sleep in my clothes. I dry my face on the hand towel on the wall and lean my palms against the sink as I stare at my reflection. There are randomly placed bruises on my body caused by the cancer. My eyes are sunken in and my cheekbones stick out due to lack of appetite. I pull the wool hat off my head to see the balding patches where my hair should be but it isn't. The chemo makes me have a lot of side affects which I don't like. Especially the out of nowhere nausea and vomiting. I put my hat back on and spin around away from the mirror. It's painful for me to see myself the way I look now. I used to be this bring, lively girl with big dreams and a head full of golden hair. I rarely ever threw up, and I could move without being in pain. Everything is different now because of the cancer. It changed so much for me in the worst way possible. 

I slump out of the bathroom and over to my hospital bed. I get in slowly, wincing when I go to lay down. I turn on my left side and cover my small, frail body with the white blankets. The bed isn't that great but I'll take what I can get. I stare at the painting of this majestic flower field that I actually drew. I look at it when I need to escape to anywhere. I observe the painting until my eyes start to get heavy, and I can't keep them open anymore. I allow my eyes to fully close, and let the darkness surround me.