Smokestacks - Jughead Jones [1] ✔

Chapter Thirteen

SMOKESTACKS

CHAPTERS | THIRTEEN

The cool liquid in the paper cup tasted metallic on her tongue, reminding her of the many times she'd bitten through the tip of her tongue. She felt as if she were drowning, the cement steps leading to her house felt rough against her bare thighs.

Her legs stretched out in front of her, black trainers donning her feet, standing out against the pyjama shorts and loose shirt that she wore. White fluffy socks poked out from her shoes, the thickness felt like there was no blood flowing to her feet.

Kyle had picked up a McDonalds on the way home from work. Savannah had accepted a coke and ventured out to the front porch, unable to watch her so-called best friend and her brother be so openly in love, exchanging sweet kisses and brushes of finger tips in the kitchen.

It made her feel sick, as if they were taunting her with something that she couldn't have.

Jason hadn't been the first boy in her life, she'd been the object of affection of a few boys before. They'd been quick, harmless romances where she'd fallen fast, swooned, and grown tired.

Everything would have been going well. Until one day she'd wake up and feel the lurch of something unsettling in her stomach, a feeling she could clearly distinguish from the flurry of butterflies that had once made her giddily kick her legs like a child. That churning feeling in her stomach made her cut the boys off, and never speak to them again. 

It was as if she were cursed, doomed to never let herself fall in love.

She had pegged it down to her parents. They'd never really shown their affections in the house, she'd never witnessed a kiss or even a smile in each other's direction. Screams had filled their household, the threat of a knife in her mother's hand while her father laughed in return.

And then, the next night, they'd watch a movie together, on opposite sides of the living room, each in an armchair, the large couch laying ignored in the centre.

Their love for each other had long fizzled out, if it had even existed in the first place, and their children remained to be the final thing they had in common.

At least, Savannah had thought, proven wrong by her mother's severe reaction to her husband's death. The woman in question, at that moment, lay upstairs in her bed, hugging a half-empty bottle of vodka.

"Bad time?" A voice roused her from her thoughts, Savannah looked up to see a familiar boy standing in front of her, almost sheepishly.

He hadn't been sure whether he should come, had taken too many right turns, going in circles until he ended up outside her door. The music in his ears had been shudderingly loud, so much so that when he'd finally released his eardrums from the torment, he could feel them pulsing in the music's absence.

"Of course not." Savannah told him with a half-hearted smile, setting her coke down underneath her thigh, feeling the straw against the underside of her leg when she shifted over to make room.

Jughead sat down next to her, leaving a decent amount of space between them, feeling unsettled by the awkwardness between them. He'd tried phoning since her confession in the school, but he'd hung up before the second ring.

"Chicken." He'd called himself, throwing his phone against his makeshift bed in a forgotten school closet.

Savannah watched with an amused gaze as his internal monologue continued, fighting with himself about what he was going to say. "So... I suppose you're here to say what you couldn't on the phone."

Jughead looked up and met her eyes, startled by her bluntness. "You mean -"

"That I did see your name pop up on my phone, numerous times, before it disappeared far too quickly? Yeah," Savannah nodded, before adding, "I'm not a detective, but... that wasn't exactly hard to decipher, Jughead."

The boy laughed uncomfortably, "Sorry." His feet slid across the path, his boots scraping against the loose rocks and dirt that coated the grey surface. "I didn't know what to say."

"And do you now?" Savannah asked. She felt calm, as if she was in control, had the reigns on the situation that was unfolding in front of her.

"No." Jughead admitted, glancing up from his scuffed boots to look at her, she'd never looked away from him.

He studied her face like it would be the last time he'd see her.

She was beautiful. Not stunningly gorgeous like Cheryl or Veronica, but not girl-next-door pretty like Betty Cooper. She carried herself with confidence, the single factor that turned heads and caught second glances.

Her brown hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, tendrils falling around her slightly chubby face, almost like she hadn't dropped all the baby fat when puberty hit. A small mole sat at the base of her neck, standing out so sharply against her pale, white skin. Skin which looked blue in some lights, her veins so bright and bags under her eyes so dark.

Savannah Clarke held many secrets behind her tormented eyes. She'd lost a parent so young, and experienced things so tragic - that, Jughead could see clearly.

For it was something that they unfortunately had to share, except, the latter of which still had two parents breathing - one just wasn't there.

"Jug?" Savannah said again, the boy hadn't realised she was speaking to him. "Did you hear what I said?"

Jughead ran a hand through his hair and tore his eyes from her chocolate brown ones, "Uh no, I didn't." He closed his eyes as if to gather his thoughts, "Sorry, what did you say?"

"I said we could just forget I even mentioned anything." Savannah suggested, finally looking away from him and staring at a particularly long blade of grass.

"I don't want to." Jughead said quickly, surprising even himself.

The brunette turned to face him sharply, one eyebrow raised as if she were questioning him. She was.

"It's just," Jughead let out a sigh, holding his chin up with both of his hands. "You're amazing."

It was as if she could read his mind, "But?"

The dark haired boy moved one of his hands down to his side, resting on the edge of the cool step, as he met her curious gaze. "You're hurting, and I know you keep saying that you're fine, but I know you're not."

"Okay." Savannah nodded slowly, "I didn't realise I was asking you to be my boyfriend."

Jughead frowned, "You weren't?"

"No?" Savannah laughed lightly, "I am cursed, Jones."

"How so?"

"I've had a good few boyfriends, each one as sweet and as kind as the next, but I'd still wake up one day with this sickening feeling and I'd know that was it. It was over, just like that." She clicked her fingers, a demonstration of how quickly she'd resent them.

Jughead didn't say anything else, merely wondered how many layers there was to this girl that he hadn't seen. How many skeletons she had hidden away in her closet.

"I didn't say I wanted anything to change, Jug." Savannah told him, firmly. "I just wanted to be honest, get the weight off my shoulder, be free. I don't want anything from you."

He merely nodded, and Savannah leaned over to him. With every inch she grew closer, he felt his heart pick up, aware of her warm breath on his cheek as she pressed a soft kiss to the skin there.

He could see her eyelashes flutter as she pulled away from him; could smell the floral perfume that she was wearing, slightly faded from when she'd applied it that afternoon after gym class.

"Goodnight, Jughead." She whispered softly, picking up her paper cup and standing to make her way inside.

It was in that moment that Jughead realised that he didn't want her to go.

Maybe she didn't want anything to change, but he did.