Matches ♕ Bughead

♕ | Chapter Eighteen

chapter eighteen: who you gonna call?

♕betty♕

I HAD drifted in and out of sleep last night, my mind not quite wanting to leave itself vulnerable underneath closed eyes and blackened thoughts. The whole idea of Polly and Jason being engaged swirled around my head, something I could not stop thinking about. I know that if I truly want answers, I need to speak to Polly.

In my pyjamas I climbed up the attic ladder from the roof of my closet, poking my head through the dark crack that seeped light into the dusty room. "Jughead!" I whispered loudly, scanning the room filled with antiques and unused boxes my family stashed away, however there was no sign of Jughead.

In ways I hate coming up here, as it reminds me only of my sister my heart so desperately misses. It painfully aches just to let the memories brush to the surface. She and I use to come up here all the time and talk privately to one another. There were two entrances to the attic: one through my closet and one through the hallway. My parents only know about the one in the hallway, which allowed Polly and I an advantage to speak together privately without our mother snooping.

Whenever one of us were scared, upset or just lonely, we would come up here and wait for the other one to join in. I always knew if Polly was missing that she would be up here, and she knew that if I was missing I would be up here. It will forever be our little space.

To conjure up the courage to face this room that screams of distant memories into my ear, I take a deep breath and force my legs up the ladder until I'm all the way up. "Jughead?" I call out again, this time in a quiet shout. There is still no response.

I begin coughing, waving my hand about at the thick, dusty air that surrounds me. I feel incredibly guilty for stuffing Jughead up here, as I was not aware of its condition. I just hope he isn't allergic to dust. That would suck immensely.

I continue walking, searching for a sleeping Jughead when suddenly I trip over some piece of wood that has lifted from the screw on the floor beneath me, sending me falling forwards over top of rocking chair.

I go flying over with such force that I sent both me and the rocking chair falling over, but surprisingly we don't hit the floor. Instead we hit someone else instead.

Jughead goes flying up out of his suitcase, his eyes wide and his hair all scruffy as he lets out a yelp. I can't imagine the terror of having yourself woken up by someone landing on top of you, but I'm too engulfed in laughter to feel any type of guilt at the moment.

"Good morning." I laugh, laying casually on top of the rocking chair that lays on top of Jughead.

"Betty.." he sighs in relief, laying his head back down. "I thought it was your mother." He explains, rubbing his hands down his face. "What are you doing?" He wonders, a small smile on his face as he finally takes in what's happening right now.