Betty x Jughead || Smut

Chapter 4

"I'm not living at school," he said, pushing himself off the ground. God, he must look like such a loser. He didn't even have a home. Why would Betty want to be with someone like him, especially when she'd just been pinning after the golden boy of Riverdale High? Archie had everything he'd ever wanted handed to him when Jughead had at to scrape and fight for what little he had?

She picked up one of the books and flipped through it. Her voice softened when she spoke again."These are your clothes and books." She stood up, too, smoothed down her skirt and buttoned back her shirt. "Juggie, what's going on?"

He grabbed his cap from off the ground and pulled it down until it covered his ears. He shoved his trembling hands in pockets as he glanced around. Everything he owned was here, and it all fit into a backpack. She was going to break up with him now that she'd seen his pathetic living conditions.

"Juggie?" She touched his forearm, and looked at him, her wide, blue eyes, searching and sympathetic. "Why are you staying at school? I thought you and your dad just had a fight."

Unable to meet her eyes, he looked down. He wanted to disappear, to be swallowed up in himself, to not have to explain the embarrassing fact that his dad was a mean drinker, who had been drunk for as long as Jughead could remember. The last argument he'd had at home with his dad flashed back into his mind.

"If it wasn't for you, I would have been able to stay in school. I could've graduated and made something of myself, but no. Your ma got knocked up, and then Forsythe Pendleton Jones the III was born, a pink screaming baby, always hungry, never still, here to ruin everything. You're the reason your mom and Jelly Bean left me. It's your fault. You are weak and pathetic. I wish you were never born."

Jughead sat in one of the cracked kitchen chairs, rocking back and forth, hands over his ears, trying to stop himself from hearing everything. His dad's sentences were slurred, but he understood every harsh word. He had them memorized because he heard them almost everyday of his life.

He'd packed his bag, months ago now, and had sworn never to go back. It was isolating and hard at times, but it was better on his own. No one could hurt him.

"Things are bad at home," he admitted.

"How bad?" she asked. Her hand slipped down his forearm and she wove her fingers through his. He looked down at their joined hands, and didn't feel so alone. Betty would never hurt him.

"I haven't been home since May."

She gasped, but tried to pass it off as clearing her throat. "That's almost five months. Where have you been living?"

He shrugged. "Here and there, mostly the drive-in until yesterday."

She stepped in front of him and cupped his face in her hands. "How have you taken care of yourself for so long?"

His shoulders rose and fell again. "I'm used to it now."

"I'm so sorry. We're going to fix this. It's going to be okay."

Out in the hall, the bell rang again. "Let's just put this on pause right now. I'm afraid if we miss anymore classes, Hayden will have us in detention for the rest of the year."

"But we're going to figure this out. You could stay with me."

He chuckled. "Oh, I'm sure Mama Cooper would just love that. White trash Jughead Jones soiling her white, 600 count sheets."

"Don't say that about yourself." She squeezed his hand tighter. "You're not trash."

He shrugged, not believing her. "I know what people think about me."