❝I don't know what you went through, and I know we aren't going to go back to where we were for a long time, maybe even ever. But if I knew that you were about to go through the worst time of your life, I wouldn't have left. I swear.❞
Catherine Bell...
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↳ Tuesday Continued
Nov. 22nd↲
Archie and I burst through the doors of the bar to have everyone turn to see us.
Someone hollered F.P. over, which he rushed to see us. His face went from curious, to concerned, to furious.
"Bring him to my office," F.P. demanded, before turning around. "Move it!"
He created a path through the Red Sea of serpents, guiding us to the stairs.
Once we got up the stairs, we entered his office and sat Jug onto F.P's chair.
I held Jughead's head up since he was completely out of it, his mouth slightly parted as he breathed heavily and in pain.
Archie talked to F.P about what we experienced as I tried to get through to Jug.
I took his hands, also freezing cold, and held them in mine. I blew hot air into them, rubbing them together.
"Juggy, please," I pleaded, on the brink of crying again.
His eyes fluttered open slightly before he dropped his head to see me. I held his bruised hands in mine tighter as I gazed up at him.
He gave me a faltering smile before raising his hand to my cheek, gently caressing it.
I smiled a little, relieved that he was slowly coming back to us. I then turned to his dad, awaiting his next command.
F.P. let out a harsh sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Both of y'all should leave. I got him."
Neither one of us wanted to argue against him, knowing he was both frustrated and upset. Archie went towards the door and I stood up, turning away slightly. I took one step and felt Jughead grab my hand tightly. I looked back to see him look at me; pleading.
I looked at F.P. for his response, only to receive a hesitant nod.
"I'll just go," Archie assured us, before looking directly at me. "Text me later."
"Okay," I promised, watching as he exited the room. Once the door clicked, I turned back to the Jones'.
"In the bathroom, there's some rags under the sink. Get 'em nice and damp before comin' back," F.P. ordered.
I ran out and nearly stumbled down the stairs, rushing into the bathroom to find the rags. I took two just to make sure that it would be enough. I ran them under the warm water and looked in the mirror to see a bruise on my cheek, where Derek had punched me two weeks ago. It seemed as if it had just happened, so I blinked a few times only to find it wasn't there. My skin was fully healed and smooth, confusing me.
A loud crack of the white ball hitting the prepared pool balls snapped me out of the dissociative moment. I ran out of the bathroom and jogged upstairs to find Jughead still in his seat, and his father leaning against the wall in silence.
