Matches ♕ Bughead

♕ | Chapter Forty

chapter thirty-nine: surprise

♚jughead ♚

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FOR THE NEXT WEEK things seemed to be on a teeter-totter. Nothing was precisely going good, but nothing was exactly that bad either. It was an uncomfortable balance, and I sensed that in a short little while things were going to lean against our favour.

Despite my protests, I've been living with Fred and Archie for a week, as I've gone cold turkey on my father. We've spoken once after I was taken to the police station, and even then I couldn't really talk to him, as I was too overcome with anger. He agreed that me staying at Fred's was for the best, and to be honest it wasn't all that bad considering I was closer to Betty. Plus, I've gotten better at climbing houses.

Once again it's past midnight, and I find myself climbing up to Betty's room after noticing her light is still on. She's developed this habit of staying up late, and refusal of getting up in the morning. Frankly the limited amount of sleep she's getting is rather concerning.

While using the slant of the roof to position myself, I knock lightly on her window. I try every time not to scare her, yet every time she jumps at my gentle knock, causing a smile to appear on my face.

"Hey there Juliette." I greet as she opens the window.

"Hey," She says solemnly, her tight smile obviously forced.

She opens the window before walking back to her desk, her laptop open and her head leaning on her hand. I only furrow my brows at her, taking in the atmosphere I've just walked in on. Her room is a mess, clothes are laying everywhere, her dresser drawers are open and books are sprawled across the floor.

"Bets, what is wrong?" I question with concern, my heartbeat quickening; something is off.

"I'm just stressed." She dismisses assertively, speaking over her shoulder without actually making eye contact with me.

Betty is a pretty good liar, but when it comes to her eyes she spills the truth every time, which is why she is avoiding eye contact with me now. She knows that out of everybody, I am the one who is the least likely to fall for her lies.

"Soooo, I just climbed up a ladder, almost fell and did the splits on your roof to come over here for you to tell me your room looks like world war three just because you're stressed?" I say with a hint of sarcasm.

At this she abruptly spins around in her desk chair, her mouth agape. "My room does not look like world war three!"

With one brow raised, I scoop all the random clothes off her bed just so I can take a seat. I proceed to dump the clothes onto the floor, on top of the piles of books that already exist there. After doing so, I return my gaze on her, smiling widely as she only stares at the exploding mess around her.