Matches ♕ Bughead

♕ | Chapter Forty-Three

chapter forty-three: blood is thicker than water

♚jughead♚

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THE DOWNFALL of my birthday party ended off a pretty rough week, and in return started up a brand new one, fresh for new possible disasters. The only downside of starting something off fresh, a clean slate is that there's more pressure not to make a mess of things. I mean, already it's Wednesday, the week almost done and nothing has gone wrong.

Everything is relatively normal with a few exceptions. Archie's mother return to town, and Veronica has taken an interest in solving Jason Blossom's murder with Betty and I, however those are inessential details compared to everything else. Those are things that have clear, concise answers.

Archie's mother has returned following divorce papers between her and Fred, and Veronica wishes to put her theories of her father's involvement into the Jason's murder at ease by helping solve it.

Not to mention, Polly's phone call on Sunday after the party flipped everything upside down. Apparently Polly wished to live at the Blossoms not because she thought it was better for her and the babies, but rather she wanted to do some spying. She too has some doubts about the Blossom's intentions, and studying them first hand was just the thing we needed. Although Betty was opposed to her sister staying there, Polly assured her she was fine, and that they cared about the babies. That alone was enough to ensure nothing would happen to her.

Seeing as we've already made it to the middle of the week and nothing's gone wrong, I feel inclined to make amends, to wipe my slate shiny clean. If there's one thing that I have the power to fix, it's my relationship with my father. Seeing as the last time we spoke was my disaster of a birthday party, I feel as if I owe him a visit. He may be a mess, but he's still my father and if I've made it this far into the week without an incident, I have reason to believe that will give me motivation not to screw this up either.

In the bright and early hours of the morning, I make my way from Archie's house to the trailer where the lights are already on. If there's one thing my dad and I have in common, it's our love for waking up early, eager to start the day.

I don't bother knocking before I make my way inside, my hands full with fresh pastries from Pop's.

I kick the door close, inspecting the living room which is surprisingly clean and empty. For the first time in forever, it doesn't reek like alcohol in here, the air instead replaced with an artificial smell coming from the lit candle in the corner of the kitchen.

That's odd. My father doesn't buy candles.

I place the tray of hot coffee's and bag of pastries on the kitchen table just as my father steps out of his bedroom. He halts abruptly in his step as he notices my presence, his brow raised in question.