Circumlocution ≫ Jarchie

[Epilogue]

Each time indication is relative to the accident, but you guys didn't know that since you didn't know Archie was going to die in a car accident. So in this chapter, when it says one year later or one year and three months later, it's relative to the car accident, not the time indication before it.

One Year Later

"It's been three months since we started, and you still haven't said a word." A lady with big brown eyes sighs.

"I know." Jughead mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest on the big couch in the office the two are sat in.

"What are you doing here?"

"Archie and Jelly Bean would want me to be here." Jughead shrugs.

"The whole point of coming to therapy is talking about your problems and trying to find ways to understand them."

"I know my problem. My dad beat me when I was little so I grew up thinking I was worthless. I had no friends, I just had my sister so I spent most of my life protecting her from our dad. I would take the blows so she wouldn't have to. My education took a seat so she could have a better one. I worked two jobs so I could feed her. She was my purpose. And then Archie came into my life, and he was my purpose. He was the only thing I had closest to being alive." Jughead says numbly.

"And then what happened?"

"I asked Archie to take care of my other purpose, but instead he cheated on me and Jelly Bean was left home alone when my dad came home. He beat her to literal death in front of me and Archie left me. He flew to London and blocked all my calls and messages. I lost both of my reasons to live in one day. I tried to kill myself a few times, obviously it didn't work." He continues, yawning as if he's telling a story that isn't his own.

"So then what did you do."

"What didn't I do?" Jughead laughs.

"What do you mean?"

"Sex. Lots of sex, lots of sex with anyone and everyone. Drugs, so many drugs. I even resorted to my dad's personal favorite distraction, next to beating his children of course, alcohol. Then one day I came out of a bar drunk off my ass and guess who was there? Guess." He says eagerly, staring at his therapist intently.

"Archie?" She asks, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Ding ding ding! Archie Andrews himself. He offered to take me home. 6 hours. I road in a car with him for 6 hours and he managed to make me feel as if I was 17 again, and everything was okay. We were running across 4 lane highways with no stoplights, singing songs in karaoke clubs, having quite possibly the best sex I've ever had in the back of his old truck we used to call, "ka-chow". We talked about our song, and I found out that he traveled with the poetry book I wrote him three years ago. He kept it with him and read it in his own free time. He told me he never stopped loving me, and he had me confessing the same thing. He told me the reason why he went to London was to be treated for Cancer. I told him that my sister was murdered. We were crying, we were so broken, but in that moment I was happy. I was the happiest I'd been in the longest fucking time. By the time we pulled up to my house, he asked me if I would go to London with him. He had a surgery scheduled the next day, a surgery he had a 30% chance of surviving. Could you believe that? Could you believe I said yes to going with him? He had me believing that fate brought us together and that we would be happy." Jughead's voice shakes, finally starting to show emotion. The first part was easy to talk about. The first part he's been able to reiterate a few times, but he's never even able to talk to anyone about that night he saw Archie again.

Today is the anniversary of that day.

"He died during the surgery?" She asks gently.

Jughead stares at her, and begins to laugh. Tears begin bursting from his eyes, and she honestly can't tell if it's because he's genuinely sad, or if it's from laughing so hard. "No, he didn't die during the surgery." He barely says, doubled over in laughter.