Never Quit Loving You

S E V E N

Jughead stood on the porch in front of the door that had once led him to his home. Sure, the house had accommodated him only for a little while, but it had always been the place he had felt most welcomed at. Maybe it had been because of Betty or Fred, he wasn't sure, but he knew it felt good being back.

The only problem was that he couldn't bring himself to raise the fist and knock on it. Of course, he had called Fred earlier that day and asked if they could meet up—something that had caused the older man cry—and they had agreed to see each other at the house they had once shared.

But Jughead was nervous. He had been thinking about Betty for the past few days, and he was worried about what would happen if she were at home. Or if he would see her boyfriend.

He wasn't too keen on the idea.

The door carefully opened just as he raised his fist and revealed a mostly gray-haired man with the same kind brown eyes that Jughead loved. They didn't spare a moment and simply wrapped one another up in their embraces as fast as possible.

Jughead heard Fred's shaky inhale a few moments later and smiled, squeezing him a bit harder. "You okay?"

"You've grown up."

The statement was true, obviously, but the young guy found it a bit heartbreaking. He wondered if his dad, who he had actually known for longer than just a few months, ever thought about him or the fact that he was a grown man now. If he even had any brain cells left behind the bars.

Toni had told it to him just yesterday after hearing from her grandfather, and for some odd reason, Jughead felt relieved. There was no alcohol in jail. And maybe, just maybe, if he went to finish him, FP would be a normal, better person. Maybe he was ready to be a father again.

"Yeah," Jughead said once they pulled away, his eyes shimmering with tears.

Fred patted his shoulder twice and nudged his head toward the house. "Come inside, son."

The word touched him to the bottom of his heart, but somehow, Jughead had forgotten how to move, his heart thumping in his chest in a rapid rhythm. "Betty isn't a-at home, is she?"

Fred smiled kindly and shook his head. The boy nodded and took a breath, stepping inside.

The memories flooded into his brain the moment he saw the furniture, rugs, and everything else that looked almost the same as the last time he had been there. A warm feeling took over his heart as he followed the man into his favorite place in the house—the kitchen.

The small lonely children's hoodie in the corridor that Fred had forgotten to put away for Jughead's visit was left unnoticed.

"Come on, baby. We need to go," Betty said when the little boy kept squirming under her hands. He whined, wiggling back and forth, and in a few minutes, the blonde realized she needed to use a bribe or they were going to be late for her photoshoot. "I'll give you fruit snacks in the car if you stay still and let mommy but the cream on you."

Wesley tried to stay still, but his whole face was wrinkled up and eyes squeezed shut the whole time that Betty's hands rubbed the sunscreen into his already tan skin.

"Mommy. Gonna get late," he said when his face was absorbing the cream into its skin and everything was done.

Betty looked away from her shoes that she was slipping on, and into her son's identical eyes after he had tried to say the sentence she had repeated for the last ten minutes. A smirk appeared on her lips. "You're right, Wes. Let's go."