Never Quit Loving You

N I N E

It wasn't the cleverest choice, Jughead knew. But it was where his head had directed him. And so, there he was, on the Southside, at the local prison.

His breathing was a bit raspy at times, but slow and steady, even as his heart was banging in his chest at the fastest pace possible. He refrained himself from tapping his fingers on the table, not wanting to show any weakness to anyone who would recognize him, but his eyes were flying around a mile an hour, making sure no old Serpents were coming toward him.

Because even though the years of them looking for him were over by the Serpent rules, he was still cautious on the streets, especially now here in Riverdale.

The door was cracked open on the other side of the glass and Jughead watched intently as three men were guided inside, their hands behind their backs, and almost missed the stare of his father.

FP had changed. His hair was gray now, sticking out in every direction, and his chin poorly shaved. Biceps covered in more tattoos than Jughead had remembered. His eyes were tired and somewhat depressed.

But at least they weren't bloodshot. And the guy couldn't see the intoxication in them as he slowly grabbed the phone.

FP's hands were freed from the cuffs and he reached for the phone with an evil-looking smirk. "Boy. You're back. Where were you?"

Jughead's voice got caught in his throat at the lack of greetings and emotion in his father's voice. "England," he simply choked out.

The man snorted on the other side of the glass. "Of course."

They stared into each other's eyes. Jughead's had widened a bit and he was blinking slightly faster than usual, inwardly screaming, and crying as he gulped multiple times in a row. He didn't know why he was there. And now, as his brain had appeared again, he wanted to do nothing more than run.

"How are you?" he quietly asked his father who cringed at the question.

"How is one in prison? Not great, I'll tell ya. But I'm going to fucking get out even if I have to slaughter everyone in here."

Jughead shook his head slightly but remained silent. "I got a degree."

"Well isn't that wonderful," FP said right before coughing horribly, clutching his chest. Jughead frowned, watching him do that, and waited a few minutes until he was done.

"I'm an author. I've got money now."

The man frowned at the information before clearing his throat and spitting at Jughead. The boy winced and narrowed his eyes a bit in disgust as he watched the spit flowing down the glass. "A fucking pussy. That's what you are."

He didn't know why the words affected him so much. After all, the man on the other side of the glass had promised to kill him many times in the past. Maybe because he was his father... And Jughead remembered he used to be a good one when he was young. Which was probably the only reason he opened his mouth and uttered the next words.

"I came here to tell you you've got a grandson." FP sneered at that. "And I guess I hoped you had changed and could give me some advice on what to do now, but... I think I was wrong."

"You and your slut of a Northsider can go to hell with this kid. She came here to laugh into my face when she was pregnant. I promised to kill her and the kid inside her. And one day, I fucking will."

By this time, FP had stood from his stool while Jughead's eyes were wide, staring at the man he resembled. "I will fucking kill your slut! And you! And your fucking baby and—"

The phone fell from the screaming man's hand and all the prisoners and visitors were staring at him and Jughead, wide-eyed. The following words were muffled by the glass, but Jughead could still make them out as FP ran to another prisoner and launched himself at him, fist connecting with his face more than twice.