Riverdale: What no one saw coming...

Chapter Twenty- Eight

"What are you really running from?" Betty screeched out, power raging from the bottom of her lungs. Jughead's hand hovering above the handle, not yet the inner power to turn it and leave her. She could tell she was beginning to get through to him, so she release all her rage. This brutal outburst from Betty was bound to happen eventually, if not today then tomorrow. All of the stress and emotion she hid deep, not wanting to burden any one, kept building up inside her-turning to anger. Jughead gave her the perfect opportunity to snap.

She felt betrayed. Unimportant. Forgotten. She wasn't letting him leave without a fight.

"The Jughead I know, the one I fell I love with, wouldn't walk out on everything, on us. Just because you leave , doesn't mean you get a fresh slate. Everything will build up inside, eating you alive until its too late. Jughead it will kill you." She belted. He stayed silent. His grip on the handle tightening.

"Have you thought about everyone your leaving behind. Me, Archie , your Dad? This doesn't just affect you, if you walk out that door , you take a piece of us with you. How can you be that selfish." Betty knew what she was saying was starting to lose relevance, but she was ready to get everything off her chest.

"We could of gotten through this together... You don't have to shut the world out you know? Especially when people like your friends are willing to jump through hoops to make you smile. Not every story has to be a Shake spears tragedy, so stop trying to force one out of your life."

Jughead was about to snap. He wanted to tell her how he felt, how it almost definitely in his DNA to try and escape all unfamiliar situations. He wanted to tell her that she would never understand how he felt everyday , and that he hoped she never would. He didn't want to fit in, he was weird. He liked being the outsider, seeing everything from a different perspective. He didn't want to be popular- he didn't want to be fake. He wanted to tell her that he would rather know and make his life out to be a Shakespearian tragedy rather than some perfect romance novel with a twist ending. He liked to be prepared for the bad ending, even if that meant making himself live it out everyday for the rest of his life.

He spun on his heels , ready to finish the argument, another thing Jughead wanted her to know was that he always liked having the last word. But he was stopped dead in his tracks, all colour draining from his face. All anger evaporating, being replace with guilt and concern.

Betty stood in front of him , silent tears rolling down her cheeks. He always stung him when she cried. He could feel his eyes prickle with tears himself, he averted his eyes. Trying his best to avoid her glance. He looked down. That when her hand caught his attention.

Small red blobs dropped from her balled fists landing dramatically on her white canvas converse. The stain spread affecting everything in its path. Her hands were red, visibly painful.

Betty noticed where his eyes lay, she quickly unclenched her fists. Stopping the blood from her wounds from clotting, her scars began to weep. Blood pouring, filling her hand almost. Though not enough to fall torrentially onto the floor, but enough for Betty to notice the flow once pressure was released. Jughead moved his eye line so it met hers.

"Betty..." He said softly. She turned her body as he extended his arm towards her.

"Go..." She uttered quietly.

"What?" He asked surprised at her sudden change in stance.

"Don't make me out to be the victim . Don't play hero if your ready to leave in your next breath." She said coldly.

Ignoring her gestures, he gently spun her around . Pulling her in, their lips touching, fitting perfectly together like two puzzle pieces. Two puzzle pieces that weren't necessarily made to fit one another, or even make the same picture. But two that fit together regardless, making their own obscure image- special to them.

They pulled away. Unsure what to do, what to say, what to think next. He placed his palm on the small back, guiding her to the small metal sink by the side of the caravan. He took her small hands in his and ran them under the cold water, cleansing them- similar to what he was trying to do now , to stop the argument.

The water ran thick red at first, slowly clearing to a transparent, fresh stream. He turned off the tap, proceeding to carefully dry her hand with the spare hand towel his Dad had left laying out by the microwave.

Betty wasn't sure what was happening?  She didn't necessarily like the feeling of being deffenseless ,him taking control. But for some reason she felt comforted. He didn't ask questions even though he most definitely deserved them.

He closed her hands ignoring her scars like they didn't mean anything. Because they didn't, not to him. He took both her hands in his and raised them to his mouth, and kissed her knuckles. Betty could feel her cheeks becoming wetter. She pulled him in, a tight embrace. Her arms wrapped tightly around his back, her head buried into his neck. She could feel his strong grip on her back.

He turned his head and whispered into her ear, exactly what she needed to hear right then.

"I'm not going anywhere..." Betty being filled with emotion, she needed to stay strong. But we cant always be strong when the weight of the world is sat atop your shoulders, slowly;painfully crushing you.

She sighed a sigh of relief, her embraced her tighter. Not all act of love needed to be sexual or over the top affectionate. But they did need to be memorable. Exactly what this entire scene was.

Unforgettable.

She could feel his heart beating in his chest. She could smell her laundry detergent from her bed sheets on him. She could feel the few tears drip onto her head. She took in everything, knowing that soon it would only remain as a memory.

"Betty there's something you should know.." He whispered.

"What?" She asked not moving her head, forcing her voice to sound muffled.

"I think my Dad killed Jason Blossom.."

This would change everything.