CALAMITY ━ riverdale

lambda

"My dad is not a murderer."

"I'm not saying for certain but-"

"But nothing!" Jughead interjected Veronica before she could go any further. "He said he had nothing to do with Jason's murder, and I believe him." He said finally. He stood up,
giving them all one last glance, then left, his brooding persona following.

Without warning Delilah stood up to leave straight after him, much to Betty's confusion. "He needs a friend right now," Delilah explained.

"Since when were you two friends?"

Delilah shrugged in answer to Betty's question, then proceeded to exit the diner.

"Hey Jug, wait up," Delilah called, jogging to catch up with Jughead who had started walking down the street. He slowed down his pace fractionally, resuming his normal speed once she stepped in time with him. They didn't speak, just kept walking in a comfortable silence. She could tell he was not yet ready to talk, and she was willing to respect that; but she also knew he needed company, in a time when he felt like no one knew of his struggles. Delilah just wanted him to realise that she did know, and she understood - more than most - what he was going through.

They didn't stop walking for a good few minutes, Jughead automatically leading them both to their private paradise. They settled on the bank of Sweetwater River, Delilah tucking her knees up to her chin as they gazed upon the murky waters. The nightmare from the previous night creeped up into the back of Delilah's mind - and she tried to shake it off as she looked at Jughead; a thoughtful look on his face. She mentally traced the creases caused in his obvious fustration, and the tell-tale signs that he was waging an internal battle in his heart and mind.

After a while he broke the silence, his voice wavering as he spoke into the humid afternoon air. "My dad didn't kill Jason Blossom."

"I believe you," Delilah sighed.

"Why?" He asked, turning to face her. "I mean, he's my dad so I'm half obliged to trust him - but you don't. Why do you not suspect him like the others?"

"Because you trust him. And I trust you. I trust your judgement and like you say, FP may be in the Serpents but that doesn't automatically get him a ticket to Murdererville. If you say he's innocent - then he's innocent. I'm with you on this whole heartedly, Jug." she gave him what she hoped was her best reassuring smile, tossing a small pebble across the dark surface of the river, causing ripples to spread out then settle.

"Thank you," he said, and Delilah didn't miss the sincerity in his words.

It was quiet for a while again until Jughead's voice ripped open the silence and destroyed the easy atmosphere. "What do you remember from that night?"

Delilah tensed besides him and took a sharp intake of breath. "Which night?"

They both knew damn well what night - she was just too much of a coward to answer the question; scared of what her reply would cause to happen. "You know what I'm talking about," he said, but once she didn't say anything more he gave in and told her outright. "Homecoming. Last year."

She didn't reply instantly, and just when Jughead was beginning to think she wouldn't answer at all, her soft voice escaped her trembling lips. "Not much," she sighed, disappointed in herself that she was lying to one of the few people she could trust. "It comes in flashes sometimes, fragments of dreams and memories," she avoided his gaze as she spoke. "I try to put the pieces together, I try so hard, but they just don't fit..." that part was true at least.

"What do you remember before you got to your house? After the party..." She wished he'd just spit it out, instead of dancing around the topic.

She had a choice then, lie and pretend she didn't still remember the taste of his lips on hers, the way he caressed her cheek and held her like she was the only girl in the world. Lie, and say she didn't still think of it every night - the last good memory before her life changed forever. Or she could tell the truth; expose herself and bare her heart and soul to Jughead Jones, whose own heart belonged to a girl who was not her. She would be hurt, and the pain would never ease, but at least she wouldn't be lying. At least she could be herself - the real Delilah. She'd do anything to have that.

And so she opened her mouth to possibly destroy the one friendship she valued above almost all others - deep down clinging to a hope that he would feel the same way. "I remember you, Jughead." And that was all she needed to say. She felt him leaning closer, his mouth barely centimetres above her own.

Then the space ceased to exist and his lips were on hers and they were kissing. Her head felt light with sweet euphoria, and she couldn't stop herself from leaning into his touch. The river around them faded into nothing - nothing else mattered in that moment. She was dizzy with happiness at the fact that he had been the one to ignite the kiss, causing the small sliver of hope in her chest to expand until it threatened to explode inside of her.

The kiss lasted for mere seconds, but to her it felt like a lifetime - that's how long she'd been waiting. She knew then, that nothing else was important - not school, not Cheryl, not the murder or the fact that they were living in a town where safety could not be guaranteed. All that mattered was Jughead, that he was here, with her, and that for a few glorious seconds they were children again, swimming in the river without a care in the world. They had each other. That's all they needed.

But then he was pulling away, as if remembering himself, remembering another girl who he was supposed to be in love with. She realised the same time as him, her heart plummeting to her feet.

"Betty..." his whisper of her name across Delilah's cheek sent Delilah reeling back, pulling away from his warmth as the ghost of the kiss still lingered on her lips. "That can't happen again," he said, and if he was feeling the same sadness as Delilah, he didn't show it. Her got up then, and every movement away from her was another crack in her heart. She knew she should fight; try and convince him that Betty didn't matter, not when they had each other - but she also knew she wanted something she could not have. Jughead wasn't hers. Maybe once, a long time ago, but not anymore.

So as she felt her heart slowly crumble to dust, a void space now left in its wake, she turned away - unable to watch as he left and walked away from the one girl who loved him more than she could ever bring herself to say.