Alone Together | Bughead Oneshots

In The Night ("Broken" Part 2)

^^ Betty's Car (1957 Cadillac Coupe DeVille)

Song Credit: "Night Mime" by Melanie Martinez

TW: mentions of self harm, mention of attempted suicide

Betty's POV

It's been, what? Two weeks since I tried to kill myself? Jughead's been staying with me since he doesn't trust me. Of course he doesn't say that he can't trust me, but I can tell.

So here we are, 3 AM on a Friday morning, and I just can't stand being cooped up in this house anymore. I had to get out. I grabbed my keys off my desk, but before I could slip out, Jughead woke up.

"Betts, it's three in the morning," he said, tiredly. "Yeah, I know," I replied simply. "Where are you going?" He asked, sitting up.

"I don't know exactly. I'm just going on a midnight ride." "Can I come with you?" Jughead asked me, standing up and getting out of bed. "Babe, you're tired. You need to sleep," I replied, trying to look out for Jug.

"I won't be able to if you're out and about. C'mon, Betts," he pleaded. Usually when I went out driving like this, I did it alone. But if Jughead wants to come, I guess I'll allow it.

"Okay," I smiled as he chuckled, throwing on his black hoodie and walking out the door with me.

I unlocked my car, which was a pastel pink '57 Cadillac DeVille and got in, Jughead sitting beside me. And then we were off.

I don't know what it is about driving out like this on vacant roads with a violet sky surrounding me that feels so cathartic, but it's something. So I sat with one arm out the window, my other attentive on the wheel as Jug and I listened to various Kali Uchis songs and unreleased studio versions of Melanie Martinez songs for the next two hours.

"Yeah, I'd rather be a loner, I'd much rather be alone. Baby, it was nice to know ya', packing up and leaving home," I mumbled under my breath as I sang along.

And then some kind of instinct made me hit the brakes. I looked around and saw the sky setting beautifully. Purple, white, pink; it was gorgeous. I got out of my Caddy and looked at the view, leaned up against the hood.

I heard the other car shut and heard Jughead walking up to me. He wrapped his arm arond me and as I turned my head, I noticed something on his wrists.

"Jughead," I sighed, holding his fingertips and walking out of his embrace. I could feel him tense up as I moved his sleeve up. "Those are old," he said defensively, looking at the ground.

"Don't lie to me, Jug. I know what old cuts look like, and they do not look like that. You know what does look like that? New cuts," I replied. He sniffled and avoided eye contact, saying, "Are you done?"

"No, Jug, I'm not. When?" He stayed silent. "When, Jug?" I asked softly. "Two weeks ago," he answered, tears accompanying his words. "When I..." my sentence was left uncompleted as I saw him cry, leaning against the car and looking down, ashamed.

I took his arm to my lips and kissed every single cut. Even the true old ones that were scarred over. There had to have been at least twenty five on that arm alone. I'd say he had about 60 total all over his body. I'd say I was almost tied with him.

Once I lifted my head and met his teary eyes, he took his other hand and brushed through my hair, fingers against my cheek and pulling me closer. Jughead's lips enclosed mine in a lasting kiss as he turned us around and I leaned back onto the pink hood of my car.

I could feel the roughness of his scars and he hissed when I accidentally brushed my finger over one-- definitely recent. "Sorry," I apologized, to which he responded with a rushed, "It's fine," and another make out session.

"We gotta head back," I whispered when we departed. Jughead nodded and walked back, helping me stand up and we got in the car, the sky turning lighter.

I turned on the car and the music, and I drove us back while we held each other's hands, fingers occasionally grazing over old scars as a reminder. The reminder being, "Hey, I'm here for you and I love you. Stay alive. Please."