[the past] | completed

way too close

"I'm going to check on Elena." Jughead nodded. "You'll be okay?"

"I'll manage," Jughead said, not taking his eyes off the growing fire.

Once Jughead heard Damon leave the room and go upstairs, he quickly turned around again. To face her.

She lay, on the couch, eyes now closed. Her hands neatly folded over her chest. Her delicate features perfectly framing her tear-glistening face.

She looks like she's crying even though she's...

Jughead couldn't bare the thought. He couldn't even mentally say it.

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm himself down.

He opened them again and she remained the same. No expression on her face besides sadness.

She's... gone, Jughead thought. She's gone, and I could've prevented this... this is because of me!

God, I don't even remember what the last thing I said to her was. The last thing I heard her say— the last thing she said to me.

Jughead buried his head in his hands again, deep in thought.

Then he picked his head up when remembering yesterday.

I bit her.

Jughead leaned over her body to look at her neck, and found two deep wounds piercing her skin. He winced at the sight and got nauseous. He had to quickly sit back down before he fainted.

Yesterday, when I bit her... she... she said,
"I'm sorry, but I can't."

   Because my dumb ass was inconsiderate enough to ask for an apology.

   Jughead stared at the girl for a while, stunned she was actually gone.

   He loved her.

   And in his own maniacal, twisted way, he showed it. Or at least he tried to.

   But now he wished he had shown her so much more.

   Jughead softly touched veronicas cold face, to turn it toward him, just a bit. Then he met eyes with his own teeth marks on her bare skin— again. He hated looking at the pain he caused her. He couldn't even imagine.

   He didn't know about vampires before he was turned into one. So, he was never forced into feeding one. He was never a vampires blood-bag or play toy. He never had the life sucked out of him.

   He couldn't even begin to imagine what Veronica must've felt— after what he put her through.

   But, then a thought struck his mind. Not a big one, but a thought.

   If Veronica got my blood yesterday— which I know I gave her— why didn't her neck wound heal? Is that because of the supernatural being she is?

   And in the subject of thoughts striking minds, he was hit with a shock so powerful, he almost shrieked.

   Holy shit. I gave her my blood. She died. And it's—

   He looked at the time on the father clock quickly.

10:23.

I gave her my blood yesterday at 11:30.

If she died with my blood in her system then—

No.

No no no no no no no no.