"Why are they taking him?" Betty usually interrogated the boy standing beside her. Archie turned at her, his face contorted in an expression of concern as his eyes flickered around the thinning hallway in thought.
"I don't know Betty," he replied trying to be as calm as possible. That was a lie though. They both knew why Sherriff Keller was currently escorting their long-time friend down the halls of Riverdale High and out in the brisk air which would lead them to the town's police station. It was because he was dark and mysterious and the antithesis of everything this town and their superficial charm institutionalised. It was because he was clever and different and refused to conform with their social culture.
"He didn't do it! Archie they can't... he didn't! I.." Betty felt like the room was spinning, she couldn't think straight. This wasn't happening.
"I know Betty. It'll be okay." Archie attempted to reassure her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder and offering a placated but warm smile. Taking a breath to recollect her, Betty pulled her thoughts back into line. She had to get it together for him. Ringing out her hands and allowing all the nervous energy that had been inhabiting her body moments ago to flow out of her.
"We have to call his dad," she threw over her shoulder at her best friend as she began walking rapidly toward the doors Jughead had just been forced out of. Jogging slightly to catch up to her, Archie twitched indecisively beside her. She knew that twitch, he had something to say but wasn't sure whether to tell her.
"Maybe we should call my dad first." He offered. Betty rolled her eyes.
"He asked us to call his dad," She snapped back. The blonde sleuth had not time for games, Jughead needed them, needed her and she was damn well gonna be there for him. She refused to watch her rock, her sanity be ripped from her grasp and be victim to ludicrous accusations of crime. How could the Sherriff not see how absurd this was. Betty was furious, she was scared, she was... a mess.
They broke through the doors of the high school, neither paying mind to the crisp air surrounding them. Archie hesitated though once they were out of ear shot, of any kids passing by, causing Betty to stop and fix him with her infamous "spit it out glare".
"I ah, I found Jug sleeping at school yesterday. His dad's... not in a good place," Betty froze. All traces of irritation and urgency fell from her face. Jughead was sleeping at school. Jughead was... homeless? Jughead who had supported her and empathised with her and listened to her go on and on about how catastrophic her life was homeless? Jughead who had adopted her burdens as his own and had worn the brunt of them on his shoulders so that she could breathe was without a family, without stability... without. She felt positively awful. The world titled on its axis and all clarity drowned from the vicinity. Her scope became white noise, as guilt gnawed at her insides and ate away at her conscience. Her heart ached for him. Archie's hand on her arm broke Betty from her internal suffering.
Imploring the red head with her crystal eyes she let the eloquent words of "I'm sorry?" spill from her mouth.
"JP hasn't had a job since he and my dad stopped working together. He's been drinking pretty bad too from what I can tell. Jug said it got worse after his mum and Jellybean left. His dad's not gonna help him Betty," Archie looked as though someone had kicked him in the stomach, as if verbalising such words caused him physical pain and Betty wondered if he felt as ill as she did; something told her he was close but not quite at her magnitude.
"Oh," soft, quiet, and sincerely pained was all she managed in response. Her mind still swimming with images of Jughead and his look of utter dread as he was marched out of school. It sent a sharp jolt of pain through her, as that image was immediately contrasted with the warmth in his green eyes just last night as they pulled her into a haze of trust and adoration as she kissed him and bade him goodnight. Why didn't he tell her. How could he let her have been so selfish? He had been needing someone just as much, if not more than she had been needing someone- a rock, an outlet, a beacon- lately. How was she so blind to his own pain, his own trouble. The implication of how alone he must have felt, must still be feeling that seeped into her brain with such images and thoughts made her feel as though she was going to vomit.
