I Would Miss You Too Much (Bughead]
Betty Cooper is done being a pawn. So, she makes the final play.
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Betty’s nude pink finger nails shone in the light streaming past her curtains. The street lamps had an orange glow to them,but the tears in her eyes blurred the spots of light together.
Betty cooper hated to admit it, but her life had gone to absolute dogshit.
Her sister, her parents, her best friend, and now, her boyfriend. How many things would she have to lose before this nightmare game would end?
The party she had left hours ago still felt fresh in her mind. The hoard of teens filled with sweet reckless abandon, coerced into taking that drug, had looked so free. Betty had been so jealous of their excitement, she almost truly felt angry at Veronica’s luck.
But as soon as she had to confront her best friend, to the black hood’s psychotic command, there was only sadness. No jealousy, no rage, not even fear. Just a cold, consuming sadness.
She felt cruel, and the sight of herself was enough to cause bile to raise in the back of her throat. That guilt was choking her, like a rope being pulled around her neck. She felt like the biggest sinner of them all.
If letting Veronica go hurt this badly, she could only imagine what it would feel like to push jughead away. Jughead, the person she loved most. Even if there had been a few riffs recently, she still remained head over heels for him, and she knew she always would.
That’s why she decided to stop before it was too late. Maybe it was selfish, but Betty Cooper was done coming second in her own life. She wanted this, so she would take it.
It was two in the morning when she began, starting by locking her bedroom door. She dug through her drawer until she found one of her razors.
She began to dismantle the flimsy green plastic until the silver blade landed in her palm. The rectangular piece of metal looked right laying there, surrounded by the multitude of crescent shaped nail marks she dug into herself constantly.
Her friends had tried to get her to stop, but they understood the fact that it was her coping mechanism. Eventually, they let up, except for Jughead who would take her hand in his whenever he caught her doing it. Her breath hitched at the thought of Jughead, the beanie wearing boy she had grown to love so much.
She didn’t want to die and leave him alone, but she couldn’t do what the black hood was asking of her. That was where she drew the line.
She cared far too much for him to watch his face crumble, to walk away. So, she made her way to the bathroom. She closed the door with slightly chipped wood, feeling the white grain beneath her fingertips one last time.
She slowly slipped her pink pullover sweater off of her body, revealing her equally as pastel yellow tank top. She neatly folded the knitted fabric and set it on the counter. Her reflection stared back at her, face pale and tear covered. She ran a shaky hand through her blonde hair, her eyes falling back to the porcelain countertop.
The glinting blade stared back at her, taunting. Having never self harmed before, Betty wondered what it felt like, if it offered as much release as frequent cutters preached. She wondered if she should test it out before going all the way.
She picked it up, instinctually trying her hardest to avoid nicking her fingers. She almost laughed at her own nativity.
Her hand hovered above her other wrist, ready to make a slice. She realized, however, that if she wasted time she would chicken out. Her determination was strong, but Betty Cooper was soft. She wasn’t ready to give in.
So, she pressed a kiss to two of her fingers, which she pressed against the screen of her phone, displaying her favorite picture of Archie, V, B, and Juggie. The core four, soon to be the core three. She laughed humorlessly, feeling droplets inside her waterline. She wiped them away and plopped herself down on the tile flooring.
On one side of her sat her phone, on the other her blade. ‘I’m done stalling,’ she told herself before grabbing the metal and make a deep incision across her vein. She gasped in shock as the stinging sensation spread. Her gaze hardened as she did it again, and again, and again still until not an inch of her left forearm wasn’t smeared in crimson liquid.
She felt numb, didn’t feel a single cut, until she took a minute to breathe. Then she moaned out in agony as it seared. Choked sobs squeezed out of her throat and she looked at the area surrounding her. Blood everywhere, a mess her mother would have to clean.
Guilt flooded her chest in an instant, and though it didn’t quite register, so did regret. She quickly stood up to try and bandage herself, but fell straight back down. The force of her back hitting the linoleum knocked the breath out of her lungs, and for a few brief moments, Betty felt death.
She couldn’t stop herself from picking up her cell and dialing the oh so familiar number, the only person she wanted to see, the last voice she wanted to hear.
“Hey, Betty? It’s 3.. what’s up?”
“Juggie?” she choked out.
“Betts, what’s wrong?” Jughead asked worriedly, suddenly alert.
“Can you come over? Through my window. My parents can’t know.”
Betty could hear him throwing on clothes and getting his keys. “It’s bad, Juggie, just want to warn you.”
“Hold on for me, love, hold on.”
“I will,” Betty said before hanging up, hoping to keep her word.
The next few minutes went by in a blur. She felt too dizzy to do anything but stare at the ceiling, hoping Jughead would arrive soon.
As if on cue, he swiftly entered the room. His expression morphed from concern to complete and utter terror. He dropped to his knees and pulled his girlfriend into his arms, shaking just as badly as she was.
He immediately brought her wrist to his face to inspect, feeling tears slip down his face.
He felt sick as he looked at the deep open wounds in her once flawless skin. He would ask her questions later, he decided. For now he would do his best to fix her up.
His heart was positively shattered as he hustled about the bathroom, trying to get everything he needed. He gently picked Betty up off the floor and set her on top of the toilet lid before finding hydrogen peroxide and bandages.
He took a wet rag and, while still crying his eyes out, cleaned the dried blood from her forearm. He then took a cotton ball and cleaned her cuts with the peroxide, trying to ignore the sharp intakes of breath as she felt the stinging sensation.
Finally, he wrapped a bandage tightly around her arm, until the spool ran out. Both teens sighed in unison.
“Juggie, I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t.”
Confusion clouded Jughead’s features. “Couldn’t do what?
Shakily, she stood up, holding on to his forearms for support. Standing on her tip toes, she whispered into his ear the instructions the dreaded Black Hood had given her.
Jughead immediately pulled her into a soft hug, allowing her to cry into his neck. “Im so sorry, Betty, I’m so sorry,” he repeated like a mantra. “I love you, Jughead, I can’t live in a world where we can’t be together,” she continued with her broken voice. She lost her balance once again, and jughead was quick to pull her to his chest, looping his arms under hers.
“You don’t have to worry, Betts. Just please, don’t ever, ever, do something like this again,” he pleaded, eyes glassy and filled with tears. He felt her nod against him. “I promise, Juggie.”
He sighed before planting his lips to her forehead. “I love you,” he said softly, brushing her tears away with the gentle pad of his thumb. “I love you too,” she said, her lips pulling up into a smile.
He bent over to hook his arm underneath her knees before standing up, cradling the fragile girl in his arms. He carefully carried her into her room before tucking her into bed. “Let me clean up in the bathroom,” he said before kissing her lips so lightly she almost didn’t feel it.
He went to work, ridding the room of all evidence. The small room smelled strongly of cleaning products, but Betty was known as a stress cleaner, so no one would find it too unusual.
He took the blade and flushed it down the toilet, as assurance for himself. The thought of her trying again caused his stomach to drop.
When he came back into her bedroom, she was laying awake on her bed, staring up at her ceiling which was littered with glow in the dark star cut outs. Her eyes flickered to him, before looking back up in shame. Jughead recognized that, and immediately sat on the side of her bed.
He looked at her bare arm, leading up to a thick bandage wrap at her wrist. He leaned down to kiss the gauze, smiling as a blush rose to her cheeks. “You’re so beautiful, Betty,” he murmured as he kissed his way up her arm, to her collar, to her neck, and landing securely on her lips.
She kissed him back, trying to push gratitude from her lips. She owed him her life, literally. Anything he asked of her, she would deliver, even the promise she made in the bathroom.
He got up to leave the room out the window, turning around only as her shaky hand gripped his weakly. “I don’t want to be alone tonight,” she whimpered.
An understanding smile crossed his face as he returned to the bed. His jacket landed on the floor beside his boots, and his hat lay on her desk.
He decided to lay atop her comforter, wanting her to feel as safe as possible. His arm lay across her stomach as her back, separated by a few layers of fabric, presses against his chest. “Get some rest, Miss Cooper. You need it,” he said, stretching himself out before relaxing once more.
Betty smiled. “Thank you for tonight.” His thumb gently ran across her faint freckles. "Get some rest, love.“
Tomorrow he would talk to her, figure out their solutions. But tonight he would let his hands run through that blonde ponytail, rest his hand over her heart, beating against his palm.
He winced at the thought that he may have never felt it again. But he did, he reminds himself, and that’s what’s important. That, and Betty Cooper.
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