Chapter Text

Jughead only leaves his laptop for two minutes. He's on his third cup of coffee at Pop's, so he really needs to piss, and he doesn't think anything about it because A) his laptop is older than Jellybean and B) it's Pop's.

And maybe he gets distracted at the sink because he's thinking through some dialogue, but still. Two minutes, three tops. He comes out of the bathroom, sees Cheryl Blossom looming over his laptop, and freezes in horror as the last month flashes before his eyes.

After they solved Jason's murder, Jughead kept writing. Once he wasn't constrained by actual events, the words poured out even faster than before. He could say pretentious shit about the novel taking on a life of its own, but to be honest, he had restless energy to burn. As the real Riverdale slid back into its aggressively sleepy status quo, the novel got a little weirder. Maybe a lot weirder. He would throw himself into Sweetwater River before showing the new parts to anyone.

Cheryl yanks a flash drive out of his laptop and stalks over to him, murder in her eyes. "Who told you?"

"About what?" Jughead racks his brain. He saw a lot of it firsthand, or got details from his friends when he wasn't there. Some of the stuff about the Blossoms is rumor, yes, but…

Uncertainty shadows Cheryl's face, there and gone. "About me, you cut-rate Capote."

Holy shit. "You're a lesbian."

Jughead doesn't say it enough like a question. She flushes an ugly red. "Who. Told. You."

"No one," Jughead said, low and quick. "I just thought it was plausible. You've never had a boyfriend, and… look, I have a little sister. It'd kill her too if anything happened to me. I knew that incest stuff was bullshit." An unaccountable impulse moves him to add, "And a really shitty thing for people to say."

Cheryl's murder face fades into her usual disdain. "Well, I'm taking this," she says, holding the flash drive out of his reach. "Mutually assured destruction. You out me to anyone, and I show your drivel to the entire town. Choice excerpts will be featured on my Instagram."

"You really don't want to do that," Jughead says in desperation. "Your mom is a character. She becomes a prostitute."

It's the wrong thing to say. Cheryl gazes at the flash drive like she's holding the Sorcerer's Stone. "Oh, yes," she breathes. "My dearest mother would be very upset indeed."

"Cheryl—"

She gives him a dazzling smile. "So good talking to you, Forsythe. See you at school!"

With a flip of her red hair, she's gone. Jughead slides back into his booth and shuts his laptop like the proverbial barn door. He is so, so screwed.

He goes straight from Pop's to Archie's house. To his relief, Archie answers the door. He's not sure he could look Mr. Andrews in the eye right now. "Hey, Jughead. What's up?"

Jughead says, "Can we talk?"

They end up sitting on the grass in the backyard. Archie throws a tennis ball for Vegas, who fetches it joyfully every time. If not for Jughead, the scene could be a postcard: greetings from idyllic suburbia! "Cheryl stole my novel manuscript. Everyone in town is going to read it."

Archie pushes a hand back through his hair. "Ordinarily I'd say everyone will love it, but I don't know, Jug. What happened is still really recent. I'm surprised Cheryl wants people to see it."

Jughead pulls his knees up to his chest. "I didn't end the novel with the mystery being solved. Everything after that is… it's not even a book. It's something I was just writing for myself."

"So you weren't going to show it to people. I get that."

"It's a little worse than that." Jughead screws his eyes shut. "I didn't know what to do next with the plot, so… it's a writer's block thing. You make something bad happen to a character everyone likes, and then go from there."

"Jughead." Archie's stare is so earnest that it's pretty much anger. "Betty's your girlfriend. If you wrote something terrible happening to her—"

"No. Not Betty." Jughead is charmed that Betty was where Archie's mind went first, and maybe a little jealous. "Your dad. This masked man shows up out of nowhere and shoots him—not fatally, I'm not a monster. But then we all have to figure out who did it and how to stop him." Also, book Archie makes some really bad decisions, but Jughead would need about three sticks of Jingle Jangle or the equivalent in insomnia to explain Hiram Lodge and the Red Circle.

Archie frowns, but he just says, "Like the Jason Blossom case."

"I guess I didn't want it to be over." Jughead tries to smile and fails miserably. "Pretty pathetic, huh?"

Archie throws the ball for Vegas again. Jughead watches its long, lazy arc take it to the other side of the yard. "You know, I write a lot of songs that I don't show anyone. They're really, really bad. Like, even I know how bad they are. It's part of making stuff." His best friend gives him the crooked smile he's never been able to capture on the page. "I won't read your book until you want me to."

"Thanks," Jughead says. It's completely inadequate, but anything else would be weird.

When he leaves Archie's house, Betty waves to him from her front step. "Hey, Juggie."

He can't get Betty's smile on the page, either. Every time he tries, he lapses into adjectives like beautiful or angelic. Actually, his prose about Betty in general is a dire shade of purple. "Hey. We need to talk."

Betty's smile fades, but she says, "Sure."

Jughead checks to make sure her mom isn't watching them from the window, sits down beside her, and summarizes his impending doom.

"Ugh, Cheryl is the worst," Betty says with feeling. "I know she's been through a lot, but that's not an excuse."

They contemplate the supreme evil of Cheryl Blossom in comfortable silence.

"Can I read it?" Betty says.

Jughead mentally waves farewell to the comfort. It was nice while it lasted. "My book?"

She shrugs. "People are going to have opinions about it. Someone will have to explain to you why they're wrong."

"The plot is weird," he warns her. "Like, really, really weird."

"You're weird," Betty says, straight-faced. "I think 'a weirdo' is the phrase you used."

So Jughead sends her the book. He figures she might get around to it in a couple of weeks, which will be after the worst of the backlash, but he'll still appreciate it. Instead, she texts him at six AM the next morning. Finished your book. I liked it! Text me when you wake up and we'll get breakfast at Pop's!

Jughead hasn't slept either, but for dignity's sake, he waits half an hour to text her back. On the way to Pop's, his hands start shaking. He hasn't been this nervous since their first date. Maybe not even then.

At the diner, Betty kisses him hello as sweetly as always, so that's good, and keeps hold of his hand until they sit down at their usual booth. As soon as Pop Tate brings them their food, Jughead bursts. "Did you really like the book?"

"The short answer is, yeah, I did."

The fact that Betty hasn't broken up with him should be enough, but Jughead keeps prodding. "And the long answer?"

She pulls out a notebook and turns to a page labeled Jughead's Novel, because of course Betty Cooper took notes. "The part where Dad confesses to being the Black Hood was hard to read, but I understand why you did it. There really is bad blood between the Coopers and the Blossoms. Mr. Blossom is the villain in part 1, then Dad in part 2. It's symmetric." Jughead nods gravely, as though he intended that and noticed it way before just now. Betty blows on her coffee to cool it down. "Also, the phone calls, the part where I'm burying Archie alive… those scenes had this incredibly creepy Hitchcock vibe. I was terrified—me the reader, not me the character—and I was supposed to be, right? So, that was good."

Part of Jughead wants to copy down her praise and frame it, but mostly he's waiting for the other shoe to drop. "There were other parts about you."

Betty purses her lips. "Yeah. Those were less good."

"I'm sorry," Jughead says again. "For what it's worth, I was going to take those scenes out."

"Is that why no one ever mentions the Serpent dance again?" He nods. Betty thinks for a moment. "Okay."

"Okay?" Jughead echoes. "You're really not mad?"

Betty leans forward and puts her hand on top of his, reassuring and warm. "Everyone thinks about weird stuff they wouldn't say to anyone else. I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at Cheryl for violating your privacy." Jughead's relief lasts precisely as long at Betty's sip of coffee. "Fair warning, though: if Cheryl does post it, my mom will probably read it and she will definitely ban you from the house."

Oh, god. "Will she think the camming stuff is real?" Alice Cooper micromanages Betty's life enough as it is. He can't imagine what she'll do if she thinks Betty became a camgirl under her watchful eye.

Betty snorts. "I wouldn't say this in any other context, but I doubt she'll notice. Her husband turns out to be a serial killer, she used to be a Serpent, she secretly had a son out of wedlock, she covers up a murder, she joins a cult, and oh yeah, she sleeps with your dad. Slightly creepy, by the way."

Jughead munches on a fry. "Also hilarious."

Betty's laugh starts as a nervous giggle and turns deep and uncontrollable. "The Serpent tattoo on her thigh!" she wheezes, and Jughead cracks up too because holy shit, he'd forgotten about that.

So that's Betty, and he probably doesn't deserve her, but they're more than okay.

The next day is Monday. Jughead wakes up when his phone buzzes with a text from Betty: It's online :(

Thanks for telling me, he texts back. God, today is going to suck.

Betty again: It'll be a day or two before anyone starts talking about it. No one reads that fast.

He hopes she's right, but of course she isn't. Everyone at Riverdale High searches the document for their own name, a lot of them find it, and the whole school is in an uproar by second period.

"All sophomore girls and guys report to the gymnasium," Kevin Keller mutters as he digs a book out of his locker. Jughead doesn't think he was meant to hear. Kevin hasn't met his eyes once today.

Midge Klump storms down the hallway. It's even money whether she's mad about the subplot with Moose and Kevin or being brutally murdered by the Black Hood. Moose chases after her. "Babe, wait!"

Midge marches up to Jughead and slaps him across the face. "Go to hell, Jughead Jones."

She doesn't acknowledge Kevin's existence. Moose does, but with a weird eyebrow lift that could mean anything. When they're out of sight, Kevin shuts his locker and slumps against it. Jughead stands still, waiting.

Kevin says, "You could have given me character traits other than gayness."

Before Jughead can apologize, Kevin straightens up and walks away.

After that, he has to run the lunch gauntlet. Next to the door, Cheryl smirks at him. Her strategy, apparently, is to act supremely unbothered by her fictional romance with Toni. As far as Jughead can tell, it's working.

At the usual table, Veronica holds up her fancy new Kindle like she's going to hit him with it. "What the hell is this?"

"I think you read books with it," Jughead says before he can stop himself. Betty hides a smile. Archie makes a show of concentrating on his lunch.

"Don't start," Veronica snaps. "My father may have strayed onto the law's bad side, but he's not in the mob. And if he was, Archie would never work for him! What is wrong with you?"

"It is kind of weird," Archie tells his sandwich.

Veronica isn't done. "Also, if my father was a criminal mastermind and I was trying to outsmart him, I wouldn't tell him all my plans. How stupid do you think I am?" Mercifully, she doesn't wait for him to answer. She leans forward. "And I need you to know something: in Spanish, there are other words besides mija."

"If you have time, you could give me advice for improving your family's dialogue." Jughead isn't joking, but Veronica's glare scares him away from clarifying.

Betty speaks up. "How far did you read, V?"

Veronica gives her a sideways, whose side are you on look. "I stopped when the so-called Veronica character called her father 'daddykins' for the thousandth time."

Under the table, Betty takes Jughead's hand. "You'll like the third part better. Archie leaves the mob, and you're the main character in this amazing heist chapter. You should keep going."

"I might—if I have nothing better to do, which is extremely unlikely." Veronica returns her attention to Jughead. "One more thing: you wrote multiple sex scenes between me and Archie. That is not okay."

Archie looks up. "Wait, what?"

"No one was supposed to see it." Veronica's frown doesn't change. Jughead doubts she ever writes anything that she wouldn't blast out to her 3,400 Twitter followers. He tries another tack. "And because it was private, not something I would ever try to publish, I was practicing writing romantic scenes. It's a really specific skill, and I wanted to get better at it."

"God knows you need to," Veronica says, but she relaxes by a hair.

The descent into hell continues after school.

Toni: woah the northsider chick i banged in yr book is fine as hell

Me: Shit, you read it too?

Toni: im stalking her insta rn

Toni: im not normally into the rich bitch cheerleader thing but its obviously bravado right?

Me: IN THE BOOK. Trust me, in real life she's the worst.

Toni: did she really try to kill herself

Me: Yeah.

Toni: ok so bravado

Toni: is she really gay

Me: I made that up for the book.

Toni: still could be tho

Toni: or bi

Toni: im going to follow her

Me: She'll block you, but okay.

Toni: when we hook up its not going to be after we watch love simon

Toni: come on man

Me: Cut me some slack. I'm suffering enough as it is.

Toni: look on the bright side

Toni: some good is going to come of this

Toni: key word being come ;D

Jughead can't even respond to that.

Three days later, Veronica greets him cordially at lunch. "Book Jughead's descent into madness in part 3 reflects your obvious downward spiral in real life," she says, indicating his entire being with one perfectly manicured nail. "It's very House of Leaves."

House of Leaves is an incredible book, and Archie is smiling at him, so you know what? Jughead will take it.

After a couple of weeks, everyone forgets about Jughead's novel. It takes another month and multiple pep talks from Betty before he can open the file without his stomach hurting. When he finally curls up on his bed to look through it, most of it is worse than he remembered, but some of it is better. Maybe he could take the things Betty liked and Veronica didn't hate—feuding families and the parallels between them, Hitchcockian horror, metanarratives that build up and crash into the main story—and put them in a different book, one that isn't about Riverdale at all.

His phone buzzes with a flurry of texts from Toni, who's sending a series of increasingly elated emojis. Jughead puts his phone on silent and goes back to scrolling through chapter 27, where he and his friends go to the Lodge family's cabin.

He pauses on a quiet scene between him and Archie. They're hanging out in the woods, throwing a water bottle back and forth.

Do you know Betty and Veronica kissed?

What? What are you talking about?

Apparently first week of school, during cheerleading tryouts. B and V kissed.

Really. Why?

At this point in the story, every other pair of their foursome has kissed. Jughead almost ended this scene with his and Archie's characters completing the circle. (Quadrilateral? Cube? Four-dimensional powder keg? Whatever.) Instead, his character says lightly, I couldn't tell you. Betty tried explaining it last night, but the rationale still eludes me. Because, sure, "the rationale still eludes me" is a thing people say in real life.

Jughead is profoundly, stupidly glad he chickened out. Some things, even he can't explain away.