In which Jughead reacts to the Reader's secret, darker truths arise, and it all comes to a tipping point.

TW: Lots of depression-related thinking and actions. Read at your own discretion.

Listen To: "Darling", Adam Barnes

"What.. what the hell is this?" Jughead said, staring down at (Y/N). It came out louder than expected, panicked by her scars.

(Y/N) pushed him off of her and stood, fixing her dress. "I, um, ah–this was a mistake." Jughead's heart broke at the emotion bursting from her simple words. "I'm sorry, Jughead. Goodbye."

The first tears beginning to fall, (Y/N) ran down the hallway, running away from him, and what could have been, before Jughead could say a single word.

In the office, Archie, Betty, and Veronica had successfully jimmied open the file cabinet holding the disciplinary files for all students and staff.

Archie started pulling up files of athletic staff and previous and current football players, taking photos on his phone for future evidence.

"Guys... what is this?" Veronica pulled a file from the cabinet, her voice shaking. "(Y/N) (L/N)," she read. Even while closed, the teens could tell it was thick with documents.

"Ronnie, we shouldn't," Archie warned. "Come on, it's (Y/N). Whatever it is can't be a big deal and if it were Jughead wouldn't be cool with her."

Betty took the file from Veronica, face solemn. "I'll read it. I don't want Jughead to get hurt again. We don't know what she could be hiding."

Opening the file folder, Betty slowly paged through the documents, eyes growing with each line.

"What is it, Betty?" Veronica asked.

The color drained from Betty's face. In a whisper, she said, "We need to find her."

The three teens, ran out into the hallway just as Jughead was running from under the stairs.

"Jughead!" The three of them called in unison.

"What's up?" Jughead's breathing was heavy, they noticed. His tie was slightly undone and his clothes disheveled. "Have you seen (Y/N)?"

"That's why we were trying to find you, Jughead," Betty explained. "We were looking for evidence on the embezzlement thing and found (Y/N)'s file–"

"Wait a second," Jughead's voice darkened. "You looked through (Y/N)'s file? Why would you invade her privacy like that?"

"Jughead, we can talk about this later," Betty said quickly. "I'm glad I did though."

"Why?" Jughead's voice was tired, resigned. Betty's heart ached that she had to tell him this.

"This is nearly (Y/N)'s tenth high school," Betty said, sadly-yet-urgently. "In each high school she's been bullied and depressed to the point where she's attempted suicide and her parents forced her to transfer."

"Obviously we we don't judge," Veronica insisted. "But you need to be careful, Jug. She's not emotionally stable and we don't want her to hurt herself again." Veronica's voice was laced with worry, remembering her history of bullying back in New York.

Jughead punched a locker out of frustration, "Just my fucking luck."

"Jughead!" Betty exclaimed, surprised by his aggressive actions. "What is it? Tell us."

"She got upset and ran away," Jughead said, looking away. "I have no idea where she could be." A tear slipped from his eye. "I don't want her to hurt herself because of me."

"When people are upset they usually go to where they feel safest," Archie reasoned. "Do you know of anywhere that could be for (Y/N)?"

Jughead's eyes widened. Wordlessly, he ran down the hallway, his friends following closely.

(Y/N) had curled up in the corner of the library closet. She'd locked the door and blocked it with a stored bookcase. With a shaking hand, she dialed her mom's number on her phone.

Taking a deep breath, she said as calmly as she could, "Hi Mommy. It's (Y/N). Yeah–prom was great. I just wanted to let you know that Jughead is inviting me to go with them to Pop's so I might be a bit late coming home. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah–Archie is gonna drive. Thanks mom." Tears began to fall from her eyes. "Mom? I love you. ...see you later."

Hanging up, (Y/N) began to cry freely, sobbing into herself as she hugged herself tightly. Nails gripped and pierced into her skin, and she bit into her arm to keep from screaming. She never wanted Jughead to know. It was getting bad again. The voices, the voices that hurt her.

He knows your ugly secret.

Who would love a girl that looks like you do?

He'll never love you, now.

He probably already hates you.

Why did you ruin his life?

Her body screamed for release from this pain. Staring across the room, she spotted a box cutter for unloading the books. Shaking, (Y/N) grabbed the handle, aching to do what brought her comfort.

"She's in here," Jughead said as they approached the door of the closet. "(Y/N)! (Y/N)!" He knocked on the door, cursing when he twisted the handle to find it locked.

"...go away, Jughead," a voice whimpered from inside. "You don't have to worry about me anymore. I'm done messing up your life."

Jughead looked to his friends, confused and scared. Why was she saying these things? They obviously weren't true, but how could he convince her of the truth?

He desperately tried kicking down the door, with no avail. She'd blocked it.

"Dude, we should get help," Archie said.

"Not yet. I'm going to try and convince her," Jughead sat by the door. "If the authorities come, she's going to leave again and nothing will get better."

Leaning against the door, Jughead said, "(Y/N)? Can we talk?" His voice cracked a little. "Like that first day. You talked to me and helped me with my problems. Please?"

Jughead heard shuffling towards the door, and a bump as she leaned against the door opposite him.

"...I'm tired, Jug," he could hear the kind of quiet, soft crying of someone who had already been broken.

"Then let's rest," Jughead suggested. "We could stay in that crawlspace under the stairs tonight, and sleep together."

"You don't want to sleep with me," (Y/N) replied, almost offended.

"Why not?"

He could hear her crying a bit louder. "Y-you saw my scars Jug. No one wants to be with someone who looks like this," she echoed her inner thoughts. "It's ugly. I'm ugly. You deserve someone beautiful, Jughead. Like Betty."

"(Y/N), ever since I have met you I have found you to be one of the most beautiful women I have ever met," Jughead insisted. "That hasn't changed."

"You're misguided."

This frustrated Jughead. "No, you're misguided!" He was tired, and worried, and exasperated.

"Why... why are you mad at me?" She seemed shocked, wounded.

"Because," Jughead continued, more calmly, ashamed that he snapped at her. "Ever since we became friends I couldn't stop thinking about you, (Y/N). About your smile, the way you look when you read, when we would meet next. Even weird future stuff. I'm mad at the world that made you hate yourself, when I see you as something so much different."

"...what weird future stuff?"

Curiosity. This was his way to get her out. "Well, first of all, I'd officially ask you to be my girlfriend."

"You'd be dating the girl who slits her wrists," (Y/N) argued. "You'd be a freak, like me."

Jughead almost laughed. "(Y/N), I'm weird and estranged in my own rite. I don't need anyone to help me with that."

"...what else?"

"Well, we'd go to Pop's all the time, and read in the library together, and hang out with the others. Everything would be just as it was."

"Then why do we have to date?"

Jughead smiled unconsciously. "So that I could tell you and show you every single day how perfect I think you are. I'd tell you until you believe it, and every single day after that."

"That sounds repetitive."

"I'm a writer, (Y/N)," Jughead reminded her. "I know a lot of synonyms."

He could her a smile in her voice. "I suppose you do. I don't know if I'll believe you. ...I don't know if I can believe you." She seemed confused, and frail.

"I'm patient, (Y/N). I'll wait. In the mean time, we still need to fill that book of ours. What shame is a good story left unfinished." Jughead's voice became cloudy, and he began to cry himself. "There's so much left we have to do."

The two sat in the silence of their brokenness.

"...do you want to come inside?" (Y/N) asked after a while.

"Yes, very much so," Jughead said, climbing to his feet.

After a bit, he heard the shoving of something heavy away from the door, and the clicking of the door lock. Slowly opening the door, (Y/N) faced Jughead, eyes scared. The color drained from Jughead's face.

In one hand, she held the boxcutter. The other arm was hashed with cuts, blood seeping onto her prom dress.

"Jughead, I need help," (Y/N) whispered.