I Got A Ring In My Pocket
When words fail me,
And when “I love you”
Simply won’t do
When my kisses
And caresses
Fail to convey
What I wouldn’t do for you
I’ll simply hold your hand in mine
And look into your eyes
And hope you understand
The storm inside my heart
- Unknown
And that’s what I keep telling myself, over and over again that’s it no big deal and what could go wrong? A million things could go wrong.
One: Mr. Andrews doesn’t want me to marry his son.
And that’s basically it.
Archie Andrews is the love of my life. He was, and always will be my best friend. I’ve loved him since that day when he took me up to that old treehouse in his backyard. Everything about Archie is beautiful. His fiery red hair that’s constantly messy, his sun-kissed skin that has so many freckles, his deep chocolate brown eyes, his musical voice, and his bright smile.
I can feel my heart hammering, my lungs constricting and my hands starting to shake. I swallow down my panic.
“Come on, Jones. You got this.”
Sweat beads at my temples and I use my hand to wipe it away. I pull off my beanie, run my hand through my hair, and put it back on. I let out a heavy exhale.
“Calm down, calm down, calm down.” I whisper to myself again. I clench my eyes shut and try to stop my hands from shaking. Fear, panic and nerves eat away at me and I feel my breath hitch.
I think of Archie.
And just like that, the shaking stops and my breathing slowly evens out. Here I am, sitting in my car in front of Fred Andrews’ house, recovering from a near anxiety/panic attack.
Jesus fucking Christ.
I scrub my hand over my face and groan. Get over yourself, Jones.
I sigh deeply and reach for the door and pull it open. I hop out of my car, the ring in coat pocket feeling like a ten-pound weight. I walk along the sidewalk and up the stairs, stopping at the door with my fist raised. But before I could knock, the door swings open and suddenly Fred Andrews in the doorway.
I clear my throat. “Mr. Andrews.”
“Jughead.” he says, grinning.
I swallow.
“Want to come in?”
“Um, s-sure,” I stutter, my face red.
Fred moves to the side, holding the door open for me.
“Thank you,” I grumble, my cheeks blazing. I distinctly hear Fred laugh from behind me.
It doesn’t help.
We make our way through his house, my home away from home. I can’t remember how many times Archie and I had sleepovers, staying up until midnight watching movies like The Flinstones, The Adams Family, The Nightmare Before Christmas, and Hocus Pocus, eating popcorn and chocolate ice cream.
We sit in the living room that hasn’t changed much since Archie and I’s childhood.
“So, Jug, what do you need?” Fred asks, ripping me from my thoughts.
“Well, I — you know I love Archie more than anything, right?” I say, my voice shaking.
Fred’s eyes narrow. “Yes…”
“Archie is my best friend, my lover, my partner and my heart and I will never do anything to ever hurt him. You know that, right?”
“Yes, Jughead, I do, but —”
“And I want to be with him forever. I want to spend the rest of my life with him. I want wake up every morning to his face. And I’ve came here to ask you for permission to marry your son. I know we’re both young, but I swear on everything I’ve got that I will cherish and protect him for as long as I live. So please, Mr. Andrews, let me marry your son.”
The silence is deafening.
“Of course.”
My breath whooshes out of me and I slump in the chair with relief. “Really?” I breathe.
“Jughead, of course you can marry Archie. Nothing would make me happier. . . son.”
I smile, flinging myself at Fred and hugging him tight.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I whisper, happy tears rolling down my cheeks. Fred laughs, patting my back affectionately.
“Now go home, Jughead. Wouldn’t want to miss dinner.”
I sprint out the door, a wide grin lighting up my whole face.
“Archie, baby, he said yes!” I yell as soon as I come through the door.
“Really?” Archie gasps from his spot on the couch. He stands up, catching me as I fling myself at him, my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. I grab his face in my hands and pull his lips to mine.
We kiss, gently and slowly and passionately, just like we always do. I lean my forehead against his, breathing hard with a shit-eating grin on my face.
“Archie,” I pant. “He said yes!”
Brown eyes lock with mine, and the same smile appears on Archie’s face. “Really?”
“Really.” I breathe, kissing him one more time before nuzzling my face into the side of his neck.
Gentle hands pull my beanie off with ease, Archie’s calloused fingers run through my hair. I sigh, burying my face deeper into his neck. Archie hums, pressing a kiss to my temple before letting himself and I drop onto the couch.
We lay there for a while, our limbs tangled together and my head resting on his chest, right above his heart with his hand caressing my face or running through my hair.
“I love you, Arch,” I murmur, and the answering smile I get in return is blinding.
“I love you too, Juggie.”
And then his lips are on mine again and everything else fades away until it’s only me and my fiancé.
