Jughead

Whether you believe in order or chaos, in the end, it's the same. We are either in control of our lives, or merely think we are.

Fear. It's the most basic, the most human emotion. As kids, we're afraid of everything. The dark... the boogeyman under the bed... And we pray for morning. For the monsters to go away. Though they never do. Not really.

Good and Evil. Light and Dark. Betty and Veronica. Two sides of the same Janus coin.

Hope. A word so close to home, and as tricky. As much as we wanted Jason's killer caught, and the town, our home, to feel safe again. But with every day that passed, our hopes dimmed more and more. There's that old, cliched saying. "It's darkest before the dawn". But sometimes... there's just darkness.

– War is hell, Jug.
– No, Archie. Hell is other people.

Archibald (Archie) Andrews

Jughead

Hell

Human, People

– And all this time, I thought you were a lover, not a fighter.
– I'm both. I've got layers.

Elizabeth (Betty) Cooper

Jughead

You were doing something nice. It's just that sometimes, when people do nice things for me, I short circuit. Maybe I'm not used to it. Maybe I'm scared. Of getting hurt. Or being rejected... for being myself.

– Poor Moose... Is he okay?
– His name is Moose. He's fine.

Elizabeth (Betty) Cooper

Jughead

Another fun fact about fear. Sometimes it grows up with you. Or it curls up inside of you, tightens around your guts.

Here's the thing about fear. It's always there. Fear of the unknown. Fear of facing it alone. Fear that those closest to you are the monsters. Fear that as soon as you slay one, there's another monster waiting to take its place. Fear that there's one more boogeyman waiting at the end of the dark hall.

Weekdays, from 08:25 a.m. to 15:01 p.m., we adhere to a strict regimen. Everything in our lives controlled. But then something like the murder of Jason Blossom happens, and you realize there is no such thing as control. There is only chaos. Nevertheless, some of us strive to impose and maintain order in what is, fundamentally, an orderless world. A fact which would very soon be confirmed. In ways none of us could have foreseen.

– Whoa, where the hell are you going?
– WHAT?! You want to give me some advice on my right hook?
– I want you to go back inside and talk to your girl.
– I don't think it's gonna work out. Irreconcilable differences.
– Don't run away from it. Don't run away. You've got something good here. With her, with your friends. Something that... something that we could never give you. Also, man up. After what I just saw in there, she needs you.

Guilt, innocence. Good, evil. Life, death. As the shadows around Riverdale deepened. The lines that separated these polar opposites blurred and distorted.

What makes a place feel like home? Is it warmth and familiarity? Some idealized, make-believe TV-version of the American dream? Is it love and acceptance? Or is it simple safety? Or it's none of those things. And it's a place where the captain of the football team is murdered. Or maybe it's just a forgotten closet under a well-trod staircase, where it's just you and the mice and the spiders, like an extra in a Wes Craven movie.