(This is based off the musical version, not the movie version. Sorry.)
WORD COUNT: 1177
SHIP: MAINLY JDXVERONICA
It was no use. Veronica Sawyer could see that this was the choice her ex-boyfriend, Jason “JD” Dean, made. She looked into his wild, frowning, glaring brown eyes as he held the trigger for the bombs in one hand and a gun pointing at her in the other. This was the choice he made. There was no stopping him now, and she didn’t want to fight with a dangerous sociopath.
“Fine. If you won’t stop the bombs, then I’ll join them,” Veronica gulped. It was the only way to redeem herself, she realized, after she had been involved in the murders of the most popular girl in the school and her ex-best friend, Heather Chandler, and two jocks on the football team, Ram Sweeney and Kurt Kelly. Sure, they were all jerks, but in the light of everything that happened – her triggering Martha’s attempted suicide, going along with the Heathers’ mean pranks for almost three weeks – she was just as bad as them.
And letting JD kill three semi-innocent high schoolers right before her eyes? That just made her even worse. The only person who deserved to die was herself.
JD’s glare softened. “Veronica…” He lowered his gun and started stepping towards her.
Veronica took a step back. She wanted to look strong in front of him. But really, she was scared, shaking in her oxfords. Was this really what she had to do to stop JD? To threaten her own death? However, she decided that if this was the price to pay to forgive her sins, then so be it.
“No, JD,” Veronica said firmly, slowly backing away from him and towards the school. “This is the only way.” She turned from him and started to run.
“Veronica, wait!” JD yelled after her.
But it was too late. She disappeared into the doors of the ticking time-bomb, which happened to be Westerburg High.
JD ran through the doors of the only school he didn’t want to leave, thanks to Veronica. As he passed by the gym, the nauseating chants of the school’s pep rally echoed off of the empty hallways.
Hey, yo Westerburg! Tell me, what’s that sound? Here comes Westerburg, comin’ to put you in the ground! Go, go, Westerburg! Give a great big yell! Westerburg will knock you out and send you straight to hell!
Which is where every one of these deadbeats and assholes are going, JD thought to himself as he finally passed the gymnasium. The chants finally died out and he could only hear silence through the halls.
“Veronica?” he called out, passing down each corridor. He peeked through every classroom, bathroom (even the girls’, which was thankfully empty), library, and even the rooftop. No sign of Veronica.
As he headed down the stairs of the rooftop, he started to rethink his choices. He loved Veronica. He was doing this just for her. If she were killed thanks to his own doing, he would never forgive himself.
He finally reached the bottom of the stairs and noticed that the two emergency exit doors were open. Those were never open. He came to the conclusion that Veronica was bluffing. She really wasn’t going to die with these bastards. She just wanted a reason for him to stop.
Nice try, Veronica. It’s not that easy.
He headed outside to the football field, seeing the whole school in all of its hellish glory. He pressed the button on the trigger and knew it would only be a matter of seconds until everything was gone, and it would just be him and Veronica. He smiled to himself, looking at the school’s brick structure and tinted windows. He looked through each and every one of them, most of them were empty, but he was shocked to see a face staring back through one of them. The face waved.
JD blinked. He suddenly had a flashback of the time his mother died. She had kissed him on his forehead and said she would see him soon, before walking into the building. She waved through the window as it exploded into pieces; the only remains of his mother were the ashes and the rubble of the deconstructed library.
Was the figure waving through the window his mother? Was it her spirit to try to convince him, too late, to stop the murder of all these innocent teenagers? He blinked again, only to realize the figure that was waving through the window was…
His eyes widened as he reached out, as if his gesture could stop the explosion. As he stepped forward to try and join her…
He ran back, the sound so loud that it left his ears ringing. He shielded his eyes from the bright fire and tried to dodge the ashes and the rubble of the school that went flying everywhere. As everything finally calmed down, he ran through the black smoke and inspected every single brick and rock, praying to God that Veronica had somehow made it out alive. That the person waving through the window wasn’t actually her. That he was just seeing things.
However, his heart instantly shattered into pieces as he picked up a scrap of torn, navy blue cloth. He recognized it immediately – it was from the blazer that Veronica always wore.
“No…” It barely came out. A sob was lodged in his throat. “Veronica…” He buried his face into the only remainder of his beloved as tears streamed down his cheeks. “Please don’t leave me alone… you were all I could trust…”
It should have been me. It should have been me. I’m the only asshole who deserved to die in this explosion. Not them. Not Heather McNamara. Not Martha Dunnstock. Sure, Heather Duke was a major bitch, but who the fuck cares? I killed people. Heather Duke didn’t deserve to die. And Veronica didn’t deserve to die either.
He looked at the loaded gun in his hand. He pressed it against his head, but then he knew that Veronica wouldn’t want him to do that.
It would just prove that you’re a major pussy, she would’ve said. She would’ve wanted JD to turn himself in. She would’ve wanted him to face the music and rot in prison.
Two weeks later, JD, who was now dubbed inmate number 38129, sat in the Sherwood Penitentiary. He would be tried as an adult, and they would most likely give him the death sentence for the first-degree murder of Heather Chandler, Kurt Kelly, Ram Sweeney (if they could prove it), and the students of Westerburg High School. He deserved it.
As he sat in solitary confinement, wearing the orange jumpsuit all inmates had to wear instead of his trusty black trench coat, he only had one thing on his mind: Veronica.
Why’d I have to go and fuck my life up? If I had just listened to her, we could probably be cuddling on the couch and watching TV and making out. She’d still be in my arms. Most importantly, she’d still be alive.
today at the library a clerk was checking books out for this family and mentioned something happened in 2009 and one of the kids said “that’s when i was born!” and straight up my immediate reaction was
Request from an anon, Keith + “Don’t make me do this”
2k words. Angst, foul language and mentions of death and walking dead AU.
You were a runner before all of this happened. You were the wind.
Scheduled training was respected, effort, time, blood, sweat and tears was put in just to make sure that you were in shape. It wasn’t training to become the fastest woman in the world, just enough to stay fit and not fall behind in gym class.You weren’t the best, a boy or two, sometimes three were ahead of you but you had a reputation for your long strides as the girl version of Speedy Gonzales.
Blood, sweat and tears were sacrificed for you to keep that nickname at school. It stuck and you liked it.