Archive of Our Own ^beta

His chubby fingers wrapped around her blonde locks. The remanence of his breakfast still clung to his skin as the syrup stuck to every strand. The tug against her scalp made her wince as the boy adoring a knit beanie, its shape almost reminding Betty of one of the crowns a prince from her stories wore, pulled her pigtail hard. “JUGHEAD!” The six year old screamed as she spun her ballet shoe against the concrete. Before she could act on the anger bubbling through her veins a flash of raven curls past her, shoving her onto the ground and ripping her tutu in the process. “I-” her throat tightened as tears began to choke her words. “I HATE YOU!” Her cheeks heated at the laughter echoing from her neighbors yard. Her young heart knew that noise. It belonged to the freckled boy that shared her windowseld view. The scene was a blur from her clouded vision but she could barely make out the same two boys holding onto each other, dying of laughter towards the blonde covered in ripped pink. 

Betty’s bag was packed and laid perfectly along her bedspread. Her eyes traveled to the list in her hands as she scanned her things one last time before she pulled the zipper around her body of luggage, grabbing the handle and pulling it into her side. Movement from her window drove her view to the boy next door rushing out his bedroom door. She smiled to herself as she no longer felt the ring of butterflies dancing in her stomach, nor the race of her heart pounding against her ribcage. She noticed that change a few weeks ago when one morning she looked out her window and no longer saw an image of the love of her life but instead a best friend. It was overnight, something she still doesn’t understand but doesn’t bother questioning. The mumbled sound of her doorbell downstairs quickly drove her from her thoughts and with one last look, she turned. 

Betty’s ponytail swayed with each step she ran down before she stood beside her mother at the door.  She brightly to the red haired boy she knew so well. “Hey, Arch.” 

“Hey, Betty,” His brown specks nearly folded at the large grin he wore. “You ready?” 

She gave the boy a slight nod before turning back to her mother. “Bye mom, see you soon.” She pulled her bag into her side as she tried hard to pass her mother without further words, yet hanging her head when she heard the nail against the chalkboard. 

“Goodbye Elizabeth.” It was flat, holding nothing resembling emotion. “Listen to your teachers- and remember even though I am allowing you on this senior retreat I don’t need you getting distracted- and Elizabeth! Elizabeth, did you pack your pills like I told you to?”

“Yes, mom.” The response faded as she shut the passenger door to Archie's pick up truck. She slienting thanked her friend for pulling away before her mother could chase her back into the house. He smiled at her with a half smile with something resembling pity clouding his chocolate eyes as he turned the music up, drowning the car in empty noise. The urge to curl her palms was calmed by the gentle hold of the cold metal of her necklace between her shaking fingers. 

“No girls allowed, didn’t you see the sign, Betts, or can you not read?” His piercing blue eyes struck her hard as she stood below the awkwardly made tree house, the same one the boys spent all summer making. It looked dangerous with nails sticking up from the poorly placed wood but that didn’t stop her from wanting to join.  

“Buss off, Jughead.” She did see the sign. It hung loud and clear for her viewing pleasure but by the unskilled handwriting she knew it must have been Jughead’s rule, not Archies. 

“Wh- oh Betty,” A blur of red past the hole before the boy that held her young crush popped out of nowhere. “Jughead,” His brown eyes flew to his beanie clad friend next to him, “Betty doesn’t count as a girl.” He scoffed with raised eyebrows before returning back inside the treehouse. 

Her ten year old heart felt heavy as it crashed into the bottom of her ribcage at his words. She could have sworn she saw Jughead frown from above at the sight of her change in demeanor. Although she must have been mistaken because the moment she reached the top, he huffed a long irritated sigh. “Whatever, just stay away from me.” 

Betty met his sharp stare with mirrored annoyance. “Gladly.” 

Two large yellow buses stood before Riverdale High’s senior class. Everyone, including the Southside High students that transferred three months prior, beamed with pure excitement for the next days to come. “Silence!” Mr. Murphy called over the overcrowding conversations spread through nearly a hundred teenagers. When the noise didn’t seem to fade, the aged man began to get frustrated, already dreading the annual retreat. “Aye! Be quiet!” Nothing. Not even a glance towards his short appearance. The man brought his wrinkled fingers to his mouth, he placed them between his dry lips and blew hard. The whistle echoed through the parking lot, piercing into the ears surrounding the grey haired man. All eyes, wide and attentive, flew to him. “Thank you,” Betty could have sworn she saw the corner of his lips pull into a small smile, “Anyways, I know that this trip has been known among the students as an innovation to be reckless but I can assure you, me and Mrs. Davis will have no such thing.” 

A laugh erupted through the crowd, disrupting the low whispers. It was a noise that was a cruel familiarity to her. It was a sound that always brought chills to the back of her neck. One that was a true constant in all her nightmares. All eyes turned towards the boy submerged in black leather, including those of Mr. Murphy before he spoke, “That includes you, Mr. Jones.” 

Jughead stood from his slouched position against the bus, laughing as he placed his newly lit cigarette between his wrongly perfect lips before straightening his back and placing his left arm behind him with his right hand going to his forehead in a mockingly manner. “Of course, Sir!” His words were muffled by the Marlboro daring to slip from his teeth as he saluted. 

“Put the cigarette out, Jones!” Mr. Murphy’s demand was lost in the crowd of laughter booming from the large group of students. 

“God, does he have to be so aggravating?” Betty spoke sharply under her breath. 

“Only for you, Elizabeth,” His deep voice nearly caught her by surprise as she turned to face his notorious smirk, the same one that’s brought anger to her blood for years. It continuously awakens something in her only a certain Serpent could provoke, an emotion she can only describe as a deadly hatred. A fire erupted and his eyes sparkled at the flames dancing behind her iries. She almost swore he loved the way he affected her with each encounter. 

“Come on, B.” She felt the touch of her friend’s fingertips wrap gently around her bicep. Before she turned though, she gave one last glance to the man dressed in Satan’s skin. Traveling slowing along the leather holding tightly to his chest. She knew what laid behind it. She had felt the stare of the snake the second he walked back into her life three months ago and even now it felt strange coming from the boy who loved to pull her blonde locks all those years ago. 

Betty knew he could feel her deep stare for when she returned to the blue before her, amusement swam through the ocean of his dark eyes. “Go on, Betts.” Cigarette smoke traveled through the air as his hand swept her away, before hanging his head. “You’ll get to check me out soon enough, don’t worry.” His view turned back to her as he winked a goodbye, sneaking his tongue along his smirk as if to contain a fit of laughter. 

“Oh screw you, Jones,” she spit before turning back to her two friends, both whose faces mirrored the other with worry. Though if one would look close enough, they might even find a spark of curiosity dancing in the brown specks of the raven haired girl as she slowly drifted her eyes away from Jughead. 

“You wish, princess,” He called to the tight pink skirt that swayed away from him. Betty nearly screamed in rage at the sound of his chuckle bouncing around her head and blocking all noise from her mind. Even when she didn’t want to think of him, she did. He was everywhere. Playing the lead role in her nightmares and maybe even once or twice in her dreams, something she swore never to think of again. He used to cling to the boy that held her heart all those years ago, always hidden in the Andrews home, stealing the love in their hearts and the food in their cupboards. Lately though, he’s been posted along her mother’s newspapers. Always earning front page news with a new mugshot every issue. 

It was the day before everything changed. His father told him that morning. His heart squeezed at the memory replaying through his mind. FP’s eyes were glazed, inattentive to the life he had destroyed one beer bottle at a time, as he stared down to his thirteen year old son. His smile caused a ripple through the waves of anxiety flowing through Jughead’s veins. His brain rattled, pounding against his skull, the noise itself was enough for him faint but he stood and awaited the words that followed. He nearly missed them though, almost believing his father never spoke but by the way his lips moved to declare his death sentence he knew he thought wrong.

“Yeah, mom, I know.” Her voice restarted his heart. He could finally feel it beating against his rib cage again. His mind was awake once more, it began to be attentive to the world around him for the first time that morning. 

“Shit,” He cursed to the wind as he dove behind one of her bushes growing against the barrier to the boy she was destined to love. He waited till the sounds of her car grew faint as it drove to her ballet studio before he climbed the ladder laid against her window, holding tightly to a velvet box with his shaky fingers. 

His boots tracked dirt onto her ledge. The elegant arrangement of her pink pillows were disheveled by his fall. The floor was warm against his cheek from the afternoon sun. His awkwardly long limbs folded into his body before he sat up. He felt as though he fell through a rabbit hole into a universe where his name was Romeo and hers was Juilet. He had seen glimpses of her room from across the way but he’d never actually got the experience of seeing it up close, up until now. Though he still felt like he didn’t deserve to see it, that at any moment someone would drag him by the ear like a stray dog and punish him for disrupting the place of an angel. He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. He was a dark stain to the pastel painting every surface of her room. His breath shook at the picture in the right correr of it’s frame. That tree house still stood in the Andrews’ yard, aging with each year that passed. Lonesome without the three children that posed for that moment. His eyes forever watching her with hers forever watching the freckles of his best friend. 

A glare blinded his vision as the sliver of the necklace shined into his eyes. The box was now open along the windowseld inviting the sun to glow against the pink of the ballet slippers. His heart jumped at the sight. Palms sweating at the thought of what consequences might follow from this gift. But he needed it out of his reach for it would only act as a reminder of the fact that Romeo doesn’t ever get his happily ever after. He was planning on giving it to her for Christmas, to slip it underneath the tree bare of his name so she would never find out, but now there was no Christmas for there was no time past tomorrow. 

An engine startled him back into reality. It roared into the driveway followed by the sound of her voice singing through the wind. His whole body froze before jumping through the window and sliding down her ladder just in time to slip into the Andrews’ yard. Though he was gone he left a trail of his graceless presence along the tidiness of her bedroom with a silver chain to shine underneath the basking evening sun. 

The cold steel of Betty’s ballet charm danced between her fingertips as she focused on the words before her, engulfed in the book laid along her legs. The sound of her friend’s voice pulled her back into the bus, “how much longer?” Veronica whined before huffing a deep sigh as she put her last magazine down along her boyfriend’s legs.  

“V, it’s only been an hour,” Betty nearly giggled at the shock widening Veronica’s mouth, “We have nine more to go.” She nestled deeper into her seat, wrapping the blanket around her slightly cold feet hanging over the aisle as her back pressed against the rough metal. 

“Why does our school have to choose a place ten hours away?” Her friend’s voice was slightly muffled by Archie’s neck as she pressed her face against his skin, curling closer into the heat of his body. 

The boy smiled at his small girlfriend wrapped in his lap. His fingers began to play with the loose threads of her sweater. “I don’t really know. I think it's a tradition.” 

“It is.” Betty piped up without looking up from the jumble of words in front of her. “It’s been going on forever, our parents went too. I think it started as a sort of ‘this is the last time you ever see these people again, time to spend a million hours together’ sorta thing and has been going on since.” 

“Man, I’m going to miss everyone.” Archie laid his head against the raven locks pressed against his chest. Betty could almost feel his heartbreak over his childhood dying before his eyes. She felt it herself. To be away from everything she’s ever known excited and frightened her at the same time. To not see the red flame of Archie’s hair and Veronica’s shiny white pearls every day would be a heartache of its own. But then she remembered. Remembered a demon that haunted her everyday, someone she can’t wait to put some space between. And she caught his stabbing blue eyes from across the bus. 

“I won’t.” 

There was something missing the second her sneakers pressed into the grass of the Andrews’ yard. She felt it in her bones. Something off, something wrong but she couldn’t place it quite yet. It had been bothering her all day, even distracting her in class which surprised both her teachers and herself. It was eating away at her thirteen year old heart and she was almost afraid it would consume her whole if she didn’t figure out what it was. She tapped her toes in wait, biting deeper into her already bleeding lip as she concentrated on the welcome mat below her. “Hey there, Betty.” The familiar sound hugged her heart as she instantly smiled up at the man above her. 

“Hi, is Archie here?” At the mention of his son, Fred Andrews eyes downcasted away from hers, something flashing past the brown before turning towards her green once more. 

“Yes, he should be upstairs in his room,” He spoke hesitantly as he shuffled in his boots. Her heart rate quickened at the sight of the usual overly happy man so suddenly hesitant. She knew something was wrong. It made her palms sweat and pulse feelings of determination through her veins, she needed to know. “But Betty,” He looked up at her as she climbed the third stair, “N-Nevermine, go ahead.”

 She held his eye contact for a moment longer. Releasing a deep sigh before nodding and continuing up into Archie’s room. Her soft knuckles tapped against the door. She didn’t know what to expect when he opened her into his room but a tear running down his freckles was not one of them. “Oh Arch!” She pushed into him, holding his frame in a way to comfort him but he only shrugged her off. 

“Go away, Betty.” His voice was cold and stern. Something she had never heard from him. It struck her harder than she would care to admit. Her heart springs were torn in one glance. She felt weak under his stare, like she could curl up into a ball and cry a river till she’d shriveral into herself. But she had no time for that, so she did what was her only known coping mechanism and drove her nails deep into the scarred skin of her delicate palms. Something was different and she had to figure it out or it would kill her faster than her heartache. 

“What happened?” Her green eyes grew awaiting his response but his just bore into the ceiling above him as he lay in his disheveled bed. “Arch,” She took careful steps closer to him before sitting on the corner of his bed. “What is it?” She released her fingers, seeing her nails only drew a drop of blood on her left palm she carefully laid her right against the fabric of his plaid pajamas. 

His head just shook. She could see the tears beginning to cloud his valley of chocolate. She nearly felt her throat close at the sight of his pain. A vine of thrones wrapped around her fragile heart as she choked back a heat of tears. After a moment, he spoke in a soft whisper that she lost to the soft sounds of his music bouncing around the walls. 

“What?”

“Jughead.” That’s when it hit her. The piece of the puzzle she had been in search for the moment she awoke that morning. Jughead was missing. He was the reason for her distress, something she couldn’t fully wrap her head around at that moment. 

“What about him?” 

“He-” Archie choked. He reached for his pillow to the right, wrapping it around his head as he screamed as if that would strip all his pain away. “He moved to Southside Middle School.” The statement was muffled but she heard it loud in clear. It bounced around her mind and rattled her heart strings but why? It was Jughead Jones, the same boy she wished would be out of her life the moment he stepped in it so why does it feel like her whole world was shattering around her?

The rain hit a little after the fourth hour. It began soft though light drops lead to flying bullets within the passing minutes. It brought strong wind with it. Wind that began to rock the bus as if it were a child playing with a toy. Betty was walking back from the bathroom when the first wave hit. It knocked her off her feet and into a warm lap to her right. She squealed, along with most of her class, as the bus swerved. She felt the heat of fingertips wrap around her waist to prevent her from falling as their driver, Mr. Murphy, straightened them on the road while mumbling a sincere apology to the frightened faces staring holes deep into his back. The rough calluses gliding along the skin that peeked out between her sweater and her skirt almost felt familiar as it sent a ripple of chills along the back of her neck. Her nose was pressed against the soft cloth of their shirt, she took a shaky breath before she was engulfed in a wave of cigarettes and something resembling mint. 

She felt the bus take a sharp stop before a light, pushing her deeper into the stranger and making her hand fly to their chest. That’s when her fingers curled around the fridge leather. She felt as if she was dunked into an ocean of deadly bitter water at the realization registering through her mind. The way his breath coated her neck nearly made her choke on her heart pounding up her throat. “Hey there, Betts.” He’s chuckle made a fire erupt through her veins. 

“Jughead.” Her voice was flat as she desperately tried to hide her reaction but she knew by the smirk pulling at his lips that he could see right past it; something he always had a talent for despite her countless labored attempts throughout the years. His eyes burned into her lips as she released a scoff. Her golden green iries rolled into the back of her head as she began to push away from him and into the aisle before she was rocked back into his hard frame by a passing student. “Ow-”

“What the fuck!” Her body paralized in his lap in fear that his yell was directed at her but when she looked back into his face she watched as his stormy eyes scanned the person behind her. “Watch where you’re going, fuckhead.” Her elegantly long lashes blinked quickly at the boy in bewilderment. Her pupils examined his lips inches away from her, watching the way his mouth moved with his words. She noticed something she hadn’t remembered from his childhood face, a deep scar across his upper lip with one faintly similar on his cheekbone. Betty dove head first into the reality of the situation the second she heard a shaky apology sound from the person before they fled to the back of the bus. 

“Jughead! You don’t have to be so mean, God!” She straightened once again against his frame. Instantly, pulling father away when he turned back to her with a confused gaze. 

“Betty, they threw you into me and you’re mad at me ,” his stare felt cold against the flames burning behind the forest of green captured in her eyes. The curl of her ponytail swayed against her skin as she shook her head. With using as little assistance from him as she could, the girl stood above him. Staying a moment longer to watch the waves crashing behind his royal blue. She didn’t know why but she felt some part of her wish to swim among his white wash. Though she must have been there for a moment too long because she felt the familiar touch of her pearl bearing friend wrap around her bicep and pull her into her seat with hushed whispers. 

Yet even when she parted from his sea she could still feel the beckoning waves pushing against her back. 

When Betty returned to her room fifteen minutes later, her hands were nearly drenched crimson. They shook furiously as she battled the tears threatening to escape her reddening eyes. She collapsed against her bedroom door as Archie's words bruised the walls of her skull as they beat around her mind. She pleaded to herself to stop crying, begging to understand he’s just hurt from the sudden loss of Jughead and yet it didn’t stop the cuts from stinging. 

She was overwhelmed with an emotion her youthful heart couldn’t comprehend. Her chest was heavy, slowly tightening with each breath to the point where she began to hear herself nearly weeze. Her face was sticky with each tear, stained with her light coat of mascara she painted on the morning of just for the boy that wrecked her heart only minutes before. 

Although her vision was blurry, Betty noticed a small glare of light flash from the corner of her room. She quickly whipped her tears, smearing drops of dried blood across her rosy cheeks in the process, as she began to make her way to her windowsled. Underneath the glow of the sunset, the golden haired girl made out a silver chain necklace placed neatly between the cushions of a small velvet box. She smiled slightly at the charm, a pair of pastel ballet slippers. With her trembling fingers, Betty pulled the necklace from its bed and dangled it before her now dried eyes. Her heart jumped at the word written along the back of the shoes. 

‘Betts’

“B!” Veronica flashed her manicured nails in front of Betty’s eyes. 

“What?!” She jolted awake from her tranance, blinking several times to register the scene before her. Archie slept across from their seat with his flaming red hair laid disheveled against the bumping window. His body was curled into itself as he clung onto her baby blue blanket for warmth. She smiled at the innocence still plastered along his face, something she believed would forever lay between his freckles. Then Veronica pressed against her body as they sat in the seat to the right. Her extraordinarily dark eyes made Betty’s skin itch with the intensity she held. “What?” She spoke to the words she knew her best friend was holding behind her large irises. 

“What in God’s name was that?” 

“What?” Betty whined as she began to hear herself sound like a broken record. 

“You and that gang member with the weird name! Milkjug or maybe Carthead- I don’t know but Betty seriously! ” She screeched to the world, throwing her hands up in an exaggerated manner. Leave it to Veronica to attract all the attention from the people surrounding her. Betty nearly coiled her body at the glances that flew her way. She hissed when she caught his, turning her head quickly before he swept her away with his infuriatingly striking blue waves. 

“Veronica,” She glared at the girl so strongly she swore she nearly flinched. 

“Sorry,” Her black polish flew to her lips as if it would take back what she said. “Sorry, but seriously, B, what is going on between you two?” Her words were muffled behind her hands in such a way Betty swore she would laugh if it were any other conversion that didn’t involve the boy that bore the responsibility of being her nightmare come to life. 

“Ew, V,” Her face scrunched in the disgust that ran through her body at the thought of Jughead being anything more than her personal Satan, “He’s disgustingly rude. I hate him.” 

“No you don’t.” Betty watched a smile creep along her friend's face as her hands lowered back down to her raven locks, playing with the ends of each strand. 

“What do you mean?” Betty backed further away from her friend and against the side of the bus.  She hates him that’s why she felt her heart race with the blood pumping through her veins furiously, there can’t be any other explanation. Elizabeth Anne Cooper will always hate Forsythe Pendleton Jones III in every universe for it was written in the stars. 

“Betty, I see the way that you look at him,” Her friend's smile grew wider at the confusion, and maybe even a flash of anger, that painted across her face. “Look, there’s a fine line between love and hate.” 

“What the heck is that supposed to mean?” She straightened with each word. Her fingers flew to her charm, letting it dance it's cold metal against her skin to distract her from the urge to fall back into her old habits. Her head shook as she scoffed at the very thought that she wouldn’t hate the boy that has tortured the blonde her whole life. “I have always hated Jughead. He’s a complete asshole and, God, the fact that you would even think that is unbelievable.” 

“Ok, alright.” Veronica’s hands flew up in a defensive manner. Though even when her smile had faded from her face, Betty could still see the amusement in her friend’s eyes and knew she still wasn’t convinced. Her pink polish ran through the strands of the curl at the end of her ponytail as she sighed deeply while reaching for the soft touch of her book. After a moment had passed, while Betty was engulfed in the words before her once more, she heard a whisper to her left, “I’m just saying sometimes we mask love with hate because we’re afraid of what that feeling means.”

It was different without him. She could feel it every second of the day, even when she tried to push it down deep with the rest of her blocked out emotions it would always be there to nag lightly on her heart strings. It sent the once trio, now fractured duo, into a spiral of feelings the newly teenagers couldn’t comprehend. 

Archie was in non-stop pain. She could even see it from her ledge when he played catch with his father in the front yard. When there would be moments where his hand almost twitched to throw it to his right- where his former best friend would always stand with a slightly too small mit. Or sometimes when they would be eating pizza, with the grease staining their faces as it dripped from their lips, and there would always be those three leftover slices; she felt it too when she stared at her pepperoni pieces growing cold- the same ones she would peel off for him. 

She hated herself for missing him. She even almost convinced herself that she didn’t actually miss the boy himself, that wouldn’t make sense as he always taunted her every second of the day, but she just missed the way Archie was when he was in their lives. But even then she was left unsatisfied and still unconvinced.

It felt like a spirit that clung to her when she was with the freckled boy of her dreams, always watching from the shadows and hanging in the hearts of the two teens. They both felt it. The world had turned on its axis. There was always an empty space for him, always a leftover, always a comment that hung heavy in the air. Yet they never spoke about it, not since the day of the news, almost as if they were afraid to rip the newly stitched wound. 

The storm was growing stronger. It whistled past the bus, almost laughing at the fear reflecting off the teenagers faces. The deeply rooted trees swayed, rocking back and forth to the music of the rain. The windows were drenched, blocked by the harsh downpour to the point where Mr. Murphy could barely see the lights of the surrounding cars let alone the passing signs. 

Everyone was scared. The fear was crowding the bus so much so you could almost smell it, yet no one spoke. There was no noise other than the storm’s voice as its pounding shook the walls. Archie was now awake. His knuckles grew white as he clung to her blanket as if in search for something to ground him. Betty felt Veronica’s hand slip between hers, making her nearly flinch at the touch against her scars. The worry that her friend would notice crept through her lungs but by the way her dark eyes stated shut, almost in a praylike way, she knew she hadn’t. 

It was only when the bus slid to a dangerously sharp hault that her friend stopped mumbling underneath her breath and looked up. “Sorry!” Mr. Murphy yelled over the rain, disturbing the silence, “We can’t continue, I’m sorry Mrs. Davis.” The middle aged man spoke to her teacher with wide eyes. 

“What do you mean?” The woman questioned. 

“I mean it’s too dangerous. We should have stopped hours ago,” His eyes turned back to the road as he began to move the bus once again, “there’s a motel a mile out.” 

“Are you saying we have to stay in a filthy motel?!” Cheryl, the head cheerleader, screeched flipping her fire red locks to the side. She had shattered the silence of the students as every mouth began to move in panic, crowding the bus in noise. Veronica tightened her grip as she looked towards Betty with a frown hanging from her lips as her eyes darted to Archie. She knew what she was asking and with a slight nod, the warmth of her friend's hand left hers as she fell into her boyfriend's embrace. Without anything to hold, Betty’s fingers instinctively flew to the chain wrapped around her neck, gently stroking the name embedded along the metal. She sometimes wishes she could thank the person who gave her the necklace. Who changed her life for the better as they gave her a healthy way to cope with her emotions and distracted her fingers away from her palms. There was one thought that crossed her mind years ago, that maybe she knew the person but it quickly faded faster than it came. 

He wasn’t capable of kindness. 

“Alright, listen up please,” Mrs. Davis’s fragile voice had no effect against the crowd. Her hands shook as she tried to gain attention but god bless her polite nature she couldn’t. That was until a certain demon of darkness stood from his seated position in the back. The world went quiet under his voice as if it were made for him to rule just as he did with the gang from the wrong side of the tracks. “T-Thank you, Mr. Jones.” Betty watched as he shrugged off the graduate like he did with everything else. “Yes, Mrs. Blossom, we will be staying at the motel as there is no other option. We will continue the trip in the morning once the storm has cleared.” 

Betty was in freshman Algebra seated in the most attentive desk in the classroom, front middle. A place where one could see the board perfectly while also grasping every word and action that Mrs. Allie performed. Reggie Mantle, along with his friend Moose Mason, were thrown beside her; an arrangement the teacher hoped would help the boys failing grades. 

“Do you remember that weird loner that always wore that pathetic crown beanie?” Her eyes rose from her paper as her head perked up slightly at the words the black haired boy spoke, he was never really good at whispering.  

“Yeah, what about him?” Moose had always had a deeper voice than the other boys as he had hit puberty the summer going into eighth grade leaving him with a slight mustache along his upper lip, something that he had always been proud of. 

“I heard he’s now in that snake gang in the south side.” Her hand slipped against the paper. Her knuckles were white as the lead of her number two pencil snapped beneath her strength. It must have been loud because she almost heard Reggie speak behind her but her mind was rattling.  

“I-“ Her voice shook as she rose from her seat fleeing into the empty hallway. She clung to her necklace for dear life to stop the tremble in her fingertips as her teacher yelled for her to return to class.

That was the only day Elizabeth Cooper ever got a detention. 

Mrs. Davis took nearly half an hour to check into ‘Roy’s Motel and Cafe’. The place looked borderline dangerous from the outside. The sign hung upside down, the metal was rusting from earlier downpours and most likely age from the way the wood splintered. The letters ‘Y’S OTE CA’ were the only ones that shined a piercing red, the others were dead and dark. Through the rain, Betty could only count one car; a brown pick up truck, it’s trunk overflowing with rain water as the storm still brewed. 

“Woah!” Mrs. Davis nearly slipped up the steps as she reentered the bus. All eyes flew to the woman cloaked in water. Her glasses were smudged, wet with spots clouding her poor vision. Brown curls stuck to every part of her face, some even reaching her mouth as she spoke, “Alright,” she huffed a sigh. “Here are your keys. Everyone should be in pairs, please choose only ONE person to be your buddy.” Betty’s eyes caught the basket of keys hanging from blue triangle chains before she looked back to her two friends. She smiled a half smile as she knew she was the odd man out. She would forever be, whether it was Jughead or Veronica, Archie would never choose her and she accepted that a while ago. 

“B-” Veronica stretched out her hand. 

“Don’t worry about it, V,” She gently held her friend's hand. “I’ll just go with Ethel or something.” Veronica slightly nodded with a concerned smile before standing with Archie once Mrs. Davis called for the students to gather their things, yet Betty stayed sitting as she prayed for someone good to room with her. 

“Alright come get your keys,” Her teacher called to the class. The bus was filled with the noise of footsteps crowding the small aisle. Once Betty reached the front just as she was going to grab a key, the woman gently patted her shoulder, “Oh, Betty! What a god sent would you mind helping me for a little on the plan now that t-the whole trip was j-just ruined!”

 The blonde watched as her brown specks filled with tears threatening to fall before quickly catching a glimpse of the rest of her class running through rain puddles into their warm, dry rooms. Her cursed polite manner was triggered by the fragile state of the woman in front of her. “Of course, Mrs. Davis.” She smiled tightly as she placed her left hand on her teachers shoulder while her right went straight to the charm. 

Betty sat in detention with her english book: Of Mice and Men placed wide open in front of her. After an hour, the words became large black spots staining the semi-ripped pages. Her mind could no longer comprehend the sentences below, which just added to the overflowing anger she had been holding in for more than a year. The sorrow had come and gone, now the forever lying hatred was back. 

She convinced herself to no longer feel a shred of pain for the now Serpent. It was his choice to ruin his life. To become his father. To be the high school dropout drunk that slept on bar tables. She couldn’t control that. She couldn’t help him and, god, did that annoyed her to no end. But at the same time, it’s not like she was going to go out of her way to. He left her- no- he left Archie. He’s not her friend, he never was, so why does she care so much about what he does?

Amidst all the fury, she had no time to comprehend any emotion for the boy besides anger, which only grew by each passing minute she spent trapped in a punishment she really didn’t deserve because in reality it was his fault she got detention. It was his fault she ran out of class. It was his fault that her mother would be outraged the second she came home from school two hours late, let alone got in trouble with her teachers. It was his fault that Archie changed. It was his fault that she hated him. 

Everything was Jughead Jones’s fault. 

The next hour was long. The sun set, though it was hardly noticeable through the violent storm other than the fact that everything went black. Betty could no longer see Roy’s sign, nor the large run down building for the darkness had consumed it all. “Oh, Betty, dear!” Mrs. Davis’s voice turned her back to the valley brown eyes in front of her, “Thank you so much for your help. You’ve been a doll, as always.” Her smile pulled at her wrinkles as she clapped her hands excitedly. 

“Of course, Mrs. Davis.”

“Now you get off this hell train and go to sleep, why don’t you?” She felt the lady’s long nails sweep behind her back and gently push her closer to the front of the bus. She assumed by the look on her face, her teacher could read her concern. “Oh, child, don’t worry about me I’ll be in a minute just gotta grab all my things.” 

Betty nodded a sweet grin as she stepped down into the flying bullets. Her feet nearly slipped as she ran through a puddle, drenching her shoes and erupting a span of chills to travel up her bare legs. She felt a wave of anxiety as if it were in every drop that drenched her blonde locks, covering her from head to toe. She stopped as her breathing became choppy and her body began to freeze as she was tossed by the aggressive winds. The realization that she had nowhere to go was colder than each drop of rain. Her vision was blocked and blackened by the night sky that held no moon. 

Betty caught hold of her necklace and grasped it tightly, despite the frigid temperature it carried, as she ran straight into the bleak unknown. She felt the corner of her lip form into a half grin as her fingertips found the bumpiness of the motel walls. While using only her sense of touch, the girl discovered a cut off, where a door sat. She could have cried then and there if she wasn’t afraid of the possibility that her tears would turn to ice if she did. 

Before she could think further as to who laid behind the door, Betty gripped the frozen knob and fell into the warm carpet. She could feel her teeth grinding against each other as every nerve in her body templed. The door slamming shut by the wind, followed by a series of earth shaking thunder, made her flinch. 

With what little strength she felt in her, the girl lifted herself from the ground. Her eyes flew from every corner of the room; coming up with only the deshleved sheets of the single bed placed in the middle of the small room, the corner of a large opened duffel bag and a pile of black wet clothes but other than that it looked vacant as there was no one around. 

Only a short moment later did Betty realize she had missed something, the light streaming in from the bathroom door to her right, she could see a shadow of a person shuffling along the entrance. Her heart sped as she watched the knob turn slowly. Her breathing grew rapid as she prayed they would be a familiar face. 

God, did she wish she could take that back the second she caught his eye. 

“Elizabeth, go get the newspaper from the driveway. I want to read my article in print.” Her mother’s voice disrupted her cheerios. She groaned silently to herself, still afraid the woman would hear her, as she filled her mouth with another spoonful before excusing herself from the table. 

Her hands instinctively pulled her robe tighter around her waist as she stepped into the morning sun. It warmed her skin, dancing through the loose blonde curls swaying along her shoulders with each step. Her bright pink Barbie slippers, the same ones she got for christmas too many years ago, came to a screeching halt in front of her mother’s newest work.  

He was plastered across the front page. His eyes, even in the black and white photo, pierced her lungs making it incredibly hard to breathe. She aggressively grabbed the paper, quickly reading the headline with a frown: ‘Southside’s Jughead Jones Becomes Youngest Serpent Leader at the Age of Sixteen’ “What the fuck!” Her scream brought her the undesired attention of her passing neighbors, something her mother would surely curse her for. “S-Sorry.” She shook as she shuffled back inside. 

“Did you get it, Elizabeth?” Her mother called from the kitchen. 

“No, someone must have taken it,” She easily lied through her teeth as she pushed the paper deeper inside the sleeve of her robe. “I’ll be upstairs studying for history.” Her slippers almost tripped along the carpet of her stairs as she stormed into her room. Her legs gave out as she fell dead against her mattress, laying on her elbows as she pulled the article out. 

His picture wasn’t his best. It didn’t capture the familiar glint of mischievousness hidden in the ocean of his annoyingly stunning eyes. Nor the irritating pull of his lips as they laid flat, almost tugged into a frown if the picture had been taken a second later. It was the first time she had seen his face since the beginning of eighth grade. He grew, changed, so much she barely recognized the boy before her. The thing that struck her the hardest was his hair. Now free of the chambered prison that was his worn, knitted beanie, the same one that used to remind her of the princes in her stories growing up. The raven curls were untamed, flying every which way as if he had just combed his fingers through the ocean of his now longer locks. One even hung over his right eye, almost blocking the view of his narrowed iries. 

“Elizabeth.” Her mother’s voice was faint from behind her door. 

“Uh-” Betty jumped from her comforters. “One second, mom!” Her feet flew around her room as her mind raced. She gulped at the movement of her doorknob and in the heat of the moment threw the newspaper between her mattress and bedframe, hiding it from her mother's view as she walked into the room.

“I thought you were studying.”

“Betty?” His voice was rough, tired even, as his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. Her eyes caught the movement of one of his wet curls falling across his face, something that caused her fingers to twitch in annoyance but by the look of him he seemed unfazed, as if that curl was always one of rebelling against the way of his hair. Her view traveled down to his arms, noting the fact that he stupidly only wore a pair of sweatpants in this bitter weather. Her jaw nearly dropped at the sight of all the ink covering his once pure skin. The tattoos bore no color other than black as they wrapped around each of his wrist and stopped at the top of his shoulders. She tried to catch every detail of each of the artworks but got distracted by the long, vicious snake that curled around his right bicep, piercing her skin with its narrowed eyes. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

Jughead’s voice broke her stare as she forced herself to look at her slightly purple fingertips. Even amidst all the cold, she still felt her already pink cheeks flare under his gaze. “Um-” Her emerald eyes connected with his royal. “You know what nevermind, I’ll find another room.” She heard her sneaker squish against the carpet as she spun around, gripping the door before having it swing open with a forceful slam against the wall while barely missing her in the process. 

“Betty!” She felt the heat of his hand against her wet stomach as he pushed her away before he closed the door to block the cold of the night from whipping in. He laid his back against it, watching her with a subtle shake of his head. She watched his chest heaved up and down as he breathed deeply before he spoke again, “Just tell me what you’re doing here.”

“D-Doesn’t matter, J-Jughead, I’m l-leaving,” She glared her eyes, more towards herself for being so cold after the gush of wind that made her stutter under the gaze of Satan, as she began to push his bare chest from the door. “Move!” She yelled, it sounded so much like her six year old self it nearly stunned him. 

“You’re fucking stupid, Cooper.” It came out as a statement as if it were the truth about Riverdale High’s very own valedictorian, and maybe it was at that moment. “You’re going to die in that storm.” 

“I-It’s better than b-being stuck in here w-with Lucifer’s favorite s-span.” Her fingers grabbed around his inked skin in hopes of tearing him from the wood but nothing happened. She watched his face remanded like stone, unfazed by her feeble attempts. 

“Ha. Ha.” Betty almost felt her heart want to laugh at his mocking manner. The way he could make her feel like she was a little blonde child again with fingers too chubby for her hands. But another part, a stronger part of her felt the urge to punch him in the face. The same face that disappeared from her life only to reappear completely different as if it were no big deal. 

“J-Jughead, I’m s-serious get out of m-my way.” Her shoulders squared as she crossed her drenched arms, nearly shaking at the feeling of the wet cloth sticking further into her frigid skin. 

“And I’m serious you’re not going anywhere.” He spoke in a tone that seemed all too natural to him, a demanding tone. 

“I-I’m not one of your S-Serpents,” Betty felt the heat of his glare sink into her and she caught herself almost wishing she could wrap herself in it to rid the cold from her veins. “Y-You can’t boss me a-around.” 

“Elizabeth, you’re not going anywhere.” Her stabbing green eyes darted to the door knob below his right hand before meeting his stare then back to the door knob. Her hand flew to it, almost wrapping her fingers around it before she felt the heat of his touch along her waist then the swing of her hair flew through the air as he threw her weight over his shoulder as if she was nothing more than a feather. 

“F-Forsythe!! Put. M-Me. Down.” Each word was pounded against his skin as her slightly tainted purple fists beat against the muscles straining in his back. She watched as his feet shuffled across the carpet before he took a sharp stop nearly forcing her into his butt if it hadn’t been for her fast reflexes. “G-Get your butt o-out of my face!” 

“Get your face out of my butt!” 

“Y-You know what!” Betty squirmed as best she could against his strength to wiggle herself out of his grasp. 

“Stop! No-Stop it!” She was as stubborn as her younger self, if not more, in so many ways. It excited him yet infuriated every nerve that coursed through his body. “Betty!” He dropped her down onto the bathroom title, holding her a moment longer to stabilize her tired legs. “You’re going in the shower.” 

“T-The hell, I a-am not.” As the words fell from her clenching teeth, a shiver ran down her body so intense she felt her knees buckle and the touch of his hands around her waist to hold her.

“Betty, you can’t even go three words without shivering, your lips are purple and you look like death.” 

“T-Thanks.” The sarcastic comment fell from her lips before she even registered the thought through her mind. She tried to mock a smile but failed when the next wave of chills engulfed her body, so intensely she felt her body go slack before his arms lifted her into his chest. She dropped her head against his warmth feeling defeated in a battle she couldn’t even find a reason to fight for. “I-I don’t have a-any other c-clothes.” She felt the touch of his skin against her lips as she spoke. 

“You’ll take some of mine.” The vibrations of his voice rippled through her. She only bobbed her head to a pathetic nod. His footsteps carried them over to the shower. Her just about numb fingers wrapped around his neck to secure her hold as he leaned forward, turning the water on before straightening again. “Um- do you need help in the- uh-or.” 

“N-No, no it’s o-okay.” Betty felt him slowly let her down, holding tightly to her shivering frame before backing away. She felt a flutter in her stomach at the concern painted across his features, making her nearly jump at the awakened feeling before remembering it was caused by her sickly state (certainly not from his suddenly gentle hands and soft words). She hung her head watching the door shut, “T-Thank you.” She whispered before it fully closed. 

Betty’s stomach turned at the date shining back at her from the screen in her hand. Three months. That’s all she has left with this limited town before she was thrown out into a world where she could be more than just a housewife with a white picket fence. More than just a woman who peaked in high school with her cheerleading career only to end up pregnant with the star football jocks baby; the same woman her mother was and the same woman her mother wanted her to be. 

But that also meant three months left of Archie’s beaming smile as he ran in from the football field, or Veronica’s soft handholds as they walked through the hall. Her heart squeezed at the sight of the very people she’ll miss the most walking into the Blue and Gold. “Hey.” Betty’s voice was soft as she leaned back in her chair, pulling her strained fingertips away from the keyboard and against the curve of her ballet charm. 

“Hey B! Did you hear-“ A ding-like bell sounded through the school, bouncing around the walls as it leaked through the speakers interrupting the girl bared in pearls to signal an announcement from Riverdale High’s principal, Mrs. McCormack. 

“Good morning students, as most of you have heard, due to Southside High’s shutdown last week we will be inviting a group of transfer students from their school with open arms and large hearts. I expect you all to show them your Riverdale spirit. Thank you, Go Bulldogs!” 

Betty’s heart stopped, cold and dead as she began to feel her body shut down against the chair. “No.” Her chest was caving in, someone was knotting her lungs into a pretzel and she couldn’t do anything to stop them, just sitting there paralyzed as her breaths grew choppier. She caught the eye of the boy who held her fragile heart between his slippery fingers. Why didn’t he seem as affected as her? Why did he still hold his frame high with an almost joyish energy as if he didn’t just hear the life wrenching news? 

She began to nearly believe she was living a nightmare, another one that revolved around the beanie boy in black, till Veronica joked, “Come on, I want to see some of hot gang members!” Her smooth palms laid against Betty’s scars as her polished fingers wrapped around hers, holding the blonde tightly and in doing so reminding her of the reality of the world around her. She wasn’t drowning in her own mind’s imagination but actually walking down the hall between her two best friends awake and attentive. 

Though she felt a small part of her wish she actually was sleeping in the comfort of her own bed with Jughead Jones walking through the shadows of her nightmares rather than the hallways of her school. 

The front doors were crowded by her classmates with their curiosity of the scene before them nearly plaguing the air. It certainly was a rare sight to see. A Southsider on the dirt of the North. A stain of black leather to the color pallet that was their wardrobes. A contrast of black on white. A gang of demons hanging along the clouds of heaven. 

Betty focused on her shoes, never lifting her head, and if it weren’t for Veronica’s hold she would have fallen into the unspoken circle surrounding the outsiders as they had reached the front of the crowd. “Jughead, where do we go?” Her ears peaked to the foregin voice speaking the devil’s name against their tongue. She cast her view up to find the source, a small pink haired girl, no older than she was, dressed in something her mother would glare at. She watched as her amber eyes fell upon the person to her right making the blonde turn her head. She almost choked at the sight of the boy who now preferred leather over flannel, bitter cigarettes over juicy burgers, and tattoos over knit hats. She glared into his skin, the fire now escaping her body through the simple gaze of her emerald eyes. He must have felt it for the blue of his ocean iries finally connected with hers for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime. 

She felt her lungs inflame at the contact, making each breath harder to release as the fire burned her. She watched as the shock faded from his features to pull back the notorious mask of his sinister smirk. “Elizabeth Cooper.” His lips widened at the way her jaw clenched at the sound of her full name. 

“Forsythe.” Two can play at that game. 

The eyes of her peers itched at her delicate skin as they focused on the moment of a demon and an angel in contact. His hand went to scratch his cheek as he released a deep chuckle, that in itself made her blood boil to a near fatal temperature as her sight caught the silver littering his fingers, with one ring standing out from the rest- a spiked crown with the hint of what she would assume as dried blood staining the edge of it. 

His footsteps pounded against the walls as he stalked closer. “How you been, Betts?” Betty felt the need to lift her head to his stare at the difference in height. It felt strange to no longer have his blue within eye level of her green. She watched as he bent lower, pushing past the standard policy for personal space, until his lips nearly brushed against her ear. He whispered, “Did our hopelessly oblivious red headed friend finally confess his love for you?” His breath tickled her neck with each word, erupting a surge of chills to blanket her body. “Has your fairytale come true yet? Are you still the pure Betts I used to know or did he take that last prom?” 

Betty felt her cheeks flare at the stab he knew would strike her heart. She shouldn’t have let him win, to pierce her that deep, but her thoughts were spinning so fast in her mind she swore she saw black dots clouding her vision. She could feel her throat tighten at all the words she wished to scream at his sly smile but only two fell from her tongue, very carefully and very calming. “Fuck you.” 

The cream color of her skin reddened after soaking under the scorched water dripping slightly from the rusting showerhead as she stepped onto the cold title. Betty’s eyes scattered the small room for something to dry the water trailing down the young lines of her body before she spotted the stack towels below the sink. The soft cloth tightly wrapped around her frame slightly calmed her heartbeat bringing her back to her bedroom with the warm blankets that hugged her in the way she sometimes wished a person would before the feeble light above her flickered bringing her back to the muggy chamber that only led to another prison of hell.

“Jughead?” The vibrations of her soft call were almost blocked by the door that separated the two of them, but he still jumped from the bed. His tongue felt too big for his mouth, rubbing awkwardly against his teeth as his breath quickened at the thought of Betty Cooper behind that door. The same door only a mere five feet away from him. He cursed himself for the thoughts stringing through his mind. Trying to erase them with the memories of everything he hated about her, yet to his dismay his mind was left blank. The rattle of the loose handle tore the silence cloaking the dimly lit room. “Hey, Jughead?” His gaze flew to her as she leaned her head out of the bathroom. 

“Hm?” He didn’t trust his voice at the moment as he hummed softly while rolling on the balls of his heels, looking anywhere but her and the undeniable beauty she carried effortlessly. It beamed brighter when she was bare of the pastels and pinching ponytails but don’t get him wrong she was always gorgeous but she shone differently in that moment. He felt it was obnoxiously rude of her to be angelic all the damn time. It was overwhelming to so much as be in her presence. 

“Um- Can I-” She hated the awkwardness sticking to air. So what if he showed her kindness one time in the millions of encounters they have had over the years. One time doesn’t make up for the others. “Look can you just give me a damn pair of clothes already?” She watched his chest heave an almost relieved sigh and for a moment she questioned whether he had felt it too.

He fought a smile as his brain awoke, signaling the rest of his body to move at it’s normal slack paste before he stopped and straightened to his full height while crossing his arms over his bare chest. He couldn’t help the smirk that crept across his lips, “Eh, I change my mind. You don’t get the luxury of wearing my clothes.” 

“Psst, excuse me? Where’s the luxury in smelling like burnt cigarettes?” She, too, crossed her arms. Catching the way his view dropped down from her emerald iries. She almost swore she saw his Adam's apple flinch as he gulped before returning his gaze to her forest green eyes. She couldn’t help the pride swimming around her heart strings.  

“Betty Cooper, I would be nice to me if I were you.” He regained his smug composure as he fell back onto the bed. The squeak of his sudden body weight bounced around the walls in an ear piercing manner. His arms held his head as he lay between the thin sheets. “I am the one who saved your life.” 

“Uh- You did not!” She almost felt her foot twitch as the urge to stomp coursed through her body. Him and his pathetic smugness were going to kill her and she signed her death sentence the second she fell into the motel room. God, did she wish it would have been another face, any other face, but of course it had to be his. Did she do something to piss off the universe or did it just love to torture her with his presence?

Jughead breathed a laugh as a genuine smile broke across his face. There she was, though she looked almost completely different and certaining taller, his favorite pigtailed blonde was still there. The same girl he could get a rise out of in seconds. 

Betty groaned a sigh as she hurried out of the shelter of the bathroom in nothing but a tight, short towel. Her footsteps were printed along the carpet as water still dripped from her skin. That’s when she heard him choke on his laugh. She stood straight, holding his eye contact as she spoke, “I’ll just get them myself then.” 

His mouth went dry as she bent over his bag. This couldn’t be happening. The rules of their game favored her right now and he hated it. Hated the way her wet curls clung to her soft collarbone. The way he felt envious of each droplet that traveled the lines of her creamy skin before disappearing passed the towel. The way he felt a part of himself wish to hold her as tightly as the material she clung to. 

Betty’s hands rummaged through the pile of things packed in his duffel bag. Quickly grabbing the nearest shirt as she drove her fingers deeper in search of a pair of pants. She began to feel frustrated, pulling her lips into a scowl before lifting her gaze to his, catching the way his eyes were quick to turn away from her as if she hadn’t felt the heat of his stare as she guiltily basked in the pride that danced through a small, very tiny part of her heart the whole time. “Where are your pants?” 

“I’m wearing them.” His head fell against his arm as he turned back to her with a grin slipping across his face. 

“Jughead.” She closed her eyes to hold back the waves of frustration flowing through her body before she spoke as calmly as she could, “You’re telling me you only packed one pair of pants for a multi-day overnight trip.” 

Her struggle to keep her anger at bay only fed the amusement swimming through the ocean captured in his eyes. His grin spread wider, flashing his sharp teeth. “Yes, mom-” the roll of her emerald specks made his heart jump in pride, “-I hadn’t planned on packing for a Betty Cooper visit cause if I had I wouldn’t have brought any clothes.”

“You disgust me.” She groaned. With only the soft cloth of his shirt and the tightly wound towel around her frame, she returned to the bathroom, quickly shutting the door with a flare of flames flashing past her iries. Within her absence the mirror had cleared, inviting her to take a second to stare at her bare reflection before quickly turning away. She silently thanked whatever higher power existed, which she highly doubted any did but it’s what people did in these sort of moments, as she felt her underwear had dried to a slight dampness. In a swift minute she had dressed in her thin, blue panties with his shirt to throw over it. As she began to reach for the handle she caught sight of herself in the mirror, once again. But instead of staring at the imperfections littering her skin, the blonde’s mouth gaped at the design painted along the grey fabric. 

Her messy eleven year old handwriting was sprawled across it spelling out the words ‘ I still hate you, Juggie.’ with a sloppy smiley face plastered to the right of his nickname. The i’s were dotted with hearts, something she had made a habit of doing for the better part of seventh grade. She ran her fingers along the black sharpie that faded in color as the years passed. It made her heart squeeze at the thought that after everything he still had it. 

“Betty!” She heard him call from the bed. “As a matter of fact-” She rolled her eyes as she slowly opened the door. She caught the way his stare stayed connected to the brown stains littering the ceiling above him, obvious to her presence. “-you disgust me and-”

“My secret santa gift.” She whispered as she danced its worn feel along her fingertips. 

“Wha-” Jughead lifted his head to find an angel dressed in his shirt, in nothing but his shirt, a gift she had given him a few years prior. Her lips were parted, plump and pink, as they released a series of shaky breaths. Her eye contact stayed strong with his, the emerald complimented the trail of sun kissed freckles placed neatly over the bridge of her small nose. The curls now slightly damp, bounced with more volume, wrapping around her shoulders with some forgotten strands dipping down underneath the rugged cloth of his aged shirt. He wanted to capture this moment with his camera but burning it in his brain would have to do for now. “Oh.”

“You-” Betty paused her racing thoughts. Stopping only to hold the metal charm hanging from her silver necklace as if it would ground her. She stood a moment longer, focusing on the fuzz of the carpet between her toes. “You kept it all these years.” She looked up with wide eyes to meet the crashing waves of his ocean. 

Jughead could have sworn her gaze wrapped around his heart like a warm blanket as he felt his chest sink into a puddle of warmth. His heartbeat was pulsing against his rib cage, nearly ripping through the bones from the strength it held. His view drifted lower, catching the movement of her fingertips. He recognized that charm instantly. The most gentle smile pulled at his chapped lips, “Yeah, I did.” He whispered examining the way the dance seemed so familiar to her fingertips. 

“Why?” It was the softest she’d spoken all night. “Why still… after… why do you even have this?”

“Probably the same reason you still have that, Betts.” 

He relished in the fear that swam so beautifully through the eyes of the Northside. It made the vengeful snake within him feel viperous. It was his new high. A rush through his bones as each step scattered a new group of people walking through the blue painted halls. He had been here for nearly a week and yet they still avoided his gaze as if one look would cast them to an eternity of a lonely life as a stoned statue. 

A force of wind rushed through Jughead’s disheveled curls as he swung the lunchroom doors open. The world went quite at the feel of their slam against the wall vibrating through the room, traveling up the tables and skin of his peers leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He stood before them, indulging in his new found drug. The roar of his chuckle echoed back to him like a loyal boomerang as his signature smirk fell across his olive features. He engulfed the feeling, skipping his gaze through the fields of heads before him till he caught a daring pair staring back. 

His heart beat faster at the sight, it recognized the forest in her eyes, the same one it’s always ached to explore. Betty was sitting across from a raven haired girl only ten feet away from him. She was so close. Closer than all those other times he yearned for the touch of her golden halo as the horns of his devilish ways could never live up to it in the southside. But now it shone in the middle of their cafeteria for the whole school to see and all he could do was stand, entransed by the beauty. 

“Um- sorry, er-um s-sir?” The timid voice, almost the sound of a mouse, came from his right. He broke the contact to turn to find a boy, no taller than his shoulders, holding tightly to his shaky hands. His glasses nearly slipped from his face as he hung his head before the Serpent as if he were bowing a prayer to God. 

“Hm?” He mumbled before spinning his head to her, fearful that she was only a figment of his imagination, and only turning back to the boy after he got the resurement he needed. 

“E-Excuse me.” His face scrunched as his mind tried to wrap around the kid’s words, repeatedly failing as the only thing running through his thoughts was the blonde’s stare tickling his skin. “Um- I have to get by.” Jughead’s features relaxed at the realization, whispering an apologetic sorry that sounded odd coming from his lips before moving away from the doors to lean his frame against the cold wall. 

His gaze fell into hers involuntarily. Catching the way her pink manicure pressed against the plumpness of her lips as if to hide the sly smile spreading across her face, but she couldn’t do anything to stop the way it revealed itself through her eyes. He felt his heart jump and a sickness in his stomach, as if something were flying around inside it. He would like to keep his reputation in place but he couldn’t stop the soft feel of a grin of his own forming against his better judgement. It grew at the sound of her giggle ripping through the crowding conversations surrounding the pair. It was the music of a siren. Making him wonder how something so delicately beautiful could hold the power to wreck his life in an instant. 

“Betty!” The familiar sound of his old friend shattered the moment he wished would have never ended. The strings around his heart snapped at the way he caught her looking at him and the reminder that she would always love the boy next door came crashing into him like a train at full speed. 

It was his fault his heart now lay broken at the hands of Betty Cooper, it’s pieces scattered with the forgotten crumbs of his fellow students' food across the lunch room floor. He should have known better than to let his heart get the best of him. And after years of pain he still fell into her traps as if he didn’t know about the knife reality held above his head. 

A vow slipped from his tongue, falling near silent amongst the chatter of the room. A promise to himself to ensure his foolish heart’s safety. And when he looked up again all he saw was red. 

Jughead’s heart swelled to a size that bordered the line of life and death. His emotions were swinging. Everything he blocked out was overflowing. A bliss he never thought was possible overcame every nerve in his body. 

Betty downcast her fluttering eyelashes. A gentle smile pulled at her pillowed lips nearly covered by the pink of her manicure as her fingers rested across her mouth. “I-” 

The ring of her phone scattered the moment. It buzzed against the bed, sending vibrations to Jughead as he laid next to it. It sat face down before he grabbed it, “Here,” His eyes catching the name Arch bolded cross the screen. That’s when reality finally let the knife fall from above his head, piercing him in the newly healed scars of his heart. “It’s Archie.” He carelessly tossed the device to the end of the bed as the blanket fell across his mind, blocking everything that might resemble happiness from his brain, leaving the world to turn red as a fire lit aflame in his soul. 

“Thanks,” She mumbled under her breath. The beat of her heart raced at the change in the waves captured in his eyes from a gentle white wash to a roaring crash that promised to suffocate anyone who dared swim among it. She almost saw it. The side of himself that wasn’t plagued in darkness. A light in him she has always felt was there. 

Jughead wished she’d hurry to silence the phone as each ring was a reminder of his broken promise to himself. A reminder of the bliss he could never have with her. 

Her fingers quickly swiped across her screen, accepting the pending call. “Uh-“ Her eyes connected with his. A curtain had fallen upon his face. There was nothing but a slight scowl pulling at his features. His eyebrow twitched upward as he shook his head before downcasting his view to the sheets spread across his legs with a low scoff. “H-Hey Arch?” She placed her phone against her face, blocking the words of her friend from reaching Jughead. 

“Betty, hey, did you find a room alright?” She knew her best friend was speaking but all that was running around her mind was the boy in front of her. And the way he made her head spin; one moment he’s soft with a smile, the next a scowl embedded along his lips. But who was she kidding? The only thing between them is the equal hatred; nothing more, nothing less. For there will never be a day she wouldn’t feel a fire in her lungs burn at the sight of him. “Betty?” 

The voice of her friend pulled her back. “Hm-oh, um-“ Her eyes back on him. The flames began to dance in her soul, burning every nerve in her body. They clashed with his thunderous waves. “Yeah, yeah I found a place.” Betty’s voice came out gravelly as the anger reached her vocal cords. 

“That’s good!” She could hear the smile spread across his freckles. 

“Mhm, yep.” She paced across the carpet, ignoring the way her toes stuck to it every other step, as she searched the small room, finding anywhere to look at other than the face of her personal Satan. 

“Is the person you’re with nice?” 

“The nicest.” Her tone hadn’t matched her words as her emerald eyes rolled back into her head. 

“Well I’m so happy you found someone.” She loved her best friend's oblivious mind but sometimes it got to the point where it was almost dangerous for his survival. 

“Me too.” She huffed. 

“Ok, good, We were just calling to check in. Bye-”

“Bye B! We love you!” Veronica sounded from the background. Her voice nearly put out Betty’s flames of anger before her eyes caught sight of all her worst nightmares wrapped in human flesh lying carelessly before her.

“I love you too, bye.” His blood boiled at the goodbye that slipped from her lips. Whether it tasted bitter on his tongue or not, he knew the reality of everything and that was that Betty was forever betrothed to the boy next door and he was forever cursed with a heart that only beat for her. 

“Come on, Cooper, hurry up!” He watched her eyes grow wide as she searched for his voice from above. The green trapped in her iries flared when she caught his blue burning into her skin. He felt the stare of his peers around him, watching the scene fall apart before them but he ignored everyone despite the fact that their eyes felt like ants littering every inch of his body. 

“Go to Hell, Jones.” Although her voice was harsh, the tremble of her soft fingers against the rugged rope revealed the anxiety that raced through her veins. He watched as she carefully placed one foot in front of the other before she peered down once more. The river glistened underneath the evening sun with her shadow creeping along the water as she shifted in place. 

“You won’t do it.” It was a statement; strong against his tongue as it echoed around the cliffs surrounding the senior class, silencing the crowding conversations to only a dull whisper. Leaving the only people in the world to a small number of two, with one dressed in a small one piece that hugged every inch of her body perfectly and the other dressed for winter despite the April sun hanging lazy in a cloudless sky. 

“You really think so?” The world stopped. The earth’s rotation froze to her smile. One that stretched across her fair skin, pushing her checks to a plump red underneath her emerald specks. Her gaze was so strong, stronger than the sun rays beaming into his olive skin, that he couldn’t stop the gasp that slipped through his lips as his heart pumped so hard against his rib cage his lungs had stopped. 

“Mhm,” he hummed, not trusting his voice. Her painted toes backed slowly away from the ledge, holding tightly to both the splintering rope and a pair of fierce blue eyes. “You, Elizabeth Anne Cooper, will. not. do. it.” His raven curls fell across his face as he cocked his head to the side with a sly smile pulling at his littering moles. Determination was colored green as it swam through her iries when the words that fell from his tongue had reached her. 

“Don’t listen to him, Betty!” The world started to move again as the red head swam closer to her, trending just below the cliff. “You got this, I promise.” His words were so reassuring, so golden, it made Jughead want to gag but not Betty. No, for her eyes no longer connected with his blue but instead with the brown specks that glowed with the beaming sun. He hated the way her smile widened and her eyes brightened at the rare occurrence Archie Andrews gave her attention. He felt his stomach turn. 

And before he turned she was running. 

“Get off the bed.” His eyes drifted back to her at her words. His piercing stare felt frigid against her skin as the cold waves trapped in his irises had escaped and engulfed her. “The sooner I go to sleep, the sooner it will be morning and this nightmare will be over.” His scoff made the fire contained in her lungs burn hotter and the heat traveled along her body, reddening the tips of her ears. She swore she felt smoke shooting from them at the clench of his jaw. “Be a gentleman for once in your goddamn life, Jones.” 

“Sweetheart,” his tone wasn’t one she was familiar with.  Her body erupted in goosebumps, her heart beat faster and her breaths grew quicker. The look in his eyes was deadly. It was dark and empty. He sat as a stranger in front of her. She watched the corner of his lips pull upwards at her hesitant step backwards. “Chivalry is dead.” 

She held his gaze despite the panic racing through her veins. She burned her flames into him as her eyes traveled along his body. His back was flat against the chipping wallpaper with his arms folded across his bare chest. His whole body was tense until his eyes caught her fingers dancing around the ballet shoes. Even if it lasted for a split second, it was there. He was there. Though he was distant, hidden underneath a veil of darkness, he was still the pigtail pulling bully she had always known. 

“I’m not sleeping on the floor.” She took a step forward. A simple act that held much power. It drew her treacherous flames closer to his fatal waves. 

“Who said you had to sleep on the floor?” He leaned forward, lifting his back from the wall, and resting his arms along the sheets. 

“Well I’m not sleeping with a psychopath that’s for sure.” She huffed an exhausted sigh. 

“Woah, look I’m flattered and all-” a chill consumed her body. Not because of the smirk that crept along his lips but the way his eyes were bleak and empty of his notorious amusement. 

“Shut up, you know what I mean.” She held contact with his crashing waves and waited patiently for him to give up. Though as the moments passed, her patience grew thinner with each second that ticked from the clock placed upon the nightstand beside Jughead. “Go on.” She outstretched her arm, gesturing to the floor. 

His smirk only grew as he relaxed against the sheets, leaning once again against the wall. Betty was going to scream. She could feel it traveling up her throat, only to be calmed by the clench of her jaw and dance of silver between her fingers. “Forsythe,” his eyes grew darker at the sound of his birth name, “I’m not kidding. Get off the damn bed. I am NOT-”

“Elizabeth, get in the fucking bed.” 

She blinked. Her eyebrows pushed together as a scowl fell across her plump lips, and yet she stepped closer, never surrendering to him in their battle of eye contact. She stood across from him. Her fingers swept the sheets, untucking them and holding them in her hand. She stayed like that for a few seconds longer. Her body calmed but the flames still burned quietly behind her green specks. She caught sight of an extra pillow underneath him and before he could register her next movements, her pink manicure yanked it into her hold. His back fell hard against the wallpaper. His muscles grew tense as the anger grew within each collapse of his ocean waves. She glared before he could speak the words that she knew rested on his tongue. Betty placed the pillow in the middle of the bed. 

“If you cross this, I promise you, I will brutally murder you.” 

The water was bitterly cold despite the warm air that hung around Riverdale’s spring season. Betty opened her eyes, following the murky green light above her to help her guide herself back to the surface. She could hear the mumbles of her senior class and the closer she got, the clearer the sounds became. The Pussy Cats distant vocals, Archie’s laughter growing closer, and the familiar roar of an engine. The last one made her legs involuntarily pump faster. Her lungs grew tighter as the bubbles of air tickled her lips, rushing to beat her to the top. 

When she resurfaced, the sound had only grown louder. It’s echo around the cliffs bruised her skull, making her cringe in pain. It had overpowered her world. She was deaf to all but the soundtrack of his exiting scene. Everything was spinning, her eyes couldn’t focus on one single thing; they flew from the sky above to the blobs of trees thirty feet away from her. She quickly wiped her face, gasping for air as she searched through her blurred vision. But her heart dropped.

 He was gone.

“Betty!” She turned to the boy swimming closer to her. Water droplets clung to his freckles as if he, too, had just resurfaced. His hair resembled cherry under the blazing sun. “Hey, what’s wrong?” His eyebrows pushed together.

Only then did she realize the frown that planted itself along her lips. “Oh!” She let a laugh slip, it was harsh and a poor fabrication of her natural giggle but Archie seemed to have relaxed. “Nothing!” She was frustrated with the way her eyes drifted back to the serpents lonesome without their leader. 

“Hey,” She felt the graze of his soft palm against her shoulder. She flinched causing a dance of water to ripple around the pair. His face fell with his hand still lurking around her body before he pulled it away with a frown of deep concentration pulling at his features. 

She felt the rough calluses of her scars scape against the blush of her cheeks as her hands flew to her face. “Oh my god!” The words were nearly trapped within the barrier she had created in shame around her agape mouth. “I’m so sorry, Arch.” Her eyes were wide, their long lashes tickling her eyelid with a few heavy water droplets still clinging to the hair.  “I-” Betty disturbed the calm water between the two as she hesitantly began to place her hand on the curve of his shoulder. “I just got r-really nervous up there so I-er guess you just startled me.” Her stare was focused on her light pink nails upon his slightly sunburned skin. 

“Oh it’s fine, I’m so sorry, Betty.” He tilted his head, gaining her attention as intended to help her see the sincerity in his brown specks. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Oh,” in her peripheral vision a group of black leather straddled their motorcycles, “yeah of course!” The smile adoring her skin was tight, almost pain like, but it produced a parallel effect on the boy before her. 

“Good!” His laugh almost made her cringe. The softness of his palms returned to her skin, pulling her closer to his warm body for a moment. The water pressed around her as they tended together. 

She noticed two peculiar things in those seconds. Her heart was calm and her stomach empty of butterflies. 

Betty pulled her eyebrows together in confusion. The touch of his skin against hers felt like nothing but warm body heat, not the familiar burning fire or even sometimes flickering sparks. To her surprise, a laugh of bewilderment slipped between her lips. Archie pulled away, joining with her to create a harmonizing sound. 

He was perfect, that had always been a known fact. The light beaming above him touched him so gracefully, kissing every inch of his skin and leaving impressions in the form of tiny brown dots. Even his heart matched his looks, absent of any corruption. So how could she not love him?  How could her heart not flutter at the way his smile always overcame his entire face? Something was wrong. Something was off, unbalanced and it was screwing with her. 

Explanations sped through her mind, scenarios of everything that had happened that day clouded her thoughts. Archie and Veronica pulling her away from school. Her senior class running through the parking lot during the second period of the day, rushing to escape to Sweetwater River. The sunlight parting perfectly through the towering trees planted deeply along the cliffs. Archie grabbing her hand to guide to up the steep hill. The rope swing taunting her.

 A pair of dark eyes. Her brain stopped for a second longer on that image. She was enchanted by the luminous blue they imprisoned. She shook her head.  

The fall. Murky green water. There. Just as she had told Archie before, the jump took a toll on her. That’s the action that troubled her. Nothing else for when the boy of red called her name she had felt something. It was a butterfly circling around her stomach.

 It had to have been, right? 

The world only held three sounds. The quiet tick from a rustic clock, informing each second that passed where Betty was still drowning in a state of consciousness. The roars from the mother above, beckoning out warnings of the storm that still hung heavy in the sky. And finally, the most prominent of them all, the rhythm of his deep breaths. 

Her back was turned from the window, leaving her entertainment to only the dance of the lighting’s reflections along the yellow stained walls. Her mind was blank, where there should’ve been dreams there was only a heavy blackness. She had tried everything to escape her insomnia, even recalling techniques from her childhood but her sheep were aloof, no longer eager to jump. She was aching, every muscle in her body was wailing for rest but every time she came close, when her body would grow still and heavy and when it was nearly deep with slumber her heart would quicken. Her mind would race, she knew she couldn’t move but wait out the process, yet soon shackles would bound her body to the bed, they were heavy and cold against her skin till finally her brain would awaken the nerves and she was free. It was a torture craft that played on repeat for eternity.

Till a battered bang shattered the glass of silence the two confined themselves in. Betty jumped, involuntarily pushing deeper under the thin sheets, as she sat straight up while searching the room despite it being overcome by darkness. The only thing her eyes could decipher was the shadow of his features. They were alert, the muscles of his jaw tense and the light of his eyes frantically flying around their surroundings. He held fast focusness as if he, too, had been lying dead awake this whole time. Only when a whistle of rushed air sang from the white box in the corner of the room did their synced breathing calm. 

And only then when her body eased did she feel the rough calluses blanketing her scars. Her blonde locks tickled her neck as she quickly turned to catch the sight of her pink manicure entangled with his fingers. Betty felt his late realization at the jerk of his forefinger against her skin. Her green eyes quickly found his blue despite the darkness for she knew the familiar warmth of his stare all too well. They blinked and, in unison, yanked their limbs back to their respectable sides. 

“I told you not to touch me.” Her voice was weak as it awakened from the long hour of silence. 

“Cooper, you grabbed me.” 

She huffed, swinging her body around to turn away from his squinted stare. Her mind resumed its search for peace as it scattered through different versions of her familiarities as if to ease her into a deep slumber. Unsurprisingly, her thoughts went to her childhood. To her years of pigtails and chubby fingers. To the image of two small boys playing catch: one with red flames as hair and the other with a thick crowned beanie. Betty tensed at the thought of youthful Jughead and zoned her mind to the boy beside him. 

Archie Andrews. Her best friend, her first love and her old dream. Though, in the late the night, with the tiredness of her mind, Betty dared to question for the first time in her life if he had truly been her dream or just a dream that was influenced by the person she was destined to be. She wondered if he had been just the other half of the stereotype she was being crammed to fit. The pieces were there and the picture could be complete with their marriage and a white picket fence. But that future, the small town stereotype, no longer seemed appealing to her but rather seemed like a caged nightmare.

“Betty, stop.” Jughead’s voice was rough but small, coming out as only a faint whisper that danced softly through the back of her blonde curls. She hadn’t noticed, hadn’t felt the movement against the bed, but she could sense he now faced her back. Though the thing that drew most of her attention was the warmth of his touch against her bare forearm as he spoke. It was quick, meant only to attract her attention, but it laid a ghost on her skin with its absence. 

“What?” The air was cold in her lungs.

“You’re shaking.” His touch returned. Firmer than before as it now placed pressure against her scattered goosebumps. She tried to calm her body but despite her best efforts, there was energy in her nerves that she couldn’t shake. She was engulfed in the chill of the room with only a thin sheet, the fabric of his shirt, and the touch of his palm to warm her. “Jesus, Cooper, why are you always cold?” He retracted his hand.

“Why are you always hot?” Her face scrunched at her words. She cursed her lack of sleep for her slow mind. 

“I knew you thought I was hot.” She could almost feel his smirk spread against the scratchy motel pillows. 

“God, Jughead, shut up.”

“You said it, Betts.” She felt his faint movement with the slight pull of the sheet. She wondered if his actions were involuntary as with each movement she grew colder as each time he pulled a little more of the sheet, leaving her with barely anything to curl in. “You’re still shaking.” 

“Well I’m sorry, Jughead, I don’t have any pants to keep me warm-” she heard him shuffle once more and felt the absence of the pillow pressed against her back “since you were stupid enough to-” the raw touch of his rings wrapped around her waist, quickly cutting off her thoughts and easily pulling her flush against his bare chest.

Betty was instantly consumed in warmth. It was a sensation she could only compare to diving into warm water and swimming with the ocean waves that blanket every pore, every freckle, every birthmark of one’s skin. A feeling of being engulfed in something, or in her case: someone. Her body instinctively calmed to his touch; her nerves finally settling, goosebumps fading, and mind slowing. 

She felt the weight of his inked arm against her stomach as she released a deep breath. Fluttering her wide eyes, mouth slightly agape, the blonde tried to grasp the situation at hand. She analyzed everything from the way her right ear was hotter than her left due to the heat of his breath as his lips laid inches away to the accidental entanglement of their legs.

“This is just for my sake.” She felt the vibrations of his deep voice booming from his chest into her back. The vibrations traveled through every nerve in her body, dancing a soft rhythm and leaving only footprints of heat in their wake. “I don’t need your shaking keeping me up all night.” 

She ducked a small grin, unintentionally pushing deeper into him. Her limbs shifted with his following her movements till his fingers grazed her necklace. She felt the contact. His rough calluses lightly pressed the silver to her collarbone. It danced, only momentarily, in his grasp till he found the embedment of her name. 

“Bah-humbug!” Betty watched as her ring slipped through her fingers. The silver band skimmed the end of her short dress before it made sharp contact with the dark wood of the Whyte Wyrm’s bar table where it instantly ricocheted to a pair of worn combat boots. “Oh-Oh excusssse me!” Her long lashes fluttered as her mind swayed. The green of her iries desperately tried to focus on the pair of combat boots but the sweet words below her made her giggle harder which in turn plumped her cheeks till her eyes scrunched and her vision was gone. 

“Do a spin, baby, do a spin!” They hollered, she laughed. Her thoughts were clouded and the world was hazy around her, the gears in her mind were slowed as she tried to grasp the man’s words. Slowly she placed the pieces together and her comprehension could be seen through the glaze in her emerald eyes. Placing weight on the toe of her black heels, she spun. 

The world was blur and yet she still caught sight of his stare. She had felt it all night, with each drink it grew hotter and hotter against her body. Her skin glistened with a layer of light sweat, her jacket now abandoned on the lonesome stool below her, pieces of her blonde curls clung to it and yet she couldn’t find the need to pin up a high ponytail. Veronica’s black dress was short with her long legs but she loved how the loose fabric twirled as she spun. The sight of it suddenly made her laugh. A stream giggles erupted through her chest, bubbling out her plump lips, making the world so much more distant. 

“Betty.” She knew that voice, it belonged to the only person that could truly stop her world. 

Both her heels were placed flat on the bar but the room was still spinning. “You must be mistaken, I don't know who-” She fixated on the boy below. Her lips pouted at the leather he bore, “-yooou are” her pink polish pointed. 

“Betty, come on,” Jughead stretched his hand, the silver on his fingers inviting her grasp, “get down.”

“And why should I listen to you, Forsythe?” Even as the music sang on, the girl felt as though the world got quiet at her words. Nearly every head was turned in her direction, some in awe and others in fear of her disobedience. 

“Well for one, Elizabeth-” his tongue slightly sharpened at the name, “your on my table, in my bar, drunk on my liquor, on my side of the tracks.” His smirk danced at the sight of her frown deepened, “and we also don’t need you falling on your pretty face.” 

A flush of red deepened her already blush cheeks before her lips pulled upward. “Juggieee!” Her toes did a little tap against the wood. “But it’s too high.” Her movement stopped as the frown from before began to reappear. Her eyes widened as fear spread through her green iries. 

“Just take my hand, Betts.” The three moles gathered on the peak of his cheek moved at his smile. 

“Please don’t let me fall.” The soft tip of her finger subconsciously grazed the cold touch of her necklace. 

 “Never.” 

“You’d catch me, right?” Her arms began to unfold slowly from their crossed position against her chest as she scanned the room around her. 

“Always.” A curl tickled the side of his face when he titled his head in order to guide her view back to him and solely him. The connection of her bright green with his corrupted blue was fierce and yet soft. It was intense with a drop of trust which only came from a flame of history and familiarity. There was a single bat of her long lashes before her hand was blanketed by his. Using only little of his strength, Jughead carried her, securing his grasp around her waist, from the bar table back down to the floor of crumbs and spilled liquor. 

“Thank you,” she breathed softly. She held the cold leather coating his forearms as she regained balance in her near four inch heels. And despite her height difference that night, he still towered over her. 

“Let’s get you home,” only when she released his hold did he move to grab her jacket from the bar stool. But slowly, after her jean jacket hung from his arm, the soft smile adoring her features began to sink. Her eyebrows pushed together to form a single crinkle as her stare gradually began to burn against his skin. “Stop staring at me like that,” he grumbled. 

“I wish I never met you,” suddenly her eyes no longer were glazed but now sober. 

“No you don’t mean that,” his tone was gentle but his jaw was clenched and his chin was raised. Eyes desperately scanning the delicate features of her face in search for something, like a man in a desert without water. 

The song on the radio changed, a new glass of beer filled to the brim, and seconds tickled away on a clock. “I wish I did mean it.” His lungs exhaled air he hadn’t known he’d been holding in. 

“I know you deserved a goodbye,” he broke their stare to look down at his worn combat boots. 

“No, I deserved for you to stay.” Her tone held no sorrow but instead it was flat, tired from the passing years of his absence. 

“I had no choice.” His leather, his second skin, now itched him. The snake on his back now burned him. 

“Did you even care?” She seemed emotionless to the words she spoke but he could see past her calculated facade easily. 

“Betty, losing you was the most unbearable pain I’ve ever felt,” his lips released a shaky breath. 

“Just take me home.” 

“Archie,” She spoke. She felt his muscles tense at the name and the melody of his breathing stop, his chest was still as it imprisoned the air in his lungs. “I never loved Archie or maybe I did. I don’t know. But he’s the future I’m born for. He’s who I’m meant to love. My life, the life that the universe and my mother have made, is supposed to be dedicated to marrying him in a big church, having his children, and settling down behind a white picket fence.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” 

“Because-” she turned in his hold, her hands now curled into fists against his bare chest, “you are the very thing that would destroy that. You and everything you are, everything you stand for, isn’t what my life is supposed to be. Not only are you reckless and rude, you’re a bad person.” His jaw clenched. Everything in his body was tense, she could feel it. “But-” his stare strayed back to hers, “somehow I-I can’t let you go. No matter what I do, I just can’t let you go. It’s like I’m tied to you or something and I hated you for it when we were young but more so when you left cause when you were gone it was like… it was like a part of me was empty. And it only made everything in my head worse and the days got slower and harder and the only thing that got me through it was this necklace.” Betty smiled at the sight of his fingers against the pink shoes before she moved her hand to blanket his. “It’s stupid cause it’s just a necklace.” 

“It’s not stupid.” He smiled a teeth baring, cheek plumping, crinkle forming smile. “But you’re right,” he choked a laugh, “I’m not good for you. I’m not who you’re supposed to be with. You deserve that big wedding and that perfect life.” Everything in his features drooped at the utter reality he had been living, from his eyes to his lips. 

“But I don’t want that.” Her eyebrows pushed together as she squinted her gaze at him. She was tired and yet the most awake she’d ever been, “I want you. I fully don’t understand it but, Jughead, it’s always been you. I choose you.” 

“But-”

“No, Juggie,” her palm lifted to his cheek. Her thumb softly soothing the lines of his face. His lashes closed at the touch. “I choose you.” 

He didn’t know what to say. He had nothing to say for there was nothing in the English language, in any language, that could ever accumulate everything he was feeling in that moment, let alone the last eighteen years of his life. Since the very beginning, his heart had always laid in her hands. Since the first glance of her blonde locks pinned high in her pigtails and her pale pink tutu. At that very moment with her freckles kissing the bridge of her nose, her cheeks stained a soft pink, and her eyes wide and waiting, he was completely and utterly speechless. So Jughead did the only thing he could. He kissed Betty’s soft lips, trapping her small gasp and moving against her spreading smile. 

And that moment, the sun rose. It’s rays shining gently through the thin curtains, warm against their skin as a melody was sung by passing birds. The storm had faded, the clouds were clear and the world was still. And Betty Cooper was no longer empty.