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Betty Cooper is too young to get married.
At least, that’s what her older sister Polly says when she sits down on the end of her bed one day and informs the girl she’ll be marrying Archie Andrews. “You can’t get married now, Betty — you’re too young.”
“So when can I get married?” Betty sighs, putting her chin in her palms.
Polly purses her lips thoughtfully. “When you’re 18, I think.” Betty sighs loudly, flopping back onto Polly’s bed while her sister laughs and shakes her head. That’s a long time from now.
Even though Betty tells Archie they can’t get married yet at recess, he still walks her home with a mischievous grin on his face and her hand in his. She lets him lace their fingers together and swing their arms. Polly said she couldn’t get married , but she didn’t say anything about holding hands. Betty knows he’s still going to ask – he’s Archie, he can’t help himself – and she’s trying to think about the best way to say no.
It’s not a very fun thing to think about, because she wants to say yes.
Still, when they stop in front of her house and Archie leans in, pressing his lips to hers, she doesn’t exactly know what to do. He kisses her quickly, then takes a step back, smiling as he drops down to his knee and holds out a beautiful ring with a red heart-shaped stone. Betty feels her heart stop. “Oh,” she says, her hands pressed to her mouth, “little Archie, we’re too young.”
The look on Archie’s face makes her feel like she wants to cry. She takes a step towards him and puts her hands over his. She wants him to stand up. “Ask me when we’re 18, and I’ll say yes,” Archie’s face snaps up, and he smiles.
“You will?” His eyes are hopeful. He stands up and Betty smiles back at him.
“Of course I will,” she says, her voice soft.
Archie laces his fingers with hers again, giving her hand a squeeze, and it feels like a deal.
--
Betty Cooper is too young to die.
It’s the only thing she can manage to think about the entire car ride, the only thing she can think about once they park. She’s too young to die, and so is Archie. She feels like she can’t breathe, and she knows Archie can tell. He’s been staring at her, and his hand has moved to grab hers a few times, but he’s pulled it back or rested it on the gearshift.
She thinks maybe he’s afraid touching her will make it worse. She thinks maybe she’s afraid he’s right.
She feels a rushing in her ears as she looks at him, listens to him, and all she can think about is how their lives are not supposed to be like this. They’re Archie and Betty, they’re supposed to have time. He’s supposed to ask her to marry him when they turn 18. She’s supposed to say yes.
His hand is on hers and she can’t help it, her eyes find his mouth. She tears her eyes away – she can’t be thinking about this right now. She may not be with Jughead, but she loves him, she’s protecting him, he’ll understand that when the time is right.
Unless the time will never be right, because she’s going to die tonight. Here…with Archie.
“This is the part where we end this,” Archie says, and she listens to him because he could be right. “Where we save Mr. Svenson and stop the Black Hood, tonight, but I need you with me. I can’t do this alone.”
She feels herself shaking, or maybe that’s him. “Tomorrow we’re gonna wake up and everything is gonna go back to how it was, but right now, I need you with me. I need Betty Cooper.”
Something breaks inside her brain. He needs her. He needs her.
“Arch,” she whispers, and leans in kissing him softly, her brain spinning because there are both too many thoughts and no thoughts swirling around it. Her heart pounds. Her hand is still clasped in his. She feels alive.
She needs him, too.
--
Betty Cooper is too young to feel this old.
She has never been more stressed in her life, and she doesn’t exactly blame herself for it, but she hates it and she doesn’t know how to shake it off. She’s spending every second thinking about how to fix things, and when she’s not thinking, she’s crying into her pillow instead of sleeping at night and skipping lunch to nap in the library. She’s not feeling very senior year.
She stalks into the Music room, knowing Archie will follow, just the way they planned. She feels like she could burst into tears at any second, and he steadies her, grabbing her hands, looking at her.
Sometimes, she feels like Archie is the only person that really sees her in the first place.
“I can’t do this, Arch,” she breathes. She feels her eyes burning, “I feel so alone.”
His face looks pained. “You’re not. Betty, I promise – I know how hard this is.” His voice is so earnest, so sincere. God , he’s not making this too difficult. She thinks, somewhere in the back of her mind, that she would love Jughead to look at her this way, to make her feel like she’s got him.
She lets out a sigh, shutting her eyes. “I just wanna feel…good,” she looks at him. She so desperately does want to feel good again. She’s not sure she even knows what feeling good feels like anymore. “Even for just a few moments.” She presses her lips together and watches him. They have to do this, Cheryl’s not going to watch them just talk for much longer.
“I’m here for you, Betty. I always have been.” She feels her heart drop. He really always has been, he’s not lying. She swallows. Her eyes flick to his lips. She remembers the last time they did that…only this time, she knows the end result. It doesn’t bring her much comfort, knowing that history is repeating itself.
Her voice is soft as she gazes back at him and murmurs, “Yeah, you have, haven’t you?”
When their lips touch this time, it’s not filled with fear and anguish and urgency. No, this time she just feels like she’s found a soft spot to land. That may be scarier than the alternative.
She pulls back and finds Archie’s face still close to hers, his breath thick, his eyes closed. Her eyelids feel heavy. She feels him lean back in and for a second she thinks, “wait,” but her brain stops, then, and she wraps her arms around his neck. She kisses him back, holding him close.
She told him, after all, that she wanted to feel good. His tongue slides over her lower lip. She sighs as it presses against hers, her fingers pushing against the back of his neck. She needs him here, she needs him close. She needs him to make her feel good.
Sometimes, she feels like Archie is the only person that knows how to make her feel anything in the first place.
--
Betty Cooper is too young to feel this…much.
This entire situation is strange, and all of them agree on that. They make a promise not to talk about again, after it happens, because…it’s weird. Jughead is going to lay underneath the cot while she and Archie lay on top of it and…well. It’s a good plan (well, a good enough plan), but it’s not exactly comfortable.
Shockingly enough, making out with her childhood best friend (who is dating her other best friend) while her boyfriend lies beneath them and listens is not something on her bucket list.
It’s Jughead’s idea for Archie to take his shirt off. She squints at him with her brow raised when he suggests it, and he gives her a look. “C’mon, think about it. If you guys were actually making out on a bed, he…,” he stops talking. Archie clears his throat.
“Care to finish that thought?” Betty’s lips are turned up, though she’s not quite smiling. Jughead glares at her.
“I’m just saying,” he shrugs, “it feels the most natural. We need it to be believable, right? Who makes out with their shirt on?” She wants to point out that he makes out with her regularly with his shirt on, but she doesn’t. She can tell he’s implying when you look like Archie does, and…well. Okay, yes – fine. Maybe he has a point.
“Fine by me,” Archie shrugs, looking over at her, “I mean, if you’re okay with it, Betts.” Betty presses her hand over her eyes but nods.
“Fine, fine,” she says, her voice soft.
Still, the whole thing is weird. It’s weird as Donna follows her out to the bunker and she pretends not to notice. It’s weird as she crawls onto the cot, straddling Archie. It’s weird as his hands come up to press against her lower back, pulling her against him. Her leg is between his, and yes, it’s weird when his lips brush against hers, when his hands move over her back.
It’s weird, but mostly because it’s good.
She feels a throb between her legs as Archie’s lips move against hers. She lets out a little gasp she prays Jughead doesn’t hear when his tongue slides against her lip. Maybe this wasn’t exactly a part of the plan, but it’s realistic. She presses her palm flat against Archie’s chest and feels how hard his heart is beating, how warm his skin is.
Then the light hits them and they’re not going to talk about it again, so she doesn’t bother dwelling…that is, until she’s alone in her bed later that night.
--
Betty Cooper is too young to care about how reckless she’s being.
At least, that’s what she tells herself as Archie’s hands press against her back and pull her into him – the same way he did in the bunker, the same way she’s been fantasizing about with her hand between her legs.
God, his hands. God, his hand between her legs.
They’d just been rehearsing, singing, and it had been…well. Innocent, really – they’d talked a bit, decided to rehearse the song, and…well. She’s not really sure what happened. She’d been looking at him and followed his eyes down to her lips.
Which, in turn, made her eyes flick to his lips.
Which, in turn, made her want to kiss his lips.
She needs to stop looking at his lips, it always seems to lead her here. Here, being in his arms. Here, being kissing him and praying he doesn’t have the wherewithal to stop them. Here, feeling his hands on her, wrapping her arms around him so he won’t let go of her, kissing him desperately, wantonly, needing him.
She needs him – in a way she hasn’t needed him before. In a way that maybe she’s always needed him, but never realized.
This is bad, and she knows it. Rationally, somewhere in her brain, she is shouting, “stop this, Betty – you are being ridiculous, you are acting like a child,” but she ignores the shouting because something else is overtaking her.
She doesn’t really recognize it, but it lives in little flashes in her brain as his tongue presses against hers and she moans into his mouth.
A flash of them as children, their hands swinging, Archie down on one knee. A flash of her in her winter coat, tears on her lashes, Archie’s hand clasped over hers. A flash of them in the music room, her heart hollow, Archie’s eyes full of concern. A flash of her straddling his body, his skin hot, Archie’s breath mixed with hers.
They all mix together, and then her brain blacks out.
Betty Cooper is too young to love one someone this much -- so much that she thinks both of their hearts might break because of it -- but she does, she knows she does…and so as wrong as it may be, it feels far too right to stop here. So, instead, she slides her hands up to his wrists and holds tight, keeping him exactly where he is.