splintering

Genre: Drama/Romance

Timeline: Post Finale Events

Pairing: [Betty/Jughead]

Rating: T-M

A/N: repost of a fic I impulsively deleted a few months ago. enjoy!

Chapter 1: White Noise

You would have thought the saga was over by now, that things in Riverdale would slowly creep back to familiarity… But the events that took place over the last couple months had left a stain on the once-great town, and all that was broken could not be undone.

Jason's murder was solved, but the fallout had left even more tragedy in its wake:

My father, FP Jones, was still locked up awaiting his trial for his involvement in Jason's cover up. Because he refused to name names or rat out any of the other Serpents, he was looking at hard time. In return, the Serpents had extended their protection to me - something I never thought I could possibly want, until I felt the heavy weight of my father's jacket resting on my shoulders.

With Fred barely hanging on, Mary came home to stay with Archie - who seemed to be doing everything except focusing on the traumatic events that took place in the diner that morning. But Mary coming back had some benefits, one of which was her taking on my father's case.

And while my dad was locked up, the Lodges awaited patiently for Hiram to be released - something Veronica was now conflicted about after learning of her father's shady dealings with the Serpents.

The Coopers went back to their always smiling, always perfect Nuclear family. It was as though nothing had ever happened, except now they were counting down the days until Polly would give birth to two more Blossom heirs.

But Betty had not forgotten how far her family had fallen or what her mother had told her. And while she wanted to throw all her energy into searching for the missing Cooper heir, she found herself distracted by her increasingly distant boyfriend - the one who was figuring out just how they were going to work with the changes that had occurred within the few short weeks.

Which leads us to now - late at night, where a worried blonde paces her bedroom, waiting for her nightly visitor, who happens to be late. Waiting for me...

"C'mon, Juggie, where are you?" Betty asked her silent phone, her bare feet padding back and forth across her room. She lit up her screen for the tenth time in the last minute to make sure it was on and functioning. 11:27PM. He was 42 minutes late. She couldn't say that he always arrived at exactly 10:45 every night, but it was always close enough where she never had to worry.

But 42 minutes was worry time. It was worry time when he was 15 minutes late. And if she was honest with herself, she started to worry even before his due seemed off tonight, but she was hoping that she was only being paranoid.

If she was honest with herself, something had seemed off since the night of the Jubilee. That night was peppered with both sweet and sour memories, although it was only a few weeks ago.

On the one hand, they'd finally expressed their love to one another, which cultivated into a whirlwind, romantic moment that still left her dizzy when she thought about it. At that moment, her heart was so full of love and admiration she thought she might burst, right up to the moment when there came a loud knocking on the front door.

They never did get to pick up where the left off, the rest of their night tainted with worry and uncertainty. He told her, just like when he'd transferred to South Side, that this would change nothing between them. He eased her worry with soft kisses and his thumb brushing across her jawline… but it wasn't enough to totally get the mood back. They promised they'd revisit it - they hadn't.

The next time she saw him, he was wearing the jacket. She didn't know exactly what that meant, but she was afraid to ask. He seemed afraid to tell her. It sat heavy between them, a ticking time bomb, ready to be unearthed at any given moment.

On a night like tonight. When he was now 44 minutes late.

She shook her head disapprovingly at herself, "Should always trust your intuition."

She hated that Jughead was forcing her to send a fourth text asking if he was okay. If he didn't answer this one, she was going to try calling.

As soon as she sent the text, she heard the all familiar sound of the rattling ladder outside her bedroom window. She let out a long breath and threw her phone on her bed, ready to greet her boyfriend...when she was instead met with her redheaded neighbor.

"Archie, what are you doing here?" She questioned with an angry undertone, mostly from having been tricked into believing it was who she was waiting for.

"Good to see you, too," Archie said as he effortlessly climbed through her window, "Ya know, there was a time you would have been ecstatic to have me climbing through your window."

Betty didn't even dignify that with a response as she retrieved her phone from her bed to make sure she didn't miss a message in the last thirty seconds.

He watched as she began to pace again, "I've been watching you do that for the past half hour. I know it's weird that Jughead hasn't showed up yet but-"

"His dad got denied bail," she interrupted him, her large eyes full of concern when she looked up at him, "Of all the nights Jughead shouldn't be alone, this is it! So why isn't he answering me? This is so unlike him…" she murmured the last part but Archie could hear the pain in her voice. She finally hit the call button and pressed her phone to her ear, each ring seeming to become louder and louder.

Archie opened his mouth to say something, but then Jughead's voicemail beeped and Betty spoke: "Jughead, please, please call me! O-or text me, I just need to know you're all right. Please...I love you."

Hearing her say those words caught Archie off guard. They weren't even directed at him, but the angelic tone in her voice made his heart pound. They were so pure and natural that he was sure he never heard anyone else give real meaning to the phrase. He certainly never heard it directed at him and it made a certain undignified jealousy rise within him.

"So...umm…" he cleared his throat as he tried to recover from it, "Based on a conversation I had with him earlier, I have a suspicion of where he might be…"

Her mouth dropped open in shock, "And you're just now saying something to me? Arch, I-," she pursed her lips together and closed her eyes. She gathered her patience before opening them again, "Where do you think he is?"

He sighed heavily, "After he got word about his dad, he mentioned that the Serpents wanted to meet with him to come up with some plans. Deals of some sort-"

"So he is with the Serpents," she said, almost as though she felt betrayed - but she knew better. It wasn't that Jughead lied… they just never discussed it, afraid of where the conversation might lead.

"C'mon, Betty. It's not like it's a secret… he's been wearing that jacket all over town-" he stopped short when he saw the sadness in her face. She'd been in denial, he didn't need to rub it in.

She took in a sharp breath, processing it all before she asked, "Where would he go to discuss things with the Serpents? Not his trailer…"

"There's usually only one place they go to do that...that I know of anyway. And that's the Whyte Wyrm."

Betty narrowed her eyes, "You think he might be at a bar…? Jughead? MY Jughead?"

"I dunno, I…" he trailed off when she sat down on her bed and pulled on socks and shoes, "Wait, you're not actually going there, are you? Betty, I've gone there before, it's not a good scene-"

"Exactly why Jughead shouldn't be there, either," she reasoned logically, standing up and pulling her ponytail tighter.

He didn't know why he was so shocked. Betty was always quick to come to someone's rescue, especially when that someone was Jughead, "You can't go alone…! A girl like you in there is just...bad. Very bad."

"I can take care of myself," she grabbed her school jacket and slipped her arms through the sleeves, "Besides, if Jughead is there, I won't be alone. And if he's not, I'll leave."

"Yeah, but who knows if they'll let you leave so easily!" He shook his head and grabbed her arm, "At least let me drive you. I'll never forgive myself if I let you go and you never come back to me."

Betty gave him an odd glance at his statement, and she could see the panic and terror in his eyes at his own words. He didn't seem aware that he was starting to squeeze her arm, so she tugged herself out of his grasp, "Fine. We just need to find Jughead. He's not himself right now and I need to fix that. Let's go."

She climbed out her bedroom window and down the ladder Jughead had been using every night for the past four weeks.

Archie parked his car outside the Whyte Wyrm, getting ready to pull the keys out of the ignition and head inside the haunted bar with Betty. Both of them couldn't help but remember the video they watched of Jason getting shot in the head by his own father. Betty visibly shivered at the memory.

"Stay here," she told Archie, "I saw FP's truck parked in the corner, which means Jughead's probably inside."

Before Archie even had time to argue, Betty was slamming the passenger side door behind her and walking briskly to the front entrance. Either way, he still didn't trust the Serpents, let alone drunk Serpents. He killed the engine and stepped out, feeling the need to at least keep an eye on her.

Betty didn't even hesitate when she pushed the door open, automatically greeted with loud heavy music and men screaming at one another, either just to be heard or for an actual argument. Her eyes skimmed the room, trying not to make eye contact with anyone who wasn't Jughead.

"Looks like we got a Pink Lady in the house, boys," an obnoxious biker commented snidely as he leaned on his pool stick. A smoking cigarette dangled from his chapped lips, "You gonna sing to us, Sweetheart?"

"I bet I could make her sing," another threw in for kicks, and the implication made Betty clench her fists, her nails instantly finding the scarred indents on her palms from her last incident.

"Lay off, you idiots. That's Jug's girl," a sensible Serpent finally cut in once he got a good look at her, though he hardly seemed interested as he walked around the pool table trying to find a good angle.

Hearing Jughead's name allowed Betty to unclench her fists and address the guy. She hurried over to him, asking him quickly, "Is Jughead here right now?"

He cocked his head to the side, "He's over at the bar with Grinder and Tank."

Betty looked in that direction and before she could even give a sarcastic comment on the names of the gang members (not that she should, her boyfriend's name was Jughead after all), she spotted him between two much larger men, both of whom looked seasoned and ready to find their next fight. The three of them were laughing loudly and there were multiple empty beer mugs and shot glasses littering the table in front of them.

Gathering up her courage, Betty strided over to the trio, not being able to help herself when she called out Jughead's name before she even reached them.

He somehow heard her over all the noise, his eyes finding hers as she neared. It was like watching an angel walk through the filthy grit of hell, and it made him slightly tumble off his barstool in surprise, "Bet- Betty, what-"

His tumble did not go unnoticed by her and despair entered her seafoam eyes. She hated to even ask, but she couldn't help herself, "Jughead… have you been drinking?"

He shot his head back as though she slapped him, a clench tightening his heart, "Why would you even think that?"

"Looks like Virgin Mary is trying to save the day," the one with the bandana muttered into his beer. His name, Tank, was sewn on his jacket. He and Grinder chuckled and clinked their mugs together.

Betty tried her best to ignore them, "Well, you're in a bar, Juggie. Hanging out with forty-year-old drunks and-"

"So you jumped to that conclusion based on how it looks?" Jughead interrupted her, accusation in his tone. But his eyes told a different story - he was hurt and just taking that second to see it, Betty slumped her shoulders.

"You just… you didn't show up at my house. And you haven't answered any of my texts and I was worried." Her large eyes glistened and his shoulders slumped as well, both of them dropping their defenses.

"Jughead here is getting some new responsibilities," Grinder spoke up. He slapped a large, meaty hand on Jughead's shoulder, causing the teen to stumble to the side from the weight, "He doesn't have time to be doting on his little woman all the time, sweetie."

Betty didn't take her eyes away from Jughead, needing to see in him that all the words around them were nothing but white noise, and he was going to leave with her.

"Wait, wait, wait," Tank jumped in, walking toward Betty and leaned down to get a closer look at her. Jughead stepped in between them, his hands finding her arms. The separation didn't keep Tank from continuing, "You're Alice Smith's daughter." He chuckled, "Wow, history really does have a way of repeating itself. Her and FP used to-"

"Can we get out of here, Juggie? Please?" Betty asked him urgently, relieved when he nodded quickly. Her fingers slipped into his hand as she turned to head for the exit.

"Hey!" Grinder yelled, spinning Jughead around by his shoulder. Despite the movement, Betty's grip on his hand only tightened, refusing to let go now that she found him. Jughead stood his ground, his stance firm as he looked up into the eyes of the Serpent, "Just because we gratefully invited you in doesn't mean you always get a free ride. Remember what we discussed tonight."

Jughead pulled his shoulder from Grinder's grasp, matching his glare, "Yeah. Got it." He let Betty pull them from the situation and they both spotted Archie standing in front of the exit, his face showing relief that they were both okay.

They stepped out into the freezing night air, the silence ringing in each of their ears aside from their crunching boots in the snow. Betty spun around and threw her arms around his shoulders, pressing her face into the side of his neck. His arms instantly circled around her and held her close against him, his eyes closing before his hand found the back of her head.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," he said lowly, not unaware that Archie had stopped some ten feet away from them as well.

"Beats waiting up at home for you," she commented with a small smile he felt against his skin.

Jughead let out a long, wavering breath when he heard her say home. Not her home. Just… home. And he suddenly wished more than anything that they were older and he could get a proper (and legal) job so they could move into their very own house together and call it home forever.

She looked up at him then, and the breath he just released got sucked back in from the hurt look in her eyes, "Why didn't you answer my texts?"

He looked away shamefully, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling it out, "Sorry… it died and I never found a place to charge it."

"Well...you need to look harder!" Betty grinned and wrapped her fingers around his collar, shaking him playfully, "I needed to hear your voice." When she finally got a smile out of him, she pulled on his collar so her lips could find is, both shivering visibly when his fingertips brushed against the soft skin of her cheeks.

Archie tried not to stare, but to him, it was like replaying a mistake over and over in his mind. He wasn't sure if he was feeling anger or jealousy, but one of those made him break their moment when he cleared his throat, "Did you guys need a lift back?"

Jughead kept Betty close when their kiss broke and they walked toward the redhead, "Nah, I got the truck. Hey...thanks for coming with her, though," he told Archie sincerely, "I know she probably fought with you on that at first."

"No, I didn't!" She countered, but her voice told Jughead that she did.

Archie chuckled dryly, "She wasn't that bad. But… I'm glad you're safe, Jug. I'll talk to you guys later."

"Bye, Archie. Thank you." Betty waved as he walked to his car. She then turned excitedly back to Jughead, her ponytail bouncing with her personality, "Let's go home. I have a surprise for you."

His heart skipped a beat. There was that word again.

Home.

The old, beat up truck lurched up to the curb in front of Betty's house before slowly rolling to a stop. Jughead turned the engine off, carefully watching the way their breath emitted in white puffs from the cold. The heater wasn't working – "figures," he thought. The truck was older than him, after all.

Jughead side-eyed Betty, catching a quick shiver. She wrapped her coat tighter around herself, but flashed him a small smile anyway. She was always such a trooper. He thought about how tempted he was to scoot over to her and warm her up himself, but then again they'd said almost nothing since the bar. He couldn't gauge if she was still upset or not. She may have been all smiles in the parking lot, but he knew once Betty had a few moments for her thoughts to catch up with her, she'd have more to say.

So instead, he cleared his throat and her eyes flitted up to meet his. He fidgeted nervously with the keys in his hand.

"You should know I abhor surprises," Jughead reminded her, dryly. He didn't need to. Betty could remember just how well her last surprise went over. She folded her lips and resisted the urge to tease him over the use of the word 'abhor.' He was very clearly a writer.

A melodramatic one, but a writer nonetheless.

It was one of the many, complex, intricately woven reasons why she loved him. She would often find herself staring at him, much like she was right now, wondering just what was going on inside that head of his. He was a puzzle, always in need of figuring out.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," she waved him off, scooting across the seat of the truck to pull at the handle. He reached out for her.

"W-wait, where are you going?" He wasn't ready for her to go inside just yet – he actually did want to talk about what had happened earlier. He hated that he'd worried her so much; that had never been his intention. But more than that, he hated that she had put herself in such a dangerous situation, coming to look for him. He wasn't sure if he was more upset at her or himself over that one.

The fact was, Jughead wasn't too used to checking in with people. He'd always just come and gone as he pleased, with no one to really answer to. No one to worry about him. It was a welcome change, but an unfamiliar one as well. He felt like he had no idea how to do the right thing where Betty was concerned.

That didn't seem to matter, though. In the last few months of their relationship, the 'right thing' had seemed to mostly come naturally to him. He always wanted to make her as happy as she made him.

She smiled at him over her shoulder, a look of mischief in her eyes. She gripped onto his freezing cold hand and her warmth took him aback.

"C'mon," she giggled. She leaned over, pressing a reassuring kiss into his cheek. "It's all part of the surprise…"

"There's that word again…" Jughead found himself murmuring. Regardless of his reservations, he followed after her. Their hands were still clasped together as Betty hopped out of the truck. Their boots crunched in the thick snow as they trudged up her driveway and around the corner of her house.

They slipped under the ladder that had been planted at Betty's window for the last several weeks – either Alice and Hal were completely oblivious, or had given up caring at this point. He squeezed Betty's hand tighter as she led him to the middle of the snow-covered yard.

"What is goin-" he started to ask, but stopped when her hand slipped from his and she started running toward the shed.

"Wait there!" she instructed him over her shoulder. Jughead shuddered, adjusted his hat, and shoved his cold hands into his pocket as she disappeared into the tiny room.

It was only a matter of seconds later that a bright light flashed in his face, nearly blinding him. His hands shot up and instinctively covered his eyes, trying to protect them from the sudden intrusion.

Once he'd rubbed away the speckles from his vision, he could see Betty, proudly gesturing toward the old Twilight Drive In sign – which was now illuminated and haphazardly propped up on top of the shed. It was the smaller one, of course, closer to the popcorn stand, but it was definitely the same one he had dressed with hundreds of movie titles over the time he had worked there. The marquee read, "Betty + Jughead."

His eyes and mouth widened as he stared at the old artifact, something he'd assumed had been completely torn apart and sold for scraps weeks ago – something he never thought he'd see again.

Betty giggled at his lack of response, her arms outstretched as she proudly announced, "TA-Daaaah!"

"Betts, when did you… I mean, how did you-" Betty smirked and neared him, her boots dragging in the snow coyly as she tucked the loose, blonde hair behind her ear.

"Just a little favor I asked Fred for. Back before…" Her words trailed off – she meant back before he was shot. She shook the thoughts away. This was a happy moment. She grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him a light shake, excitedly. "Well? What do you think?"

His mouth still hung open, his eyes staring above her at the sign he'd stared at millions of times before in his life. It never seemed to glow quite as beautifully as it was right now.

"A piece broke when they took it down, so I was waiting to give it to you the last few weeks while it got fixed. It was supposed to be done for your birthday-" Once again her words tapered off, this time as she tried to figure out what exactly the look on his face meant – she didn't always know how to read him. "Jug?"

He shook his head, his jaw clenching as he tried to find the right words to say to her. When nothing would come to him, he reached forward and cupped her face, bringing her lips to his just as he had so many times. Only this time, his heart ached in his chest.

Was this what it felt like to be loved this much?

He pulled away slowly, and they both felt a little dizzy, a little breathless. His eyes slowly opened to see hers staring back at him, a kind of confused blissfulness in them.

"What did I ever... do to get so lucky?" he asked her. He wondered if there would ever be a time when he looked at Betty Cooper and understood what she saw in a guy like him. Her hands enveloped his, once again warming them, as they still rested on her jaw.

"You saw me," she told him simply. Such an understatement, and it almost pained him to hear. Of course he saw her. When she was around it was like no one else even existed. How could anyone look at a girl like Betty and not think the sun rose in the sky every morning just to revolve around her?

"I have more," she told him. He wanted to groan, but he figured he should refrain from it – his lack of love for surprises or not, she was trying so hard to make him happy. She tugged him along as she made her way over to the tree that held the old yet sturdy treehouse they used to play in when they were younger.

Jughead watched as Betty started to climb the ladder - pieces of wood that were poorly nailed into the tree. He was about to comment about how safe this really was, when her foot slipped on the third step up, ice having formed on the top. He instinctively grasped onto her legs in case she toppled down, "Betty, are you-"

"I just crashed a bar and fought a gang of bikers to find you," she smiled down at him before she continued to climb, "This is nothing."

"Anyone ever tell you that you have a tendency to exaggerate?" He teased her, though didn't feel his shoulders release until he saw her crawl safely onto the landing. She peeked down at him and waved him up. The twinkle in her eyes was irresistible, and he found himself climbing up after her in a heartbeat. She scooted back when he reached the top, his eyes scanning over the small area.

She had obviously cleaned it out before lying a few layers of blankets down. There were five LED candles near the back to allow some light in the area that would have otherwise been completely dark. There were a few speakers rigged up, a projector she'd stolen from her dad's office. It was pointed to the big, empty space on the side of her house - ready to flash a movie across it.

"Our own personal faux-drive in experience!" She brought her knees up to her chest and bit her bottom lip as she waited for his reaction. When he didn't respond, her shoulders fell and she heaved out a sigh, "Juggie...on your birthday you said you would have preferred it if it was just the two of us. Well…" she motioned to the small space, "Believe me, I didn't invite anyone else."

He tried to pull his lips up into a smile, but the fact that he couldn't just made him even sadder. Never had he done anything in his life that was worth all of this - all of her. He never did anything that proved he deserved her.

Every time she tried to do something nice, he'd snapped at her. He'd jumped to conclusions, assumed that she had anything but the best of intentions. He had been so scared of inevitably losing her that he seemed to lash out every time she did something that made him never want to lose her. He had no idea why he was this way… or how to make it stop.

He could still remember, too vividly, the look in her eyes when he told her, "and to think, I almost considered passing up a chance to move with my family to Toledo because of you." He remembered the words leaving his mouth against his will, not being able to stop himself. In a lot of ways, Jughead truly believed that while he was an okay friend to her... he was never a good boyfriend.

"Juggie," her voice snapped him out of his thoughts. She looked concerned, no doubt thinking he hated all the surprises.

In reality, he was trying to come to terms with the fact that he owed a debt to the Serpents now. If he stayed with Betty, and she kept pulling the kind of stunt she pulled tonight, she was going to get hurt. And it would be his fault. He saw the sadness in her eyes tonight - waiting up for him, worrying about him… that wasn't making her happy.

He wasn't sure he had what it took to keep her safe and happy. Not anymore.

He climbed in, sitting beside her on the blankets, but he didn't put his arm around her. Didn't touch her. His heart felt like it wasn't doing its job. It was suffocating. How did she want him to react? What was the normal reaction supposed to be when the best girl in the world did something perfect for him? What did normal people do in these situations? His hand came up to his head, his eyes hurting with the burn of uncertainty.

"If you don't like it…" she started, her eyes trying to find his even though he seemed to be doing everything he could to avoid eye contact.

"Betty…" he sighed heavily, his Serpent leather jacket now feeling like it weighed one hundred pounds, the weight pressing down on his life.

She waited for him to say more, but when long seconds went by, it was becoming painfully obvious that he wasn't going to deny that he didn't like it. She felt a deep sadness envelope her and, despite wanting to simply apologize for throwing him another surprise, she felt herself become defensive, "I was just trying to do something nice and-and….romantic for us, I-"

"Yeah, well, Betty, you shouldn't have to do this," he snapped back, finally looking at her. Though he found he had to look away quickly so as not to see the despair in her large eyes. He sighed again, "I mean, shouldn't it be me that does romantic things for you? But what have I ever done for you? Other than worry you or burden you-"

"Jughead, stop," She pulled herself to her knees so she could lean in front of him, "I want to do these things, it's just the way I am…"

"And I don't want you to!" He countered, his eyes narrowed in a way she'd never seen before. "I don't think I have to point out again how different we are."

"Why are you still trying to push me away?!" Her own words wounded her heart so badly that instant tears slid down her cheeks, "I told you I wouldn't stop fighting for you, or your dad, and yet you're fighting against me! You're not a burden, Jughead. I love you-"

"You need to-" he was ready to retaliate when she caught him off guard by cupping his cheeks in her hands and pressing their foreheads together.

"Please… stop," she whispered softly before a soft sob, her fingertips digging into his skin as if she were afraid he would disappear if she didn't hold on tight.

And she had every right to believe that. He needed to keep her safe, and the road he was going down, he knew she couldn't follow. His hands grasped onto hers, and he was ready to push her off of him, but the tighter he held on, the firmer she became. His hands began to shake, his breathing ragged. He had to tell her to go now or he never would. But instead of his mouth finding words, it only found hers, their quivering lips finding life together.

She scooted her knees between his ankles to get closer to him, her fingers slipping down to his neck causing him to visibly shiver. He wanted to talk to her… no. He needed to talk to her But she knew that and something inside of her warned her. It told her that if she could just take his mind off of whatever he was currently thinking...everything would be all right by morning.

"Betty," he murmured against her lips, trying to find a breath in her unrelenting pursuit. Finally he was able to move away from her, his mouth moving against her jawline, his mind going blank at the breathy sigh that escaped from her throat, "You're shaking…"

"Wouldn't you say that's a good thing?" She asked lowly by his ear and he instinctively pulled her closer. He never, in his whole life, allowed anyone to have any sort of control over him, yet she was able to bring him to his knees so easily.

"I don't think we should be doing this up here," he said, mostly as a last resort. He grabbed ahold of her wrists and pushed her hands away from him, their eyes finally meeting again, "Betty...I think we need to talk."

Betty looked frustrated, but her lips were pouty from being pressed against his, "About what, Jughead? About what happened tonight? It's fine, it was all-"

"It's not fine, though! You have no idea what went on tonight, and then you just showing up at the Whyte Wyrm was so… it was so dangerous and reckless, you know that's where Jason was killed!"

"And yet you were there!" She countered, "Do you really think you're completely protected just because your dad isn't pointing fingers right now?"

"I'm more protected with them than against them. They can…" He suddenly smelled the faint scent of blood, and that's when he realized her jaw was clenched and her eyes almost vacant. Her wrists were still in his hands, but her fists were clenched so tightly that her knuckles were pale. "Betty, stop," he told her, shaking her gently to snap her out of her.

Betty could only hear him as if they were underwater. The undeniable anger inside her was causing a loud whooshing in her ears. She couldn't believe the Serpents had already brainwashed him into thinking he was protected and nothing they would ever ask him to do was dangerous.

"Betty, stop!" Jughead's sudden loud and deep voice made her blink back to reality. She was acutely aware of a burning pain coming from her hands and knew she had once again gotten lost in her own dark thoughts. Her hands shook as she unclenched her fists, her nails coming out of her skin to reveal eight blood scar lines; they reminded him of a new game of hangman, and it was up to him to guess the letters and figure out the puzzle.

"Sorry, I just…" She folded in her lips when she couldn't find the words. She brought her hands to her chest and scooted away from him, "You know...I think it's a bit too late to start a movie. Call it a night?" She attempted a smile as she prepared to climb down the ladder.

Jughead had no choice but to follow after her. He wasn't sure how long her dark episodes could linger, and he was worried what it could possibly mean. And he couldn't help but be grateful when they climbed into her bedroom and out of the cold. He didn't realize how chilled his skin was until he felt the warmth of the house.

Betty slipped her jacket off and threw it over to her vanity, not even caring when it hit the floor. She was purposely avoiding Jughead's eyes - there was a tortuous sadness in them tonight, and something inside her felt like it had something to do with her. Something she knew was coming, but she didn't want to hear.

"Betty…"

"Take off that jacket," she said through the darkness of her bedroom, still not turning around to look at him.

There was a tone in her voice that Jughead never heard before. It wasn't threatening, but the assertiveness told him that the jacket disgusted her right now. He hated feeling like he was given an ultimatum in that moment. If he took off the jacket, would that make her believe he was ditching the Serpents?

"Am I asking for something impossible?" Her voice was just above a whisper, her head turned to the side.

He admired her profile, the side of her face somehow premiering all of her fear. But she was so beautiful and he couldn't help but notice the way her fingers flexed and unflexed as she tried to keep her palms from harm. Without wasting another second, he shook the jacket from his arms, the heavy piece of himself hitting the floor.

She thanked him, pulling her hair from its ponytail and letting it fall to her shoulders. His mouth ran dry when she tugged her shirt over her head, his eyes roaming her bare back. She must have been ready for bed before she went out to find him; she hadn't been wearing a bra. And without turning around, she simply laid on her bed on her tummy, her arms covering her face.

Absently, he slipped his hat from his head, discarding it on top of his jacket. She looked ethereal lying there in the dark, her silhouette outlined only from the faint light coming through her window.

He should have left in that moment. No, he should have covered her up and told her in order to keep her as perfect as she was then, he would have to let her go. He should have ignored all of his feelings and put on a blank face to prove that this meant nothing to him. He should have put his hat and jacket back on to close him off and make him stronger.

Instead, he found himself tugging his own shirt off and crawling over her body, his lips kissing between her shoulder blades, both of their stomachs bottoming out when she sucked in a wavering breath.

Seemingly out of nowhere, his mind was flooded with so many memories. They'd spent a small lifetime together, most of their young lives. Sure, he often felt like a third wheel to Betty and Archie, but his entire life… she'd been there. Not always the way he wanted her, but constantly.

Unconditionally.

Throughout all the things that had happened to him, throughout the things he shared with her or hid from her, she was always there.

While he figured that he had maybe always loved Betty, the events that paved their way to this moment really began at the end of Freshman year, last spring. Only a mere couple months before Jason Blossom's murder.

He remembered entering the classroom and spotting her right away, her golden ponytail high as she bit her thumbnail, her eyes eagerly drinking in the pages of a book. He wondered what kind of pictures she was seeing in her mind, what kind of adventure she was on at that very moment. He almost hated to interrupt.

But, of course he did anyway.

"Well, hello there, Betty Cooper," Jughead had smirked at her, hopping up and sitting on the desk beside hers. Betty pulled her nose out of her book, her face lighting up at the sight of her old friend - it didn't matter that she'd just seen him at lunch; she was relieved to see him here. It was the final semester of their freshman year, creative writing class, and Betty was certain she'd be taking the class without any of her friends. Archie had said he'd rather get a lobotomy than sit through Shakespeare and Kevin was never much of a writer.

"Fancy meeting you here, Jughead Jones the third." She shut her book with a pop, leaning forward, "why didn't you tell me you were taking this class?" He gave her a sideways grin and a shrug.

"You didn't ask." Betty smiled back sheepishly - he had a point, there.

"Well, I'm glad you're here."

"Jones," Mrs. Caldwell said, sweeping into the room, a mess of papers in her arms. "Desks are for writing, not for sitting. Down. Now."

"Well, technically-" Jughead began, formulating some kind of sarcastic comeback, but Mrs. Caldwell stopped him before he could finish. She pointed a ruler in his direction. Why she even had a ruler in a writing class was a mystery to Jughead.

"I'm not in the mood for your witty banter today, Forsythe."

Jughead cringed at the use of his real name, sliding down from the desk, "low blow, Mrs. Caldwell."

He shrunk into his seat as his peers snickered around him. Betty shot him a reassuring smile instead - she knew how much he hated his first name. So much so, he preferred the name Jughead over it. That was saying something. She was always good at making him feel human. Accepted. Wanted. Something more than the quiet weirdo in the back of the room.

"Okay, if you'll look at your syllabus you'll see that the first read-through we'll be doing this trimester is Shakespeare-"

Jughead listened as kids around him groaned, but he was too mesmerized watching the way Betty was twirling her pencil between her fingers to wage a fight against the assignment. Shakespeare was so overdone, so cliche. And of course, she went on to let them know they'd be reading "Romeo and Juliet."

"I had to read that in first semester English," the girl behind Betty complained. Mrs Caldwell smiled without warmth back at her.

"Good. Then you will have an even better understanding of the literature-"

"No spoilers," Jughead joked aloud. "I hear there's quite a twist at the end, I wanna be surprised." Betty snorted, and that alone made it worth it when Mrs. Caldwell glared at him.

"I mean it, Mr. Jones. I don't need your commentary on everything. Save it for your sharing time."

Betty hid her chuckles behind her hand, shaking her head and Jughead just watched her. He couldn't help but smile to himself. He was so glad he finally, finally, had a class where it was just the two of them.

Because ever since they were little, it had always been the three of them: Archie, Betty, and Jughead. They had every class together (except for his short stint in Juvie), spent every summer together… even after FP lost his Job and Jughead's family had to move out of the neighborhood, they were never apart.

Until recently.

Now that they were in high school, things had been different. They were starting to take up different interests, peel off into different groups… and Jughead was more alone than not. But over the last year, Betty and Jughead had discovered their mutual love of writing. And now they found themselves here.

And for once, he didn't have to share Betty's attention with Archie - a battle he never seemed to win, anyway.

Not that he was trying.

"Betty, will you read Juliet?" Mrs. Caldwell asked. Jughead wanted to roll his eyes. Of course. Who else would it be? Betty nodded obediently and opened her book. Mrs. Caldwell scanned the room, her eyes settling on Jughead. "Ah, yes. Mr. Jones since you're so big on talking today, how about you read the Narrator and stage directions?"

Tough luck.

"And as for Romeo-"

Mrs. Caldwell's thoughts were interrupted by the classroom door opening. And just as fate would have it, Archie was now poking his head in.

"Uh, is this…" he looked down at his palm, trying to make out his handwriting, "Creative Writing & Lit?"

"Yes, can I help you?" Jughead's stomach dropped when Archie's eyes found them toward the back of the room - he knew exactly what was happening. He'd gone and jinxed it.

"Biology was over-booked. My counselor said I had to pick something else for my third period slot-" Archie explained. Jughead tried not to notice the way Betty's face lit up and she gave him an excited wave.

"Wonderful, Mr. Andrews, happy to have you. Come have a seat," Jughead's eyes followed Archie into the room, predictably taking the empty seat on the other side of Betty.

"What are you doing here? You said you don't like writing?" Betty whispered over to Archie.

"I just thought, why not. Easy A… and I'll get to hang out with my best friends."

"Okay, now where was I…" Mrs. Caldwell mused, her hand finding her chin contemplatively. "Oh yes. Romeo. How about you read our Romeo, Archie?"

Of course.

Regardless of the intrusion at the time, Betty and Jughead did spend a considerable amount of time together in Mrs. Caldwell's class. Jughead had a strong inclination, merely based on his peer's writings, that he and Betty were maybe the only two people who were actually taking the class seriously.

For an assignment, they had to write a poem about something or someone without saying who or what it was about - essentially shrouded in mystery. It was clear from Archie's writing that he'd clumsily crafted a few lines about football.

Jughead's poem was about the unfair distribution of wealth in society and the way it can affect the class division within a community. It was met with yawns and under-appreciation from his peers - that was no surprise. He was always ahead of his time.

Betty's was very clearly about Archie. The whole room stared at him the entire time she read the poem. Hell, even Betty stared at him the whole time. The only person who didn't get it was Archie himself. And Jughead was finding it increasingly hard to keep his mouth shut any more.

Either Archie was completely oblivious, or he knew about Betty's deep, burning crush on him and chose to ignore it - it was easier than actually telling her he didn't feel the same way about her. Archie was never one for confrontation, anyway.

As usual, Jughead stewed on it, because ultimately, Betty never looked at him the way she looked at Archie. And, at least at the time, he thought she never would.

So he was quite surprised when he came into her room in a suit for Jason's funeral and her eyes lit up the way they did looking at Archie in the past… and he knew. For the first time ever, there was an actual chance that she could love him. If it hadn't been for that little moment, that little spark, he never would have been brave enough to kiss her.

He hated that now a little part of him wished he never had. At least then he would never have to hurt her.

As Jughead shook the memories away, his eyes pulling back to Betty's shoulder, illuminated by the moonlight, he felt just as confused as ever. He wished he knew the answer, he wished he didn't have to sort through the tangled, knotted thoughts in his mind alone… but that's how he did things. That's the only way he knew how.

Alone.

"I love you," he whispered into her ear, lowering himself gently atop of her to feel her skin against his.

"I love you," she choked on her words, and he never heard something sound so tragically pure. He kissed her shoulder again before turning, bringing her with him so she was laying in front of him, her back still pressed against his chest.

Betty wanted him to do more. She wanted to see the passion that he started to show her the night he got that stupid jacket. She wanted that Jughead back. The one that wasn't afraid to love her, the one that didn't treat her like she was about to slip away.

"I'm all yours, Juggie," she told him, reminding him that nothing changed for her.

He hid his face in her hair at her words, and he took a moment to breathe in the scent of her shampoo and hairspray. It was the end of the day, but it smelled like she just woke up. He was going to miss the breath of fresh air that was Betty Cooper.

And it became apparent that Betty was waiting for a reciprocation that was never going to come.

To be continued...