Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

1. Youth – Glass Animals

2. Daddy Issues (Remix) – The Neighbourhood 

3. West Coast – The Neighbourhood 

4. Kevin – Oliver Malcolm

5. Come A Little Closer – Cage The Elephant

6. Be Together – Major Lazer (feat. Wild Belle) 

7. Heat Waves – Glass Animals

8. Born to Die – Lana Del Rey

9. Cool for the Summer – Demi Lovato

10. Low Tide Love – Tipling Rock

11. Electric Love – BØRNS

12. affection – BETWEEN FRIENDS

13. Hypnotic – Zella Day

14. Babydoll – Ari Abdul

15. Slow Down – Chase Atlantic

Chapter Text

Chapter One

Betty

»•» 🌷 «•«

"You have to be kidding," Cheryl laughed. 

"I'm not," I said. "As serious as ever."

Cheryl knew I was lying. Cheryl knew literally everything. She was smart. You could ask her about one thing, and have the answer in mere seconds. It was insane really. The smartest of our whole grade—I was sure. So of course she had to know I wasn't exactly telling her the truth. I was just...dragging it out. Sort of.

"Sure," Cheryl hummed. "I believe you."

She was lying too, but she presented hers more obviously on purpose for me to pick out. Hey, I may not have been the brightest—compared to her—but she didn't need to go that low. She was my best friend. I knew when she was lying, and she knew when I was. It was all about tells. Her sarcasm purely just annoyed me—probably her intention.

"What else have you got to tell?" Cheryl asked. "Honestly this time, please."

I sighed. "But what's the fun if I don't dramatically explain it? It's more enjoyable that way," I complained. I was always one for enjoyment, while Cheryl was for critical, right answers only. That's what caused us to fight over stupid things most of the time.

"But then you're adding untrue details, or losing 'less important' details," Cheryl explained. "No detail is unimportant."

"But some are just plain old boring," I objected, to which she nodded. At least we could agree on something tonight. "So what's so wrong about tossing a detail that's unneeded then?"

"It could explain something in the future," Cheryl answered. "Again, no detail is unimportant."

I groaned, falling onto my back, gripping my pink bed sheets under me. She sure knew how to annoy the hell out of me. I hated that. She knew me too well sometimes.

"Can we move on?" I pleaded. "I don't want to start a fight right now. I'm too tired."

I watched Cheryl glance at her phone, wincing at the time. "That's fair," she noted. "Shit. When did my mom call?" she gasped, tapping a notification. "Oh no. I have to go home. She's going to be so mad I stayed out so late."

The redheaded girl raced around my room, collecting her things. Even some of the stuff she had left by accident last time when she had been in a rush too. I let her go, waving to her on the way out of my room. Neither of us bothered to say goodbye. We both knew we would more than likely be on the phone talking again before bed tonight.

I sighed, flipping my phone over next to me. 6%, of course. I glanced over to my nightstand, annoyed all over again when I saw my charger wasn't where it normally should have been. Kevin. He had broken his a month ago, and instead of getting a new one, he resorted to stealing mine. Annoyingly so, when I needed it most.

I got up then, walking into the hallway. Kevin had moved in with his dad when I was four. After my dad had left, my mom didn't take that much time to move on to someone else. Or at least that was how I saw it—four-year-old me.

She met Kevin's dad—Tom—at her news anchor job. He was a writer for the morning broadcast. They had clicked instantly, and before I knew it, I had a stepbrother not even a year later. Some would say it was fast, but I suspected maybe they had something going on long before I had been told. Maybe that was even the reason why my dad left. My mother had never told me why—just to stop asking. That made it even more obvious.

I knocked on Kevin's door about five seconds before I just opened the thing. I was mad. Maybe even angry, at most. I couldn't care less about privacy, for the few seconds it would take to get my charger back. It wanted to be in and out fast. I didn't have time for chitchat.

"Jeez. Aren't you nice," Kevin commented, looking right back over at the tv screen in front of him. Yeah, of course, Kevin had a tv in his room while I wasn't allowed to. Apparently playing video games downstairs too much had annoyed my mother into getting him a tv of his own for his birthday last year. I had been pissed.

"Where's my charger?" I questioned, crossing my arms. "I know you have it."

"I don't," Kevin argued. "I promise."

"Then where the hell is it?!" I snapped. Yeah, I was getting hangry. Definitely time for dinner.

"Over here."

I quickly turned to the corner the opposite way I had been facing, my face going red at the sight of Kevin's best friend slumped over on the boy's bed, phone plugged in next to him. I was instantly embarrassed. I had no idea Kevin had someone over. Even worse, Jughead Jones of all people. Shit.

"I thought it was Kevins," the raven-haired boy continued, disconnecting his phone. "Sorry, Sunshine."

Sunshine. Ironic, considering what I had just been like moments ago.

"That's not my name," I stated, once again. I'd lost count of the amount of time I'd already had to say that before.

"I know," he claimed, handing over the cord. "That's why it's a nickname."

I glared at the boy, to which he had of course smiled back at me. He and my brother had profusely made fun of me for my cheerful charm for years on end. Kevin had laid off though, while Jughead still just had to call me 'Sunshine'. It annoyed the hell out of me. More than Cheryl did, and that was saying a lot.

"You got your charger. Are you done now?" Kevin groaned, keeping a straight line of sight on the tv. "You're messing up my win streak."

"You've been doing that just fine on your own without her here," Jughead remarked, laughing. "You're just using her as an excuse."

"Am not!" Kevin protested, wincing when the death message came up on the screen again.

"See," Jughead taunted. "Not Sunshines's fault."

I rolled my eyes, pushing past Kevin on my way out of the room. I'd had enough. Fucking Sunshine. I hated it. He'd said that on purpose to annoy me, hadn't he? Either way, I was done.

I rushed back into my own room, shutting and locking the door behind me. I plugged in my charger to the wall beside my desk—a different spot than normal so Kevin wouldn't find it so easily—and then my phone on the other end. I smiled to myself at the charging battery symbol. Finally, dinner time.

︵‿︵‿︵

I sat silently at the table, chewing food as my mother and Kevin's dad talked about work things. Kevin was opposite to me, nearly done with the plate he had just been given not too long ago. And yes, he still had his food served to him. I had to make my own plate like everyone else.

It didn't take a smart person to realize Kevin had been favourited. I knew why my mother did it. She wanted him to like her, despite how many long years it had been. Kevin just couldn't seem to outrun the past, and it was eating her alive. It wasn't like she was trying to be his new mom. She just wanted her respect and love returned, that was it. He wasn't having it though. He still blamed her for reasons that weren't even her doings.

Or, you know, maybe he just needed someone to be mad at. That was probably it. 

"Do you want anything else?" Alice offered. Kevin just glared at her, and she sighed. He was surely being a pain today. "Betty?"

I shook my head. "I'm good, mom." I sent her a smile, which she gladly appreciated. "Thank you."

Tom sent his son a quick look of disapproval, which Kevin ignored. It didn't take a lot to notice how much my mother and Tom cared about each other. It was sweet, really. And to top it off, Tom was a really nice guy. He had taught me how to ride a bike, swim, bowl, and even how to change a tire. He was like the dad I never had, teaching me things mine couldn't.

I—unlike Kevin—didn't hate this marriage. It made my mom happy, and I was happy. And if you looked closely, Tom was really happy too, though he didn't show emotions on his face much. 

A few times I had caught our parents when they had thought they were alone; Tom giving her flowers, kissing her cheek, and even sometimes a loving kiss. All sweet little things. Some things I probably didn't even know of—which I was happy for. I did not need to know everything.

"So," Tom began. "How's life?"

He always did this. Every so often he would just ask the question and wait for an opportunity to lend some helping advice—or answer questions. It was the little things that mattered.

"Good," I hummed, taking a sip of my water.

"Why?"

I thought about it for a moment. "My friends," I came up with. "This week's been fun."

It was only Wednesday, but yeah, this week had been fun. I had gone to the mall with Cheryl, beat Kevin's ass in his most prized video game he was sure I didn't even know how to play, and I had been to the park and back a few times. It was finally turning nice out for the spring weather, so I was fully taking advantage of it.

Tom nodded with a smile. "Kevin?" he questioned, moving on.

The boy just shrugged. "Fine, I guess," he muttered. It was obvious he wasn't in a talking mood. How much had Jughead pissed him off about losing his game? I had heard them—mostly Kevin—arguing even after I had left the room.

"Fine? That's it?"

"Mhm," Kevin hummed. "Just fine."

Tom left it alone at that. The whole table did. Kevin was in an apparent bad mood, and it seemed to be rubbing off on others. That made it ten times worse to sit around the awkwardly silent table. When everyone was done eating, we just left. Or at least Kevin and I did. I had heard our parents still talking downstairs afterwards.

I grabbed my now charged phone from my desk in my room, moving over to close and lock my door again. I immediately pressed Cheryl's name from my contacts, starting a call. I subconsciously walked over to my window as we chatted about things that probably were none of our business. As I looked out the window something unmistakably caught my eye.

It was near 10:34 pm, and just now across the street, F.P. Jones was pulling into his own driveway, then getting out of the car. It was obvious he was in his work clothes, but work had more than definitely ended a long time ago. That made me uneasy. He was getting home too late.

"Betty?!" Cheryl shouted through the speaker. "You still there?!"

I winced, turning to shut my blinds. F.P. was inside now, no doubt.

"I'm here," I assured the fiery redhead. "What were you saying?"

"So..."

Chapter Text

Chapter Two

Jughead 

»•» 🗞 «•«

My dad had come home late—again. I knew what that meant. I had known for a while. Especially from the marks on his neck left unhidden by what his shirt couldn't cover, and the lipstick stains around his mouth he hadn't bothered to wipe off. He had no shame about it either. Even worse.

I watched from the living room as he came in, and then turned to see my mother's face drop. She knew. I knew. We all knew but my little sister. We had been purposefully keeping it from her to save her from the truth. She was still too young to know. Still only eight.

My dad walked over to my mom, kissing her cheek with the same mouth that had most definitely been shared with another woman tonight. It disgusted me. How could he be so cruel to her? My mother was still his wife. He promised vows I wasn't sure he had ever kept.

"I'm going to take a shower. Want to join me?" I heard him whisper to my mother.

"I'm good," was her shaky answer. Good. That was most definitely a lie. I had no doubt she wouldn't be in Jelly's bed with her tonight, cuddling close for comfort. 

My dad just shrugged, turning to leave out of the kitchen. I watched him, every harsh step he took. He caught my line of sight last minute, forcing a smile. He opened his mouth to say something, but I just shook my head. I didn't want to hear it; not from him. He winced, turning back around and leaving. He was lucky he had left so soon. I wasn't sure I could last any longer without my anger taking over.

I turned back to my mom, hunched over the kitchen island on her forearms. She was already in tears. I couldn't stand it. She didn't deserve it. I couldn't understand why she still had put up with him. Or maybe I did. It was probably for the money. We would be drenched in debt without his money.

I got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen. My mom already knew what I was doing; we did this every time. She spun around, and I wrapped my arms around her as she cried. The way he treated her made me honestly want to kill him. Then rebirth him to watch his own funeral, where we'd be smiling, then kill him all over again. I wanted him to suffer. Suffer like my mom had been for these last—at least that I knew of—few years.

"Do you want me to go get Jelly?" I asked. "We could have a movie night. Just us."

She shook her head, pulling away. I knew she didn't want me to see her cry. "Go to bed," she whispered. "Tuck your sister in too for me? It's late."

"Okay."

I gave her one last hug, then kissed the top of her head—I was taller than her now. I felt her watching me as I walked up the staircase to Jelly's and I's rooms. I knew she wanted to tuck Jelly in, but she didn't want the little girl to see her like this. She was too young—she shouldn't have to know yet.

"Jelly?" I spoke, turning on the light in her room. I found her already asleep on her bed, still in her clothes from today. There was no point in waking her. I pulled the covers from where she had kicked them down to the end of her bed and covered her over. I kissed the top of her head, turning off the light before whispering, "Goodnight, Princess."

She was a princess. A little girl who dreamt the world was full of butterflies and kittens, rainbows and sparkles. If only she knew. Good thing she was too young. I dream of being that young and naïve again.

I shut her door, walking across the hall to my room. I flicked on the light, shutting and locking the door behind me. I wanted to rage, so badly. I was so angry I for sure thought I was going to be sick. I never was, but I wanted to. If it would take away that growing pit in the bottom of my stomach, I wouldn't have been mad.

I switched into a pair of pyjamas, turned off the light and slipped into bed. I laid there, staring up at the ceiling. I was sure I had stayed awake, just lying there like that, for at least of couple hours. I had no doubt it would take me a while to fall asleep—if I could even manage to sleep. But eventually, I did.

I only knew that because I woke up to the sunlight streaming into my room, evening out the dark colours. I could already hear my sister awake, babbling to my mother. Or maybe even my father. She still liked him. She had no clue, so of course, she still loved her dad. I bet she wouldn't if she knew.

I got changed, headed downstairs, then ate breakfast. I didn't even dare throw a glance remotely near my father sitting on the couch. He didn't deserve my attention. I knew that—even he knew that. He was a nasty excuse of a man. A nasty excuse of a husband. He didn't even have any shame in that, which made at all horribly worse.

"Jelly. You ready to go?" I called out, standing by the already-open front door. She nodded happily, following me to my car. Or, technically my mom's car, but she had given it to me for my birthday back in January. It only made sense. I drove that thing more than her, driving me and Jelly to school, picking up things for my mom, and even my summer job coming up in a few months.

"Seatbelt," I reminded the little girl in the backseat. She only sent me a tiny glare, which I had laughed at. "Please?"

"Nicely," she commanded. For such a little girl, she was quite demanding. Cute, but demanding.

"Pretty please with a cherry on top?" I sighed, giving in near instantly. She smiled, giggling as she clicked in her seatbelt. "Thank you."

"Welcome," was her hummed response.

︵‿︵‿︵

"We're here," I stated, turning down the radio. Jelly was slumped back in her seat, going absolutely nowhere. I knew why. "Jelly. You can't let those girls ruin everything for you."

She pouted, clutching her backpack close. "They're mean. They hate me."

I turned around in my seat to face her, ignoring the time. I already knew I was going to be late. No need to check the time and make it all worse.

"Do you want me to go with you?" I offered.

She thought about it for a moment. "Yes, please."

I took her hand in mine as I lead her to the front gate, meeting a teacher standing there. I ignored her odd looks pointed straight at me. I knew what they meant. Of course, I was way too young to have a kid Jelly's age. It probably looked really strange to outsiders.

"You okay now?" I asked, bending down to meet her height. Despite her age, she was still way shorter than me. I was tall like my dad, and she would probably turn out short like my mother.

"No," Jelly whined, spotting the mean group of girls across the schoolyard. "I don't want to."

"You kinda have to," I reminded her. "School is good for you."

She pouted like a lost puppy. And if it were my choice, I would've caved right then and there. But I had to remind myself I couldn't. She had already missed a few days already due to these girls. She couldn't afford any more lost time.

"Please? For me?" I begged. I couldn't stand to see her so worried and sad. It was killing me. I needed to get her in there before I caved for real. "Pretty please?"

She sighed, giving in. I quickly kissed her on the cheek, holding her hand until I couldn't anymore. "Knock 'em dead, Jelly," I whisper-shouted, then added, "Don't actually though." She laughed, so that was something.

I stayed at the fence line for a bit, watching her sit down in the sandbox across the yard. At least the group of girls were keeping their distance. Then I realized that was probably only because I was here, which crushed my heart in a second. The least I could do was one thing I had in mind.

"Hey kid," I called out. A—probably close to her age—boy spun around, giving me a terrified look. I mean, I understood why. I didn't know the kid. "Could you do me a favour?" I asked, sounding even worse than I had intended.

"What?" the kid questioned.

"You see that little girl over in the sandbox?" I pointed to Jelly.

"Yeah," he answered.

"You're big and strong right?" I already knew what the kid's answer was going to be by just looking at him.

"Yes," he quickly spit out. "Super strong."

That was most definitely a lie, but I couldn't care less. Any protection was at least a little protection. Better than nothing.

"She's my little sister. A group of girls keep bullying her, and I need a strong superhero to protect her." I already knew he would say yes. "Could you do that?" He quickly nodded, jumping up and down. "Keep her safe?"

"I will. I promise," the kid assured me. And for some stupidly odd reason, I trusted the little guy.

"Thank you," I called after him, but he was already running off.

A moment later the kid was by the sandbox, sitting down next to her. "Hi. Do you want to be my friend?" I heard him ask. Jelly, of course, nodded. She was nothing if not nice. "Do you wanna play?"

"Okay," I heard her agree. And just like that, she was happy again. I was happy.

︵‿︵‿︵

"You're late, again," Mrs. Belle—our morning secretary—informed me. Like I didn't already know. There was a clock not even four feet away. I may not have been that good at numbers, but I wasn't entirely stupid.

"I know," I muttered. "I had to take my sister to school."

"You say that every time," the woman stated.

"Because it's true," I told her. "And she's been having a harder time lately." Mrs. Belle took back the sign-in papers I handed her. "Bullies," I added last minute.

She nodded, probably not even listening. "Can't your parents take her to school?"

"Not really an everyday option," I explained, again. I was sure I had already told her all of this before.

"A bus?" she went on to ask.

"Too scared," I answered. "Too many kids. Not enough friends."

She just nodded again lazily, pointing to the clock behind me. Yeah, I already knew I was late. No need to remind me. A crusty old lady she was.

"If you come in late again, I'll have to notify your principal," she announced. "Again."

"Yeah. I know," I sighed.

We didn't talk anymore after that. She let me go, giving me another warning before doing so. And on my way out I noticed a flash of blonde watching me curiously. I couldn't blame her. I know she had watched me leave earlier with Jelly before she even got on that damn yellow bus. And now here I was, thirty minutes late, just getting in.

Chapter Text

Chapter Three

Betty

»•» 🧋 «•«

Jughead Jones coming in late to school wasn't that unusual anymore. There had been multiple incidents like this that I had either personally seen, or heard of. But what did make it unusual, watching him and his sister leave early, only for him to make it here extremely late. What had gone on in the last close-to hour, I didn't know. The whole damn family themselves were unpredictable.

First Jughead's father coming home late, then Jughead coming to school late? I'd even seen his little sister sitting out on the driveway once, crying as I could hear fighting inside. I didn't know who it was, but from the voices, I was damn sure it was been between Jughead and his dad. But even then I couldn't make out what they were fighting about.

When I had come up to his little sister, she was silent. I offered her a popsicle, considering it had been peak summertime back then. She smiled, which was the best thing I had gotten from her, if not ever. I hadn't even known her name yet, which I later found out through Kevin. She was a quiet kid, and Jughead never dared to say a word about his family. That fact alone made me skeptical.

I watched as Jughead walked past the hallway door, catching my gaze at the last second. I quickly looked back down at my work, away from the classroom door. Something was off. I could feel it. It wasn't right. That family was secretive, hiding things behind perfect images left right and centre. I couldn't understand why.

"Betty. We're starting now," Veronica reminded me, tapping my shoulder.

"Oh. Right," I mumbled, turning to the girl. She had been my in-class partner for the semester, which our teacher had assigned months ago. I admit, I didn't know the girl as well as I should have, considering how much she loved to talk about herself—but she was nice. That was the main thing I had picked up about her. That, and her crazy obsession with herself.

"What caught your attention?" she asked, glancing out the door window. There was nothing left to look at. Jughead was long gone by now.

"Someone just came in late," I told her, truthfully. Though I didn't mention that it had been Jughead. If I did, that would've started up a whole new conversation. Why? Who is he? Wait, do you like him? Oh my gosh, you like him, don't you? I didn't like him; that was set in stone. 

"Looked more interesting than just that," Veronica commented. But to my luck, which I was happy about, she left it alone after that. I knew she wanted to talk about it more—the girl loved to gossip—but she couldn't. Not after the teacher called her out for 'chatting'.

︵‿︵‿︵

I sat down beside Cheryl, leaning against the tree behind me. It was lunchtime, starting a few minutes ago. Essentially just an hour we could spend inside or out, eating or whatever really. Cheryl normally spent the time reading and eating, while I did nearly the exact same, but pulled out my tablet and pen instead of a book. Now was the time I usually fooled around on a drawing app, trying to figure out a sketch I would paint later on an actual canvas. I found it always turned out better that way.

"Hi," Cheryl greeted, moving over a little. "I haven't seen you today."

"Busy day, I guess," I responded, pulling out my lunch from my bag. That and my tablet—for later.

"I can't wait for tomorrow," Cheryl sighed, closing her book to eat.

"Why?"

"Tomorrow's Friday," she reminded me, raising her eyebrows. "How could you forget?"

"I didn't," I argued. "Friday just isn't that important to me."

"Right, I almost forgot. Thursday is your favourite day of the week, you weirdo." Cheryl then proceeded to fake gag.

"Well, if you look at the starting of the week from a Monday, and the weekend days are right next to each other on a calendar—which makes more sense, in my opinion—Thursday is the middle day of the week. And the middle of anything is always the luckiest for me," I explained. "So no, I'm not being weird."

"If you don't think the day before the weekend is the best day of the week, then yeah, you are weird," Cheryl concluded. "There's no getting past that."

I knew Cheryl was only teasing, but still, she was a pain in the ass to argue with. That was probably why she won each and every fight with anyone, even if she happened to be wrong—which was rare. The only person she has yet to win against was her own mother; for obvious reasons.

I sighed, bringing a bite of my rice bowl—leftovers from diner last night—to my mouth, scanning the schoolyard. And there where he usually was, I found Kevin with a group of his friends, sitting down at one of the many picnic tables recently scattered around because of the season change. Jughead was there too, right next to him, which brought me back to my earlier thoughts.

"Cheryl?" I questioned.

"Mhm?"

"Do you still remember how long it used to take us to get to our old elementary school?" I asked, turning away from the boys.

"Uh..." She seemed to be thinking about it. "Probably...I don't know. Maybe fifteen, twenty minutes—I think. Why?"

"There's a store around there I wanted to go to," I quickly lied. "Wanted to figure out how long it would take to get there, then back."

"Oh." Cheryl bought it—luckily. "There and back? Easily over half an hour, I'd say. Maybe even forty-five minutes."

"Kay. Thanks," I hummed. At least that now solved one problem. Maybe Jughead had just been dropping his little sister off at school. She had been in the car with him when I saw them leave, and nothing else. 

I turned back to my food then—Cheryl back to snacking and reading. I glanced over to the boys again, laughing at something. Kevin seemed to be the one talking, so it was probably about one of his latest dates he had been fooling around with. A girl? A guy? I had no idea. That boy had new faces around all the time, then would ghost the old ones he was done with if he couldn't cut ties. Kevin never settled down—everyone who knew him knew that. It probably had something to do with his lack of relationship with his real mom.

I then switched my line of sight over to the raven-haired boy next to him, gulping hard. Yeah, Jughead had caught me watching. For how long? I didn't know, but long enough to turn my cheeks pink and make me look away. He had caught me, a stupidly smug smirk growing on his mouth. I only knew that because I had peeked back up, and he was still watching me.

"I'm going to go pee," I randomly blurted out to Cheryl. I didn't really need to, but I needed to calm down a bit. That, or I'd get overly embarrassed and freak out. "Watch my things for me?"

"Sure," Cheryl agreed, not even bothering to look up. She was probably in the middle of reading an important chapter of her book. "Be quick."

"I will," I promised. She didn't look up then either, so I just left it at that.

In the bathroom—gladly alone—I fanned myself with my hand, trying to calm myself down. It was just nothing. Don't worry. Don't panic. He's not going to make fun of you. It was nothing. You're just embarrassed. I was a little bit ashamed to admit the number of times I had to remind myself of these things. Especially after Kevin and his group of friends had quite literally traumatized me in my really early teens.

I had been thirteen at the time, while his friend group had been either fourteen or fifteen—depending on their birthdays. I remembered tripping over myself, and I had ripped my shorts right in front of them. I was beyond embarrassed, and they only worsened that by making fun of me on the spot. That was the first time I had ever experienced a panic attack from the few I've had, which ended up scaring off most of the boys in seconds.

Jughead and Kevin stayed though. Kevin had tried to calm me down and apologized over and over again. Jughead had sent me soft smiles, a hand on my shoulder, and lent me his sweater to wrap around my waist for the rest of the day until we all got home from school. I forever thanked him for that.

I glanced back up at my reflection in the mirror, glad to see the redness of my cheeks had gone down. At least my appearance didn't show my panic inside. The last thing I needed was for it to be noticed, then asked about. That would only end up pushing me back down the spiral.

I quickly stood up straight as I heard the door to the girls' bathroom open, turning on the sink to wash my hands quickly. I pretended not to notice Veronica and a friend of hers—a girl with pink hair—walk into the room. I hoped Veronica wouldn't notice me as I grabbed a paper towel, quickly dried my hands, then tossed it in the trash. And she didn't for the most part, but I knew she had caught sight of me when I was rushing out the door.

"Shit." I gasped, knocking into someone quite literally the second I opened the door. Looking up I met no other than Jughead's eyes, shocked—he hadn't been expecting that either. "Sorry," I immediately apologized. "I– Sorry."

"It's fine, Sunshine," he chuckled, taking his hand off my shoulder. Part of me wished it had stayed. "Just scared me a bit. That's all."

"Sorry," I repeated, again. I really did feel bad.

I watched Jughead open his mouth to say something—probably to say it really was fine—but he stopped, taking a mini step back. Personal space. "You alright?"

His question caught me off guard. "Uh, yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You look hot," he bluntly stated.

"What?!"

Then what he had said clicked in his head, and I spotted the panic form. "No. No, not like that. I meant, like, your cheeks. They're red," he explained, nervously laughing a little. "You look 'overheated' hot."

I didn't know what to say. I was sure I had calmed myself down enough in the bathroom for it not to be noticeable. But maybe I hadn't enough. I could just blame it on the sun—I burned easily—or tell the truth. Or even just straight up lie and tell him he was right, which if he had assumed that it should've been believable. Right?

"Hot flash," I blurted out, cringing at myself. Yeah, that didn't entirely sound true now the way I had said it. Maybe he would still buy it.

"Hot flash?"

Oh. Of course, he didn't know what that was. Fuck.

"A hormone thing," I told him. "Comes with being a girl—period stuff. High blood pressure too—because of my period. So, uh...it doesn't take much to overheat at the wrong time," I nervously rambled. I thought he understood by now. "And I was wearing a sweater" I added, for no absolute reason. Why couldn't I stop talking? "So, uh, you were kinda right before."

"That stuff's normal?" Jughead questioned, looking concerned. "That sounds horrible."

"Uh..." Again, I didn't know what to say. I didn't think he'd care enough to ask more about it. Normally when I mentioned that sort of stuff to boys, they'd just run off, grossed out. "Yeah, I guess."

"Oh," he mumbled, thinking for a moment. Then he offered the water bottle he held in his hand, gesturing to the water fountain a few feet away. "I just filled it up. It should still be cold."

Then I realized what he was doing, which made me smile. "Thanks," I said, taking the metal bottle from him. He had already unscrewed the top off for me before handing it over, and I took a sip. I knew I had a water bottle of my own in my bag, back with Cheryl, but the fact that he offered, I couldn't say no. Stupid hormone-filled brain—because yes, I did happen to get my period that morning. 

"You'll be alright now?" he asked, taking the bottle back. I nodded. "Then be careful, Sunshine. All it takes is one cloud."

Chapter Text

Chapter Four

Betty

»•» 🍡 «•«

I backed up away from the canvas I had sitting on an easel, cocking my head to the side. "Does that look right to you, or is something off?"

Cheryl glanced up from her book in the corner, quite comfy in the beanbag chair she had persuaded me into buying not too long ago. "I don't know. What's it supposed to look like?"

I quickly grabbed my tablet from across the room, bringing up the reference I had drawn earlier. "Like this."

"Um, maybe the left...thing? I don't know, whatever it is," she answered. "You just need to round it off a little bit more on the canvas."

I nodded, switching my line of sight back and forth between the two sketches—one on a screen, the other on the already primed canvas. She was right. Of course, she was right. Cheryl could notice any little mistake a mile away. It was her hidden talent.

"Thanks, Cher," I hummed, reaching back over my workspace for a pencil.

"No problem," she replied, more than likely going straight back into her book—if she hadn't already.

I reached up on my toes, gaining the tiniest bit of height to reach the top of the canvas, rounding out what was supposed to be a cloud. I honestly had no idea how I was going to paint this one, despite already having a clear sketch. I couldn't get what Jughead had said to me out of my head. 

Be careful, Sunshine. All it takes is one cloud.

That one stupid little teasing metaphor was all I could think about for a while. So much so that I had to completely restart my first design, which lead to this new one; a cloud blocking the sun, causing a shadow over at least half the canvas, showing the damage it could make to the sunny side.

I—in my own little workshed Tom had converted over for me a few years ago—was in my own little bubble, messing around with paints while Cheryl read her book in the corner. Neither of us minded the quietness. We both found it somewhat relaxing, being able to do what we loved while still spending time together. Maybe that was why we thrived together; we didn't need each other entirely for entertainment.

"Why can't love be like fiction?" Cheryl randomly asked, sighing. Yeah, she was reading another romance book.

"How would you know? You've never been in love," I reminded her, squeezing out some paint onto my pallet. Note to self: I need more white paint.

"What about the people around us?" Cheryl went on. "That's not love. Not fictional love. Now I think I'm forever doomed to this non-existent 'love' I'm searching for."

I laughed, turning around to see Cheryl pout. "I'm sure you'll find someone one day. You deserve it—trust me."

"Haha," she fake-laughed. "Don't bring my hopes up further."

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are," Cheryl argued. "Love isn't like that. It's...boring."

"And have you ever been in love?" I questioned.

"With a fictional character, yes."

I rolled my eyes, turning around again. "Real people, Cher."

"No," she sighed. "But that's the point. What If there's no one as interesting as...a man written by a woman?"

"You'll find someone," I repeated. "I promise."

"But how can you promise something like that? You don't know the future." She had a point. A very fair point.

"Cheryl, you'll have boys chasing after you left right and centre. You'll be perfectly fine."

"What if I don't want a boyfriend?" Cheryl whispered.

"Then what has this whole argument been about then? If you don't want a boyfriend, why– Oh." I was a little slow getting there, I admit. "Oh. Um, then...you'll find the perfect partner."

I turned around to check if I had said the right thing, finding Cheryl's cheeks tinted pink instead. "You think so?" She looked almost hopeful for a second. And glad.

"I do. You deserve it, smarty pants."

Cheryl scoffed, rolling her eyes at the nickname I had been calling her for years—that she absolutely hated with a passion. "Fuck off, Sunshine."

I—with absolute annoyance—sent her the best glare I could muster up, crossing my arms. Now that was uncalled for. Somewhat.

︵‿︵‿︵

At some point, Cheryl had left to go home. I didn't know when—I had spaced out, in my zone; that's what Cheryl called it—but she did leave. Probably over an hour ago by now. I was still painting, mixing colours, and gaping at the canvas placed in front of me. It was my safe place.

I honestly wanted to have a career in the arts, whatever way I could get. But if it had to be my dream job, I'd be somewhere on some calming tropical island, painting on the beach in the shade under palm trees, listening to the waves crash while I worked. I'd paint, sell it to some buyer for a good sum of money, then carry on with my life until inspiration struck; then I'd do it all over again. That was my dream.

I couldn't understand why someone would want to live in the city when you could have peacefulness all around you, bathing in it. I didn't want to live in some crappy, expensive-for-what-it's worth apartment. I wanted a real home, preferably on a beach—maybe a nice lake if that wasn't an option.

If someone hadn't known that about me yet, it would've been easy to guess if they'd seen the mass amount of paintings I had painted of beaches, lakes, and waterfronts. They were my main inspiration—for art and my future. Every time I looked over at one of those paintings, it reminded me of where I wanted to be. Then I'd tell myself to focus and work hard for my goal, spending hours on a painting for my portfolio. That's what happened now.

I had been painting for hours, trying to perfect anything and everything. Any little error; corrected. Any little lack of something; something was added. Any clutter that was too busy; something was painted over to diminish the busyness. Whenever there was a problem, there was a solution. Always. That's what I had been taught, and what I would live by.

I took a few steps back, admiring the work-in-progress piece. It was off to a good start. Honestly, better than any other I had been working on recently. All due to a stupid metaphor Jughead Jones of all people had spit out. If only he knew how much of a sucker for metaphors I was.

I craved a good metaphor. One that was easy to understand, yet complex in its own way. A way that only the people who got it got it, and the others who hadn't experienced it didn't. One that consisted of good wording, and fine details that weren't too hard to notice—first or second try type details. A metaphor that sounded smart, that easily could've been understood by someone of normal nature. Someone like me, who wasn't that great with words. 

I was not good at English, Math, or really any other subject like Cheryl was. My one thing was art, and I loved it that way. I had my own thing that made me me. A thing that made me happy all on my own. A thing that I could use to express what I was feeling if I wasn't sure how to explain it with words. And a hobby I craved to do, over and over again, even if I wasn't that good at it to start.

Sometimes I even annoyed my mother with my painting. Especially that one time I had gotten paint all over the dining room table a couple of years back, which lead to being grounded for a week. I had been miserable that whole week, and it had driven my mother insane to the point she had asked Tom to switch the backyard shed over for me early—it was supposed to be a birthday gift two months from then. And I was now proud to say I had not spilled paint in the house ever since then...kinda. I'm just hoping the stain on my bedsheets, hidden by a pillow, will go unnoticed for as long as it can. Fingers crossed.

I sighed to myself as I removed my apron by the tie at the back, over my head. Cheryl had gotten me it for last Christmas, stating I was, "Too prone to spilling paint all over myself again." But I mean, she did have a point. That apron had saved me way too many times in the past four months alone to be possible. But I would never let her know she had been right—she'd hold it to me ever since as a form of blackmail in some way. 

I grabbed my phone from across the room, taking a picture of the in-progress piece. After that, I stuffed my things away, washed my brushes and pallets with the outdoor sink right outside of the shed, and then closed up. I made damn sure to lock that door with my key. My whole life was in there. I would die if one of my babies got stolen. Okay, maybe that was a little dramatic.

Back in my room, after stealing back my charger from Kevin, again, I closed my door, falling back onto my bed. Out of habit I opened one of my many social media apps—my favourite—and clicked the '+' icon. I picked the photo of my unfinished art and came up with a quick caption, a few tags to get noticed, then posted it. I would later post the final piece when I knew it was complete and finished.

I scrolled through my own page, looking through all my past posts of unfinished, then final pieces of art. I had started doing this a couple of years ago, gaining an attraction slowly over time for my work, hoping maybe it would be a quicker and easier way for an opportunity to fall into my lap. And partly for the memories too, when I'm older.

At this point, I had already gained a few thousand followers. Most weren't people I knew, which made it all the more thoughtful that they actually enjoyed my work. It surprised me to see so many people follow after one of my last posts had done so much better than my other 'best's had done combined together. But even then, it still just seemed like a number without a value. There were no faces to back it up. All 3,471 of them. The number was big, and I was highly appreciative of those people, but it just didn't seem real to me.

'You're so good at art!'

'Everything you do is amazing!'

'How are you so creative? Teach me, please?!'

The people behind the comments were probably just being kind, and genuinely wanted their questions answered, but it all freaked me out. Like, what if they were just saying those things to make me think better of myself? What if someone was trying to scam me, in some weird way; some people were terrifyingly weird. Or even worse, what if someone framed me for fraud in some way? My career would've been over before it even started. I wouldn't have had a chance, let alone get into likely any good art school.

But there I was again, staring at the screen of my phone, freaking myself out again. I did it often; a habit. I shook myself out of that scary mind space, tossing my phone to the side. I needed some air. Getting up, I walked over to my window, cracking it open for a little breeze. I stayed there for a moment, watching the quiet street turn to dusk. No one was out during dinner time.

Or not until the door of the Jones' house opened, revealing the raven-haired boy from the shadows of their porch. I watched, hiding behind my curtain to not be seen. He walked over beside their garage, picked up his skateboard off the ground, stuffing something else into his pocket. Something that seemed to be worth hiding.

I watched as he hit the road, skating away down the street. He disappeared from my view just as fast as he had come into it. And even then, I had so many questions I wanted to ask. But I couldn't. Dinner was being served downstairs, and my name was called to eat.

Maybe later.

︵‿︵‿︵

(A quick little drawing I created that I imagined Betty painting from Jughead's quote)

Chapter Text

Chapter Five

Jughead

»•» 🕯 «•«

I sat on a park swing a block from home, digging my foot into the old sand under me as I suffocated my burnt cigarette with my shoe. I couldn't stay there any longer. I knew back home my parents were waiting for me. And sure, we may have been the family known to eat late, but my dad made it clear he didn't like us taking our sweet time. So what was I doing right now? Taking my sweet time.

I hated the man my father was. Though I wouldn't ever admit that to anyone else—I didn't dare talk about my family. My mother and Jelly were my prized possessions. I knew how my dad's actions affected my mother, while Jelly just didn't know yet. The last thing our family needed was my dad's affairs getting out. My mom didn't need the pity; I didn't need the pity. Jelly didn't need to know her father was a cheater either. At least not yet. One kid was enough. Well enough.

I sighed to myself before forcing my tired body to get up from the shitty, plastic swing. Yeah, three hours of sleep would do that to you. I grabbed my skateboard off the ground, clenching my jaw at the sight of one of the stickers my dad had helped me put on the bottom of the board a few years ago—before I knew. Thinking now, it was about time I scraped that thing off. Or maybe even re-covered it with another larger sticker. Something along the lines of, "fuck you, dad."

Dropping my board to the ground on its wheels, I stepped on, taking a starting kick. I hid my—probably illegal—packet of cigarettes in my pocket, for now, praising the contractors who build all the surrounding subdivisions for flattening the land. I knew for sure in my tired state I wouldn't have made it up more than one hill. Yeah, maybe I shouldn't have spent most of the night on my phone.

Skating my way back home didn't take long. Maybe just a little bit longer to piss my dad off some more, but overall, a few minutes. Walking the rest of the way back up the sidewalk, my eye caught sight of the Coopers' house, noticing a light on in the blonde girl's window. Despite trying to hide, I had seen her out of the corner of my eye before I left. Curtains don't just move like that.

I dropped my skateboard back down on the grass on the side of the garage, pulling the cigarette packet out of my pocket and stuffing them in a hollowed-out bush. A bush I knew my mother had just weeded around last week, so I was good until summer came around a few months from now.

I got to the porch, hesitating before opening the door. I knew what was coming. The second I came in through that front door, kicking my shoes off, all hell broke loose.

"Where the hell have you been?!"

"Out," I answered, bypassing my dad in the hallway. He didn't like that.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?! Don't walk away from me!" F.P. yelled. "Get your ass back over here! You're in trouble."

"For what? Going for a walk?" I questioned, unzipping my windbreaker jacket and taking it off. The spring chill and winds in Riverdale were horrid this time of year. My dad didn't bother waiting for me to hang up my jacket before continuing his anger streak.

"You're twenty minutes late," he stated. "You made us all wait to eat for twenty minutes, with no knowledge of where you had gone or when you were coming back!"

"You could've eaten without me."

"No. We eat together as a family!" he shouted. "Don't you forget that–"

"What family?" I interrupted him. Now I was mad. He had broken our family, over and over again. He had no right to want some perfect family he destroyed a long time ago. "I thought we didn't matter that much to you?"

"What the hell are you talking about?!" F.P. sneered.

"Were you thinking about your family before coming home last night?!" I shot back. "Did you even care about us?! What about mom? How dare you do that shit to her," I spat, raising my voice to meet his.

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about." He was lying, straight to my face. Of course, he never even thought of his family waiting at home for him. Not even once. Not a single time. Fucking pig.

"No? Well, that mark on your neck sure proves otherwise."

"Oh, you fucking–"

I shut him out. I didn't care what nonsense he was spewing out now. Not when I caught sight of Jelly across the room, crying in my mother's arms. My heart shattered at both their worried eyes, ignoring the man who was supposed to be my father, yelling at me.

"Shut up," I warned him.

"What did you say to me?!" he shrieked, oblivious.

"Shut up," I repeated. He looked about as if he would blow right then and there. "We're scaring Jelly."

He froze, and I watched the fear set in his eyes. He spun around, us both silent as Jelly sobbed. Her cries made me sick. The last time this happened was last year, and I had promised her it would never happen again. I broke that promise tonight.

"Jelly," my dad whispered, lightly touching her back. She flinched, crying more and louder. I didn't blame her. She was probably thinking this time would be the same as the last. I wouldn't dare let it.

"It's done," I told her. "It's all over."

She glanced up from my mother's arms, cheeks red with hives. I felt too guilty at that moment. She didn't deserve any of this. She was eight.

"I'm sorry, Jelly," I whispered. She sniffed, throwing herself in my arms to get away from our dad. She was scared. And it wasn't long before I could feel her ice-cold tears wetting my shirt. "I'm sorry."

︵‿︵‿︵

After dinner, we all made the better choice to separate for a bit. Jelly was still scared, and my dad was still outraged. I left the house knowing my mother and sister would be watching a movie in my parents' room, while my dad did who knows what. But while I sat in Kevin's room a few houses down the street, across from mine, I saw my dad get in his car from the window. I had no idea where he was going; nor did I care.

"You sure you're alright?" Kevin asked, handing me a can of some fizzy drink before he sat down. We had been playing one of his newer games for the last half-hour, sitting in front of the tv. I knew he could tell I hadn't been putting my normal effort into it.

"I'm fine," I repeated, lying again. "Just tired." But that wasn't a lie. I was still running on those desperate three hours of sleep.

"You can stay the night if you want," Kevin offered. "I can't promise you anything better than the floor though."

I laughed, glancing down at the hardwood floor. "Yeah, no. I think I'm good."

"Suit yourself then," Kevin sighed, grabbing his controller. "You still want to play?"

I thought about it for a moment. "Just one more game. Two if you're nice."

"Deal."

Honestly, I wasn't all that too interested in video games—not like Kevin. And if I were being really honest, I had no clue what I liked. I liked sneaking out at dark, skateboarding down the street, the wind blowing in my face, but that wasn't really a hobby or interest. It was a time-passer. I liked baseball, but I really hadn't even tried to touch a bat or ball in years. The closest thing I got to it was that baseball simulator game Kevin had forced me into playing last month. The only game I had beaten him at fairly.

I wasn't good at school stuff. Not smart people things anyway. Math was hard, science confusing, and our history teacher was terribly boring. English was okay. Maybe if it were a different teacher I would have liked the class more, but I didn't. Not this year. Though it wasn't like I was much interested in writing either. I was good at writing—don't get me wrong, but it wasn't particularly fun for me. It felt like a chore. I only did it because I was good at it—occasionally.

"How long are you going to be here for after?" Kevin asked.

"Not long," I answered, wincing at the 'you loose' screen that had just popped up. "Why?"

"I was debating whether or not I could sneak out tonight," he told me. "Could you lie for me?"

"Why would I want to do that?" I questioned, waiting for Kevin to start a new game.

"Because you're my best friend," Kevin hummed, wiggling his eyebrows. He wouldn't stop until I laughed. "And there may or may not be this girl. And apparently, her boyfriend is into guys too, so..."

"Aren't you lucky," I remarked. "Two at once, no commitment. Sounds like your dream."

"Haha," Kevin sarcastically mumbled, rolling his eyes. "You know that's not my dream."

"You want to go into movie production. I know. You won't quit talking about it," I joked. "But it's close enough."

Kevin evilly elbowed me in the side, laughing when I groaned out in pain. "You deserved that."

"Like hell," I snapped, clutching my side. "You bruised me."

"I did not," Kevin argued. "It's been all of thirty seconds."

I raised my eyebrows, setting down my controller. "Wanna bet?"

"Fine. If there are no signs of a bruise in...five–" I glared at him. "Fine. Ten minutes, then I win," Kevin stated.

"Deal," I agreed. Now, all we have to do is wait ten minutes.

︵‿︵‿︵

"Betty!" I heard Kevin call out from the hallway.

"What now?!"

"Come here," he demanded.

"Why?" I heard the girl whine.

"We need you," he simply answered.

"Why?" she questioned. "Wait? Who's we?!"

I waited until Kevin dragged the poor girl into the room, laughing at the way she was fighting against him. Sure, they may have been step-siblings, but they sure acted like they were related by blood. But by the time she got in, I had already pulled the side of my shirt up, which I bet she had noticed immediately. Her face was 'red' red.

"What's going on?" Betty sighed, turning to look away from me.

"Is there or is there not a bruise on Jughead's side?" Kevin asked, urging her forward.

"Why?!"

"Jughead thinks there is, I don't. Who's right?" Kevin tried again.

"You guys are insane," she muttered under her breath. "Where?"

"See. She can't even see it to find it," Kevin laughed.

"I wasn't even looking yet," Betty defended herself, throwing a quick glance my way.

"Fine," Kevin huffed. "Jughead, show her."

I lifted up the side of my shirt I little higher, watching her face as I did so. I couldn't help but tease her a little. "Right under my ribs," I told her. I watched the blonde girl bite down on her bottom lip, bending down to look a little better. "Higher than my hip," I added last minute. She nodded.

"Do you see anything yet?" Kevin questioned impatiently.

Betty glanced up at me, then stepped back to stand again. "Yeah. There's a little bruise," she lied. There wasn't. Even I knew that.

"Oh come on," Kevin groaned. "Really?"

She nodded, keeping her line of sight away from meeting my eyes. And during her persuasion, all I could think about was why she lied. Then yet again, it wasn't like we hadn't teamed up in the past to beat Kevin at something. Only this time I didn't ask her to.

"Can I go back to my room yet?" Betty sighed.

I nodded, watching her rush out of the room. But the last second before leaving, she turned her head, giving me one last unreadable expression off her face. I wondered what the girl was thinking.

I knew she had seen me sneaking out of the house after dark a few times in the last couple of weeks. Whether it be her in the window, hiding behind her curtain, or completely just being outside at the time, I knew she saw. She was curious. Skeptical. I knew it. She wanted to know my 'why' more than anything. She was just hard-wired that way to have to know things.

I turned my attention back to Kevin when he patted my shoulder, rolling his eyes. "There you go. You win."

"I never thought I'd see the day you say those words," I joked, only getting nudged in the ribs again. "You ass!"

Chapter Text

Chapter Six

Betty

»•» 🪐 «•«

I sat next to Veronica, watching her scribble out some designs for our science project. She had picked something to do with suns and stars—probably because it was the easiest. I waited for her to set her pencil down before taking the piece of paper closer, trying to figure out what she drew.

"So," Veronica started. "I was thinking, what if we make a model? Then we could, like, cut it in half?"

"We could," I sighed. "But so many people will already be doing that. What would make ours special?"

"Um..." Veronica took her time to think of an answer. "What if...we really detailed it? Like, others will probably only make a yellow sphere, so what if we went all out? We could add flames, paint them—I know you're good at that—then detail the inside. With all the blues and everything."

"I– That could work," I admitted. "But what about the written response?"

"Oh!" Veronica gasped. "I have an even better idea!"

"What?"

"What if we do, like, a little movie thing?" she proposed. "We could have the model edited to look like flames while moving, have the text on the screen, prerecord our voices, and we wouldn't even have to present on the spot."

I glanced down to the paper in my hand, then back toward the Lodge girl. "Write that down."

She laughed, taking a new piece of paper and a pencil. "Your place or mine?"

"Mine," I answered. "And my brother just happens to be into video production," I added, and Veronica's face lit up. "We're golden."

"Damn right we are."

︵‿︵‿︵

"Kay. First sketch?"

"Done," I hummed, showing over my tablet to Veronica. "How's the research going?"

She was sat over in Cheryl's beanbag chair, both of us in my workshop back at home. The place had everything we could need. Well, except for a strong internet connection; two bars would have to do. At least it didn't seem like Veronica was complaining about it.

"Pretty good," she answered. "We'll have the research done in no time, and all the questions answered."

I took my tablet back, finishing the sketch. "When should I ask my brother to help us with the video?"

"When we have the script done," Veronica answered. "Am I doing that, or you?"

"Um... Write down what needs to be in the script, then we can do it together, I guess."

"Are you any good with words?" Veronica questioned, tilting her head to the side. I shook my head. "Shit. Neither am I."

"Maybe my brother is," I mumbled. "Or my friend Cheryl. She's really good at that kind of stuff."

"But doesn't she have her own schoolwork to do?" Veronica asked. "And wouldn't it be cheating anyway?"

"Right. Probably."

"So, that just leaves ourselves then," Veronica sighed. "Maybe if we over-exaggerate the model, then the written part won't matter as much. But I mean, we will just be speaking, so grammar won't matter either. I think we can get away with the bare minimum."

I shrugged. "Let's hope so."

︵‿︵‿︵

"So, what do you want me to do again?" Kevin asked, giving our previous description a look of confusion. If he didn't understand, we were screwed.

"You like movie stuff, right?" I recited again.

"Yes," he answered, dragging out the word with a sigh. He had barely been here for all of five minutes, and he was already bored.

"So you know how to add special effects?" I questioned.

"The basics, yeah. Why?"

"Well, we–" I pointed between Veronica and I. "–need your help with a project."

"A project?" Kevin repeated. "What type of project?"

"It's for school," I told him. "We're doing an assignment on space, and we—Veronica's idea—thought it would be a good idea to do a video presentation."

"Sounds like a good idea." Jughead hummed from the back of the room. He had been hanging out with Kevin when I had asked for my brother's help, so it was only natural he tagged along—not that there was any stopping him. He had actually seemed pretty interested in the first explanation.

"Thanks," Veronica whispered, quickly dropping her gaze to the floor. Wait, was she blushing?

Jughead nodded, going back to the comic book he had more-than-likely stolen from Kevin's room. No smile, no notice, or anything to do with Veronica. And for some stupidly strange reason, I was more than fine with that.

"So you're basically asking me to do the work for you?" Kevin groaned.

"No. Just your help," I corrected. "And maybe your camera too." Kevin sent me a glare for that one. "Okay, just your help."

"Fine," Kevin sighed. "What's your idea, Veronica? That's your name, right?"

Veronica rolled her eyes, grabbing the piece of paper she had printed off. "Yes, Mr. Forgetful."

"I'm not forgetful," Kevin argued. "Your name's just very..."

"Very what?" Veronica snapped.

"Unique," he quickly came up with. "I've never met someone with the name Veronica." 

That was very much a lie. He had at least gone out with a few Veronicas in the past couple of years alone—not to forget his redhead kindergarten crush, Veronica. Though she had moved from town years ago.

"Oh." He seemed to have saved himself with that—this time.

I, trying my best to cut out the sounds of everyone else around me, went back to my third time trying to figure out the first draft for our script. I was nearly at the point of giving up, but not with the week-long deadline nipping at my back. This needed to get done, despite how difficult it was. And after five minutes, I was reminded how drastically difficult it was.

"Having trouble over there?"

I glanced up to find Jughead watching me, comic book closed next to him. How long had he been watching? And why was my face heating up just at the thought of him watching me? What was wrong with me? Stress? Had to be.

"A little," I admitted.

"What are you doing?" he asked, getting up from his seat.

"Trying to come up with some sort of draft for our script," I answered with a sigh. "Neither of us are any good with writing—Veronica and I."

"Well, I am."

"You are?" I gasped.

"Better than you seem to be doing," the boy teased, chuckling at my reddening face. "Calm down, Sunshine. It was just a joke." That wasn't why my face was red.

"Quit calling me Sunshine," I huffed, crossing my arms.

Jughead laughed, taking my laptop from the little table in front of me. "Never, Sunshine."

Now I was mad. Furious, even.

"Why not?!" I questioned.

"You get all riled up when I say it," he stated, as if I didn't already know that. "It's cute."

Cute?! Shit. Here comes back the red cheeks—again. What was wrong with me?

"It's cute?" I repeated, keeping my voice down so the others—Kevin especially—didn't hear.

"Mhm," Jughead hummed. He was already reading over my work. "Shit. You weren't kidding when you said you were bad at writing."

I hit his shoulder as a warning, only then realizing he had been teasing me with another joke. He laughed, sitting down next to me on the old, beat-up couch my mother had passed down to me. "I was only kidding, Sunshine."

"I know," I mumbled. "Sorry."

"For what?"

"Hitting you," I whispered.

"You hit me? I didn't feel a thing," he teased—again. I immediately sent him a glare, which he laughed at. "Awe, you think you're all tough?"

"Quit it," I warned.

"But–"

"Kevin's coming," I whispered, and he instantly shut up.

"I think I can help," Kevin declared.

︵‿︵‿︵

I watched from the work table, squinting my eyes at the sight of Veronica snuggling up to Jughead on the old couch, working together to form the final copy of the script. I had to admit, Jughead was a good writer. Better than I had thought, and actually willing to help—unlike Kevin who had snuck off to see some guy he had been planning to meet up with.

I had for sure thought Jughead would've left too. He didn't, surprisingly. He kept at the laptop, talking with Veronica and writing down her ideas clearer than either of us could. I would've thanked him, but I couldn't even get the chance to. Not with Veronica by his side, laughing and chatting his ear off. For the past twenty minutes, I had completely zoned them out, along with my unwanted anger and frustration that had been gathering over time.

I physically rolled my eyes at the proud look in Veronica's eyes when she had made the boy laugh. What was so important about a laugh? Anyone could do that.

Going back to the model I had been creating in front of me on the table, I grabbed another piece of glue-soaked newspaper, adding it to the growing sphere. Now all I had to do was wait for it to dry, then we could paint it and add the final touches—like flames and sparks.

And again, when Veronica had broken out into another fit of giggles, I couldn't stand it. Why was I so angry? Veronica was one of the nicest people I had ever met. I couldn't understand why she bothered me so much tonight.

"It's getting late, isn't it?" I heard her ask out loud. Yeah, it was. Shit. Where did that anger spike come from? "I should probably start walking home now," she sighed.

Jughead nodded, watching her get up. "Betty and I've got the rest handled. You can go home, if you want."

Wait. Betty and I?! He's staying?

"Okay. Bye Betty!" Veronica hummed, grabbing her bag off the ground. I hadn't even noticed she had packed all her things up. She must have done that when I had zoned out.

"Bye, Veronica," I replied, waving her off. And the moment the door slammed behind her, my anger left with her as well—partially. Some of the frustration was still there. Probably from growing tired too.

"You alive over there, Sunshine?" Jughead questioned, watching me slump over to the couch, taking back my seat Veronica had stolen.

"Why wouldn't I be?" I mumbled, reaching for the laptop. I wanted to see what they had both come up with—if Veronica hadn't distracted him the whole time.

"You've been dead silent the last hour," Jughead stated. "You're tired?"

"A little," I admitted, but that wasn't the main reason. And he didn't need to know that reason.

Glancing over the—surprisingly finished—final draft, it was good. Even good was an understatement. Jughead worked with words better than Cheryl, dare I say.

"What do you think, Sunshine?" he questioned, raising his arm up and over behind me, resting it on the back of the couch.

"I think it's really good. You're really good," I corrected myself. That earned me a smile.

"I only wrote down your ideas; made them clear," he argued. "You did most of the work without even touching the keyboard."

I shrugged, leaning into his side—I really was tired. "But you made it pretty. Now it sounds like something a really smart person would come up with."

Glancing up at the boy to my side, I was surprised to see the light redness lingering on his cheeks, which he immediately made sure to lean over my head to block my line of sight so I couldn't see anymore. I saw. There's no hiding it, Jughead. He blushed—because of me! I had never been prouder of myself.

I, in Jughead's arms—well, kind of—smiled, which turned into a yawn. If Kevin had, for some reason, decided to come in, I knew he wouldn't like the sight of his sister cuddled into his best friend's side, but I couldn't care less. Jughead was comfy, and so was I. So comfy that I didn't even care when I had fallen asleep on Jughead's shoulder, letting out a peaceful sigh he had smiled at afterwards.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven

Jughead

»•» 🌺 «•«

Hearing the slam of the door behind me, I could've sworn it would've woken up the sleeping blonde in my arms. Surprisingly it didn't, and Betty stayed asleep. I carried her up the stairs the rest of the way to her room, pushing the door open with my foot. I set her down on her bed, covering her with the throw blanket she left hanging on the footboard of her bed.

She had fallen asleep on my shoulder; dead weight in my arms as I carried her in. But I had to admit, her sleeping face was purely adorable, along with the tiny snores that escaped her mouth every so often.

I, as quietly as I could, backed out of the room, leaving the door open a crack behind me after I had turned off the light. Before leaving completely, I gave the girl one last peek through the open crack. She was still sleeping soundly. Good enough as a reason to leave.

︵‿︵‿︵

I woke up with a groan the next morning, covering my head from getting hit again with a pink pillow. I glared up at my little sister laughing over me, falling next to me in a fit of giggles. Of course, she thought waking me up like a completely insane person was funny. I sure didn't.

"You should see your face," she teased, letting go of the pillow she had brought from her room.

"Oh yeah?" I quipped, taking the pillow from her. Her face went stone cold, backing away from me cautiously with her hands out in front of her. "How about I give you a taste of your own medicine, huh?"

"Don't you dare," she warned, diving for the pillow. I held it back from her, over my side of the bed where she couldn't reach. "Juggie! Give it," she whined. "Please?"

"Should've let me sleep in," I shot back, tossing it at her head. She winced as it hit her, then sent me a look of disgust right afterward. I laughed.

"You know it's lunchtime, right?" she questioned, pointing to the alarm clock on my nightstand.

I jumped up, eyes wide at the number blinking on the electronic clock. "1:30?! Where are mom and dad?"

"Dad's at work and mom went out to see grandma," Jelly answered. "She just left, by the way. She also told me to wake you up."

"Really? That was today?"

"Mhm," the little girl hummed. "You forgot?"

"What do you think?" I groaned, hearing her laugh. "Now get out so I can get dressed."

"Meanie," Jelly huffed, picking her pillow back up from where she had dropped it on the floor. "Maybe if you asked nicely I–"

"Out," I repeated, pointing to the door. She glared at me. "Please?" I sighed. She seemed happy with that.

"Only if you're quick." She jumped from my bed back to the floor, taking her pillow with her. "I'm hungry, Juggie."

"I'll make you food," I grumbled, sitting up all the way.

"Okay!" she squealed, shutting the door behind her.

︵‿︵‿︵

"Grilled cheese sandwich, or something else?" I questioned, digging through the fridge. I already had the cheese in my hand.

"Grilled cheese, duh," Jelly answered, reaching for the bread. "It's my favourite!"

"Yeah, I know," I reminded her, thinking back to the many times she had persuaded me into making her the sandwich for lunch. She laughed at that. "Anything else."

She shook her head, then her eyes lit up. "Ice cream?! You promised last time."

Fuck. I did. "I guess," I sighed. "But don't make me regret it with your sugar high after."

"No promises," she smiled, making sure to show her little teeth—minus the front bottom tooth she had lost last week.

"Jelly," I warned. "No ice cream then."

"I promise!" she quickly corrected herself. "Please? Ice cream?!"

"Let me make your food—and actually eat the whole thing—then we can go."

She squealed again, hugging my right leg. "Thank you, Juggie."

"No problem, Princess," I chuckled, and she glared at me.

"Stop calling me that," she huffed, crossing her little arms. "I'm not a baby anymore."

I shrugged, grabbing the bread she had thrown on the counter. "You still act like one."

She gasped, hitting my leg—all she could reach. "If mom was home right now, you would be in trouble."

"Good thing she's not home yet," I quipped back. That one earned me another glare.

︵‿︵‿︵

"Mint please," Jelly pleaded, pointing at the glass. I nodded, asking the worker of the ice cream shop for her. "Sprinkles too," Jelly added last minute. "Rainbow ones."

"They have to be rainbow?" I teased, catching her eager nod. "What about chocolate ones?"

"Those too," Jelly hummed.

"No," I laughed. "Only one."

"Fine. Rainbow then," she huffed, pouting. I was not going to give in. Not this time at least. "What do you want?"

"Cookies 'n Cream, I guess," I answered, talking to the worker more so than my sister. "No sprinkles."

"No sprinkles?!" Jelly gasped. She couldn't believe me. "Why not?"

"I don't like them," I told her, shrugging.

"Why not?!" she repeated.

"I just don't."

Jelly squinted her eyes at me, taking her cone from the worker who had been putting it together. I nudged her shoulder, reminding her to thank the woman. She did with a big smile, ignoring me in the process. And after I had been handed my cone, I pulled out my wallet from my pocket, paying with the money my dad had left behind purposefully for today. He always did that, knowing right now I didn't have time for a job while taking care of my sister.

Holding the door open for Jelly, she waved goodbye to the worker, spinning back to me with an eager smile. Oh no. "Can we go to the park?" she asked, batting her eyes. She knew I would cave.

"Only for a little bit," I sighed. Her smile was as big as ever, rushing to the park across the street. She saw the swing immediately, and rushed to them with her ice cream in hand, already starting to melt. "Be careful!" I shouted after her. She just stuck her tongue out in response.

"Do that again, and we'll go straight back home," I warned her, sitting down on the swing to her right. I was only partially joking, but she bought it. She was already starting to go through her rebellious phase—at least with me—and I was hating it. It was harder to get her to listen, and harder for me to keep her out of trouble.

"Why are brain freezes a thing?" Jelly randomly asked, wincing; a brain freeze, probably.

"It means you're eating something too cold, too fast," I told her, pointing to her ice cream cone which had already been demolished to half its original size. "Slow down."

"Am not!" the girl huffed, obviously lying. "You're just too slow."

"Sure," I chuckled.

"Can I play yet?" Jelly questioned, pointing over to the playground filled with kids, a few minutes later. She had already finished her whole cone by then. I had too.

I nodded, leaning back a bit on the swing. "Twenty minutes, then we're going back home. Alright?"

"Okay," she hummed, rushing off. I wasn't even sure if she had heard me before she left. Probably not.

I sighed to myself, watching her play. Without those few terrible girls who bullied her at school, she could be playing there like this; happy and without a worry. She could actually be a kid. And I was determined that next time something else happens, I'd be the one to go straight to the principal's office, then to the parents the next time I saw them. I couldn't let this go on any longer. She deserved better.

"Hey."

I turned to my left, eyeing a blonde-haired ray of sunshine smiling down at me, moving over towards the swing Jelly had just left. Where had she come from? And when?

"Where'd you come from?" I questioned, watching her toss her bag down to the ground.

"I was at the library with Cheryl," Betty answered, turning to look at the old, small library behind us—a few doors down from the ice cream shop. "She left, then I saw you. You were with your sister?"

I nodded, pointing over to the playground. "She left me for the monkey bars."

Betty laughed, starting to swing back and forth on her squeaky swing. "Sounds about right."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I scoffed, smiling too.

I watched her shrug, tilting her head up towards the sun, eyes shut, soaking it in. "I don't know. I just thought it sounded like a good comeback. That's all."

I laughed, shaking my head in disbelief. "Don't you have a project to be finishing up, Sunshine?"

"That's a tomorrow problem," she sighed. "A Sunday—not-so-fun day—problem."

I couldn't help but smile at her joke, finding it funnier than it should've been. Ironic. Her smile was bright, aura light and golden, personality peppy and sweet; she was pure sunshine in a bottle, spilling out and washing over everyone around her. Something so rare, and underappreciated.

"What about today?" I asked. "Anything else?"

"Nope. Nothing," she told me. "Why?"

"Just curious," I admitted, glancing over to check if Jelly was still prancing around the playground—she was.

"Oh." She almost seemed disappointed with my answer. "What about you?"

"Just watching my sister," I answered. "She's a handful."

"Do you need help?" Betty offered, eyes bright. She seemed to be very interested in the topic. I wondered why. "I'm good with kids," she added. "My little cousins love me." Of course, they would. Who wouldn't love her?

"I don't really need help–" I caught her smile drop, and quickly changed my direction. "–but if you wanted to, you could come over." What was I doing? Inviting Betty over?! She was Kevin's sister. I barely knew her as is.

"Really?" She seemed excited. I couldn't tear that away from her now.

"Yeah—if you want."

She nodded eagerly, biting down on her bottom lip. Why did she have to do that? "I'd love to help." Of course, she would.

"Then it's settled," I sighed. What had I gotten myself into?

︵‿︵‿︵

After I heard the knock, I opened the front door, taking in the sight of the smiling blonde. I let her in, taking her coat from her. I watched her look around, curious.

"Does your sister even know who I am?" Betty asked, waiting next to me.

"I don't know. Probably not," I answered. "Maybe if you tell her you're Kevin's sister, she might."

"Okay."

I stayed back, letting her wander around a bit. She immediately went straight to the photo wall my mother had been putting together for years now, glancing back at me. I knew then by the teasing smile on her face she had seen the baby photo of me covered in pudding.

"That's you?" she questioned.

I nodded, stepping over to her. "Yeah. Can't you tell by the excessive amount of blue my dad made sure to dress me in?"

The girl laughed. "Didn't want anyone to think you were somehow a girl?"

"My dad's worst fear."

Betty tilted her head to the side, looking at another photo with me in it, batting at a junior-league baseball game. "You play baseball?"

"Played," I corrected her.

"Why'd you stop?" she asked, turning around to face me.

"I didn't have the time anymore," I told her, shrugging. "I have more important things to do now."

"Like what?"

"Looking after my sister," I came up with.

"Oh..." she mumbled. "But, did you like it at least, while it lasted?"

"I did," I confessed. "I loved it so much I was sure I'd have a career in it one day. I was wrong."

"There's still time," Betty assured me. But I wasn't sure there was.

"Do you want to meet my sister?" I questioned, changing the subject away from me. "She's upstairs."

"Sure," Betty agreed. I could tell she had noticed the definite quick subject change too.

She followed me up the stairs to Jelly's room, taking a quick glance at my room across the hallway when she thought I wasn't looking. I was. I caught her in the mirror hung on one of the hallway walls, but said nothing. She was probably just curious. She had never been in my house before. I didn't blame her. I was the same way following Kevin through their house the first time, years ago now.

"Jelly," I called out, catching her poke her head up from her dollhouse. I had warned her Betty was coming over a few minutes ago, so she wasn't surprised. She was just confused who Betty was—until I told her she was the blonde girl who lived with Kevin.

"Hi," Betty greeted, waving to my little sister.

Jelly smiled back at her, picking up a doll. "Do you like dolls?" she asked, raising one up. "I like dolls."

"You do?" Betty gasped, pepping up her voice to match Jelly's, which I thought was cute. It was sweet. I knew they both would get along after that. "I haven't played dolls in...forever," Betty went on, exaggerating the last word.

"Want to play with me?" Jelly asked, hopeful.

"Sure," Betty agreed, kneeling down next to her.

After that, I left, going downstairs to start making dinner for the three of us. I had offered Betty earlier, considering she was doing a big favour for me, watching the little monster of my sister. My mother wasn't going to be coming home until tomorrow, and my dad wouldn't likely come home until late, so it was just going to be three of us after all.

︵‿︵‿︵

Jelly looked up from her empty bowl, then back down. "There's no more?"

"No. You ate it all," I told her, catching Betty's smile from the corner of my eye. She was sitting next to me—the three of us on the floor, surrounding the coffee table in the living room. Jelly had convinced us that we had to watch a movie while we ate. I, of course, gave in.

"But it's good," the girl whined, then huffed, shoving her empty bowl forward.

"I'll make it again soon," I promised.

"Really?!"

I nodded, hearing Betty laugh next to me once Jelly trampled me, giving me a hug. I chuckled too, patting her back lightly. Jelly was nothing if not a beam of sunshine—like Betty. That was probably the biggest reason they got along so well.

"She's got you wrapped around her finger, doesn't she?" Betty teased, earning a glare from me.

"Don't tell her that," I warned, moving to cover Jelly's ears. She moved too quickly though.

"So it's true?" Betty questioned.

"No," I lied. Betty laughed.

"What does that mean?" Jelly asked, sitting on her knees.

"You don't need to know," I told her.

"I wasn't asking you," Jelly bluntly stated, and Betty burst out in a fit of giggles. "What?"

"She told you," Betty cackled, and I couldn't help but smile. Betty was right, Miss Attitude had. Probably not a good thing though. "It means he's a give-in for you, Jelly," Betty answered the girl. "He can't say no, can he?" Jelly shook her head. "See." Betty poked my arm. "I was right."

"Sure, Sunshine," I sighed, rolling my eyes. 

"Sunshine? Who's Sunshine?" Jelly questioned, squinting her brows.

I nervously chuckled, and Betty's face had turned pink. "Well–"

I quit talking when I heard the front door open, then slam shut. Jelly did too, jumping up from her seat. Her smile was bright—something wasn't deserved.

"Daddy!" she squealed. "You're home!"

She ran over to him, completely oblivious. She hugged him too, happily, then tilted her head to the side when she noticed something off. "Daddy? Why are you wearing lipstick?"

I was just about to get up, but Betty stopped me. I sat there in confusion as she stood instead, tucking her phone into her pocket discreetly. Something she made sure Jelly couldn't see.

"I think I left my phone in your room, Jelly. Could you help me find it?" Betty asked, rounding the couch.

"Okay," Jelly hummed, taking Betty's hand. Betty helped lead her upstairs, away from my dad. I was speechless. She was helping. But did she even know what was going on?

"Who's that?" I heard my dad ask while I was busy picking up all the bowls from dinner.

"Kevin's sister," I answered, walking away into the kitchen.

"What's she doing here?" He was following me.

"She offered to help watch Jelly," I told him.

"That's it?"

"That's it," I confirmed, setting down the dishes in the sink. "Why are you home early?"

"I thought we could have a family movie night—the three of us," F.P. admitted.

I glanced over to the lipstick mark on his jaw, then the wrinkles of his linen. "No. Not now."

"Jughead..." the man sighed.

"What?" I snapped. I was mad. Angry. How could he do this like it was normal? It wasn't. Not even close. 

"I–" I waited while he tried to think of something to say. "I'm sorry," he finally came up with. But he didn't sound sorry. He didn't look the part either.

"No, you aren't," I argued. "You never are."

"Yes I am," he scoffed. He was getting defensive.

I shook my head, turning back towards the doorway. "I don't believe you."

He stayed silent, unsure of what to say. And I knew then I wouldn't be getting a response. He didn't have one to share, let alone care enough to make one up. Disgusting. I left after that, wandering into Jelly's room. My little sister was there, smiling and playing dolls with Betty. 

I stood in the doorway, watching them interact with each other. Jelly would take her doll and switch from room to room, and Betty would follow, going along with Jelly's pretty farfetched storylines, dramatizing her words to match Jelly's. And at a very serious point of their play, I chuckled, watching them both turn their heads at the sound.

"How long have you been there?" Betty asked, her cheeks tinted pink. Cute.

"A little bit," I confessed, moving to sit down beside them.

"Play with us," Jelly pleaded, giving me her best pout. I gave in, again. But I didn't care. I honestly needed a distraction right then. 

After a while—when Jelly got carried away playing again—I felt a hand on my shoulder. I met Betty's eyes, her doll forgotten in her lap. "You don't have to be ashamed for his decisions, Jug," she whispered. I was glad that she cared not to let Jelly hear.

I nodded, my hand finding her knee. "Thank you." I meant it.

She shrugged, cheeks red. "That's what friends are for," she claimed. "And, Jug?"

"Yeah?"

"I won't tell anyone," she assured me. "I promise."

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight

Betty

»•» 🥥 «•«

It had been a week since I had seen Jughead. I mean, that was sort of a lie—I had seen him at school a few times—but I hadn't seen him once in person, away from force. He hadn't even come over to see Kevin once, which was a normality I wasn't used to not seeing. Was he ignoring me? Surely not, right?

So when I had seen him sneak out of the house again, watching from my window, I had to follow him. Or, maybe had wasn't the right word, but I wanted to anyway. I, making sure to be quiet, rushed down the staircase, grabbing one of my sweaters as I went—it was still early spring after all.

I followed his path, zipping up my hoodie. At some point around the block, I had lost him. His skateboard was faster than my pace, and I hadn't calculated that before I chased after him. And maybe keeping a distance—so he wouldn't see me—hadn't helped on my end either. What was I thinking?

I stopped in the middle of the street, looking around. There was no sign of him anywhere. To the left, back entrances to backyards of family homes; to the right, an empty park, forgotten in the darkness of the night. He just...disappeared? That can't be right. I rounded the corner of a fence-line, towards the park. I couldn't see anything better than before. The park was still empty, and everything around it too. Where had he gone?

"Why are you following me, Betty?"

I froze, slowly turning my head to see Jughead leaning against the fence behind me. I started to panic. He had caught me. "I– Uh...um–" I didn't know what to say. I was just spewing out nonsense at this point.

"What?" he questioned, taking a step towards me.

My breathing quickened, and I stumbled back, losing my balance under me. I slipped, falling to the ground—a spitting image of the time I had split my shorts years back, and all of Kevin's friends were laughing at me, taunting me. Oh no. Not again. Betty, breathe. You're fine. Perfectly fine. It's just embarrassment—it can't hurt you.

"Betts?" Jughead whispered, tossing his skateboard to the side. He dropped down next to me on his knees, laying a hand on my shoulder.

I froze again, but for an entirely different reason this time. Betts? He had never called me 'Betts' before. Where did that come from?

"Sorry," he apologized. "I didn't mean to scare you so badly. You alright, Sunshine?"

I shakily nodded my head, hearing him sigh in relief. He then took my hand, realizing the moment he did I was shaking. He stopped moving, looking me straight in the eyes. I turned away, taking my hand back and moving to get up myself. He didn't like that though. He had to make sure to help me up, resting a hand on my shoulder again after.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, concerned. He had probably caught on.

I nodded. "I'm just cold," I lied. I didn't want to have to tell him—at least yet.

He bought it—somewhat—and nodded. And before I could stop him, he was unzipping his jacket, pulling it off and handing it to me. I was shocked, looking at the windbreaker jacket. I glanced back up to his face, finding he was serious. Jughead was offering me his jacket!

"You don't have to do that," I told him, but he just shrugged.

"It's fine, Betty. Take it," he urged, shoving it closer. "You're cold."

"What about you?" I questioned, warily taking the jacket from him. "You'll get cold."

"It's not that cold out, Sunshine," he stated. "I'll be fine in a long sleeve."

"Oh...okay," I muttered, glancing back down to the ground. He was right; it wasn't that cold out. I didn't need a sweater and a jacket. He had probably caught on to that lie, but luckily left it alone. 

I put the jacket on anyway, going through with my lie. And maybe a little piece of me inside had wanted to put on Jughead's jacket. Maybe. Just maybe. But either way, it did help with the chill of the wind. Maybe I needed to invest in one of these jackets too.

"What were you doing following me anyway?" Jughead asked, picking back up his skateboard from the ground.

"I wasn't following you," I lied—again.

"You were," he argued. "I saw you in the window before I left. Last time too."

Shit. I didn't know he could see me. How many times had he seen me watching him? How many times had he known and never said anything? Numerous? 

"Why are you following me, Betty?" he repeated, and he was more than serious this time.

"Well..." I didn't know what to say. "I thought, maybe...I don't know. You were ignoring me?"

"Ignoring you?"

I nodded. "Ever since I left your house, we haven't talked once. You haven't even come over to see Kevin. So yeah, I thought maybe you didn't want to see me after...you know."

"Oh..." Jughead mumbled. "I wasn't ignoring you, Betty."

"You weren't?"

"No," he answered. "Life just got in the way; that's all. I promise."

"Like what?" I asked.

He shrugged. "School mostly. Family too."

I nodded, digging my foot into the ground. There wasn't much else to say. Well, apart from the one major elephant in the room, which was not so subtly trying to claw its way out.

"What are you doing here?" I questioned, looking up at him.

"Uh...well– A walk, I guess," he came up with. I didn't believe him though. I could tell he was lying by the way he wavered. 

"A walk?"

"Mhm," he hummed, his eyes darting away from mine. He was a terrible liar.

"To a park at 10:30 pm?" I went on.

"I needed to clear my head," he answered—at least that one sounded less like a lie. And for all I knew, it could've been true. "Really."

I bought it, glancing over to the swing set behind us. "Wanna make a repeat of last week? I'm bored of standing."

The boy chuckled, nodding. "Sure, Sunshine."

I glared at the nickname, receiving another laugh as he walked ahead of me, sitting down on one of the swings. I sat on the one next to him, picking up a pace on the swing. I swung back and forth, while he sat still, watching me. He looked amused.

"What?" I asked, shifting a little so I could see him while I swung back.

"Nothing," he sighed, smiling to himself.

"What?!" I tried again, slowing down a bit.

"No, keep going. It's adorable," he admitted. My cheeks went pink, and I could spot the second the realization of what he had said set in. "I– No, I meant...I– Uh..." He thought I was adorable?!

I giggled at his stuttering, leaning back to swing higher. Then I felt something slip out of Jughead's jacket, still wrapped around me, landing in the rocks under us. I frowned, slowing down a little to try to see what had dropped under me, but I was going way too fast to read the label of the little cardboard box. Either way, I was just grateful it hadn't been his phone. I had a tendency to break my own—hence the cracked screen.

I glanced over to Jughead next to me as I slowed, bypassing the way-too-obvious panic in his eyes. I bent down to pick up the object, eyeing the white and blue packaging. Then I caught on.

"Jug..."

He snatched the cigarettes from my hand, tucking them into his jeans pocket. He couldn't look me in the eye, even if he tried. He was guilty. I felt it too.

"You know those are bad for you, right?" I asked. He nodded. "Then...why?"

He sighed, digging his feet into the rocks under himself. "You know how my dad's..." He didn't finish, but I knew what he meant. "I needed a way to deal with it. To make things bearable."

"You know there are a lot more ways to do that, without it affecting your health, right?"

He nodded. "But that was the only one that worked."

"You're sure?" I questioned.

"I'm sure, Betty," he confirmed.

"....Okay."

"Okay?" he repeated.

"I trust you. Okay," I clarified. "I won't tell anyone."

"Really?" He sounded surprised saying that.

"Really," I assured him. "I mean it. It's not my place to tell."

He smiled slightly, resting a little more calmly. "Thanks, Sunshine."

I nodded my head, starting to swing a little again. "But Jughead?"

"Yeah?" he hummed.

"If you do start to hurt yourself with smoking, and I can't trust you with it anymore, I will tell someone. I value your health over whether or not you would get mad at me. Okay?"

"Okay," he agreed.

︵‿︵‿︵

"Why are you getting home so late?" Kevin questioned from the stairs, watching me take off my sweater—I had already given Jughead back his jacket on the way home. "Where were you?"

"Uh...I went for a walk," I came up with, taking the same line from an earlier Jughead.

"This late?"

"I wasn't tired enough to go to bed yet," I told him, taking off my shoes. "I needed to blow off some energy."

"Oh," Kevin mumbled. "Still wide awake?"

"Kind of," I answered. "Why?"

"I was thinking about watching an episode of some show before bed. Want to join me?"

"Sure," I hummed.

"You know," Kevin said, turning on the tv in the living room, me behind him. "We don't do this that much anymore."

"No. I guess we don't," I thought out loud. "You're always with Jughead, or sneaking out."

"And you're always with Cheryl," he pointed out. "Or painting."

I rolled my eyes, letting him pick a show to watch. "You could always come out and watch me paint."

"But it's boring," he whined. "Too quiet."

"Or you're just way too loud for your own good?" I shot back, laughing.

"Oh, shut up," he groaned, tossing a pillow at me.

I laughed again, taking the pillow and throwing it back at the boy. "Where were you today?" I asked, smiling when he picked a particular show we both enjoyed. "I haven't seen you all day."

"I had a date."

"An all-day date?" I questioned, raising my eyebrows.

"The guy's parents weren't home," Kevin mumbled, shrugging. "Who wouldn't take that chance?"

I cringed when I understood what he meant, covering my ears with my hands. "Ew. Ew! I didn't need to know that!"

Kevin chuckled. "You asked, didn't you?"

"Not about your sex life," I whisper-shouted. "I'm not your best friend. I'm definitely not Jughead."

"You think I tell Jughead that kind of stuff?"

"Well, yeah. He's your best friend," I deadpanned, as if it weren't obvious already.

"He would've reacted the same way as you," Kevin told me. And Honestly, I was not expecting that answer. They were like brothers, so of course, I assumed they talked about that kind of thing. Didn't all close friends? Cheryl and I would have—if we somehow had anything to talk about. "Jughead doesn't like how I sleep around."

Then it clicked. It was because of his dad, wasn't it? Surely, right? I couldn't blame him if it was. It was definitely a fair reason. 

"Neither do I," I blurted out. Kevin already knew that though.

"'Cause you're a hopeless romantic," Kevin reminded me. "Both you and that redhead friend of yours."

"Cheryl? You seriously forgot her name?" I scoffed.

"How could I forget a name of a pretty girl like her?" he hummed, adding a wink. I cringed again.

"That's my best friend!" I stated. "Ew. Gross."

"What?" he laughed. "I know a pretty person when I see one."

"Not my best friend. Yes, she's pretty, but not to you. She doesn't even like you anyway."

"What? Have a problem with anything to do with Cheryl and I in the same sentence?" Kevin questioned.

"Yes," I hissed.

"Then you'll know how I felt when I saw you leave Jughead's house last week."

I froze. He saw?! Shit.

"I was helping him watch his sister," I quickly came up with. "Honestly."

"Why would he want your help with that?" Kevin asked. "Why didn't he ask someone he knew?"

"I offered beforehand," I confessed. "I saw them at a park, and Jelly was giving him a bit of a hard time, so I offered. I literally played dolls with the girl while Jughead made dinner; that's all. I promise."

Kevin looked like he bought it—not that it was a lie or anything. It was true. That was all that happened. And I was definitely not going to tell Kev about Jughead's dad. I had promised to keep it a secret. I would not betray Jughead like that, ever.

"He willingly let you into his house?" Kevin went on.

"Yeah," I answered, nodding. Why did he look so shocked?

"I've never even been in that house more than a handful of times, and not for long," Kevin admitted. "He doesn't let anyone in on his at-home life. But he let you? Why?"

I shrugged. I honestly didn't know what to say. I had no idea Jughead was like that with Kevin—or any of his friends. No, I never really saw anyone other than his family walk in and out of that house, but I never put much thought into that. And it wasn't like I was constantly watching his house. He could've had friends over for hours, and I easily could have missed it. Same with really any of our neighbours.

"I don't know," I whispered.

Kevin sighed, sitting up straighter as he turned on the show. He hesitated for a moment, and then paused it again. "Betty, I love you. I love Jughead too. You're both family to me—but for different reasons. It's that way for a definite reason. Don't get any ideas, okay?"

"Who said I had any?" I questioned, trying to push down the little tinge of guilt pestering its way through. Luckily Kevin didn't notice.

"You gained a different kind of nervousness around him the second you hit puberty—I can only assume what that meant. And an older boy at that."

"Not by much," I defended myself. "You say that like I'm a child. He's barely a year older; you too."

"He's already eighteen," Kevin deadpanned. "You're sixteen."

"Seventeen next month."

Kevin clenched his jaw, noticeably getting angrier. "People say age is just a number, but it's not. An eighteen-year-old boy is far more mature than a barely seventeen-year-old girl. That's still a month from now too. Think about it, Betty. Even if he wasn't my best friend, it's still not a good idea."

I nodded, feeling like a lectured child who had done something wrong. I technically hadn't, but that wasn't the point. Kevin was right in many ways. I was still sixteen. Even if I turned seventeen, I'd still have that sixteen-year-old mentality until I grew up some more. Then I'd have that seventeen-year-old mentality, while Jughead turned nineteen. Eighteen; twenty. Nineteen; twenty-one. So on. 

"Also," Kevin went on. "He's my best friend. You're my sister. Don't."

Kevin unpaused the tv after that threat, and we sat in an awkward silence after that, staring ahead at the scenes playing out in front of us. Kev seemed to be paying attention to the show—and mildly interested—but I wasn't. I had that twisted feeling of guilt bubbling in my stomach, which only got worse, and further when my phone chimed.

[1] Jughead Jones: 
     goodnight sunshine

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine

Jughead

»•» 🍄 «•«

"So," Kevin hummed, sitting down next to me in the schoolyard, plopping his lunch down in front of him on the picnic table. "Where have you been all day."

Hiding.

I thought his little sister was adorable and admitted it out loud to her. What if she had told her brother? It was eating me alive. Even Jelly had noticed and asked if I had any, I quote, "mean girls bullying me". I had to assure her three times over that I didn't, and I still wasn't sure she had believed me in the end. I, for sure, did not have any girls bulling me whatsoever. But to a little eight-year-old girl, that had to have been the only answer.

"Busy, Kev," I quickly came up with, taking a bite of my food so I wouldn't have to talk. That, and so I could also distract myself from the blonde in question across the yard, basking in the sunlight under a tree, ironically. And of course, she looked stunning too. Especially with that beaming smile that lit up her face every so often when she would tease her best friend, or talk about something she loved. But it wasn't like I couldn't keep my eyes off of her, or anything.

"With what?" Kevin asked, bringing back my attention.

"Schoolwork," I answered. "I've been a little bit behind, and I needed to catch up." Kevin seemed to have bought it, taking a bite of his food. "What about you?"

"Stressed," Kev sighed.

"Why?"

"Well, one, my science teacher has spent most of the past few classes bitching and targeting students out of anger—because of her divorce—so I've been worrying about when I will get selected next," Kevin started. "That, and after last night, I'm pretty sure—like ninety percent sure—that Betty's got a crush on you."

I nearly choked on my food, coughing a bit. "What?!"

"Oh, don't worry about it that much," Kevin assured me, waving it off. "It's probably only since you're like, the first boy she encountered after puberty. And you're older; off-limits too. I'm just worried she'll do something stupid. I wanted to warn you beforehand, so you don't get any ideas."

I nodded, shifting my line of sight away from my best friend. "Yeah. Thanks for the warning, Kev."

He smiled, turning his head around to look at Betty, sighing when he caught her quick glance our way. "Just...stay away from her for a little while, okay? Until it passes over."

"Yeah, of course," I agreed, sending Kevin the realest smile I could muster, sneaking in a quick peek of the blonde-haired girl. I clenched my jaw hard when I saw her bite her lip, a pink flustered blush on her cheeks from being caught again, but this time by myself. Betty. 

︵‿︵‿︵

I loved Kevin like a brother—I really did. But I seriously couldn't stay away from her. It was impossible. A problem. Especially with her at my door, smiling with a bag of popcorn and candies, asking if Jelly and I wanted to watch a movie. I caved—of course. Fucking idiot.

I called Jelly down as I let her in, catching the little girl's smile grow the second she spotted Betty. The two had gotten close—really close—and it was just giving me another reason to like Betty. Hell, I bet Jelly thought of her like a cool, older sister she never had. And that made my stomach churn. And not because I was jealous, or anything like that. Instead, because it was the one real 'yes-or-no' decision-maker I looked for in any girl I was mildly interested in.

Of course, Betty was fucking golden.

"Wanna watch a movie?" Betty asked the girl, hugging her back.

Jelly quickly nodded yes, tugging her over to the couch in the living room. I stayed behind, making sure to lock the door—just in case. I'd hate for him to see me now, lying to his face. Sorry, Kev.

︵‿︵‿︵

I sat on the opposite side of the couch from Betty, as far as I could get. I knew she had noticed—the frown on her face made it obvious—but I didn't care. Kevin was right. No ideas. No ideas. No ideas, Jughead.

"Are you even watching the movie?" Jelly asked, poking my shoulder. "Why are your eyes closed?"

I opened my eyes, sending her a glare. She backed down, pouting. I sighed, telling her I was, "Just tired, Jelly. That's all; I promise."

"Okay." She bought it, and it looked like Betty had too. Or, at least she looked less concerned than before. That I could notice.

While both girls went back to the movie, and their snacks too, I quietly pulled out my phone, turning down the volume completely. I had felt it buzz in my pocket, and I knew who it was before I even turned on the screen. I didn't have to guess.

[2] Kevin: I can't find Betty?
                    Please tell me she isn't over there again.

I glanced over to the blonde, watching her tuck a piece of her golden hair behind her ear. She was enjoying herself, watching the movie and sharing popcorn with my sister, and a smile was prominent on her lips. Both of them were happy. How could I destroy that?

Jughead: She's not.
                    She's probably at her friend's house.

The guilt swirled in my stomach after I hit the send button, and I shut my phone off near instantly. I heard Betty's phone go off before she did. I watched her grab it from the coffee table that she had set it on, opening the message I knew Kevin had sent her. She glanced over to me then, eyes locking on mine. She looked away for a moment, typing something into her phone before turning it off.

Kevin: You were right.

After I got that message, I peeked over to find Betty watching me. She knew who I was texting. It wasn't that hard to guess. She watched me tuck my phone back into my pocket, then turned back to the tv. We left it there. And after a while, Jelly had ended up falling asleep on Betty's shoulder, snoring quietly in her ear. I helped Betty move over a little while I picked up the tiny girl. I held her up in my arms, while Betty stood, helping me untangle Jelly from the blanket she had wrapped herself in before falling asleep.

"Thanks," I whispered, watching Betty toss the material back down onto the couch.

She turned back to me, a soft smile on her face. She shrugged, looking down to the ground as her cheeks turned pink. "You're welcome, Jug."

I tore myself away from her for a moment, taking Jelly upstairs. I tried to set my mind straight while tucking Jelly into bed, but it wasn't working. Both Betty and I had lied about where she was, and the thrill was exhilarating. It was bad—we both knew it. But then why did it feel so good to be here with her right now? The only thing keeping us apart was Kevin.

"What took you so long?" Betty asked, sitting in the middle of the couch now. I couldn't help but wonder if that was on purpose. There needed to be space between us, and she was taking it away.

"Jelly woke up," I lied. "I had to put her back to sleep."

"Oh," she mumbled. "But she's asleep now, right?"

"Yeah," I assured her. And now I knew, with Jelly gone, there was no barrier settled between us anymore.

"Do you still want to finish the movie?"

"Sure," I quickly agreed. Anything to distract myself.

"Okay," she hummed, grabbing the remote and clicking the play button.

After she set the remote back down, I felt her rest her head on my shoulder. And worst of all, I didn't mind it. Betty was tucked into my side, and I liked it. Sorry, Kevin.

Over the next few minutes, Betty's hand had found the zipper to my sweater, and I couldn't find the words to tell her to stop tracing the metal over my chest—nor did I want her to. My line of sight was settled on her, and every so often she would glance up, so I would turn away. But this time, she spoke up.

"Isn't it pretty?"

"What?" I questioned, looking back down at her.

"The scene, Jug," she answered, gesturing to the tv that I hadn't been watching for a while now.

There was a scene on the beach, and then I knew what she meant. "Why don't you paint it? Add it to the collection."

She blushed a little, turning back to me. "How did you know about 'the collection'?"

I went blank, trying to find something to say. "I– Uh, well..." I didn't know what to say. She had caught me. "I may or may not have found your art account online," I admitted.

"I know," she hummed, smiling again.

"You know?"

"I get a notification every time someone follows me, Jug," she stated. "You were one of the first ones too. I remembered."

It was my turn to flush and turn away from her. I was sure she had seen anyway. "What can I say? You're good at what you do."

"Thanks," she whispered, grinning. She had more than likely gone red at the compliment too, but I couldn't dare to look.

After that, I didn't even try to talk to her. I kept my head up and waited for the movie to end. She needed to go home. She had already pushed my limits the second she walked through that door. Hell, I wasn't even sure limits even existed after what Kevin had said about her 'crush'.

"Juggie?" I heard her speak. My stomach dropped. She had called me Jelly's nickname.

"Yeah?" I breathed out, barely making a sound.

"I thought you said you weren't ignoring me?" Betty sighed, leaning into me more.

"I'm not," I told her.

"Then why does it feel like you are?" she questioned. "You've barely talked to me the whole time here."

That was true. And, yes, I had been ignoring her. It was the only way to not get caught up in the mess bound to start. Letting her inside had been a terrible mistake. I should've just told her we were busy. And then I would've only had to deal with her sad pout—not her snuggled into my side, whispering in my ear. She was driving me insane. And knowing what Kevin had said earlier had only made everything worse. She liked me too. 

No ideas, Jughead. None.

"We've been watching a movie the whole time," I reminded her, staring straight ahead at the tv.

"You won't even look at me when I talk."

I sighed, giving in and looking at her. I regretted it the second I saw her pout. Quit it, Betty. You're Kevin's sister. Kevin's little sister.

"Please stop ignoring me," she pleaded. "I want to talk to you."

Don't give in, Jughead. Don't– "What do you want to talk about then?"

Dumbass! Idiot.

"I don't know," she admitted, shrugging.

"What about your science project?" I asked, watching her run her hand through her hair again. Stop it.

"We handed it in yesterday," she told me.

"Did you do good?"

"Yeah. Top grade of the class," she answered. "Thanks for helping too, Juggie."

And there it was again. Kill. Me. Now. Fuck, Betty.

"It was just a little bit of writing." I shrugged, feeling her smile against my shoulder.

"But it meant a lot," she confessed, and I knew the appreciation was real.

I didn't know what to say after that. Every response in my head I could come up with either sounded lame, and like it didn't mean anything to me, or sounded like it could've been an attempt at a flirt. And as more time passed, the weirder it would have been to respond. Especially after full two minutes had gone by. 

I decided finally to just not say anything back, and wait for the movie to end. We sat in silence for those awkward twenty minutes, and Betty didn't even try to get closer once. Could she tell I was tense? Was it that obvious? 

"I think maybe I should go now," she quickly came up with, standing from the couch. She passed the tv remote back to me, and I turned the monitor off. "It's getting late."

"Yeah, I guess it is," I mumbled, scratching the back of my neck. 

I stood there and waited as she packed her things back up, eyeing my phone I had left on the couch. Kevin hadn't sent any more messages, and I don't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Would Kevin know I had been lying to him the next time I saw him? Would he guess right? Would he hate me? Absolutely.

"I'm gonna go..." Betty spoke, pointing to the door behind her.

When had I followed after her?

"Okay." I nodded, eyes locked onto hers.

She turned around, and it looked as if she was about to leave, but she hesitated for a split second. And before I knew it, she was back, kissing me, and I had her pinned to the door, hands in her hair, enjoying it.

I'm not sorry, Kevin.

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten

Jughead

»•» 🤎 «•«

I sat on my bed, slouched. I couldn't help but stare back at my reflection in the mirror; it looking back at me in its own twisted version of reality. Maybe a reality where I hadn't kissed my best friend's little sister. A reality where Betty and Kevin didn't even know each other.

A reality where we weren't interrupted.

"Jug," she sighed.

A reality where her voice wasn't haunting me, and her face wasn't a fixation every time I closed my eyes. A reality where she hadn't been on this very bed, sat on my lap, then laid under me. A reality where I could control my own damn mind.

Her kisses were intoxicating, in every form. Her sighs, her whimpers, and her quick breaths were driving me insane as I had her pushed up against my bedroom door, seconds after dragging her up the stairs and clicking the lock shut. 

I couldn't stop if I wanted to. Not with the way she was looking at me as I pulled away; her mouth agape, fingers running down my chest from where she had her arms around my neck, eyes glazed over, flushed cheeks, and swelling lips.

Fuck.

"What about Kevin?" I quickly questioned, just as worried as she was.

"What about him?"

"Won't he worry where you are?" I asked.

"I said I'm at Cheryl's," she told me. "Maybe even staying the night too."

"Fuck, Betts," I groaned, leaning heavily against the door. "Were you planning this?"

"No. But I was hoping."

I kissed her again then, smirking at her quick gasp. I dug my hand into her hair, holding her still better. She giggled, which confused me, so I pulled away.

"What?" I hissed.

"You're eager," she teased, smiling. "Rough too."

"Is that a problem?"

"No." She shook her head, and looked at me with her stupidly-sultry eyes. "I like it."

She was going to kill me. Somehow, in some way I wouldn't be expecting, she would. Anticipation? Maybe. Shock? A good possibility. Or that look she gives me, panting and out of breath? Definitely. She was driving me mad. I couldn't understand how she did it.

Even the memories she left behind were taunting. I could barely sleep last night. Let alone when I saw her at school today, biting down on her lip, staring back at me from under that damn tree. I just about lost it—in front of Kevin too. She had no idea how tempting she was.

"Sit," she commanded, pushing me onto my bed.

"Do I have much of a choice?" I chuckled, and she rolled her eyes. "Not that I mind, Sunshine."

She laughed, squeaking when I pulled her onto my lap. A harsh flush grew on her cheeks then, and she couldn't dare to look me in the eyes. I laughed too, pushing back most of her hair before switching to kissing her neck.

"Quiet, Sunshine," I ordered. "We're not the only ones in the house."

She nodded, fighting back a moan as I bit down on her collarbone. "Say that more," she pleaded.

"Say what?" I asked.

"Sunshine," she sighed, rolling her hips a little.

"I thought you didn't like it?" I questioned, holding her still.

"I changed my mind."

Her sweater was still pooled on my floor in the morning, forgotten by the door. I only remembered when my mother had told me she was starting to do the laundry and asked if I had anything to wash. I took Betty's sweater and hid it in my closet before my mother even finished coming up the stairs. 

"Are you sure you don't have anything?" she asked, glancing around the room.

I shook my head. "Ask Jelly."

She nodded and shut the door behind herself as she left. I waited until I heard her finish walking down the staircase, then clicked the lock of my bedroom door shut, hoping she hadn't heard. I didn't want anyone else bugging me.

I had her down and under me in no time, kissing my way along her jaw. I couldn't stop. She didn't want me to stop either. We wouldn't have, if not for the sound of the front door opening, then slamming shut. We both froze, hearing my mother's voice downstairs calling for me.

"Shit." I cursed. "I forgot. Sorry."

Betty just gave me a simple, nervous smile, running one last hand through my hair. "Maybe it's for the better."

I nodded, helping her up from the bed. I left her to fix herself up a little, and went downstairs, hoping Betty hadn't done that much to my appearance as much as I had to her. I was also hoping she'd be able to cover the marks I left on her neck later—Kevin couldn't know.

"Where were you?" my mom asked, coming from the kitchen.

"My room," I told her.

"You left all the lights still on," she stated. "Food left out too."

"Sorry, Mom. I–"

Betty chose right then as the perfect time to come down, and I couldn't tell what my mother was thinking as she walked down those last few stairs. Nothing good, I assumed. I couldn't have been more right.

"Betty? What are you doing here?" my mother asked. She sent me a glare, as in 'you were supposed to be watching your little sister. Not someone else's little sister'.

"We...uh– I came over to watch a movie," Betty stuttered, looking at the ground. It was true, but Betty was almost making it seem like a lie, wrapped in guilt.

"Isn't it getting late?" my mom questioned. "Shouldn't you be getting home?"

That was my mother's nicest way to say, 'hey, you need to leave'. And it worked. Betty nodded, grabbing her things and making her way to the door. She was gone in no time. I couldn't blame her—my own mother scared me a little too. 

" What was she doing here, Jughead. She's your best friend's little sister," Mom reminded me—as if I forgot. I wish I could've forgotten. "I thought you would know better than that."

"We just watched a movie," I told her, gesturing to the couch with empty popcorn bowls and blankets galore. "Really. Jelly too—she picked it out."

"Then why were you two in your room, alone?"

I had no answer to that. My mother knew that too, sighing as she rested her head in her hands. She was disappointed—I could tell. Maybe even mad too.

"She's your best friend's sister. Not just some other girl. You realize that, right?" Mom asked. I nodded. "Then why her?"

"I–"

I picked up my phone from my nightstand, tapping my fingers anxiously against the case. Why was I so nervous? It was just a text message.

I typed Betty's number into my phone, clicking her contact once it came up. I opened our messages and started a new conversation. I blanked for a moment. I didn't know what to say, and it was driving me mad. 

I always knew what to say. Especially when writing. But why now? Why when it was important?

Jughead Jones: we need to talk.
                       now.

I waited a few minutes, pacing the room until I heard my phone go off. I rushed over, unlocking the device as quickly as I could. Please agree.

[3] Betty Cooper: ok.
                           call me.
                           I'm alone.

I took a deep breath, clicking the call button in hopes she was telling the truth. But really, why would she lie about something like that? I bet she was just as scared as I was. Maybe even a little more. She lived with Kevin. 

"Juggie?" I heard her hum through the speaker. 

Quit calling me that.

"Betts," I greeted back. 

Two could play at that game.

"What did you want?" she questioned, sounding a little nervous. "I'm alone."

"Where?"

"In my little work shed," she answered. "I was painting."

"Oh. Is it a bad time?" I asked. "I mean, if it is, I can just call back–"

"It's not, Juggie. You're fine," she assured me. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Last night," I answered.

She went quiet for a moment. "What... What about it?"

"I–" I wasn't really sure what to say. Why was I even calling her?

"Do you regret it?" Her nervous voice came through the speaker, and it broke my heart a little.

"A little bit," I admitted.

"Oh..." she mumbled. 

I had just shattered her little bit of hope, hadn't I?

"Not because of you," I quickly blurted out. "Or, well... because your Kevin's sister. That's why. Not you."

"So...if I wasn't Kevin's sister, you wouldn't regret it?"

"No, I wouldn't," I told her.

"Okay..." she whispered.

I waited a few moments, moving to lie down on my bed. I could hear her breathing through the phone, and in a way, it was calming me. And in another, the cause of a little guilty feeling. I was still supposed to be staying away from her, so she could 'get over me', and here I was on the phone with her, the day after I had her in my bed.

"Please don't be sad, Sunshine," I pleaded.

"I'm not sad. I'm fine." 

She didn't sound fine.

I sat still for a moment, debating whether or not to say what I wanted to next. After a bit, I gave in. 'Cause, why not?

"I know you have a crush on me, Betts. It's okay to be sad."

"How?"

"Kevin told me," I answered.

She stayed quiet for a moment, and I could hear her tapping on something in the background. "Was that... Did you– Is that why you kissed me? You felt bad?"

"No, Betts. Definitely not," I assured her. "I wanted you just as much as you wanted me." 

I still want you.

"Really?" She sounded hopeful.

"Yes."

I could practically hear her smile from the other side of the line, and it messed with my head. Why did she have to be so cute? Why did she have to be so tempting? She was killing me; starting at my heart first—inside, then out. And I couldn't help but smile back. It was contagious. She was infectious.

"Betty?" I questioned.

"Mhm," she happily hummed.

How could I tell her we should stay apart now? I couldn't destroy the happiness I had just created. I couldn't be that one cloud. She didn't deserve what was to come.

"I think we shouldn't be around each other, alone."

"W-What?!" she stammered.

"I think we shouldn't be around each other," I repeated myself, closing my eyes. I hated myself right then. "We can't afford to make a mess."

"A mess? What mess?" She was panicking. I could hear it in her voice.

"You're Kevin's sister."

"So what?!" she huffed. "That doesn't have to mean anything."

She was pleading. She was sad. She was angry. She was going to hate me.

"What about my friendship with Kevin? What about your relationship with Kevin? What about how your parents see me? What about Jelly—she thinks of you like a sister. All of that would change. It's not just nothing. What would happen if it didn't work out? If we didn't work out?" I questioned. She went silent. "I'm sorry, Betts. I am."

I waited for an answer, and then waited some more. A few minutes had to of gone by, but I still waited. I waited until I heard the beep of my phone, signalling she had hung up. And worst of all, without a single word. 

I'm sorry, Betty. I'm sorry, Sunshine.

I laid on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was too quiet without her voice. Too quiet in my own room. And when I heard the loud buzz of my phone going off, I jumped up. What if it was her?

[1] Kevin: want to come over?

Chapter Text

Chapter Eleven 

Betty

»•» 🌷 «•«

I stared down at the phone in my hand, trying my best not to cry. Jughead had cut the ties I had been working to string, right in front of my eyes. They were gone, torn, non-existent. I didn't even get a chance to show him how pretty they could have been. Just gone.

I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand, sliding down the wall behind me to sit on the floor. I held my knees in my arms, to my chest. 

How could he do that? How could he lead me on like that? Why couldn't he have left me alone? Why did he let me kiss him?

My line of sight trailed over to the painting I had been trying to finish before he called. The same one I had started a few weeks ago after Jughead had spoken the certain quote I had found so appealing. 

"Be careful, Sunshine. All it takes is one cloud." 

How ironic.

For the past few days, I'd been having trouble trying to come up with inspiration to paint the one side the cloud was covering over. I had no ideas. Not a one. But now I did. 

I could see what he had meant by that one cloud. How one thing—one person—could entirely ruin your mood in a matter of a few seconds. How one shadow could block the light you had been basking in, taking your warmth out from under you.

Maybe it had been a warning, what he had told me. Maybe I should have listened. But again, one taste was better than sitting in front of your favourite dessert, and you know can't have any of it. Or, it could entirely have been a tease; that one taste.

I wiped my cheeks for one last final time and got up. I had a clear image in my head of what to do with the darkened side of the painting now. Crystal clear. I grabbed a paintbrush from a cup, and my mixing plate. 

Now, where do I start?

︵‿︵‿︵

"How do you manage to get paint all over you?" Tom chuckled from the doorway, watching me scrub my arms in the kitchen sink.

When my pallet had gotten full, I may or may not have started using my arm as a temporary pallet. Sure, I had been scolded for that in the past, but what else was I to do? My other pallet was still outside drying. And maybe a little part of me thought it had been fun—the child inside.

"It spilled," I lied, reaching for a towel.

"It spilled into perfectly shaded flowers on your arm?" Tom questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Again, the child inside.

"I guess it did," I hummed, shrugging. Tom laughed, taking the towel from me and tossing it in the laundry room.

"You're lucky your mother's at work. She wouldn't have been too happy to see paint that close to your nice clothes," Tom warned me.

"I was wearing an apron," I argued. " It would've gotten on that before my clothes."

"Again, your mother wouldn't believe that."

I sighed, knowing he was right. "You won't tell her, please?"

"I won't, Kiddo," he assured me. "It's just clothes and paint. They're replaceable. Costly, but replaceable."

I hugged him and thanked him too. Tom laughed again, patting my shoulder. 

Even though it wasn't by blood, Tom was my dad. I wasn't his real daughter, but he raised me as if so. Kevin and I were equally his kids, raised proudly. And other than the child support that came in occasionally, to me, my real dad didn't even exist. Tom was my real dad. And sometimes that bothered Kevin a little, which lead to days like this.

"I was going to take Kevin out to lunch for a boy's day. Is that alright?" Tom asked.

I nodded, knowing it had been a while since the last time. "I think Kevin will like that."

Tom smiled. "You'll be okay on your own here for a couple of hours?"

"I was just going to paint some more, then maybe call Cheryl. I'll be fine."

"I was just making sure," Tom chuckled, giving me another hug. "We'll be home before dinner—an hour before your mother gets off work."

"Okay," I hummed.

︵‿︵‿︵

I painted in silence for a while, going back and forth between both sides, adding final touch-ups. I added highlights to the bright side, and lowlights to the dark side. I added anything that looked good, and got rid of anything that didn't by painting something better over it.

I didn't know how long I had been working away, regretting not bringing my phone with me to check the time. I remembered hearing Tom's car drive off some while ago, but that was it. I couldn't name a number to the time that had passed.

When I heard a knock at the door of my workshop, I jumped a little. No one was supposed to be home. Cheryl had told me she was busy today at home too, so she couldn't come over when I had asked a couple hours ago. 

Maybe she had a change of heart. Her plans change all the time.

I reached for the door, setting down my paintbrush in a water-filled cup, letting it soak. I couldn't lose another brush to my forgetfulness. Once dried, you'd never be able to get that paint off. Not without ruining the bristles. 

My smile dropped once I opened the door, and my heart nearly skipped a beat. "Juggie?!"

He scratched at the back of his neck nervously, looking me over. "Hey."

"What...what are you doing here?" I stammered, leaning against the door frame heavily. I felt lightheaded—he caught me completely off guard. 

He wasn't supposed to be here. And he had just told me a few hours ago that we should stop seeing each other. And now he was back. 

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," he confessed, glancing down to the ground for a moment. Did he feel bad? Why was he acting so strange?

"I'm fine," I blurted out, turning away. His next word choice stopped me though.

"No matter what, you don't deserve to be upset because of me."

I froze, mouth agape. I didn't know how to respond to that. Thank you?

"I'm not," I quickly came up with.

"Don't lie, Sunshine," he warned. My eyes widened at the nickname, and my stomach churned. He must have noticed. "Sorry."

I nodded, forgiving him. It was probably a habit at this point. Not intentional. I wished it was, but it wasn't.

"What are you doing?" he asked, quickly after clearing his throat.

"Painting," I answered.

"Oh..." he mumbled. "Can I see?"

I nodded, and let him in before I gave myself a chance to think about it, or the consequences that would come after. He wanted to see my work, and he actually sounded mildly interested in it. He cared, and that meant a lot to me.

"It looks great," he hummed, smiling at me. My heart stuttered a bit because of that.

"You think so?" I whispered—hopeful he wasn't just a people pleaser.

"I do," He confirmed. "What inspired this one? It's nothing like the others," he stated, motioning to the finished pieces I had stored in the corner.

"Um– Well..." I wasn't sure what to say. My cheeks were turning pink, and I could already tell by his chuckle that he already knew the answer. He just wanted to hear me say it. "Remember what you told me at school when I, like, ran into you?" He nodded. "I thought it would've been a pretty picture to paint."

"Well, you did a really good job, Betty."

Heat rushed to my cheeks again, and I turned away. "It's not done though."

"No?"

I shook my head. "It's missing a few details."

"Like what?" he questioned.

"Highlights on the clouds," I answered, pointing to the spots that looked a little dull.

"How do you do that?" he asked.

"I take white paint, dilute it a bit, then blend it in with the rest," I told him. He didn't say anything else—just looked a little confused. "Do you want me to show you?"

He nodded. "I would like to say I know what you're talking about, but that would be a lie," he joked, watching me grab another brush and my tube of white paint. 

I laughed, catching him smile at the sound. I tried not to think much of it.

"So, I take a wet brush," I started to explain, wetting my brush in the water. "Then dip it in the white paint," I went on, taking a bit of the paint, using my arm as a pallet again. "Then add it to the cloud."

He watched closely, hovering over my shoulder as he did. I could see him from the corner of my eye, simply because he was taller than me. His closeness intimidated me. It excited me.

"Then you finish blending it in," I concluded, scratching my chin.

"Wow. That's cool. You're amazing at that," he gushed, smiling. But when he turned back to me, that same smile dropped. Why? "You got paint on your chin," he deadpanned. 

That's why.

"Oh, I– Uh..." I quickly wiped at my chin, embarrassed. I could only feel it spread some more.

"Do you have a wet cloth?" Jughead asked, looking around.

"Over there." I pointed to a green rag laid over the back of a chair, tilting my head down.

He picked up the cloth, dipping it in my water cup before walking back over. "Come here."

I took the two steps to get to him and gasped when he tilted my face up to see the paint better. I looked away. I couldn't dare to look him in the eyes. I was too embarrassed, and I was pretty sure my face was showing it off like a trophy.

"You alright?" he questioned, stopping for a second. I nodded, glancing away again. I think he caught on. "Don't be embarrassed, Sunshine. It's just a little paint."

"But it's not 'just a little paint'," I whispered.

He stopped wiping my chin completely, setting the cloth down. "You have a problem with embarrassment, don't you?"

I slowly nodded. He must have remembered the incident that started it all too. Maybe when he had caught me following him a few nights ago too.

"Well, you don't have to be worried around me. I won't ever make fun of you like that," he assured me.

"Like that?" I repeated.

"I mean, I might tease you a little bit if you fall—if it's just us, of course," he chuckled, teasing me very well on purpose.

I scoffed, shoving his shoulder. He laughed, grabbed the cloth again, and wiped the last bit of white paint off my chin. I bit down on my lip as he did so, and he froze, glaring down at me.

"What?"

"Don't do that," he warned.

"Why?" I asked.

"It's too tempting; that's why."

I froze in disbelief. Tempting? I was tempting?

I watched as he quickly backed away. He tossed the green cloth back down in its place and kept his distance from me. I took a step closer, but he shook his head. He glanced over towards the door.

"Juggie..."

"I already told you," he quickly interrupted me with. "We need to stay away from each other. It's for the best."

"Then why are you here?" I questioned, stepping forward again. He let me this time.

"I wanted to check on you," he answered.

"Or you wanted to see me?"

"Betty, stop it," he pleaded.

"Why?" I crossed my arms over my chest and pouted. That caught his attention.

"I'm your brother's best friend, Betty," he reminded me—as if I had forgotten. "I can't do that to him."

"Why?" I repeated.

"I don't want to break his trust," he sighed. "There are rules put in place for a reason."

"And what's the reason?"

"So no one gets hurt."

"It's a little too late for that one, Jug," I blurted out.

He came closer to me then, and rested his hand on my shoulder. "I know, and I'm sorry. But you can do so much better than me, Betts. I'm one guy out of many."

"But I don't want anyone else," I whined. "I want you."

He stayed quiet after that, unsure of what to say. He tried to step back, but I stopped him, taking his hand in mine. He froze, staring down at our hands.

"Stop trying to deny it. I know you want me too. You even admitted it earlier. Just say it, Jug. Say you–"

His mouth was on mine before I could comprehend it. I lost my breath, and I couldn't complain. He was kissing me. Jughead Jones was kissing me. I couldn't believe it—much like the first time. It was surreal.

His hand was tugging at my hair, and the other squeezing my hip—I couldn't think straight. Was this all completely wrong? Yes. Did I care? No. Not when Jughead was groaning against my mouth, taking all that I could give. Nor when I was whimpering with a bitten lip, tilting my head to the side as he moved down my neck.

I moved my hand to his hair, and, "Shit."

"What?" he questioned, pulling back a little to look at my sorry face.

"I think I got paint in your hair," I confessed, wincing. I glanced over to my pallet arm—the same one that had been so close to his dark locks—and he caught on. "Sorry."

︵‿︵‿︵

I giggled as I watched Jughead rinse his hair out in the bathroom sink, poking his side with my foot. He glared up at me on the counter, laughing when he elbowed me back. I blushed hard at that.

"I'm sorry," I repeated again—probably for the fifth time.

"I told you it was fine, Betts. It's coming out," he assured me, scrubbing it from his hair with Kevin's shampoo he had stolen from the shower.

"I still feel bad though," I admitted.

"Don't. It's not the end of the world. I'll live, Sunshine."

"I wasn't worried about that," I deadpanned, and he laughed again. That laugh was going to kill me.

"No?" he hummed, turning the water to the sink back on. He dipped his head under again.

I jumped down from the counter and came back over to Jughead's side. I lent a hand to help him rinse out the soap, which I knew he liked from the smile on his face when I handed him the towel after. I giggled again, and he raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"You're soaked," I stated, tugging at the collar of his wet shirt.

He glared down at me, a smirk starting to form on his lips. Oh no.

I squealed as he wrapped his arms around me in a bear hug I couldn't get out of if I tried, and cringed when he let his wet hair drip all over the both of us. He chuckled, leaning down to steal an unexpected kiss from me, which earned him a gasp from myself.

"What? Did I get you all wet?" he teased, earning a little nudge to the stomach. He chuckled, poking my shoulder. I rolled my eyes.

"You're annoying," I mumbled, and he laughed again.

"Oh yeah?"

I nodded, and it was safe to say I instantly regretted it. He shook his hair out, completely spraying me with water. I screamed, rushing out of the little bathroom. I could hear his laugh from the bathroom.

"Asshole!" I called out, rushing into my room.

I jumped on my bed, sat criss-cross, and waited for him to follow me. I turned to my left in boredom and smiled when I saw my old polaroid camera sitting on my nightstand. I grabbed it and got ready. Jughead came in a moment later, still drying his hair when the flash lit up my room. He froze, staring at the camera in my hand that was already printing out the photo.

"Did you just..."

I nodded, biting back my laugh. "Maybe."

I pulled out the undeveloped photo and set it on my nightstand. I turned back to Jughead, finding the towel dropped on the floor. Oh no.

"You little shit," he cursed, and launched himself at me, stealing the camera in no time.

The flash lit up the room and I glared up at the boy hovering over me, pinning me to my own bed. "Did you just?"

He nodded. "Of course, Sunshine."

He dropped the camera and developing photo on the bed next to us, nearly forgotten as he kissed me once more. I sighed, tilting my head up a little more to meet him better.

"That's going in my wallet," he blurted out in-between kisses.

"What is?"

"That photo of you," he clarified. "It's going in my wallet."

"Why?" I questioned.

"Isn't that where people keep photos of those important to them?"

Chapter Text

Chapter Twelve

Jughead

»•» 🗞 «•«

"You can hit it better than that!" I shouted, grabbing another tennis ball from the basket.

"I can't," Jelly huffed, pouting. "I'm little, remember?!"

"You're not that little," I argued back.

"Jughead, be nice to her," Betty sighed, crossing her arms while still sitting in the grass, watching Jelly trying to bat the balls I was throwing her way.

"Yeah, Juggie. Be nice," Jelly hummed.

I glared at the both of them, and Betty laughed. I watched her get up from her spot, and walk over to me. She grabbed an old tennis ball, and pushed me over to the side. 

"What are you doing?"

"Tossing her the ball," she stated.

"I was doing that," I reminded her.

"Not properly."

"Remind me again, who played baseball for most of their childhood?" I questioned.

Betty rolled her eyes, laughing again. "See, that's your problem. You're throwing the ball to her as if she knows all that stuff too—she doesn't. She knows as much as I do."

"What does that mean?" I asked

"It means, I'm going to throw the ball lighter, and slower," she answered. "Now move—unless you want to get hit."

I scoffed, but gave in anyway. I took a few steps back and watched. Betty threw the ball to Jelly far differently than I was, and as if my luck couldn't get worse, Jelly hit it with the bat on the first try, screaming in victory. I sat down on the grass as the two girls shared a hug, smiling and giggling.

Betty turned to me as Jelly went to go get the ball, sending me one of her teasing smiles. "Oh, quit pouting."

"I am not pouting," I assured her, taking her hand as she got closer.

"You sure? It awfully looks like your pouting," Betty hummed, sitting down next to me.

"Why would I be pouting?" I questioned.

"Because I was right, and you weren't?" she proposed.

I sighed, trying my best not to let my smile show through as I turned my face away from her. I heard her giggle again, and before I knew it, she was behind me, draping her arms over my shoulders, and resting her head on my neck. I turned back to face her, finding her smiling.

"You're getting awfully comfortable," I commented.

"You say that like you don't like it."

"Oh, no, I like it. I definitely do," I assured her. "It's cute."

She blushed at my words, but tried to play it off as if she hadn't. 

"Just cute?" she hummed.

"Adorable," I corrected.

She giggled, pulling herself away from me as her smiling cheeks darkened in colour a tad bit more. She sat back down in her spot next to me, much to my disliking.

Truth be told, the past week—since our 'paint' incident—I couldn't get enough of her. Whether it be her kisses or smiles, or the thrill of it all, I was hooked. I wanted to be around her, in just her presence if that was all I could get for as long as I could. She had me on a wire, reeling me in, and I couldn't complain.

Betty giggled again, tucking back a piece of her hair.

"What?" I asked.

"You're smiling," she pointed out. "You never used to smile; and here you are, smiling all the time."

"And?"

She just shrugged, smiling herself. "I like it. Happiness looks good on you."

It was my turn to feel my face heat up a little, so I turned away. Betty giggled, tapping my cheek with her finger. I glanced back, letting out a surprised gasp once she kissed me. She laughed again, running her fingers through my hair. My hand found the side of her face, and I nipped her bottom lip lightly once.

"I'm still here, you know," Jelly's voice came from behind us.

We jumped apart, Betty turning away from the both of us as her embarrassment set in. I rested my hand on hers for a moment—without Jelly noticing—calming her a bit. I then turned back to a soggy Jelly, pouting in her wet clothes. I couldn't help but laugh.

"What the hell happened to you?" I questioned.

"I fell in a puddle," she huffed.

"A puddle?" I repeated.

"You forgot to unclog the yard drain—again," she groaned. "Mom's going to be mad at you."

"Shit," I cursed, quickly looking over to the over-watered gardens. I was supposed to clear the drainpipe behind our fence the day before yesterday. I hadn't. Oh no.

Jelly gasped, pointing directly at my face. "You swore!" she shrieked. "Jughead swore! I'm telling mom when she gets home."

I grabbed Jelly's arm, pulling her down to face level. "Don't. You. Dare," I warned her. Betty started laughing to my left, and I glared at her. "Not funny."

"A little bit," she giggled.

"It's not," I argued.

"Oh no," Jelly sarcastically sounded out. "Their first fight."

I glared at her, watching her evil little smirk grow. "Shut up."

"I thought you said you were friends?" she went on, annoying the hell out of me, and probably making Betty uncomfortable. I didn't dare to look.

"We are," I told her—technically not a lie. We hadn't talked about our status yet, and we definitely were not in front of my little, devil-child sister.

"Friends don't kiss," she stated.

I glared at her again, hearing a car door slam shut from the front yard. Thank god. "Mom's home. Go and help her with the groceries," I ordered.

"Why can't you?" Jelly huffed.

"Just go see mom," I repeated.

"Fine," she gave in. "You're annoying anyway."

I sighed as she walked off, leaving Betty and me alone. "Sorry, Betts," I apologized.

"It's okay," she assured me, hesitating before resting her hand on mine. There's that awkward tension again. "I think I should get going anyway. Kevin will be back home soon."

I nodded, standing. I took Betty's hand and helped pull her up, but didn't let go of her hand like she had been expecting. She glanced down at our intertwined hands, then back up to me.

"Can I at least walk you to the gate?" I offered.

She smiled, nodding. "I like that idea."

I chuckled, pulling her along with me to the front gate of our fenced-off backyard. Betty giggled as she swung our hands back and forth, smiling to herself. Fucking ray of sunshine, all day long. Too cute.

"Betty?" I spoke up, gaining her attention back, once we had reached the gate.

"Mhm?" she hummed.

"Can we talk later?" I asked. "There are a few things I still want to talk about."

"Like what?"

"What Jelly brought up," I answered. "If we're actually going to be doing this–" I held up our intertwined hands. "–I want to do it properly. No corners cut, okay?"

She nodded, brushing her thumb over my knuckle. "I want this too," she sighed. "For real."

"What if I take you out tomorrow?" I proposed.

"Like a date?" she questioned, squinting her pretty eyes.

"Yeah," I chuckled. "What did you think I meant?"

"I don't know. You've never asked me out on a date before," she reminded me, blushing a tad bit.

"That's fair." I gave her that one, resting my other hand on her shoulder. "So, what do you say?"

"It's a yes, Juggie," she answered.

I grinned, leaning down to kiss her one last time. She smiled too, wrapping her arms around my neck as she kissed back, letting me deepen the kiss. She sighed, and I nipped her bottom lip again.

"Jug," she warned.

"You could stay a little longer," I offered, speaking between kisses.

"I need to go," she repeated, but didn't dare to move.

"I know," I sighed.

"Okay. I've got to go," she finalized, pulling herself away. I let her go, watching from the gate as we parted ways. "Bye, Juggie."

"Goodbye, Sunshine."

︵‿︵‿︵

"What was Betty doing over here again?" my mother asked from the kitchen, putting away groceries with Jelly; who was now changed into clean—not soaked—clothes.

"Uh..." I wasn't sure what to tell her.

"Kissing," Jelly blurted out. I was tempted to murder her right then and there.

"What?" my mother shrieked. "What did you say, Jelly?"

"Kissing," she repeated, adding a nod.

My mother turned to look at me, a mixture of shock and disappointment prominent on her face, with a tad bit of frustration too. To be fair, she had warned me before anything happened, and I didn't listen.

"Jelly, go to your room for a few minutes," my mother ordered.

Jelly happily complied. Anything to get out of doing chores.

"What was she talking about?"

I blanked, unsure of what to answer with. How would I say, 'I am kind of dating my best friend's little sister, and really enjoying it—while he has no idea, and would hate it if he found out'?

"She wasn't lying..." I admitted quietly, tilting my head down.

I didn't have to look to see her disappointment; I could hear her sigh from across the room. And sure, in the past, there had been quite a few times she wasn't exactly proud of me, but this time was far different. A very different reason too.

"Why?" was all my mother could come up with.

"I really like her," I confessed. "It's too hard to stay away from her."

"She's Kevin's sister, Jughead. You can't just mess around with her."

"I know. And we're not just 'messing around'," I corrected her. "We haven't even..."

"Does Kevin know?" she asked, cutting me off. 

"No," I sighed. "He doesn't."

"Why don't you tell him?" my mother proposed. As if it were that easy.

"I can't," I told her.

"Why not?"

"He won't understand," I stated—for a fact I already knew.

"Why?" she repeated.

"He doesn't like situations he can't control," I reminded her. "Not after his mother left. He can't comprehend stuff like that. He doesn't like friends mixing with family."

"Then if you know that, why are you still doing this," mom questioned.

"I see something with Betty," I admitted. "She makes me happy. And even Jelly likes her. She's like the older sister she never had. She's just...perfect, in every way."

My mother stayed quiet for a moment. She hadn't been expecting that answer, had she? Then she asked a simple question, with a complex answer. "Do you love her?"

"We've barely even kissed," I blurted out. Honestly, I didn't know.

"Do you think you could love her?" she tried again, rephrasing her words. "'Cause if not, there's no point in hurting others if you know it's not going to work."

"I...I do," I confessed.

"Well..." She didn't know what to say. "Whatever happens, remember you made that choice. You're going to have to work out your own problems you created."

"I know," I sighed.

"Do you?"

"What?" I asked.

"Do you?" she repeated. "Do you know that? And I don't mean ignoring your problems like your father. I mean, actually having to deal with the consequences of your own actions. You might lose your entire friendship with Kevin due to this. You know that right?"

I nodded. I had come to terms with that long before I kissed Betty that second time.

"Good. So don't be surprised when it happens, alright?"

"Okay," I agreed.

︵‿︵‿︵

I laid on my bed for a while after that last conversation. I went back and forth between second-guessing myself, then proving that second-guess wrong. If someone had asked if I had my mind made up, I wouldn't be able to give a solid answer alone, whether bad or good.

Did I care about Betty? Definitely. A lot, actually. A crazy amount. 

Did she care about me? That I knew of, yes. I was sure how much though.

Was being with Betty enjoyable? In every way, absolutely.

But would choosing Betty and losing Kevin be worth it? If Kevin had been someone I barely knew, yes. But no. Kevin was a brother to me, and I was betraying his trust. Why couldn't I just have both?

I pulled out that polaroid of Betty I had secretly tucked into my wallet, smiling at her pretty laugh I had captured on the film. She was nothing, if not everything. She was sunshine in a bottle; rainbows in a can. She was my ride-or-die, but at this point, was that even a good thing? Though she had me if she wanted me, and I assumed she did by the text she had sent moments ago.

[1] Betty Cooper:
     What about that date?

She was going to be my forbidden fruit, wasn't she? Fuck.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirteen

Betty

»•» 🧋 «•«

“I’m going to Cheryl’s,” I happily hummed to the rest of my family. They were watching some show they all enjoyed on the big screen in the living room. **“I might stay the night too—if it gets too late,” I added, just in case.

“Okay, Sweetie. Have fun,” my mother called after me, and Tom waved goodbye. And just like usual, Kevin ignored me—luckily this time.

Truth be told, I wasn’t going to Cheryl’s house. I wasn’t even going to see Cheryl. No, I had a better option waiting for me down at the end of the street, in his car, tapping on the steering wheel in boredom as I opened the passenger side door.

“Hey,” he smiled, letting me toss my bag in the back seat.

“Hi,” I giggled, smiling too when he cupped my cheek. I grinned as he kissed me, taking a little longer to really savour the moment. I could get used to that.

“You ready to go?” he asked.

“Depends on where we are going,” I tried—again.

He sent me a little glare. “No. Stop trying to ruin the surprise.”

I sighed, sinking into my seat. “But I want to know,” I whined.

“You will,” he assured me.

“I want to know now,” I huffed.

Jughead just laughed, pulling the car into neutral once I put my seatbelt on. “Wait, like, ten minutes, Sunshine. You’ll find out; I promise.”

I pouted in my seat, and pretended not to smile once Jughead took my hand in his on the centre console, and ran his thumb over my knuckles. He kissed my hand, and chuckled at my lack of answer.

“Look who’s pouting now,” he teased.

“So you were pouting yesterday?” I questioned, and his face turned a little pink.

“Absolutely not,” he lied. Now it was my turn to laugh.

“Sure,” I giggled.

He glanced away from the road for a second to poke my knee, and I shrieked as I shot back in my seat, pulling my knees to my chest. He laughed, taking my hand back.

“You’re ticklish?” he chuckled.

“No.” I most certainly was.

“Sure,” he copied.

~~

I couldn’t handle my excitement as I got out of Jughead’s car and waited for him to come around the side to take my hand. I already knew what sort of date this was going to be. But, you know, it’s not like the Ferris wheel across the pier was a dead giveaway—or anything. Or the fact that the spring fair was being hosted this weekend.

Not a dead giveaway at all.

“You better get me cotton candy while we’re here. If not, my disappointment will skyrocket,” I warned.

Jughead laughed, coming up to stand in front of me. “I’ll get you cotton candy,” he promised, tilting my chin up.

I smiled as he kissed me, sighing against his lips. I could really get used to this.

“What was that for?” I asked.

“Locking in my promise,” he answered, taking my hand in his. “Ready to go? Or should we stay out here for a little longer?”

I giggled as I pushed him back, shaking my head. As much as I enjoyed kissing him, we could kiss anytime, and practically anywhere. I wanted to get this date started. And more importantly, I wanted to steal a kiss from him at the top of the Ferris wheel—preferably before it got too late and closed down for the night.

I grabbed his hand and pecked his cheek. “Come on, Juggie.”

“Someone’s excited,” he teased, poking my side.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

He shrugged, swinging our hands back and forth. “I’m just glad you are.”

I smiled, trying my best to ignore the rise of heat to my cheeks. I was happy. Really happy.

“So, what do you have planned for us, Juggie?” I asked, hoping for a proper answer this time.

“You’ll see,” he simply answered with. I sighed, sending him a glare. “What? Not the answer you were hoping for?”

I nodded.

“Awe. Poor you.” He pretended to pout. I elbowed him back in return, which he laughed at.

I waited somewhat patiently while he bought us our tickets, and broke some change for us to use at fair games. But still, I really wanted to know where he would take us first. And that cliché loving part of me desperately wanted to know if he would win me a prize; a little stuffed animal that I could keep forever, and would bring a smile to my face at any point.

“Are you coming?” he questioned, waiting for me at the gate. I nodded, following him in. “What do you want to do first?”

“Um...” I thought about it for a moment. “Rides before food—so we don’t throw up—then prize games after that?” I came up with. “Please?”

Jughead smiled down at me, nodding. He handed me the ride tickets. “Which one first, Sunshine?”

~~

I giggled as I pulled him over towards the waiting line of the spinning teacups ride, laughing at his facial expressions.

“Really? Are you trying to make me dizzy or something?” he teased, considering we had just got off from another spinning ride. “I don’t normally get sick, but I also don’t normally mess with circles, so...”

I laughed again. “No, I’m not trying to make you sick,” I assured him.

“Then why the spinning rides?”

“I’m just picking the cliché rides first,” I told him.

“Cliché rides?” he repeated.

“You know, the rides in movies that the couples always, like, fall in love on? Those ones,” I explained.

He smiled then, letting his hand fall down to my lower back. “You’re trying to make me fall in love with you?”

I couldn’t stop the rush of blood to my face.

“I– No. That’s not... I didn’t mean it like that,” I stuttered.

“Sure,” he chuckled, leaving a kiss on my temple. “How’d you mean it then, Sunshine?”

“I...I don’t know,” I whispered. A lie. I knew exactly how I meant it. We both knew.

“Well,” he went on. “If my assumption was right—theoretically—then your not-so-secret little plan is working.”

My line of sight that was previously subjected to my shoes shot up immediately when I heard what he said, and I couldn't deny the soft smile I saw growing on his lips. He was falling in love with me?!

He glanced back down at me, and sent me a wink before turning right back away. My heart stopped, if not skipped a beat. The butterflies duplicated themselves, right before imploding. My cheeks pink, then red and burning. Fuck. He winked at me!

Jughead chuckled at my reaction, and kissed my temple again. “It’s our turn,” he announced.

“For what?”

“The ride, Betts,” he answered.

I looked, and most definitely the line ahead of us was gone, and we were next to get on the last teacup.

“Oh...” I muttered.

He laughed again before taking my hand, leading us to our yellow-coloured teacup. I smiled as he helped me in first, then got in himself. The worker barely had enough time to lock us in before Jughead was already turning the wheel, sending us spinning as the ride was just beginning to start.

I squealed as he spun the wheel faster, and the ride picked up pace. Because of stupid physics—I think—I slid away from him in our curved seat, and he laughed at my pout. He stopped spinning the wheel, keeping our cup still. I tried to stand a little to move back over, but at the same time, he started spinning the wheel the other way, leaving me landing in his lap, both of us laughing.

“Oh hey. Miss me?” he teased.

I nudged him, pretending to be annoyed. I was sure he didn’t like that, which I was right. He bent down to kiss me, and didn’t stop until I was smiling; he was satisfied with that.

Before the ride was bound to end, I pulled out my phone from my pocket, sneakily taking a few photos before Jughead noticed—for memories. He took the phone from my hand, and before I could complain, he kissed me, snapping a few photos as his hand found my hair, and our cup gradually slowed down on its own.

He handed the phone back to me, tucking a piece of my hair back behind my ear for me. “You could’ve just asked, Sunshine.”

“Next time,” I promised him, pecking his cheek.

He helped me get off the ride once it stopped spinning, dragging me out of the exit quite impatiently.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

He didn’t answer. He only pulled me along and hid us behind one of the ride booths where no one could see—unless they were purposefully trying to look behind the booths.

“What–”

I didn’t get to finish was I was saying. He kissed me, and pressed me into the wall harder. I gasped, my hands finding their way into his hair. He groaned against my mouth, holding me by my hips. He kissed me a few more times before pulling back, smiling down at me.

“Sorry, Sunshine. I just really wanted to do that, and I think other people wouldn’t have appreciated it as much as us,” he chuckled.

I flushed hard, dropping my head to his shoulder. I giggled, pressing a quick kiss to his neck. “I didn’t mind, Juggie,” I assured him. “Kiss me whenever you want; I won’t complain.”

When I pulled back his grin was wide. I absolutely loved it when he was happy. Nothing else made me happier than his enjoyment. He deserved it after what everything in life that had been thrown on him.

“What about the Ferris wheel?” I questioned. “Can we ride it?”

“Do we have enough tickets left?”

I pulled out the eight tickets from my purse. Just perfectly enough. The ride was four each. I nodded.

“Then let’s go, Sunshine,” he sighed.

~~

The drive home a couple hours later was quiet. I didn’t mind it; I was quite tired. With his hand on my thigh, he hummed softly to the radio, and glanced over every now and again with a smile on his face. If he wasn’t falling in love, I certainly was. Fuck.

“What if you were to stay with me tonight?” he proposed.

“Like, stay the night?” I asked, looking away from my window.

He nodded. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to though. It was just an idea.”

“I want to,” I admitted with a flush to my face.

He grinned. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I confirmed.

“Then it’s settled then.”

My nerves had never been more prominent than the time we pulled into Jughead’s driveway, nearly across the street from my own. What would his parents think? What if Jelly was somehow still up? What if Kevin saw?

“You nervous?” Jughead questioned, reeling my attention back to him.

I nodded.

“Don’t be. My sister will most definitely be asleep, and probably my dad too. And if not my mom, she shouldn’t mind that much. We had a talk about this sort of thing yesterday,” he admitted.

“About bringing girls home?”

“No, not that,” he nervously chuckled. “About...us.”

“What about us?” I asked. Even I was starting to get nervous because of this conversation.

“I basically just admitted to how much I liked you,” he sighed, cheeks tinting red. “And that Kevin doesn’t know yet.”

“Oh. That’s all?”

He nodded. “That’s all, Sunshine. I promise.”

I smiled as I got out of Jughead’s car, and rounded the front quickly before Kevin could even catch a glance of me if he tried. Jughead took my hand in his, walking up the steps to the door with me. But before he could reach for the handle, I stopped him.

“Wait. You really confessed to your mom how much you liked me?” I teased.

He groaned and rolled his eyes at me, reaching for the door handle anyway. “I’m going to regret telling you that, aren’t I?”

“Absolutely,” I sounded out with a smile, walking in after him.

Jughead took my small jacket from me to hang up in the coat closet, and I peered around the corner, spotting his mother on the couch, invested in some show playing on the tv. I tapped Jughead’s shoulder, warning him beforehand.

“Hey, mom,” he greeted, stepping slightly in front of me.

“You’re home?” she questioned, still focused on the screen. She didn’t even know I was here yet. “It’s late.”

“I know. Sorry,” he sighed. “But, uh...I was kind of hoping Betty could stay over tonight. Is that alright?”

“It’s already past eleven,” his mother stated. “It’s already too late for her to come all the way over just to stay the night, don’t you think?”

“She’s already here,” Jughead deadpanned.

His mother spun her head around at the same time Jughead took a step to the side, and she spotted me near instantly. I waved awkwardly, unsure of what to say.

“Oh. Hi,” Gladys hummed, adding a quick forced smile. “You could’ve warned me,” she muttered towards her son, then sent me another apologetic smile. “Do your parents know you’re here, Betty?”

“No really,” I admitted. “But sort of.”

Gladys raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to clarify. Jughead looked curious as to what I meant too.

“They only know I’m at a friend's house,” I told them both. They understood what I meant immediately.

“So, Mom, can she stay?” Jughead re-asked.

“I guess,” she gave in. “But don’t– Just behave,” she ordered, hinting the obvious.

We both nodded, and Jughead took my hand, leading me upstairs before his mother could change her mind. He locked the door behind us, and before I could say a word, he had his mouth on mine again.

I sighed, fumbling with the collar of his shirt. “Juggie.”

“Mhm?” he hummed, nipping my lip.

“But–” He cut me off with another kiss. “She said...”

“I know,” he mumbled. “We’re just kissing anyway.”

“Okay.”

I didn’t believe him—partially. This didn’t feel like ‘just kissing’. Even when he had pulled me and hid us behind one of the booths at the fair; that wasn’t just kissing. It was harsh, and needy. Something I had yet to experience with him—or anyone for that matter.

“Do you trust me?” he questioned, pulling back a bit.

I nodded, ‘cause I did. I really trusted this boy with my whole heart. Every bit of it.

“Then can you jump for me?”

“Jump?” I repeated.

“Mhm. Jump,” he confirmed. “I’ll catch you.”

I had no idea what he meant. Jump? Why? Why would I need to jump? But he answered my question when he leant down, grabbed the back of my thighs, and urged me to jump. I gasped as he lifted me, clutching onto his back for dear life so I wouldn’t fall. Though I doubt I would’ve; he was holding onto me pretty tightly.

“You alright?” he chuckled teasingly.

I flushed hard, trying to hide my face. It was no use though. With the angle he had me at, there was no hiding; no lying. I nodded my head, looking down at him from this new, usual height he had me at.

“Good,” he mumbled with a smile. “‘Cause we’re just getting started.”