I'm a lil scared for my precious OTP...
Balloons
Jughead loves Betty. There's no doubt in his mind about that. He loves Archie too- they're brothers and always will be. But the rest of it? The noise and the drama and the tangled lives of other people? That is something he would rather do without.
Jughead is not an extrovert. The thought of social gatherings fill him with dread. He's okay in groups of two or three, but he hates parties and dislikes small talk. Group laughter makes him shudder. Like the sound of fingers on a balloon, it crawls up his spine and eats the back of his brain. He can't tell if they're laughing at him or not. Because he's weird. He's wired different. He doesn't fit in. He doesn't want to fit in.
Jughead loves Betty because he saw something in her that mirrored himself. She believed in him. She touched his writer's soul, encouraged him to use his voice. She was his perfect counterpart. He was Blue and she was Gold. In fact, they complemented each other like all the best partnerships. Sugar and spice, Yin and Yang. Holmes and Watson, Bonnie and Clyde. He didn't know it yet, but Dark Betty was calling.
Jughead loves Betty but her darkness is something much more than his. It hides behind her light, it disguises itself in her laughter. It lurks in the basement of her soul like a malignant shadow figure. It is not typical teenage angst and he wants to protect her from it. But he's scared. How far do you put your hand in the lion's mouth before it bites you? What happens when Dark Betty meets Dark Jughead at the wrong moment? What if they become addicted to each other? What if they become a tornado, destroying everything in their path before imploding?
Jughead loves Betty but she has exposed a raw vein and now she has the power to heal and to hurt. Yet he remains hopeful that they'll figure out a way through the emotional minefield. Besides, they aren't the only damaged souls in Riverdale. If Cheryl Blossom doesn't end up in a padded cell, he'll ... well, he won't eat his beloved beanie, but he'll be very surprised.
Jughead loves Betty. He knows he does, and he wants her to be happy. But he doesn't know what to do for the best. This is real life, not a work of fiction. There are no happy endings, only an endless procession of fractured, weary beginnings. And always, the darkness.
Jughead glances up as he waits to cross the street. There's a balloon in the air, a speck of silver floating towards the clouds. Somewhere a child is crying because she couldn't hold on to a balloon that longed to be free. And so it is. We hold tight, but for how long? How do we know when it's time to let go?
Jughead hunches his shoulders against the traffic and crosses the street. He walks without seeing, fists clenched at his sides, thinking about Betty. After a while his palms begin throbbing but he doesn't care. He digs his nails in harder, hoping for a warm slick of blood, like hers.
Jughead loves Betty. Whatever she's going through, he'll make damned sure he goes through it with her. No matter how dark it gets, or how much it hurts. Because when you love someone the way Jughead loves Betty, you don't have a choice. You're a fragile balloon in the grip of a child, hoping she won't let go.