She was out in the front yard when he passed. He had his head down.
She didn't recognise him at first. The beanie he always wore when they were younger was gone. Shoe wondered when that had happened. What else had changed since she'd last lived here?
He didn't see her, at least she didn't think so. He had headphones in and was carrying groceries down the street. There were a lot. Three bags. Maybe he had a family to feed, now. She wouldn't know.
It had been five years since she'd left Riverdale. Her parents had packed up and moved out, dragging her along with them, kicking and screaming. They said it was too dangerous here. That they needed to move for her safety.
She hadn't got to say goodbye.
"Juggie!" She called, dropping the box of stuff she'd intended to move into the house.
He didn't hear her, kept walking.
She watched him retreat, wondering about his new life.
Maybe he'd met a girl with beautiful, long brown hair and caramel eyes, someone who matched him, looked like they belonged on his arm. She'd always been to light, too sunshine to his shadow. Maybe he'd realised that after she left. Maybe they'd gotten married. She'd never thought of Jughead as the marrying type, but maybe she'd converted him, this hypothetical mystery woman.
Maybe they had a kid. A one year old waiting patiently for his father to get home with wide, Jughead-blue eyes.
Her stomach lurched.
They'd moved to Oregon, Betty and her family. She'd completed school there, and done a course in journalism there. She'd been unsure of what major to take, but when she thought of him, the way he made anything seem possible, she'd chosen with her heart. Journalism. Just like the old days at the Blue and Gold.
It was stupid of her to expect that nothing would change in her time away, but she'd hoped. She'd hoped that everyone would still be there, but Veronica was in New York for a year, handling the business left to her by her father. Archie was on tour with the Pussycats as an opening act. Jughead was here, but it wasn't the same.
It should have been her that he was going home to.
It should have been her he was going home to, but instead he was going home to an empty house.
He'd seen her drive into town in that small, pale blue car. Very Betty, he'd thought absently, before looking closer and realising that it was very Betty because it was Betty. She hadn't seen him. He'd melted into the shadows, as usual.
He wondered if she ever thought of him, after she left. Did she find herself touching the pages of books they'd read together, did she feel the drop of nostalgia in her stomach when she watched an old film like they used to in her attic, where she'd set up a projector for him to fill the void the drive-in theatre had left? Because he did.
Why had she left?
And why didn't she say goodbye?
She was moving into the house a block down from his. It was big. Family-sized. He wondered if she'd met someone in Oregon. That's where Veronica said she went. He bet Betty's new man was handsome. And blonde. She deserved someone who complimented her sunshine, rather than negating it with darkness like he was wont to do.
Maybe she had a child.
The thought made Jughead feel physically sick as he walked past her new house one summer day. She was out in the yard, bringing in boxes.
Jughead never really thought of himself as a father, but whenever he'd imagined himself in a family, it was with Betty by his side as his wife, a blonde haired, blue eyes little girl in her arms.
He had to get away, the feeling was overwhelming.
He thought he heard her call out to him, but it might have been his imagination.
They didn't meet again for a while. Jughead was busy with his job at the Riverdale Gazette. Betty had managed to get a teaching position at Riverdale High.
But Betty just couldn't stay away from Pop Tate's, she'd been craving a burger all week.
And Jughead had to go to the Chocklit Shoppe, because where else could he draw enough inspiration to write?
She didn't see him sitting in the booth with his computer, at first. Out of habit, she took a seat in the booth that had always been theirs.
He looked up as she sat down. Their gazes met, and she looked away with a blush.
"I - I'm sorry." She apologised, not meeting his eye. "I didn't see you there,"
He chuckled and she looked up quickly, taking the opportunity to observe him. He looked the same, if a bit older, with darker rings under his eyes. Bright blue eyes, just as she remembered. He was work, but he was still the Jughead she knew.
He watched her watch him. She hadn't changed. Her hair had grown slightly longer, and she wore it down, but staring back at him was the same face he'd fallen in love with five years ago.
"Bets," greeted Jughead, smiling softly at the apprehensive blonde before him. "Don't be a stranger. Sit," He insisted firmly.
She smiled back.
God, he'd missed that smile.
"Hey Juggie," She said in an almost-whisper. "How ya been?"
