Betty realized that she loved him when she saw him sitting alone in a booth at Pop's, eyes clearly red from crying and beanie removed from his head.
It was a Friday night, and Betty went out to buy a milkshake and fries to satisfy her cravings. Her parents were working late at the Register, so she was all alone at home, the choice of what to eat for dinner entirely up to her. She was exhilarated; there were only a few times were she had total control of her food preferences without the constant pestering of her mother, wanting Betty to have the 'perfect' body weight. Feeling rebellious against her mother's wishes, Pop's was immediately her first option. If her mother knew that she was going to eat fast food for dinner, she would've flipped.
Betty was a little taken aback at the boy's, Jughead, disheveled appearance. He was wearing a nice red flannel, its top buttons undone, his hair was beaniless and mussed, looking like his hands ran over them a lot, and he had a sullen and empty look in his red-rimmed eyes. He looked like he was crying for a long while now. Betty's heart clenched at this, anger coursing through her at the thought of something or someone hurting her Jughead mercilessly. In that moment, she thought that she would do everything she can to keep the love of her life from being brokenhearted ever again.
Forgetting the main reason why she was there, she heads to the booth were Jughead was. He didn't look up from where he was staring when she approached him. He was trapped in his own reverie, the outside world a total blur. "Juggie," Betty whispered, gently taking his hand when she sat on the other side of the booth. She contemplated on the right words to say to his fragile state. "Are... Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, Betts," he croaked out. His demeanor and the tightening of his grip, though, said otherwise. "I'll be alright."
Despite Jughead's firm tone, Betty didn't believe him. Jughead was a cognoscente in the art of hiding his true sentiments, thanks to his years of pretending that his life was in optimal shape, even though it was predominantly scarred by his caliginous childhood of alcoholic fathers and runaway mothers. He was usually a closed person, never really showing much emotion, except when he was with Betty or when he was watching his beloved movies. Only a few people had ever witnessed him convey any outward feelings, and Betty was one of the few people to be able to see through his façade of stoic. The only other times when he broke down were when he would be stood up by Sabrina Spellman, his crush, on their 'dates.' Remembering fully well that he told her that he had a date on that night, she knew that Sabrina was the reason for his misery.
Betty stroked his hand in comfort. It pained her seeing him like this every time Sabrina left him hanging. Sabrina was a stuck-up bitch that didn't deserve someone so kind and genuine like Jughead. She only paid attention to him if she didn't have any guys on her radar at the moment. He was like her spare toy, and Betty loathed her for using Jughead like that.
They were holding hands for a little while before Jughead spoke up again. His voice finally cracked, a contrast to the firmness of it just before.
"I thought that maybe this time she would finally go out on a legitimate date with me," Jughead said, laughing bitterly. "That maybe she'd finally see me more than just a 'creepy weirdo.'"
"Don't say that," Betty said firmly. Sabrina had snapped and called Jughead a 'creepy weirdo' at school a week ago, when he was just trying to talk to her. She looked like she was pissed about something, and Jughead just had the wrong timing and experienced her wrath. He was clearly distraught at her outburst, and he was affected by it ever since. "She didn't mean calling you that."
"Is she wrong, though, Betty?" Jughead finally looked into her eyes, looking for answers in her green eyes. "Maybe I am weird. Maybe I'm way too out of her league."
"You're not weird," Betty said with conviction. "And you're not way out of her league. If anything, it's her that doesn't deserve you. You're an amazing guy, Jughead. And it's her loss she doesn't see that."
Jughead looked grateful for her words of assurance. For all the years they'd been together, she always knew the right words to say. "Thanks, Betts. For always being by my side."
"Well, that's what best friends are for, right?" Betty beamed at him. It quite stung knowing that she might never refer to him as someone more than just her best friend, but for now, she hid the woe down. She shouldn't dwell on her unrequited love for him, no matter how strong its waves swayed her heart, like a boat engulfed in the water. She would much rather had him stay as her best friend forever, rather than being his girlfriend and having to possibly break up with him. It would've pained her to inflict sorrow upon him like that.
An idea suddenly popped in her head. Betty said, "Are you up for some late-night binge watching? My parents are most likely working late, so they might be staying at the Register until early morning."
Jughead's mood lifted a little. Watching movies never failed to be deemed appealing to him. "Yeah, okay. As long as it's something that doesn't involve drama. I've had enough of that for today."
Betty chuckled lightly. "Alright, Allison Reynolds. Let's buy some snacks, yeah?"
After ordering four burgers, fries, and two milkshakes at Pop's, Betty and Jughead headed to Betty's house for their TV marathon. Betty was determined to cheer him up and make him forget about Sabrina standing him up earlier, even just for a night.
They settled in watching The Room. There were tons of bad reviews of the movie, but its horribly-written dialogue and amateurish acting are what makes it so hilarious and fun to watch, making you forget about the little bad things in life, even just for an hour and more. Just what Jughead needs, Betty thought.
Both of their nights turned out better than they expected. Instead of Betty flourishing in her freedom alone and Jughead crying in a booth all by himself, the two best friends ended up together for the rest of the night. Just Jughead and Betty, snuggling, watching a movie, and eating to their hearts' content on a long Friday night.
They were laughing at a scene where Johnny was just being his stupid self when Jughead turned to Betty and said, "Hey, thanks again for letting me crash at your place at this time. I would've been sulking alone in that damn booth like some angsty kid the whole night if you didn't find me there."
"Well, we wouldn't want that, would we?" Betty smirked. Jughead simply chuckled in return.
"You know, I don't know what I'd do without you, Betts." Jughead said seriously, the movie playing already forgotten. "You're always there to help me, disaster after disaster. Sometimes, I even wonder when you'll get tired of handling my problems." He let out a little snort at the last sentence. This was what Betty disliked about him. He was insecure because of Betty trying to help him all the time. He felt like he didn't deserve her help at all, like he was too needy. Betty reminded him countless of times that she wanted to help him, not because she pitied him. Betty didn't tell him this, but if he said to jump off a cliff for him, she'd have readily done it.
"Jug, we've talked about this," Betty said, sighing. "Best friends always help each other out, okay? Don't feel like you're a burden to me. Besides, you're a big help to me, too.
"Without your intellectual prowess in Computer Science, I'd flunk in that class." Jughead laughed at her confession. Sometimes, he wondered out loud that it was impossible for a straight-A's student like her to know about computers just as much as a 3rd grader. Betty would just shut her laptop on his fingers when he'd voice the said statement.
Betty gazed at the guy's form. He was finally smiling genuinely for the first time that night. He was enjoying the movie and the food thoroughly, which Betty patted herself on her back for. She thought that he'd just be disconsolate and complain about Sabrina the whole night, just as how the previous nights were. This night, however, was pleasantly different. Betty catched herself smiling at his happy self fondly. He was too good for all of what he was going through. Too good for Sabrina.
Too good for Betty.
"C'mere," Jughead said, wrapping his arm around Betty's shoulders and pulling her closer to him. Betty desperately hoped that he didn't notice that her face turned red at the sudden gesture. Jughead always liked to initiate physical contact with her, which was deemed unusual to the eyes of their other friends Archie, Veronica, and Kevin. Sometimes, they teased them excessively, urging them to just date already. And each time he did that, her heart bursted and butterflies swarmed her stomach. Be still, my heart, Betty thought, which was useless. She never had control of her body whenever she was with Jughead.
"You know I love you, right?" Jughead softly said, eyes trained to the TV screen in front of them. Even when he wasn't staring directly at Betty, she felt like she was vulnerable and exposed. His words always had an effect on her, piercing straight in the depths of her heart, even when he wasn't looking at her.
"Yeah," Betty replied quietly, with a pang in her heart. Hearing those words from him just made her feel despondent, knowing that it was platonic, nothing more. No matter how much she wanted him to look at her more than just a friend, she knew that he couldn't. Sabrina had always been the apple of his eye, ever since they were seven years old. She always found him talking about her, gazing at her in class, and crying because of her through the years. And every time he broke, Betty was there to pick up the broken pieces.
She focused on the movie, furiously blinking the tears away. She'd be alright. She had to. Not for now, but eventually.