Jughead can tell the way her mind works by the way she works through the jigsaw puzzle in front of them.

Most people start with all the edges, all the obvious pieces that will fit together right away and work from the out in. But she has started with the brightly colored pieces in the middle, putting together the picture by cluing in to certain hues and shapes. The jagged edges mean nothing to her, the fact that they fit together is merely a wonderful coincidence.

Betty worries her lip between her teeth, her brow furrowed in cute concentration as her lips blossom a deeper pink.

It is certainly not their most exciting date in history, but he is content to sit across from her in their own carefully constructed bubble of peace.

He sips idly from the can of soda in front of him, her own herbal tea getting colder at her side.

Jughead finds himself placing a piece here and there from time to time but finds himself more often than not watching her. A vivid, fascinating puzzle piece by her own right.

It has been a few weeks since his disastrous birthday, their fight and revelations still weigh heavy on them both but they are working through their problems in a slow and steady manner. Just like the puzzle in front of them it doesn't do any good to rush through it. All that can come of that is more frustration and impatience, a project abandoned. More pieces scattered to the floor.

Jughead knows there are aspects to her personality he never even considered a possibility. Remembers spitting his insult of perfect at her not knowing she couldn't stand its comparison because it mocks her. She is flawed just like him, torn asunder by parental expectations and dreams and desires denied.

Betty struggles with her darkness just as much as he struggles with his light. But he also knows that their fractured identities are a result of trying to deny them altogether rather than work with them.

He imagines a broken tree root trying to piece itself together exactly as it was before, and it isn't possible. There will be growth around the scars, altogether new in form, but never entirely whole.

It's better this way, he thinks. In it lies a quest for them, an entirely new world to discover within each other but only with patience and practice.

If they are going to be good for each other it will be only by going against their own preconceived notions of who they truly are. She is the perfect girl next door. He is the damaged outsider from the wrong side of the tracks. They are on borrowed time.

He doesn't think that way, not anymore.

Betty puts together another piece and the image begins to take shape. She smiles and looks up at him.

"You're not being very helpful here, Jug. You want me to do this whole thing by myself?"

Her smile is teasing and lovely.

Jughead shakes his head, hand cupped under his chin as he watches her.

"I'm visualizing it in my mind. I promise there's a scheme here. I'm working on the end goal. I can see it clearly with my third eye."

She rolls her eyes and reaches across the table to grab his hand. He tangles his fingers with hers, feels the grooves on her palm and she lets him. Doesn't flinch away like she did when she first let him in.

They had made a promise that night. The good with the bad, the bad with the good. No lies. No secrets. Just the two of them. As they are.