Something told me it was over

When I saw you and her talking

Betty had felt a surge of jealousy the first time she saw them interacting with one another, Jughead and Toni. Jughead had been sheepish and eager to placate Betty, touching her too much—an arm around her shoulders, a hand on her waist—in a way that might have been meant to prove something to Toni, only Betty could tell it was intended for her. Toni's eyes had always tightened incrementally when she looked at Betty, and something in her tone turned hard when she was forced to address her. Talking to Jughead, however, she was furtive glances from under her made-up lashes and the constant pursing of her full lips. Betty had hated the intense, burning envy she'd felt toward Toni. She knew, even under different circumstances, they could never have been friends. Her mind swirled with dark, horrible thoughts: no one had wanted Jughead before she'd started dating him; she'd given him a confidence that other girls found alluring. How could Toni ever do for him what Betty did? Betty had gritted her teeth and scarred her palms looking at Toni's perfect hips and long, lean stomach through a ribbed tank top. Seeing that torso pressed to Jughead's the day she'd caught them together was something Betty thought about often, even still.

I would rather, I would rather go blind, boy

Than to see you walk away from me, child, no, ooh

It was pride that had kept from the necessary closure at the end of everything. For the first few days she'd been so angry, barely able to speak without her voice roaring into an unbridled fury. She'd been embarrassed and betrayed but, most of all, she resented that Jughead had proven her feelings of jealousy right. She'd never wanted to be a horrible, nagging girlfriend, and he'd gone and proven that she was right to be just that. After the anger, though, Betty had been forced to confront the fact that Jughead was gone. Her ribs felt hollow and huge; her chest throbbed so badly she thought other people should have been able to see it. She would lie awake with her phone gripped tightly in front of her face, willing him to text her. She left her window open well into the fall when the cold air left her waking with a throat of knives, because she hadn't wanted anything to keep him from getting to her if he'd changed his mind. Only he hadn't. Of course he hadn't. Why would he? He'd chosen the Serpent life—Toni was part of a matching set.

So you see, I love you so much

That I don't wanna watch you leave me, baby

I was just, I was just, I was just sitting here thinking

Of your kiss and your warm embrace, yeah

Jughead's lips were warm and soft, so sweetly tentative against hers. Even as they'd grown closer and more confident together, it had always been Betty who instigated things between them. Jughead had never pushed her. Seeing Toni on his porch, Betty had wondered if it was because he hadn't needed sex from her—he was getting it elsewhere.

And, baby, and, baby

Baby, I'd rather be blind, boy

Than to see you walk away, walk away from me, yeah

And, baby, baby, baby, I'd rather be blind, boy

Than to see you walk away, walk away from me

All she could think, as she sang on that stage in front of the entire town, many of whom hadn't seen her in years, since she was still a child, was that she could not cry. Betty knew if she even started to lose it, it would be infinitely obvious in her voice. This moment was meant to be a triumph for her, not an embarrassment.

It was in the midst of this thought that her eyes finally landed on him. He was near the back of the crowd, in the shadows, leaning against the counter of one of the food cards. There was something in his hands turning over and over, but his eyes were locked on hers. He was staggered. She could see it clearly on his face. His lips were parted and he frowned as if in pain. When he realized she was looking at him, seeing this, he snapped his mouth shut and his face became an unreadable mask.

And Betty, trapped with him in that moment, instantly regretted being the one to cause him pain. She longed to stretch up on her toes and take his face in her hands, smooth the worry away as she'd once done, kiss him softly, burrow into his narrow, toned chest, feel how much he needed her.

When it was all over, she nearly stumbled down the steps from the stage into the gravel below. Veronica was speaking to her but she pushed past her and skirted the crowd, walking straight toward Pop's front doors and then veering abruptly to the right and disappearing past the line of trees. She choked on a sob in her chest but there were no tears. Betty wished she had her coat but she'd taken it off before her song. It was dark now, and her breath blew out in front of her as she tripped deeper into the woods.

"Betty," a voice called, and she realized how badly she wanted it to be his, but it wasn't. Sweet Pea jogged after her.

"Hey, stop," he said, reaching her side and grabbing her arm. "Where are you going? It's dark; you could get lost."

"I won't get lost," Betty insisted, numbly trying to shake his hand from her arm.

"Jesus, you're freezing. Here, take my jacket."

"I don't want it. I'm not cold." She'd stopped, unable to continue with him holding her arm, but she didn't look up at him. She watched their breath mixing between them.

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly, his voice low, almost cracking.

Betty looked up now, incredulous. "For what? You've done nothing wrong."

"I'm sorry he hurt you."

"That's not even a little bit your fault."

"I'm still sorry."

Betty felt herself slipping and she leaned into his chest, his arms tightening around her. His chin rested atop her head.

"I should be apologizing to you," Betty said against his shirt, gripping it in her hands.

"And why's that?"

"I haven't been fair to you. I've been using you to fill a void and that's all."

Sweet Pea pushed her back to grin down at her. "I haven't minded filling your voids, Baby."

It made her laugh, smile and shake her head.

"I mean it," she said. "I should have apologized a long time ago. Or, better yet, not treated you like shit in the first place."

"I don't feel that way, but if it'll make you feel better then I accept your apology."

Betty leaned up and touched her cold lips lightly to his, crossing her arms over her chest for warmth. He didn't try to deepen the kiss. Sweet Pea smiled at her and dipped his head.

"Call me if you ever want to have really good sex again."

"I will," Betty laughed.

"Bye, Betty."

He turned and walked back out the way he came. She knew that he knew that this time had been different. She knew that he knew she wouldn't call again. Betty took a step further into the forest, unsure what she was looking for but certain she'd know it when she saw it.

"Well," a voice said from behind her, and her gut twisted hard and punched to the front of her stomach. "That explains a few things."

She closed her eyes, rooted to the spot, unable to turn. She couldn't breathe. She heard his footsteps finding her in the dark and still she couldn't turn to face him.

"Hi, Betty," Jughead said, reaching her side.

"Hi, Juggie," she whispered.