Chapter 35: Roses
And I recall in spring
The perfume that the air would bring
To the indolent town
Where the barkers call the moon down
A medium-rare burger with lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, onions, ketchup, and mustard on a sesame bun. Seasoned wedge fries on the side.
A basket of onion rings with a side of honey mustard.
Lemon-poppy seed buffalo wings, Velveeta-salsa dip, and a large slice of strawberry-rhubarb pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.
And it was an absolute shame that the lovely Betty Cooper wasn't the one enjoying the spread with him.
Archie didn't look all that excited to be there either.
Jughead curled his hand into a fist, imaging Betty's parting kiss, before sliding it into his pocket. He could see Archie tense in preparation to stand, possibly to chase after Betty, and slid back into the booth just as his friend began to push himself up.
"Take a seat, Arch."
Archie's face was incapable of hiding emotions. It was one of his weaknesses . . . and also one of the most endearing traits about him. So seeing Archie try to bury his true feelings as he turned his face back to Jughead was—well, frankly—painful to see.
But, oddly enough, it gave Jughead a little bit of hope to see Archie refrain from immediate hostility. The guy wasn't the strongest wolf in the pack, but he had a pretty mean punch if he lost himself enough in his emotions.
"I should g-"
"We should talk." Jughead interrupted. "I think we are a bit overdue."
A little bit of anger cracked through Archie's expression as he dropped back into his seat, shoulders tense. "Oh, so you're ready to apologize then?"
Which was probably . . . the most incredibly stupid thing to ever leave Archie's mouth, and keeping himself from reacting too rashly was exceptionally hard, but Jughead prevailed. He shoved a fry into his mouth to distract his body.
God, he wasn't even hungry. Was this the twilight zone?
Deep, cleansing breath. "All right, I'll bite, buddy. What should I be apologizing for?"
"Dude!" Archie hissed, eyes quickly scanning the diner before leaning forward. "This . . . this thing between you and Betty! It's not cool! How could, how could you do this to me?! I thought we were friends!"
"Archie. Nothing you are saying makes any sense. What does my relationship with Betty have to do with you?"
"You know!" He sputtered, getting a little red in the face before slamming his fist on the tabletop, rattling the rapidly cooling plates of food. "Betty and I! We have a history. A history that you have been 100% aware of and . . . and you totally go against everything and just date her?"
Jughead blinked. "You've dated Betty."
"Yes!"
"You are now dating Ronnie."
Archie had the gall to roll his eyes. "Well, yeah!"
"And as of," Jughead looked up in thought, "I want to say the last part of August our Sophomore year, you hadn't taken Betty on a single date."
Archie opened his mouth to say something—Jughead hoped to whatever higher power was listening that he wasn't going to freaking say 'yes' again—but Jughead interrupted. "However, since the very first year of our freshman year, you have taken Veronica on dates at an average of 3.5 outings per week."
And, the mouth hung open, Archie staring with wide eyes as Jughead simply looked at him.
"During the summer months, you will sometimes take other girls out on dates. Valerie, Cheryl—thought not since she started dating Dilton—Ginger, and other girls that were, frankly, so minimally involved with you, that I can't even remember them. And Ronnie, who was always a constant."
Archie huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I hang out with Betty just as much as I do with Veronica, and that's not even the point, Jughead."
"If Betty was involved in any 'dates,' then, it was usually her taking you on a date. And they were always rebound dates, when you needed a pretty girl to boost your ego after another girl—or Ronnie—happened to crush yours." Jughead pointed out, shoving three cold fries into his mouth. The offensively cold potatoes were fuel for his simmering indignation that this conversation had to even happen. "Any other time you were hanging out with Betty, I was there a good 96% of the time because—and I need you to listen to this very carefully—Betty Cooper IS YOUR FRIEND."
"Jughead-"
"No, Archie." Jughead slapped an open hand on the table, causing the redhead to satisfyingly jump in surprise. "Get it out of your head that I'm somehow betraying you or breaking some stupid bro-code by being with Betty. I didn't steal her away from you: she's not a fucking thing to be stolen. Betty has been your friend, and she still is. I've always been your friend, and I still am, God help me, but if you can't just let your friends be happy and stop thinking that every little thing we do is just to spite you, then, you are going to lose us."
And this was hard. Giving Archie something as serious as an ultimatum just to make him see sense. Because as much as he loved Archie, he loved Betty Cooper at dangerously higher levels, and keeping themselves exposed to this was going to kill them.
Remembering the wave of realization pass Betty's face before she left them at this booth was a clear reminder of what was at stake: what needed to happen.
Archie and Jughead had not been close for the past two weeks. This tension between them, this painful rift, had lasted the longest it ever has in their life-long friendship. And while there were some days that Archie seemed like a complete stranger, Jughead knew that Archie was his longest best friend.
They had been kids together. Played in mud, ate questionable food left unattended, played pranks on neighbors, threw rocks at lakes, peed in the community pool, played in the arcade, and had sleepovers.
They told each other secrets that no one else deserved to know, and knew that the other would never judge them negatively for it. They protected each other's weaknesses and did the most embarrassing things for one another because . . .
Because they were brothers.
They were brothers in all of the ways that mattered.
This.
This couldn't be the end of it.
Jughead loved Betty. Archie loved Betty. They loved her in different ways, but essentially, there was that bond, that desire to see Betty truly happy.
As brothers, they should be able to deal with this without it ripping them apart.
In all honesty, before all of this happened, Jughead couldn't say that he was in love with Betty Cooper. With their history, if Betty had never consciously chosen him, he didn't know if he would have still fallen this deeply in love with her. They had been friends, best friends in a way that was a little less intense than his relationship with Archie. But it still meant something to him, and every hurt that Betty experienced irritated him. Every moment of her joy was a bit of joy for him as well.
If this had never happened, if Archie had pulled his head out of his ass, and saw Betty and what she offered for the gift that it was. If they had dated, and stayed together, and Archie chose her, and Betty was happy . . . Jughead knew that he would have been happy for them.
They would have gotten married and Jughead would be the best man. He would give the greatest "best man" speech. He would have stolen a dance with Betty and told her that if Archie did anything stupid, she should tell him so that he could set his buddy straight. He would show up at Sunday morning breakfasts and eat pancakes with their kids.
It was hard to admit and imagine now, but the Jughead of the past would have been content with that.
The Jughead now?
He breathed heavily as he watched the sauce on the buffalo wings slightly hardened as the meat cooled.
It was scary. It was fucking terrifying.
Jughead wanted Archie to be his best man. He wanted to be the one staring down the aisle, feeling overwhelmed and out of his depth, and watching Betty Cooper in white, walking towards him. He wanted Archie to crash their meals, brats that had Betty's eyes, nose, smile, and his genius, calling him "Uncle Archie" before they dug into stacks of blueberry pancakes.
He wanted Archie to be happy.
He wanted Archie to be happy for them.
Isn't that what brothers do?
Weren't they still brothers?
Jughead really, really hoped so.
Taking the small plate of pie, crust soggy in a pool of half melted ice cream, Jughead slid it over to Archie, who had dropped his gaze from Jughead halfway through his spiel, and stared into an empty space of the table between them.
"Archie. Bud, have some pie." He sat up and grabbed his coat, sliding it on before climbing out of the booth. "Just, think about it, man. You are still important to Betty. You're still my friend. It's just . . . the ball's in your court."
Archie's eyes were still glued to the plate of soggy pie when Jughead stepped away, ignoring the eyes of the diner staff as he headed straight for the front door. As soon as he stepped into the cool, fresh air of the rest of the world, Jughead collapsed leaned into the rough brick wall of the Pop's and took a deep breath. The sky was overcast, heavy with the possibility of rain, but it was the time of year when it would look like rain in one moment, and impossibly clear the next.
He was exhausted.
Exhausted but . . . it had to happen. This was a long time coming, and regardless of how it turned out, Jughead felt just a little bit lighter for it. He wouldn't lie to himself about not being worried about what Archie's final decision may come out to be, but deep, deep, deep in his gut, he was sure that in the end, Archie would choose to be happy for them. Regardless of what happened in the future, he wouldn't lose his best friend.
If he were a praying kind of man, he would pray for this.
Instead, he had to rely on his gut, and rely on the true Archie Andrews to make the right, mature choice.
Closing his eyes, he took another deep breath.
It was over for now.
But, he still had more to do. The day was getting short, and Betty had taken the car to her home. Pops wasn't too much of a walk to Betty's neighborhood, and in all honesty, he could probably use the time to think (as if he hasn't done enough of that already).
The door to Pops opened up, bringing his attention to the actual Pop Tate, standing there in his stained apron, a large paper bag held in one hand. His dark mustache twitched over his awkward smile. "Trouble maker."
Jughead was surprised by his own chuckle, pushing himself off from the wall. "Hey-"
Pop shoved the bag into Jughead's arms, and he was quick to catch it against his chest before looking down curiously, recognizing the smells of their celebratory order, everything carefully packed into to-go containers.
"I don't want to hear it," Pop crossed his arms and stepped back. "What ever is going on is between you boys, but . . ." He pointedly raised his dark eyebrows as he nodded at the bag. "A good man makes sure that his girl doesn't go hungry."
Warmth blossomed in Jughead's chest, as he looked up with a smile. "Yeah. Thanks."
Pop nodded. "You and Archie will be fine. You boys have been the bane of my diner's existence for over a decade. Both of you will keep it up until I retire, mark my words."
Laughing, Jughead shook his head as Pop marched back into the dinner, grumbling about teenagers, angst, and hormones. Hooking his fingers into the handle of the paper bag, Jughead turned to head down the street, a little pep in his step as he directed himself on the shortest path to Betty's house.
He may have gone a little more than two blocks, before the scent of flowers pulled his attention away from the bag of food in his arms (would Betty notice if a few onion rings went missing?). A wall of cones, each filled with specific colors of roses beckoned him into the florist.
Wasn't it normal for boyfriends to give their girlfriends flowers after a fight?
Granted, he and Betty didn't exactly dish it out, but in light of certain emotional turmoil—because he did feel like he needed to apologize a little for his earlier outburst of angst on Betty possibly breaking up with him—he figured a little token would be appreciated.
Besides, flowers suited Betty.
And she deserved a little surprise.
His eyes immediately drew him towards a small cluster of purple-ish roses, caught by the odd coloring. He picked and paid for the one, ignoring the pointed looks of the lady at the counter as she wrapped the single rose in a crinkly cone of brown paper, tying the package with a thin strip of white twine.
Not wanting to get into any kind of conversation, he nodded his thanks and turned back to the door, only to come to an immediate stop.
Veronica Lodge's red Corvette was parked at the door of the florist, the brunette in question pinning him with a look . . . which was quite a feat since she was wearing a pair of designer sunglasses.
Awesome.
Sliding the rose into the paper bag, Jughead continued out of the store, only slightly surprised when the window automatically rolled down and Veronica leaned over. "Are you on your way to Betty's?"
"Well, hello, Ronnie. Looking as stunning as ever. Nice car. How is your day going?"
Veronica tipped her glasses down so that he could enjoy the full experience of her exaggerated eye roll. "Whatever, loser. Get in the car. I'll give you a ride."
Which was . . . exceptionally kind. 100% aware that Ronnie and Archie were currently "on" in their on-again-off-again relationship, Jughead considered the possibility that in the span of their epic showdown at Pops and right now, Ronnie could be completely caught up on their little drama.
But, at the same time, she didn't seem too put out as she leaned back into her seat, pushing the button to unlock the car as she adjusted the fit of her leather jacket, and fluffed her fringe.
And walking wasn't exactly something he enjoyed doing just because.
Stepping closer, Jughead pulled the door open—holy crap, this car was probably worth more than what his dad made in two years—and slid into the truly stellar leather interior of the car. "Thanks."
Veronica shrugged, and if Jughead weren't looking, he would have missed the small twitch of a smile at the corner of her red lips. "I was just passing by. Don't go thinking that I'm some kind of taxi service."
He smiled. "Would never cross my mind."
"Good."
And the car roared away, obnoxiously fast despite the busy road.
Jughead didn't mind at all.
[Word Count: 2,552 words]
AN: Just trekin' along. Wanna chat Betty x Jughead (or anything, really)? Drop a review here, or find me on Tumblr :D
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