Author's note: This is a Bughead AU college verse. There is a stalker. I got the idea of a stalker in their college years from Lucivar-Viper Radio is the author's story and if I were technological savvy, I'd link it for you. Two things in mind here: the only similarity is the stalker, and I messaged the actual author on tumblr and pitched my idea to them, explicitly asking if they were alright with it and they were (thank you, by the way!). I am so not here for plagiarizing anybody's work and that is not the case. But, I did want to run my idea by the author of that magnificent story. Seriously, it's the shit. Run, don't walk, and go read it. She's in my subscriptions, I think. Or, definitely my favorite stories, at the very least. Okay, anyways, here we go! X

New York City was cool this time of year, what with summer fading and fall replacing itself as the new backdrop for the time being. Golden leaves crunched beneath Betty Cooper's boot-clad heels as she made her way across NYU's campus, shifting her bag so it was slung across her other shoulder, giving her left one the time to recover from having strain put on it the majority of her walk. Her physiotherapist told her not to strain the muscles, as they were still healing, but Betty never really did appreciate anyone telling her what to do, even if it came to her own health.

She thought back to how she had sustained the shoulder injury – how she had so desperately, for one tiny moment in time, hadn't cared that she had received it in the first place. She had been in the dance studio off campus, rehearsing for the upcoming winter showcase she was not only dancing in but helping choreograph pieces for some other dances and she had, due to her brain not shutting off as it typically could through dance, slipped on a particular pirouette and stumbled, her shoulder taking the impact of her fall. She still remembered her doctor saying it was dislocated and would require a lengthy recovery period. Gritting her teeth, she smiled, nodded, and signed up with a local physiotherapist at her clinic, getting to work right away should she wish to keep her position in the showcase. It was the first-time dance had ever disappointed her.

Shaking her head as a huff of irritation escaped her lips, Betty kept moving across the campus grounds, trying to hurry up and make it to the coffee shop on time. She had promised Archie, her best friend since birth, that she'd meet him and some mysterious person for coffee. Said he had a friend he wanted her to meet. Knowing Archie, she figured it was his latest conquest. She loved the guy, truly, but he had a poor habit of fucking every woman he found attractive and who consented. At least there's that.

She reached the coffee shop, one her and Archie frequented often, mainly late nights after her spending hours in the studio and him needing to remind her to refuel. He'd force a sandwich in her hands, slid a black coffee over along with it, and always wave away her protests that she should be able to pay him back at least half the time. His responding, "Betty, if it weren't for you, I'd have flunked the SATs and we wouldn't be exploring the Big Apple together" making her smile. It was always said with a hint of warmth and affection that swallowed her whole. Archie was good; Archie was safe.

They had, despite popular belief, never once been in love. Had never felt that magnetic pull directors made the big bucks on by selling the story of childhood friends turned high school sweethearts turned married and graying together over the years. She liked it that way, however. Couldn't imagine Archie as anything other than a brother to her. Didn't want to. The idea made her throw up a bit – a lot – in her mouth.

Sighing happily, she reached the shop and pulled open the door, smiling as someone held it open for her from behind. The stranger did a quick perusal of her with a scan of his eyes and smiled, causing her to internally roll her own. Not looking to pick up a boyfriend in a coffee shop. Not that much of a cliché. Thanks, though. With a quick nod and one more polite smile, she scanned the quaint shop and found the familiar head of red hair and Archie's lovable grin stretched easily across his lips accompanying it. Smiling back herself, Betty made her way towards the booth he had chosen for them – and his friend he wanted her to meet. Betty was fully expecting some brunette with legs for days, as was his M.O. and received a sharp reality check.

"Betty Cooper, in the flesh," the voice, while still as smooth as she remembered, had developed, and settled into it's husky timbre. Nicely. Stop it, Betty! Cutting her eyes to Archie in a furious glare, Betty settled down on his side of the booth and looked at the man before her.

"Jughead Jones, as I live and breathe," she replied, tone layered heavily in ice. "Though, I could have gone the rest of my days breathing without you being in them and would have survived just fine."

She could feel Archie shift uncomfortably next to him, no doubt a pained expression flitting across his features as he panicked and tried to figure out how best to damage control. Suck on them apples, Arch, you've royally fucked yourself.

Eyes never straying from Jughead's, she continued on. "They don't have phones in Toledo, Jones?"

She watched with a little vindictive pleasure as he dropped his eyes downwards, staring at the tabletop rather than keep eye-contact. But, he forced himself to look back up at her when he replied.

"I just thought it'd be easier if I didn't stay in touch," he murmured, something akin to pleading in his underlying tones. Pleading for what, Betty didn't know. She sure as shit didn't want to know, either. He left her without a goodbye; left them and who they could be without a goodbye. Didn't bother to stay in touch either, after arriving in Toledo. Had just sent a text – to Archie, who Betty had to hear it from – that he was in Toledo and would be finishing out high school there. Better if everyone went their own ways.

She nodded but didn't say anything. She didn't have anything to say that wouldn't end in her swinging fists, Jughead shouting, and Archie trying to keep the peace. Again, she glared at her best friend, who adopted his usual, "I'm a kicked puppy and out in the rain, stop hurting me", look, and she scoffed. Jughead's voice brought her out of her inner thoughts.

"I asked him to set this up and specifically not tell you I'd be here," Jughead said.

"Why?" Betty asked, voice indifferent.

"Would you have come, Betts?" Jughead asked.

She inhaled harshly through her teeth, clamping down on the urge to scream at him as it felt like her insides were being shredded a part. He didn't get to call her that anymore. Didn't he understand that? Didn't he understand he lost all rights to her life the day he left and refused to pick up a phone? Or, even better, refused to return the numerous calls and texts she flooded his phone with, demanding why she wasn't good enough for a goodbye? Perhaps he saw pain in her eyes – pain she wasn't aware that she was outwardly reflecting – because Jughead exhaled slowly.

"Sorry, I meant Betty," he murmured quietly, a catch in his voice as he stared down at the table once more. She shook her head, ignoring the urge to tell him it was alright; that he could keep the nickname that he and he alone had the right to call her. He didn't have that right anymore and it wasn't alright. Not by a long shot. Instead, she just folded her hands in her lap to keep herself from doing something rash and looked at him.

"What are you doing in the city, Jughead?" Betty asked, though she knew the answer.

"Got into NYU on a full scholarship for the writing program. Looking at the next creative writing graduate…in four years," he added with a wry smile. She didn't return it.

"Convenient," she said absentmindedly before her phone chimed with a notification and she all but exhaled a sigh of relief. Thank God. A distraction was what she needed right now. Pulling out her phone, she swiped her thumb, entering in her passcode before going to her text messages, feeling a sense of dread fall into her stomach like a piece of lead and rest uncomfortably there. The sender was an unknown number, someone who had been texting her the past few weeks and she had no idea who they were or how they'd had gotten her number. Each text was getting aggressively worst, and she was seriously starting to contemplate if she should at least tell on-campus security.

Chewing her lip, Betty hesitantly opened up the attachment that had been uploaded with the text and gasped quietly as she stared at the image of her back. Her naked back. Staring back at her from her apartment bedroom. Fuck it all to hell. She wasn't wearing a top, having, it seemed, to have just gotten out of the shower. She saw the tattoo on the lower side of her back, where the back of her ribcage was and knew that this photo was recent. She had gotten the tattoo two weeks prior, a big "fuck you" to everyone who told her she wouldn't get into a school because of who her dad was. Her mom and she had worked hard on saving every penny they could, had applied to every school that offered a good dance program and NYU accepted her after her audition. She could have gone to Julliard or, at least applied there, but she didn't want to stress herself out through the rigorous audition process alone only to be told no because the Black Hood had been her father.

Alice Cooper had been a beacon of light for her during that awful summer after Jughead left and after she witnessed Penelope Blossom kill her dad. She didn't know where she would be without her mother and Veronica and Cheryl, her best friend and cousin turned best friend alike. The three most important women in Betty's life. Then Archie. And, apparently now Jughead, based off the hopeful look Archie was sporting when she sat down. Shit. Archie and Jughead were still at the table with her. Looking up, she caught sight of their looks of concern.

"Weird text, Betty?" Jughead asked, eyes curious but slightly hardened and she rolled her own in turn towards him.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Betty muttered before pressing a kiss to Archie's cheek and sliding out of the booth. "As fun as this has been, I've got to go. Dancing waits for no one. See you soon, Arch."

She purposefully left out Jughead's name as she thought about the text she had just received. She didn't want to open it up to anyone – least of all her friends and family. After all, it wasn't threatening yet. Well, at least not that threatening. Maybe? She didn't know. Shaking her head, she sighed as she walked out of the coffee shop, pausing as she heard Jughead calling her name.

"You really going to deflect like that with me about who just texted you, Betty?" Jughead asked, lips pursed.

"Fuck off, Jughead," she scoffed. "It's been three years and all I received from you on your end was radio silence. So yeah, I think I have the right to deflect."

He looked at her, then towards the phone she clutched in her hand like a grenade. "Must be pretty important – or, terrifying – if you're not even willing to open up to at least Archie."

His voice was knowing in the way only his could be and she wanted to kick herself for remembering how safe his voice alone used to make her feel, too. Shaking her head, she expelled a sigh.

"Honestly, Jughead, it's nothing," she reiterated. "Just something school related. See you on campus, maybe."

With that, she turned on her heel and strode away from him, feeling his eyes on her back the entire walk back to her apartment. Dammit.

Author's note: Deleted eighteen stories and holy shit. I write a lot. Also, would love thoughts on this! Sweet Pea will come in soon, my lovelies. You know he has to be in this. Xxx