Summary:

Betty's powers continue to increase. Jughead continues to hide under his layers. Despite everything telling them this feeling growing between them shouldn't—couldn't—possibly work out well, Betty and Jughead can't fight the irresistible force pulling them together. The bigger question might be, do they even want to fight it? Or, is it worth all the risks?

Author's Note:

Sorry about the wait. Life's been a bit hectic and I'm juggling several writing projects. Hopefully you'll enjoy the chapter now that it's here.

A couple additional notes before I head off to work on the next chapter:

For the Rivedale Promptathon, satelliteinasupernova asked for:

"In the Of Gloves and Ponytails universe, maybe a simple moment between Betty and Jughead, working on school work, or maybe during some sort of school event down the line (surely, a special mutant school has school dances?)"

The plans for this chapter have always basically covered the points mentioned in the prompt. So, in case I don't get the opportunity to write an additional side story for the prompts, satellites, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Also, in this chapter, Iris by Goo Goo Dolls is referenced.

Thanks for reading! ~rose

Chapter Three – A Different Kind of Dance

The library was quiet. Most everyone else was out enjoying the start of the weekend. Usually the only ones to stay behind were the youngest students who still had early curfews or the older ones on disciplinary restriction. When she wasn't making her monthly visits home, Betty often tagged along with Veronica and Archie as they hit a popular club or concert. Although over the last year, she'd been feeling more and more like a third wheel whenever she joined them. While Veronica always invited Jughead to join their nights out, he outright refused every time. Veronica continued to invite him, but she'd long since given up on expecting him to come along. It was clear that even though his mutation gave him a convenient excuse to forgo participating in crowded events, the party scene had never been his preference. About once a month or so Veronica would declare a girl's weekend and they would head out to the Lodge penthouse for day spas and shopping. Even though Betty usually enjoyed those, she was glad this weekend wasn't one of them.

Unlike Veronica, Betty didn't have the constant need to always be out on the town. Betty had no desire to be the center of attention or the life of the party. Sometimes she just wanted to stay in and clear her head. Maybe catch up on her reading, or watch a movie. Since Jughead's arrival at school, Betty appreciated having an excuse to stay behind that her best friend couldn't question. Besides, she liked spending time alone with Jughead. His presence was comforting and felt almost like an extension of herself. She didn't need to pretend for him, he didn't expect her to be perfect.

It wasn't a surprise when she found him sequestered in the corner of the library typing away at his laptop. With his headphones on and his gaze focused on the screen, he was oblivious to the rest of the world around him. Betty wondered what he was working on. He never lost himself quite so deeply when he was working on schoolwork.

"Hey Jug." Betty called loud enough to be heard over his music. He didn't like being approached without warning. It made him nervous. So, she'd taken to always announcing her presence and waiting for him to respond before getting too close. In return, he allowed her closer than anyone else.

His head jerked up and he smiled when he saw her, standing at the opposite side of the table. She wondered if he knew his smile was like a ray of sun on a cloudy day. He moved his bag from the chair beside him and collected his scattered papers. "Hi Betts. Join me?"

"Sure." Betty sat next to him, angling her chair to prevent any accidental touching while still remaining close. His jeans covered knee brushed against her jeans covered knee, sending a thrill of excitement through her when he didn't jerk away. Not drawing attention to the touch, she dropped the book on the table she'd used as an excuse to seek him out in the library and gestured at the computer. "What are you working on?"

His fingers twitched over the keys without adding anything to the page of text. He bit his lower lip and worried at it for a moment before answering. "I haven't told anyone about this, so I'm trusting you…"

"I promise, I won't say anything."

"I know. Thank you." He took a deep breath and leaned in as he prepared to share confidences with her. "I'm writing a novel."

"Oh, that's exciting. What are you writing about? Can read it?" She didn't need to feign interest.

"You don't even know if I'm any good at writing." He chuckled, in his deep, rich voice. "Yes, you can read it, but not yet."

"Good. I can't wait." Though she was tracing the embossed cover of her book, Betty's mind wandered to his hands. She wished she could run her fingers over his hands and along the ridge of his knuckles. Reflexively, she changed her hold on the book, wrapping her hands around the spine. The paperback flexed and creaked under her touch as she accidentally infused the cover with a small, but visible charge.

"Betts…"

The warning came in time to save the book. Her cheeks flushed crimson and her heart beat a rapid tattoo in her chest.

Shifting in his seat, Jughead rearranged his limbs so he was once more pulled into himself. His breathing was rushed and a rush of red heated his ears and the back of his neck. "I'm ready for a break. How about you? Do you want to watch a movie?"

"Yeah, sounds good. Since Veronica is out, we can continue our Hitchcock marathon in my room?" Betty suggested. As much as she might wish differently, there was nothing overly intimate about the suggestion of movie night in her bedroom. Because of his mutation, Jughead had a room to himself, while Betty's shared room meant two beds. They could each claim a bed and recline in comfort while they watched without fear of an accident.

"Perfect." After saving his progress, Jughead packed up his belongings and followed her from the library.

—

Betty reclined on Veronica's bed while Jughead rested on hers. They laid on their stomachs facing the television. Laying with their heads resting on their arms and their faces towards each other, they ignored the screen. The movie was over and it had shifted to the menu screen. They'd turned the volume down so the music playing in a ceaseless loop was nearly inaudible. Jughead ran his bare fingers along the loops and chain patterned into the crocheted afghan at the foot of her bed.

Their movie nights were one of the rare occasions Betty saw Jughead without his gloves. In these private moments that were just the two of them, he trusted her enough to be vulnerable. She wondered what his hands felt like. Were they rough and calloused? Or, was the skin smooth and soft? Maybe a combination? She bet his grasp would be strong and steady. Part of her wanted to throw caution to wind and find out, but she would never do that to him.

"What are your plans for the rest of the weekend?" He knotted his long, lean fingers in the fringe of her afghan.

"Veronica and I will be finalizing the who's doing what for the Valentines Dance." Betty sighed heavily. She was on practically every committee whether she wanted to be or not. Jug, on the other hand, had only joined the school paper. "Will you be coming to the dance?"

He rolled his eyes dramatically. (This eye roll was all him, she noted. Sometimes it seemed like someone else was controlling his body.) "Do I have a choice? The dance is being held at the school and we literally live here."

"Well, no one is going to force you to attend. I mean you could hole up in the library. Or, since you have your motorcycle, you could go out on your own for the evening." She let down her hair from its ponytail and ran her fingers through the blonde locks, trying to ease out the kink caused by the tight elastic. Jughead buried his hands in her blankets and she almost swore she heard him groan.

"I guess. Though going out on my own isn't much fun." The black and white images on the screen cast flickering shadows across his face and obscured his expression. "I was thinking….maybe, well….if you like…." He exhaled a deep breath, blowing the sweep of inky black hair from his forehead. "Would you like me to be there?"

"Yes, I would." Betty replied in a voice much calmer than she thought possible. She was grateful for the dim light masking the open desire running through every cell of her body. It was as hot and potent as the rush of energy caused by her mutation. A lurid fuchsia haze clouded her vision, though there was no transfer of charge. "But, I know crowds make you uncomfortable, so…"

"I'll come. For you. I mean, if you want, we could attend—together."

"I'd like that. Thanks." And, for the first time in weeks, Betty looked forward to the dance. She hummed in genuine delight at the thought of attending the dance with him. Absently, she twisted the hair tie between her fingers as she cataloged the contents of her closet. She would need to go dressing shopping.

Energy slipped through her fingers and into the hair tie, dissolving it into ash. The fuchsia light illuminated her face in the darkened room. Her eyes changed with the infusion of energy. Across the narrow aisle between the beds, the blue of Jughead's eyes almost disappeared as his gaze filled with awe. She still wasn't used to his response. The few outside of the school who had seen her use her powers called her 'freak' and 'unnatural.' Even at school, where their differences were celebrated, her classmates found her eyes unsettling. But, Jughead found them beautiful.

Jughead's breathing hitched in his chest. He took several slow, deep breaths as he sought control. She was familiar with the practice. It's what she ought to be doing now—calling in the charge as it burned through her veins and leaked through her skin. But, that didn't work. Her wrists were bare, the elastic from her hair already demolished. There was no where to send the charge. Best friend or not, Veronica would kill her if she infused anything on Veronica's bed. She had more hair ties, but she was afraid to move in case she unintentionally spread the charge to something else.

Clenching her hands into fists, she dug her fingernails into the meat of her palms. Her nails bit through the skin, leaving a trail of burning crescents in their wake. Counting her breaths, Betty slowed her breathing and heartbeats. The pain and controlled breaths didn't help. There was too much raw energy inside her to call back the charge. If she could get rid of some more, she could deal with the rest.

"Betty."

The sound of her name drew Betty's attention back across the space between the beds. Jughead sat on the edge of her bed, his bare hands clutched repeatedly at the fabric of his jeans. He studied her with steady, calm eyes. His breathing flowed in and out at an even pace. She watched as his diaphragm rose and fell with each breath and before she knew it, she found her breathing matching the rhythm of his. As she could breathe again, the rising panic slowed. Though the energy still flooded her veins, the charge didn't grow. She could manage this.

"Betty." The way he said her name grounded her. "How can I help?"

She blinked. No one ever asked how they could help. They told her to control it, demanded she find a way. "Um, I need to release some of this charge."

"Okay. Catch."

Before she could think about what he was doing, he tossed something across the space between them. She couldn't make out the object in the lurid fuchsia glow which saturated everything in her vicinity. It was buttery soft and cool against her heated touch. Energy flowed into it, releasing the pressure at her fingertips. Regulating the amount of energy which went into the object, Betty was able to release enough of the charge surging through her body that she no longer felt like she was going to explode. Instead, the object had exploded into a flash of light and ash.

With the edge taken off, she could recall the remainder of the energy back into her body. This was only a temporary measure, the energy would continue to build until she could drain enough of it without needing to reabsorb the excess. She would need to work it off in the Danger Room or gym if she didn't want another slip of power before bed. But, for now, she was safe.

"Thanks." Betty smiled weakly at Jughead. Her shoulders sagged and sweat beaded along her hairline. Though her body was brimming with energy, she was emotionally exhausted.

He shrugged. After the dazzling display of her powers, the room seemed all the more dark with the television's flickering greyscale images as the only illumination. "I should probably be going."

"Oh." Her heart sank. Even though she knew she ought to suggest the same, the thought of him wanting to rush away from her needled at all her old insecurities.

"I don't want to, but…." He held up his still bare hands. A single glove dangled from his left hand. "I gave you my glove, and I shouldn't be out without them."

Betty wanted to spring off the bed and throw her arms around him, but she restrained herself. If there was anything Betty was good at, it was restraint. Jughead was meticulous about his gloves, never leaving his room unless he was fully covered. He was always checking to make certain the cuffs always properly overlapped with his sleeves. If he ever needed to take them off, they were always inches away. She'd witnessed him have a near panic attack when one of his gloves had gone missing. When she'd found it knocked to the floor, the relief which had settled over him had been tangible.

The gloves allowed him to function with the rest of the world. And, he'd given it to her, without a second thought. He did so knowing that she would destroy it. She destroyed everything she touched.

"So, what time are you meeting Veronica tomorrow?" Jughead interrupted her spiral. He slid the singular glove back onto his hand. It fit like a second skin and for a moment she remember what the other glove had felt like in her heated grasp. She could only imagine what it felt like around his hand. Heavenly, she supposed.

"What?" Her brain struggled to keep up with the conversation when all she wanted to do was dwell on the daydream.

"What time are you meeting Veronica to plan the dance shindig thing?" He shuffled uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"Ten. In the library." She slid off the end of the bed and headed for her dresser. Rummaging through the drawers she found a scarf the shade of her eyes.

He slipped his feet back into his boots. "Okay. If you'd like some help, I could meet you there."

"That'd be great. Thanks." The sentiment covered more than a singular appreciation. She handed him the scarf. "You can wrap your hand in this."

Meeting her eyes again, he smiled and wrapped his hand in the gauzy, green material. "Thanks, Betts. See you tomorrow."

She walked him to the door. If he had been any other boy, she might have expected a kiss. But, this was Jughead and she didn't want any other boy. Instead, she stood in the doorway and watched him go.

Jughead had only been able to attend half of the planning meeting before his appointment with the Professor. For their first year, all the new students met with the Professor once or twice a month in an effort to access their psychological and emotional well-being and to determine how they were settling in. Though for some, these sessions were more about helping the new Mutants control their powers. This year, Jughead was the only one who had weekly sessions. It had taken Betty two years before she was allowed to stop attending the weekly sessions. She didn't miss them, but the growing energy repressed and trapped under her skin made her wonder if maybe they had ended the sessions too soon.

Before he left, Jughead had agreed to help clean up after the dance. Betty nearly kissed him when he volunteered. Usually no one wanted the unglamorous task of cleaning up the detritus left over from the dance. Especially when they were all tired out from the party and wanting to hook up with their dates. Which meant clean up duty was usually left up to Betty, if they wanted it done in a timely fashion. This year, she wouldn't need to do it alone. An onerous task like this was always a bit more pleasant when done with a friend.

He'd also agreed to help with the music selection. Betty liked Jug's taste in music. It was as eclectic as he was. In general, he chose songs based on the lyrics and what was pleasing to his ear instead of what was popular. Still, there was plenty in his collection with a good beat and good for dancing. Ever since Josie had graduated a year ago, Archie (who fancied himself a fledgling musician) had taken over the music selection. And, simply put, Archie's taste in music often fell flat. Lately he'd been obsessed with sad, love ballads and his selection had left everyone in a dour mood after the last dance. With Jughead's input, the music would certainly be interesting.

After he left, the rest of the meeting had been akin to pulling teeth. Everyone wanted the dance, but no one wanted to put the effort into making it happen. Betty cajoled, bribed, and pleaded her way through her list until she assigned the majority of the tasks. The remaining responsibilities (the most boring or arduous ones, like always) were left for her to take on. Satisfied she could manage the remainder and knowing there would be a riot on her hands if she kept the volunteers a minute past eleven, she adjourned the meeting.

"V, I need your help!" Betty grabbed her friend's arm once the others had cleared out of the library.

"Of course, Bettykins. How can I help?" Veronica ran her hands down her skirt, straightening the seams as she stood.

Betty clutched her clipboard to her chest. "I need to go dress shopping."

Veronica squeed. There was nothing she loved more than fashion and shopping. "But, I thought you were just going to wear one of your other dresses. To what do we owe your sudden change of mind?"

Unable to hide the rosy pink tinting her cheeks, Betty turned her attention back to the table and finished gathering her papers. "I suppose you noticed that Jughead was at the meeting today."

"Mmhmm. At first, I thought it was a bit strange that our resident recluse decided to join in the fun. Then, I noticed the heart eyes he was sending in your direction, and that's when everything clicked into place."

"Right, so, um, you see…." Betty bit her lip, before adding in a rush. "Jugheadsaidhe'dattendthedancewithme."

Blinking once, then twice, Veronica took a moment to decipher what Betty was trying to say. Once she parsed out the meaning behind the rush of words, an excited smile spread across her face.

"Oh, Bettykins. You're going on a date! I'm so happy for you." Veronica clapped her hands and bounced on her toes. "It's about time the two of you got together."

Betty shook her head. This reaction was exactly why she hadn't wanted to tell anyone. "Don't go understanding me too quickly, V. It's not a date—just two friends hanging out at the dance together. We probably won't even dance."

Veronica flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Then why the impetus to get a new dress?"

"I just want something new…." The excuse didn't even sound convincing to her own ears. There was no way Veronica was buying this. "Okay, fine. Jug is still nervous about anything which comes close to skin contact. I want to wear something pretty, but I also want to wear a dress that won't make him uncomfortable when he stands next to me. If that happens, he'll just pull into himself again…."

"Okay, Bettykins. You have me convinced." Veronica looped her arm around Betty's so the two of them walked out arm-in-arm. "Let's go."

"Right now?" Betty squeaked. This was definitely moving faster than she expected. "We were going to meet the boys for lunch…."

"The boys will understand." Veronica waved off their former plans with a flick of her wrist. "There's no time like the present to start shopping. Besides, the dance is only a week away. That's barely enough time to get you ready. Thankfully I know the perfect boutique to start looking for your dress."

"V! Let's not go overboard."

Veronica patted Betty's hand. "Don't worry, I have a plan."

With a groan Betty capitulated to her friend's lead. When Veronica had a plan you either went along with it or were swept up in the wake anyways.

Jughead fidgeted with the fingers of his gloves while he waited at the bottom of the stairs which led up to the dormitories. Veronica had demanded he and Archie meet her and Betty at this very spot at six pm sharp. It was pushing 6:15 and they were still waiting. While Archie appeared unperturbed by this turn of events, the wait was making Jughead a nervous wreck. This had to be a momentous mistake. What right did he have in thinking he could attend a dance with Betty.

Every minute of delay prolonged his agony. He hadn't seen Betty since classes let out the day before. Veronica had somehow managed to get her and Betty out of the trios usual Friday afternoon Danger Room session and then absconded with her friend for a day of pampering. In the meantime, somehow, he and Archie had been shanghaied into covering the tasks Betty usually completed before a dance. If it had been for anyone other than Betty, he would have resented the unexpected tasks, but he found that he didn't mind so much if it gave Betty a chance to enjoy herself before the dance. Maybe that was enough.

"What's taking so long," Jug groaned.

"Wha?" Archie started as he was pulled out of his oblivion. He blinked a few times as though suddenly remembering where they were. "Oh, yeah, this is your first time. Ronnie likes to make an entrance."

Before Jughead could comment, Veronica leaned over the railing at the top of the top of the stairs. "You boys ready?"

"Yes, Ronnie," Archie called dutifully cutting off Jughead before he had the opportunity to make a sarcastic remark about being ready for the last fifteen minutes.

All the waiting in the world no longer mattered when Betty descended the stairs. Jughead froze the moment he caught sight of her. The world closed in until she filled the entirety of his vision. She was the epitome of loveliness and he didn't know where to look first. Blonde hair tumbled over her shoulders in soft curls, the sides pinned back with sparkling clips. Her pale, mint green dress shimmered in the light. The high neckline revealed a tantalizing hint of her clavicles, while an embellished cardigan of the soft yard he'd ever seen covered her otherwise bare arms. His gaze continued downward to where the dress nipped in at her waist before flaring out into a flirty skirt which ended just above her knees and swished with every graceful step. Though she wore ballet flats, her legs, clad in silk stockings, appeared a mile long. He had to swallow once, then twice, and his throat was still dry.

"You're beautiful," he rasped, surprised he was able to manage that much.

"Thank you." She looked up at him from under lowered lashes. While there was something coquettish about the gesture, there was nothing overtly provocative about the look she was giving him. She took genuine pleasure in his response. "You're quite handsome yourself."

"Thanks." He blushed. No one had ever called him handsome before. At least, not in the way she said it. And he didn't think he could compare to her in his new to him suit jacket and dress pants. After offering to attend the dance with Betty, Jug realized he would need something nicer than his collection of flannels and 'S' t-shirts. So, he'd found the nearest thrift store and shifted through the racks until he found a suit jacket which fit. Though all he had to wear were his old boots, he polished the scuffs out of them. After matching it with a button up shirt he already owned, his suspenders (pulled up over his shoulders this time), and his ubiquitous beanie, he supposed he didn't look half bad. A part of him wished he could afford something as nice as the suit Archie had, but Jughead didn't have the funds to splurge on something as frivolous as a new, tailored suit.

Jughead worked odd jobs around the school to earn spending money for gas and necessities and maybe save up for the future. While he attended school on scholarship, he was still technically in contact with his family. Which, meant he didn't qualify for the stipend like the runaways and the kids who were kicked out of their homes for being Mutants. He made do with what little he could earn, since there was no way he would ever consider asking his dad for money. His family scarcely enough to go around as it was and he didn't want to add to that burden anymore than he already had.

Betty raised a gloved hand as though she wanted to run it along the lapels of his jacket or straighten his tie. Sheepishly, she dropped her hand before he could pull back from her. "Sorry."

"It's okay." He smiled at her and wished he could offer the kind of things a normal guy could. All the small, intimate gestures people took for granted were an impossibility for them. Instead, he held out a small posey of flowers—bright eyed daisies and sweet smelling miniature roses tied together with a length of of pale pink ribbon. It felt like an inadequate offering in comparison to all the things he couldn't offer her. "These are for you."

Her covered fingers brushed against the palm of his hand as she accepted the flowers. Lifting the bouquet to her nose, she inhaled the scent of the blooms. "They're lovely, Jug. Thank you."

"All right love birds," Veronica said dramatically as she looped her arm through Archies. Jughead and Betty turned a brilliant crimson at Veronica's insinuations. His jacket became too warm as he swore the temperature of the room must have suddenly doubled. Betty bit her lip and couldn't meet his gaze. Not that he could meet hers either.

"V—" Betty said weakly.

Veronica gave them a wink. "Don't worry. Your secrets are safe with me. Right, Archiekins?"

"Uh, yeah?" Archie nodded along. He turned to Veronica and, in a stage whisper loud enough for Betty and Jughead to also hear, asked, "What secrets?"

"Exactly." Veronica smiled triumphantly. "Before we go make certain everything is ready, pictures!"

Using her telekinesis, Veronica held her camera out at the proper distance while the four friends clustered in a group for pictures. Despite his instinct to separate himself from the group, Jughead found himself pressed in closer to the others (and more specifically, Betty) than he'd allowed himself since his powers manifested. As they clustered together, he noticed for the first time that Veronica wore a pair of long, opera length gloves. Even Archie had donned a pair of gloves. Though of the four of them, Archie appeared the most uncomfortable with the new accessory. He couldn't find the words to express the feelings welling in his chest at the thought of his friend making accommodations for his mutation in an attempt to help him feel more comfortable in this situation.

"Everyone smile," Veronica directed.

Before facing the camera, Betty graced him with one of her exquisite smiles and shifted a little closer to him. Unbeknownst to even himself, his grin was bright and almost carefree with the thrill of being in Betty's company.

—

They sat at one of the small tables he had spent the afternoon covering with red table cloths and sprinkling with confetti hearts. (Alright, he was only on tablecloth duty. After dumping confetti on the floor trying to decorate the first table, Archie took over. When the other boy sprinkled the hearts on the table they fell in exactly all the right places. Stupid luck powers). Now, the confetti was forgotten as Betty and Jughead leaned in close to hear each other over the music as they talked. It was so easy to talk to her. They fell into a natural rhythm as conversation flowed like they'd been friends all their lives. Their hands were wrapped around the clear plastic cups of pink punch. The posey he'd given her laid on the table between their hands. Though technically easy to cross, the small bouquet felt like an impenetrable boundary. How he wished he could cross that divide and take her hand in his.

As if the dance playlist had read his thoughts, a new song began playing on the speakers. Jug closed his eyes and breathed deeply as the opening lines to Iris filled the ballroom.

"And I'd give up forever to touch you

'Cause I know that you feel me somehow…"

What wouldn't he trade to have his cursed mutation taken away? To rewind time. To fix what he broke. To be able to touch people again. To touch Betty for the first time.

"You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be

And I don't wanna go home right now."

Though he knew she wanted to dance, he was rooted to his spot at the table. The constant flurry of movement on the dance floor sent palpations of fear through his body. His movements were always meticulously choreographed, but there was no way to predict where the dancers would end up. No way to prevent an accident.

"And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming

Or the moment of truth in your lies"

What did he do to deserve a friend like Betty? She never pushed him beyond where he was comfortable, yet she was always there. Patiently waiting for him. But why?

"When everything feels like the movies

Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive."

Opening his eyes, he was transfixed by her graceful movements. Betty swayed in time to the music, lips mouthing along with the words as she watched the dancers move with various levels of skill and grace across the dance floor. Her fingers were curled into fists.

"And I don't want the world to see me…"

It was impossible to trade forever for a touch. He wasn't being fair to her. She deserved everything the world had to offer and more. He would only hold her back. If he wasn't such a coward, he would let her go.

"…I just want you to know who I am."

Before the music ended and faded into a new song, Jughead gestured out to the dance floor. "You should go dance."

He tried to sound casual, like it didn't matter to him. But, his heart was breaking. Surely he was doing the right thing. "I'm sure Veronica wouldn't mind you if borrowed Archie for a dance or two."

"No." Betty shook her head. Blonde curls swayed with the movement of her head and a loose tendril framed her face. His fingers itched to brush it back behind her ear. When she met his eyes, a rosy blush bloomed on her face enhancing the glow of her cheeks. Her shy smile was bolstered by a streak of boldness. "There's only one person I really want to dance with tonight…I'm happy here with you."

Jughead tossed back the rest of his pink punch and almost choked on the carbonated bubbles. The plastic cup cracked under the intensity of his grasp. Despite the punch, his throat was still dry.

Ask her to dance. The all too familiar psyche in the back of his head bullied her way to the forefront.

No. He'd been getting better at his mental dialogue over the months of he'd been at school. While he still struggled to resist her takeovers, this was a relatively easy one to refuse. The only thing he wanted more than to dance with Betty was to keep her safe. When he first comprehended the consequences of his mutation, he'd sworn he would never again to do anything which might possibly hurt someone he lov—someone he cared about.

He closed his eyes to prevent her from rolling them. Instead she huffed loudly and gave him the mental equivalent of a shove. Stop being an idiot. For crying out loud, your mutation only works with skin contact. Between the two of you, there's like zero chance of an accident. She obviously chose her outfit with you in mind. If you don't get all mushy and start kissing, you'll be fine.

No. Jughead was resolute in his refusal. Memories more real than the present moment played across his mind's eye in chaotic, vivid technicolor. Icy fear ran down his spine and flooded through his brain. He was trapped by images of her face as it waned into a preternatural pallor. The confusion and fear mingling with his own psyche until he didn't know who he was or what was happening. Feeling her presence both slip away and become stronger as he held her hand while calling for help. The loss of control as chaos, hate, confusion, fear, and panic simultaneously took hold of his consciousness.

Stop. He couldn't let this happen again. He was cursed. No matter how much he wished otherwise, he was destined to be alone. What good was it to taunt both their hearts with tantalizing possibilities when he and Betty could never be more than this? She didn't deserve to suffer with him.

Fine. I didn't want to do this…

"No," Jughead gasped out loud in a strangle breath at the same moment he screamed internally.

—

Betty started at Jughead's exhaled refusal. He had slipped into one of the dissociative silences that he'd been falling into more frequently as of late. When she asked him about it, he'd mumbled something about it being part of his mutation and that he was working on it with the Professor. If anyone was able to understand that sometimes things got worse before they got better, then that would be her. Still, she worried about him.

"Are you okay? Do you want to leave?" Betty wouldn't mind leaving early. The preparing for the dance had been fun and the expression on Jughead's face when he'd first seen her had made the whole evening worth it, but at this point in the evening, she was ready to go. Betty would rather spend the rest of the evening watching movies with Jughead. Or, even to just spend the night talking with him somewhere they didn't need to strain to hear. "We could head up to my room…"

Before she could finish, Jughead stood suddenly. He bumped the table as he moved too quickly and with excess energy. Rearranging his limbs he moved like he was unfamiliar with them. "I'm fine."

"Jug, it's okay. Really." She fiddled with the simple bow tied around the flowers. Absently, she tugged a loose thread which had begun to unravel from the ribbon.

He held out his hand. "Would you care for a dance?"

"Really?" Flustered by the uncharacteristic offer, Betty knocked over her punch glass. She pushed her chair back from the table and stood before the last quarter of punch could dribble on her dress.

"Really." There was none of the usual hesitation in his affirmation.

Betty blinked in surprise as she met Jughead's eyes. His cheeky smile didn't quite match the determination in his eyes. While she'd hoped he might be willing to dance with her, she'd known that the possibility was slight. Also, that if he managed to work up the courage, it would be a test of will and determination. All of that, she supposed, could explain the sudden change in attitude.

"Please, Betty, I'd really like to dance with you." The timbre of his voice was low and pleading and almost his. He took half a step closer. She could feel his warm breath on her skin.

His hand remained steady, waiting for her to take it. If Jughead was really ready to take this step, she wanted to support him. She was the only one he let close and she didn't want to confirm his fears of his untouchableness by rejecting his offer.

Reaching for his outstretched hand, Betty hesitated before her hand could brush against his. Something was…off. The vulnerability Jughead demonstrated every time he considered touch wasn't there. He hadn't tugged down the sleeves of his suit jacket when he stood or checked the overlap between gloves and cuffs. When he moved, he stepped closer instead of away.

Betty took a step back, increasing the distance between them. Her hand dropped to her side and withdrew her hands into the sleeves of her cardigan. She took a deep breath and met his gaze. The blue eyes that gazed back at her weren't Jughead's.

"No. Something isn't right. I'm not going to take advantage of you…" She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying.

He blinked slowly. Once, then twice. Opening his mouth as if to speak, he snapped it shut it with the sharp click of teeth before he had a chance to utter a word. His hand dropped to his side like a marionette whose strings were cut. In fact, his whole body sagged, then started to curl inward.

His eyes widened, first in shock, then terror. He scrambled back several steps, widening the gap between them. His distress was palatable, coming off him in waves and turning her stomach with unfathomable dread. When he finally found the ability to speak, his voice was a hoarse rasp torn from his throat. And, entirely his own. "Oh my God, Betty. I'm so sorry."

Before she could ask what was happening, Jughead pivoted and fled the dance. Betty stood alone beside the table, too much in shock to follow. By the time she found the ability to move on her accord, Jughead was no where to be found.