Author's Note:

Hi.

As part of the fall Riverdale Promptathon, I received a prompt from sullypants. She asked for:

a promptathon prompt: how about a missing moment from Breathing in Your Love? some keywords to prompt you, if you'd like them: curve, interpret, envy, and zest

This is a prequel moment referred to in Chapter Two of Breathing in Your Love.

The title comes from HamletAct IV, scene v:
There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray,
love, remember: and there is pansies. that's for thoughts.

Thanks for reading!

Pansies, That's for Thoughts

At 10:30 on the dot, Jughead's phone rang. A smile tugged at his lips, there was only one person who called him, and she was right on time. Lifting his phone to his ear, Jughead backed away from the projector as he answered.

"Hello," he said in a feigned insouciance like he didn't know who was calling. His heart was beating a mile a minute and a foolish grin lit up his face. He know it was stupid to be this far gone for her, but he couldn't help it. Her calls added a zest to his otherwise dreary life. They reminded him that someone cared.

"Hi Juggie." Betty's voice was as bright as the California sunshine. "What's playing tonight?"

She asked that every night. He never got tired of telling her. It was nearly halfway through the summer and she'd been helping him select the movies playing at the Twilight Drive-in.

"To Catch a Thief." He bit his lip in anticipation of her reaction.

"Juggie!" She squealed around a laugh. "You promised to save the Hitchcock movies until I came home so we could watch them together."

He shrugged as he laughed with her. "But, Betts, we've already watched this one together. The world deserves to see the brilliance of Grace Kelly on the big screen too."

"And by world, you mean Riverdale…," she teased.

"Yeah…Riverdale." He deflated. Moving over to the cot shoved against the wall, he flopped back onto his sleeping bag. The patches of bare skin along the back of his neck and forearms stuck to the nylon material. Under his beanie, sweat beaded along his hairline. Just like that, his joy was fleeting, as he was once again reminded that he would never leave this town. Riverdale had its claws buried deep into the Jones men. Everyone else could leave, but not him. He was destined to always be left behind. His mom left him here. Betty had left him, even if it was only for the summer. It was just another reminder that she was destined for greater things than him.

"Sorry, Jug." It baffled him how Betty always knew how he was feeling. Even when he pretended everything was fine, she knew. "You're right. The world needs to know about the brilliance of Grace Kelly and Cary Grant. I just wish I could be there watching with you."

"No you don't," the self-deprecating response came as second nature.

"Juggie…"

"I mean, I've got to watch from the projection booth, and it's stifling up here during the summer. The fan I've got up here, barely circulates the air enough for one person, let alone two." He was babbling, he knew it. It was just that he didn't want Betty to know how bad it was. That he hadn't been back to the trailer in months. That he'd been virtually homeless since Easter. That he'd been living on leftover popcorn and hot dogs since school let out and there were no more subsidized lunches—or, Betty around to see that he had something to eat.

"O-kay." It was clear that she didn't believe him.

"Tell me about LA." He needed to change the subject before she peeled back enough layers to discover the truth. "They're predicting rain for tomorrow, so I am in desperate need of a healthy dose of second hand vitamin D."

"It doesn't work that way." While he knew the previous conversation was far from over, she indulged him with stories of her internship, the multi-cultural dining experiences, the beach, and her plans for the rest of the summer. These were all things they'd talked about before, but she never seemed to tire of creating the vivid word pictures which took him away from here. He closed his eyes as he listened, imagining that he was with her. "This weekend my aunt's taking me to Griffin Observatory. What do you think about adding Rebel Without a Cause to our 'to watch' list for when I get home?"

"I'd like that. It sounds like a great idea." He pulled his notebook out of his backpack and added the movie to their list. He couldn't leave the projector unattended for long, so he moved back to his chair. While he knew that digital was the way of the future, there was something about these old technologies that he loved. He was as fascinated by the curve of the film and the way it wound its way from spool to spool as he was the weight and click-thunk of a typewriter's keys against ribbon and paper.

"Great."

Their conversation fell into a lull and Jughead's stomach clenched as he suspected the change in direction the conversation was about to take.

"How's everything in Riverdale?" Betty asked with a hint of breathless anticipation in her question.

It didn't take a genius—just a best friend—to interpret the true question behind the query. Jughead held his breath to keep the frustrated sigh inside him. He wished she didn't keep asking after him. But, this was Betty asking, and he could deny her nothing, even if it broke his heart every time.

He started by answering the question she wasn't truly asking."Riverdale is the same old, same old. Seriously, nothing has changed—" except, you're not here.

"Good." She mumbled into the phone, her tone distracted. He could picture her sitting on her bed, curling the ends of her ponytail around her fingers.

This time, Jughead did sigh, though he managed not to breathe directly into the receiver. "Archie is good, though he's not around much. Still working for his dad, of course. I did manage to see him earlier today."

"Oh?" The sunshine in her voice sparked bright and curious while the clouds closed darker and tighter around his heart.

"Yeah, yeah. We made plans to go camping." He hated himself for holding back on the information that would make her night and ruin his.

"I'm so jealous," she enthused. Too bad her jealousy wasn't because she wanted to go camping with him.

"Arch asked about you. I let him know you're doing well and I suggested that he should give you a call…or a text. He said he would." Jughead closed his eyes and pretended he couldn't see Archie's eager golden retriever expression as their red headed friend nodded in agreement.

"Thanks Juggie! You're the best." She squealed in delight at the mere thought of Archie asking about her. Despite Archie's promise to contact Betty, Jughead didn't hold his breath at the thought of Archie actually following through. Betty knew better as well, but she was so wrapped up in the thought of Archie, she wasn't actually seeing their red headed friend. It broke Jug's heart to know that she was bound to be disappointed. "I wish I was there to give you a hug."

Jughead wished she was here too. Her daily calls were his lifeline this summer, but things would be infinitely better if she were here. Simply saying he missed her couldn't encompass the depth of his feelings. The sentiment barely brushed the surface.

They fell into a silence as long as the miles between them. Normally the silences between them were comfortable, companionable stretches of time. Tonight, a stilted tension crackled over the line. He swallowed hard, wishing he had the words to make his confession. To be honest with her about the one thing he never told her, the one secret kept buried deep within his heart.

When it came to writing, his words freely flowed in an elegantly torrent across the page. His words were sharp and bold and confident. He felt like he could take on the world with the written word. But, when it came to talking, to expressing his feelings out loud, he felt awkward. His words balanced precariously on his tongue and dammed up behind his lips. They never came out right when he tried to express his feelings. Long ago he'd learned to exchange sarcasm for vulnerability, snark for honesty. Only when he was with Betty he was able to expose those soft, vulnerable parts of him, but even then he was only able to express himself as she sat patiently beside him, never pushing as she waited for him to speak his heart. But, how could he tell her this? How could he tell her the deepest secret of his heart when he already knew the feelings weren't reciprocated.

I love you, Betty Cooper. He thought, but didn't dare say.

"Hey, Juggie… Can I—can I tell you something?" As though she knew he was thinking about her, Betty broke the silence. A nervous, tenuous thread wove through her words.

"Of course, Betts, anything." His voice was thick. He pinned the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he tugged off his beanie and wrung it between his hands. Meanwhile, he bit his lip to keep from crying out the words thundering through his brain and trying to escape. No, no, no. Don't say it.

If she didn't say it, he could pretend it wasn't true.

Fate wasn't kind to him. He never expected it to be.

"I think...I think I have feelings for Archie," Betty said so softly Jughead had to strain to hear. When she spoke again, the words came out in an infatuated rush. "The dangerous kind."

His shoulders relaxed and he sank back in the chair. She wasn't certain. He didn't have to face it yet.

"No. I do have feelings for Archie," this time her voice took on more confidence. Her words were strong and bold with the pure Betty-ness he came to expect from her declarations. "I mean, he's the one, isn't he?After all, we've been friends forever. We'd be perfect together. Right?"

Jughead fought the bitter bile crawling up his throat. His world closed in on him until it was only the shrinking box of the projection booth. Envy curled heavy in his stomach like a restless, writhing viper waiting to strike. He didn't want to be that guy. The kind of guy who acted all possessive and jealous when he liked a girl and it didn't matter if she was into him or not. Betty deserved better than that. To be honest with himself, he thought Betty deserved better than him. He'd always known that. He should be happy she found someone to love. But, no matter how many times he told himself Betty was better off with someone else, he couldn't convince his heart. He wanted her to love him. Choose him. He could only imagine what it would be like to have someone choose him. To prioritize him in their life. To desire him.

"Sure, Betty. Sure. Yeah—perfect…"

His chest tightened to the point where he thought he'd no longer be able to breathe. A darkness crept in on his vision. As he gasped for breath, a sharp pang burrowed deep into his lungs.

"Juggie are you okay?" The edge of panic flooded her voice. "Should I call someone?"

"No." He wheezed, unable to take a deep breath. If his suspicions were correct, there was no one she could call to help him now. His fate was sealed and he was already talking to the only person who could help. The one who could alter his demise. But, her heart was already spoken for. He wouldn't burden her with his fate. She would get her happily ever after she deserved. He would simply get his fin.

"Are you sure? I could call your dad? Or, Mr. Andrews?" He appreciated the fact that she didn't offer to call Archie as well. At the moment, talking to Archie was the only thing that could make his condition worse. Betty would continue to go through every semi-responsible person they knew in Riverdale unless he stopped her.

Grabbing his water bottle he took a long drink of water until the burning in his throat eased. Though his chest was still tight, he sounded more like himself when he began to talk. "I'll be okay. Just kicked up some dust or something."

The taunt of Liar, liar, rang in his ears. He ignored the derisive sneer. Instead, he returned the conversation back to Betty and her summer. "Have you gotten the opportunity to do any writing yet?"

"Just my usual journaling. Though I shared a few of my ideas with my boss and she's interested."

This was better. Jug could pretend the thread of hope in her voice was about the future of her writing career and had nothing to do with her feelings for a certain red-headed Riverdale resident.

"Tell me about your ideas." A slight wheeze escaped his chest with the words. His lungs pinched with every breath. He wouldn't let himself panic now. That could wait until after he was done talking to Betty.

Betty stayed on the line, chatting with him and bantering with him in equal measures. There were no more mentions of Archie Andrews that evening, so their conversation was able to fall into the easy, natural rhythm which formed all their interactions. It wasn't the same as having her with him, but it was nice. Her mere presence—her existence—in his life was more than he ever hoped or imagined, and definitely more than a he deserved.

As the clock neared midnight for her and three in the morning for him, Jughead held onto the call while the gap between her replies grew longer and her breathing grew soft and regular. He tried to keep time with her even breaths, but he couldn't fill his lungs causing a dissonance in their usual synchronicity. His lungs pinched with each inhale and burned with the exhale.

"Betts…Betts…," he whispered into the phone. Lulled to sleep by soothing familiarity of his voice, she didn't reply. The first outpouring of rain battered against the roof of projection booth in the cacophonous, piercing rattle of a thousand pins.

Finding the ounce of courage he could never quite summon when she was awake, Jughead held the phone close to his lips and murmured softly into the silence, "Sleep well. I love you, Betty Cooper. Good night."

When she didn't respond, he pulled the phone away from his ear and cradled it in his hands. The screen dimmed with the inactivity. Without her presence, the darkness of the lonely night encroached on his solitude and closed in on all sides. His breathing rattled and wheezed in his chest in an ever present reminder of his new condition.

Jughead disconnected the call and let her go.

—