Summary:

Jughead pines.

Betty confesses.

Author's Note:

I've chosen bits and pieces from the show to scatter along this story. They don't necessarily take place in the same order or time frame as the show or for the same reasons. Basically, they were simply events I used as a springboard ideas for this story. Take from that what you will.

In this chapter there, are mentions canon-typical self-harm (Betty). And, the theme of coughing up flowers continues (Jughead).

Thanks for reading. Enjoy!

Chapter Two - Inhale

Jughead sat on the bleachers with his laptop perched on his knees. His school lunch tray was already empty. He was always hungry and the subsidized school lunches were never quite enough. But, it was better than nothing, which was the only other option open to him.

Ignoring the hollow pangs in the pit of his stomach, he gazed down at the picnic table where Betty sat with the new girl, Veronica, Kevin, and Archie. Jughead wanted to be there among them, but he couldn't let himself go. The pain in his chest was greater when he was with her and she looked at him as nothing more than a friend. Already he could only breathe in shallows gasps and he wheezed when he attempted even the slightest exertion. Climbing the bleachers had certainly been fun.

Had Betty noticed he hadn't joined her for lunch since school started a month ago? That he didn't compete with Veronica or Archie to partner up with her in class? What would she say if she knew he had two tickets in his pocket for the homecoming dance? He despised dances, but Betty loved them. She loved the music and the freedom dancing offered her. When she danced, it was like she floated on air. And, she was always radiant in whichever dress she chose. He would do anything to see that joy on her face.

Would she laugh at him if he confessed his feelings for her? Would her rejection intensify his symptoms? He would never know. Before he could ask if she wanted to go to the dance with him, he'd heard through the rumor mill that she'd be going 'as friends' with Archie and Veronica. He'd seen the light of hope in her eyes. Betty loved Archie and Archie didn't have a clue. Jughead would do anything to prevent her from feeling what he did. Even if it meant feeling it all the more himself.

Far below, Betty laughed warmly at something Archie said. Her ponytail swished with a mesmerizing sway. Jug stuffed down his longing to be in Archie's place. To have Betty laugh at something amusing he said. To be able to run his fingers through her silken locks. To kiss her pretty pink lips. When had everything changed?

This summer, he supposed. Betty had taken an internship across the county and stayed with an aunt. At the beginning of summer, when Betty was homesick and lonely, she called Jughead every day and they would talk for hours on end—discussing books they read, movies they watched, and daily life in Riverdale. He kept her amused with his sardonic commentary and dry wit. Her voice was the brightest part of his otherwise dreary days. During their conversations, she often asked about Archie and what he was doing.

At first, he thought nothing of it, the three of them were friends and Archie had never been the best at correspondence. She'd been gone a fortnight when he first recognized the pining lacing her words when she asked after Archie. That was the first day he noticed how difficult it was to take a deep breath. Less than a week later, she giddily admitted that she had feelings for Archie. The dangerous kind, she whispered in an infatuated rush, but she wasn't worried because she was certain Archie was 'the one.' Though Jughead disagreed, he didn't say a word.

That night, his chest had tightened and the pressure hadn't let up since. He felt as though a boa constrictor had wrapped around his chest squeezing his ribs until they creaked and groaned and threaten to collapse and permanently push all the air from his lungs. No one paid attention to him over the summer, so he learned to hide. He sat still and moved slow. He took shallow breaths and ignored the flutter of leaves anytime he managed to take a full breath.

There were theories that hope mitigated the symptoms. If there was an inkling of hope that your beloved might someday return your feelings, the symptoms would slow and then growth would stagnate. He believed that was how he survived the summer with only minimal symptoms. Why it had taken so long for the initial manifestation to occur, since he had loved Betty for as long as he could remember. Betty had never said the words 'I love Archie' out right to him. So, he'd been able to retain the hope, however delusional that hope might be, that maybe once she was home things would be different. They were, but not in the way he had hoped. He'd gotten worse. It left him with two options, hope that Betty would return his affections before it was too late, or remove the growths and stop feeling. The first felt foolhardy, and the latter, untenable. So, he persevered in stoic silence.

If he had his druthers, he would be spending every last moment of his ill-fated life by her side. But watching her pine after Archie when Archie only had eyes for Veronica made the pain in Jughead's chest intensify. Just the thought of her now, sent him into a coughing fit. Perching his laptop on the bench beside him, Jughead grabbed his handkerchief and covered his mouth. Though he regularly washed the cloths, the formally pristine white carried the memory of the rusty red stains. When he finished coughing, he wiped the traces of crimson from his lips and folded the blood and blooms into the center of the cloth. He no longer bothered to examine the evidence of his condition, it didn't change anything. Closing his eyes, Jughead rested his head against the bleacher supports and allowed himself to imagine a world where Betty returned his affections and he had more to offer her than a broken down laptop and a sleeping bag in the janitor's closet.

—

The dance had been a bust.

It took everything Betty had and more not to run out of the school. When they arrived, she thought the gym had been a magical wonderland so full of possibilities. Now, it felt like a cheap, gaudy imitation. All the fairy lights and gauzy materials in the world could not hide the truth. Betty Cooper was a fool. She was broken beyond repair.

A blast of music swelled as the gym doors were pushed open behind her. She attempted to appear innocuous in her flight. She didn't want anyone intruding on her pain. The slap of dress shoes echoed down the hall.

"Betty, wait up!" Archie called.

She dug her nails deep enough into her palms to break skin. Taking a deep breath, Betty stopped, but didn't turn around. This was the only scenario worse than a teacher stopping her.

"What do you want?" Her voice was strangely flat to her ears.

"Are you going to be okay?" Even without turning around, she could picture the concern in his guileless, earnest eyes. He placed a hand on her shoulder. Warmth seeped into her chilled skin.

"I will be Archie." She brushed his hand from her shoulder. Her broken heart wasn't his fault. Not really. She should have realized long before now that they weren't a match. While they might be the perfect couple on paper, they had never been reading from the same book. "I just need some time. Okay?"

Archie stepped around her so they were face to face. He studied her closely for a moment. "You're not going to stop breathing or anything, are you?"

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Betty took a few deep breaths to demonstrate she was fine. Truth was, he had every reason to be concerned, even if he had a simplistic understanding of why. Archie always cared, but he was all heart and no head. It was part of the reason she loved him. "See, I'm fine."

"Okay. Okay." Archie ran his fingers through his hair. "Look, Betty, I'm sorry that I don't love you in that way…" He looked down at his feet and shuffled nervously. "You're like my sister…"

Betty forced a smile, all perfect and pink. The responsible girl everyone depended on to do the right thing. In this case it meant reassuring Archie. The words were bitter as gall on her tongue. Who would comfort her? "It's okay. I'm glad you told me instead of stringing me along. That had to be hard for you."

He smiled like a load had been lifted from his shoulders as she released him from any responsibility or guilt he might have felt. "Oh, yeah. It was. I really am sorry. You know you're my best friend." He cupped her face with his hand and brushed his thumb along her cheek.

"I know." Betty was at her limit. The pain in her palms pinched and she wanted to leave this forced frivolity. She stepped back so his hand fell from her cheek. "And now, you should go back inside and dance with Veronica. Let her know it's okay."

He nodded and hurried back the way he came. His steps were lighter than they had been when he chased her down. Everything in his world was back to normal, while hers balanced precariously on a precipice. Hurrying in the opposite direction of the gym, Betty escaped into the night.

It was only now that she was alone, ensconced in darkness that she allowed the first tears to fall. How could she be so wrong? She scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her hands. They came away streaked with clumps of black mascara. She couldn't go home. Not like this. Even without the ruined makeup job, her mom would notice the traces of tears and be unbearable.

Her mom's words came back to haunt her. Don't fall in love, Elizabeth. It is a far better thing to be comfortable and safe. Passion is messy. It is fleeting as the bloom of a flower. It isn't worth the pain.

Betty inhaled a sharp, short breath. She expected it to catch in her lungs. Maybe a bitter pinch as the seeds took root and began to germinate. And, nothing. Her breathing quickened in shallow pants, but that was more due to her anxiety than anything else. It's not that she wanted the disease—no sane person would—but Archie was her ideal match. She'd been nurturing the crush for so long, that to experience nothing felt like there was something wrong with her.

Aimlessly, Betty wandered about town until she stopped outside of Pop's. The warm red glow of the chocolate shop sign welcomed her. Her feet ached. The shoes pinched her toes and the blisters along the back of her heels had already begun to weep. While the heels had been perfect for the dance, they hadn't been up to the more arduous task of trudging across town. She could rest here—wash her face and calm her nerves before heading home. Pop was always welcoming to the lost souls of Riverdale.

The usually cheerful bells above the door rang a discordant note as she was reminded of how they had heralded the arrival of Veronica. She didn't blame Veronica for her heartbreak. In fact, she liked the new girl very much. Betty had been lacking in female friendship since her sister disappeared over the summer. Still, it hurt to think that Archie would choose Veronica over her.

"Betty?"

Before she could say a world, Betty was wrapped in the comforting arms of Jughead Jones. Her senses were engulfed by the familiar presence of her other best friend. She breathed in the scent of clean laundry and coffee.

"You're freezing." He shrugged out of his red and black plaid flannel and draped it over her shoulders as he ushered her to his booth. The well worn shirt was soft from frequent wear and still carried the warmth of his body heat. She slipped her arms through the sleeves.

Once seated Jughead ordered her a coffee and a shake—the former to warm her up, the latter because it was comfort food. She needed both. He wheezed slightly as though the flurry of activity was a bit too much for him. Which was odd, she'd never known him to struggle.

"Are you okay?" Betty asked.

Jughead shrugged. "I've been better. Besides, isn't that supposed to be my line?"

"You want to talk about it?" Betty hadn't seen much of Jughead since she arrived home from her internship. And to be honest, she missed him—a lot. If she didn't know better, she would think he was trying to avoid her. Which would be weird. Right?

"Nah." He fiddled with his computer for a moment before shutting it down and stowing it in his messenger bag. "Do you want to talk about why you were crying?"

She shook her head and stared down at her hands. The angry red crescents flashed on her pale skin.

"Okay." Jughead followed her gaze to her hands. Gently, he cradled her nearest hand in his and eased back her fingers. "Betts, let's get your hands cleaned up."

With a nod, she scooted out of the booth. She was glad to have an excuse to not talk right now. It was nice to have someone else take charge. As she headed for the women's restroom, Jughead headed for the counter.

Once more alone, but feeling less lonely, Betty wetted several paper towels and tried to wash away as much of the damage to her make-up as possible. She erased the worse of the raccoon like smudges around her eyes and the tear streaked trails down her cheeks. By no means did she look good, but she looked better than she did when she entered the diner. She pulled the pins from her hair and allowed the blonde curls to frame her face.

No longer feeling like a scarecrow sent out to frighten more than the crows, Betty pushed up the over long sleeves of his flannel and carefully washed her hands like Juggie had suggested. When the wounds were clean, she dabbed at them with another paper towel. The barely clotted scabs broke open and fresh blood welled from the wounds. It took every ounce of her willpower and the knowledge that Jughead was waiting for her, to keep Betty from curling her hands back into fists.

By Monday, the whole school would know she was shot down by Archie Andrews. What looks she got that weren't pity would be morbid curiosity—Would Betty Cooper succumb to Hanahaki Disease? Since so little was known about the disease, it held the sway of mystery over everyone. While it was a common enough device to add a layer of angst to novels or movies, it wasn't nearly quite so prolific in actuality. Some said only soulmates could suffer Hanahaki Disease, but that required a belief in soulmates. Others, talked about hormonal imbalances and stressors, but the data about the disease never showed enough consistent data to prove that either. In the end, it remained a mystery. And now, everyone would expect her to be another heartbroken statistic.

There was a knock at the door. "Betts, are you okay?"

"I'm coming," Betty called. She offered the mirror a tentative smile. This one felt more natural than her last. Juggie always managed to know what she needed.

At the booth, Pop's first aid kit had joined their orders. In addition to the coffee and milkshakes, there were two plates of burgers fries. More comfort food. And exactly what she needed. She'd been so nervous before the dance, she'd scarcely eaten and now she was starving. A half-laugh burbled at the back of her throat at the largess of Pop. It was no wonder that Pop's was a second home for so many in Riverdale.

Before digging into the food, Jughead bandaged her hands. He didn't press her to talk, but his silence spoke volumes about his willingness to listen when she was ready to talk. Most of the time he sat with arms crossed, shoulders slouched, his body closed off. But, with her—always with her—he was open. Instead of pulling away, he leaned into her. When she talked, he listened, engaged with her, and valued what she had to say. His hands were gentle and strong. Though he worked steadily on her hands, each touch was a caress.

Slowly as she began to relax, Betty found the story spilling from her lips. She told him everything. The weight on her shoulders lifted as he listened. He never looked on her with pity, nor did he try to usurp her story.

"I'm sorry Betts," he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a half hug. Her head nestled against his shoulder. "Is there anything I can do?"

"I don't know. I just…I feel like a fool."

"No, shh, you're not a fool," he murmured into her hair. His hold on her had changed.

She blinked. Tears cling to her lashes. "Why doesn't he love me? What's wrong with me?"

"There's nothing wrong with you. Archie is the fool." Jughead caught her by the chin and tilted her head so she met his deep blue eyes. "Betty Cooper, you are amazing and wonderful and brilliant. You are unstoppable. Someday Archie Andrews is going to look back and realize he missed out on loving the most amazing girl."

Betty giggled. "I think you're exaggerating, but thanks."

Jughead took a shuddering breath before pulling away from her. He practically doubled over as he coughed into a napkin. She rubbed his back, hoping to help ease the tight muscles along his back as the coughing spell racked his body. When he finished he sat upright and offered her a sheepish half smile.

"Sorry about that," he rasped and sipped at his water.

"Are you okay?" Betty pressed. Though they kept asking each other that question, neither of them were willing to give a whole answer. Which was strange, since they always told each other everything.

"Just a cold, I think. The…uh…trailer gets cold at night. The windows don't seal right. I should probably try some more vitamin C." He wouldn't meet her eyes as he rambled. Instead, he tore a now cold fry into pea sized pieces. "Don't worry about it."

Betty nodded her acquiescence to his request. His home life wasn't easy and he didn't like to talk about it, so she wouldn't push. That's the way it had always been with her Juggie. You waited for him to share, because when he finally did, you knew he trusted you and Jughead Jones did not give his trust easily or freely. And, when he kept secrets, there was nothing you could do to pry them out of him. While that often made getting information from him difficult, it also meant if he was keeping your secret, it was equally secure.

Of course, his reluctance to expound didn't mean she wasn't planning to bring him a thermos of soup on Monday. He always liked it when she baked for him. Not that making soup was the same as baking, but soup seemed a bit more appropriate if he wasn't feeling well. She could also make some cookies. It wasn't like she had any plans for the rest of the weekend and baking helped her de-stress too.

"Have you received any word from Polly?" Though he was clearly trying to change the subject, his was also genuinely asking.

"No," Betty sipped at her shake. Funny, Archie had never asked about her sister. "I'm really worried about her."

"Would you like some help looking for her?" he offered.

"Yes. Yes, I'd like that a lot. Thanks Juggie." For Betty it felt as though the skies had opened up and revealed the sun for the first time in weeks. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed spending time with her other best friend. She'd been so wrapped up in what she felt for Archie and trying to forget everything happening at home, she'd forgotten how much she missed Jughead. And now, it felt like one piece of her world was set right again.

—