Four hours! Four endlessly annoying hours Jughead has spent arguing with himself. He has no idea what he should feel or even think of Betty. He'd initially thought her unbearable. A teacher's pet type that was sure to ruin any chance he had at finishing school. Then, she'd thrown him for a loop with her random act of kindness, bringing him a lunch and for a moment, he'd almost liked her. The most confusing of all is how badly he had wanted to kiss her Friday evening, and even this morning before he'd seen her leave principal Weatherbee's office. He wants to believe that she really backed out of being Weatherbee's informant, but what reason does he have to trust her? Then again, what reason does he have not to?

Unable to deal with the endless contemplations of his mind any longer, Jughead decides to visit the Wyrm. Maybe all he needs is a stiff drink.

"You look like shit," Sweet pea laughs as Jughead takes a seat at the bar.

"And you look like an asshole," he retorts, huffing a disgruntled laugh.

"Fuck's got your panties in a bunch," sweet Pea questions before tossing back the shot set down in front of him. Jughead signals to the bartender for two more, immediately downing them both before Sweet Pea has a chance to grab one. With a heavy sigh, he swipes his hand over his face and leans on his elbows atop the bar.

"There's this girl at Riverdale-"

"Did you fuck her," Sweet Pea interrupts with far too much enthusiasm.

"What? No," he replies with a glare, "she's- I don't even know what to think of her. I can't decide if she's as stuck up as she looks or not."

"Ok? What's it matter," Sweet Pea asks, cocking a brow.

Jughead sighs loudly, "I don't know! I think I might like her. A little bit. Maybe," he shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back in his barstool.

"I'm not seeing the problem here. Why don't you just fuck her," Sweet Pea suggests with a shrug before signaling for two more shots.

"It's not like that," Jughead clips, "she's just-" he growls out of frustration and slams his fist down on the bar, rattling their newly arrived shot glasses.

Sweet Pea gulps his shot down, slamming it down onto the bar once it's emptied, "You wanna fuck some shit up," he suggests in a low, mischievous tone.

Keen on the idea, Jughead agrees with an equally menacing smirk, tossing his shot back before following Sweet Pea out.

Feeling pretty good and a bit cocky after their shots at the Wyrm, Jughead and Sweet Pea make the short walk to the shifty arcade down the street. Gaming's not exactly their kind of fun, but messing with the crew that seems to rule the place at the late hour is exactly the kind of playing their looking to do. Not even bothering with subtleties, Sweet Pea makes a beeline for the short, blonde haired guy leaning against the ticket counter. Jughead silently eggs him on before Sweet Pea casually kicks the guys supporting leg out from under him. In seconds, they find themselves in a full on brawl with the six ragged looking guys that had been previously engaged in cheap arcade games. Jughead laughs as he takes a punch to the gut, before knocking a skinny, gap toothed weirdo out cold with an elbow to the jaw.

In the end, their odds of six against two play out just as anyone could have expected. Sweet Pea and Jughead both find themselves thrown to the ground outside the arcade, bloodied and bruised, only to be spat on by each standing member of their crew. Having won, the arcade rats returned to their evening plans as though they hadn't just been jumped for no reason, leaving Jughead and Sweet Pea to peel themselves off the pavement. The two laugh over ridiculous banter as they stumble back to the Wyrm, where they finish off their night with more drinks.

After Jughead's disappearance at lunch yesterday, Betty came to school determined to make things right with him. Unfortunately, Jughead never showed up. All day, Betty has been running through her mind all the possible reasons he would go to such an extent to avoid her. He was obviously upset with her, but she had hoped that after he'd had time to think, he would have realized that she was telling him the truth. Clearly she was wrong.

Jughead groans at the rhythmic throbbing of his head that seems to match the incessant pounding on the front door of his dad's trailer.

"I'm coming," he grumbles to himself as he drags his aching body out of bed and stumbles into the kitchen. The pounding continues as he twists the knob, only ceasing once it's been thrown open. He peers through squinted eyes at the intense white light of an overcast sky, glaring down at the small figure on his front stoop. With a gasp, she reaches up to touch his black and blue cheek. Jughead shrugs her off quickly after realizing who she is.

"The fuck do you want," he grits, leaning against the doorframe to hold himself upright.

"I see why you didn't bother showing up today. You look like shit," Betty scolds with an unimpressed shake of her head.

"Doubt I look half as bad as I feel," he laughs to himself, still a bit tipsy from last night's booze binge.

Betty shoves past him, nearly knocking him over as he wobbles in the doorway.

"Can I come in? No? Alright, I'll come in anyways," he mocks to himself as he closes the door.

"So this is your dad's trailer," Betty says casually as she takes a look around.

"Just shut up, ok? I don't need some snobby northie stuffing her nose up at something I can't do shit about," he grits as he drops down onto the dusty couch adjacent the kitchen.

"Jughead, I wasn't-"

"Why are you here," he grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest and swallowing hard at the liquor threatening to make an appearance.

"Well," she says softly as she makes the short stride to the living room. Jughead watches her carefully as she settles beside him without even a moment of hesitation for the couch that has seen much better days. "I came here to yell at you-"

"I didnt do shit," he retorts, regretting the sudden tension of his stomach.

"But," she holds up her hand in pause, "I want to apologize instead."

Jughead cocks a suspicious brow, but settles in for her apology anyways.

"I should have never agreed to spy on you in the first place. It's a complete invasion of privacy and entirely inappropriate."

Jughead startles slightly with the touch of her hand on his knee, shifting uncomfortably under her sudden attentive gaze.

"I swear to you, I didn't tell him anything," she promises with the most hopeful look he's ever seen in her eyes.

Feeling strange under her watchful gaze, Jughead stands abruptly, catching himself on the wall as the room spins from his quick movement. Betty hurries to stabilize him with a hand under his elbow and for a split second, he wants her to keep touching him.

"I'm fine," he grumbles as he shakes her off.

"Let me help you," she pleads, trying her best not to laugh when he whacks his head on a forgotten cupboard door as he rounds the corner into the kitchen.

"Just go home Betty. I've been taking care of myself my whole life, I don't need you or anyone else's," he clips before shutting himself inside the bathroom.

Betty ignores his pride fueled declaration and takes a seat at the kitchen table. She shakes her head as she listens to the unpleasant retching of Jughead emptying the contents of his stomach. The pained groans between his violent episodes of vomiting are absolutely pitiful and she can't help but wonder why he'd chosen to make himself so sick over their argument.

"Jesus," Jughead startles as he exits the bathroom, wiping his mouth with the bottom of his shirt. "I thought I told you to leave," he grumbles, hurrying down the hall to change his shirt. He's uncertain as to why, but he's suddenly embarrassed that he's still wearing the same clothes he'd gone to school in yesterday.

"What did you do last night," Betty wonders in sheer disbelief of his current condition as she follows him into his bedroom. Jughead pauses to stop her at the door, scowling before shutting it in her face. "Did you get beat up," she yells through door.

Ignoring her entirely, Jughead grumbles to himself as he quickly swaps his shirt and slaps some deodorant on. With a brief look in the mirror, he cringes at the deep shade of purple beneath his eye before turning his room upside down in search of his beanie.

"Why do you always wear that hat," Betty questions as he emerges from his room with it suddenly present on his head. She tries to get a peek inside but he pulls the door closed before she has a chance.

"Why do you ask so many questions," he complains, pushing past her to get to the fridge. He searches aimlessly for nothing in particular, in hopes that Betty will leave upon his obvious ignoring of her.

"You know there's nothing in there right-"

"What do you want from me," he clips, slamming the refrigerator door as he turns to glare at her.

"I want to start over," she tells him with a gentle smile.

"Start over? Betty," he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, "we're not friends."

"We could be."

No. We can't," he declares, crossing his arms over his chest. "People like you aren't friends with people like me."

"What's that supposed to mean," she retorts, crossing her arms in defense.

"It means exactly what I said. Pretty little blonde girls like you shouldn't be hanging around delinquent guys like me," he argues, gesturing between them with a deep set scowl across his brow.

"You think I'm pretty," she questions, barely above a whisper as she glances up at him from beneath her lashes.

Jughead sighs, palming his face. "It doesn't matter what I think of you. Just go home Betty," he pleads softly, feeling a sense of defeat under her shiny emerald gaze.

Betty makes her way slowly to the door as she nods.

He can't bring himself to look at her for fear that he'll change his mind upon witnessing the sad puppy dog look on her face.

"Jug," she calls as she pauses in the doorway.

His heart clenches at the nickname. He so badly wants to let her in, but he just can't.

"What," he replies as void of emotion as he can manage while keeping his gaze fixed on his feet.

"You don't have to be alone."

With the front door's latch, Jughead slumps to the floor, feeling like he's been kicked in the chest. Being alone is what he's good at, it's all he's ever known, and yet, he craves to be near her. He could have been, had he not chosen to be such a dick. With a disgruntled growl, Jughead forces himself to stand and rushes for the door.

"Betty," he hollers from his front steps. With a startled jump, Betty turns to face him from where she'd only made it a mere fifty feet from his trailer. "Get in here," he clips, rolling his eyes in disbelief of his own decision.

Betty moves cautiously, which is understandable considering he had just kicked her out, but it pains him no less. He decides here and now that he never wants to be the cause of her feelings being hurt again, if he can help it.

"I thought you- oh," she mutters in confusion as Jughead wraps his arms around her in a tight hug. She pats his back awkwardly, entirely unsure of what's going on as his hold on her tightens further.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles into her hair.

"For what," she wonders, laughing nervously as he pulls away.

"I was mean to you," he mumbles, looking guilty as he rubs the back of his neck.

"It's ok," she shrugs, following him a bit hesitantly inside.

"It's not, but thanks for saying it anyways," he shrugs as he takes a seat on the couch. Betty sits down beside him, leaving a bit of space between them this time.

Jughead frowns at her uneasiness, the uncertainty he's forced her to feel. "Betty, I'm not good at this."

"At what," she questions, worrying her bottom lip.

"This," he gestures between them in reference to their shared company. "Why do you want to be here so badly?"

Betty grins softly. "It's not obvious?"

Jughead shrugs, having no idea what reason she could possibly have to want to spend her time hanging around with him in his dumpy trailer. Without another word, Betty leans over and presses a feather light kiss to his cheek. Jughead only stares in response, entirely shocked by her sudden affection.

"Why," he questions almost silently, unable to meet her gaze.

"Because you deserve to know that I like you," she replies, grinning down at her lap.

"You what," he questions in surprise, shifting back from her slightly. He immediately kicks himself for his response as the smile fades from her lips. "Betty, I-"

"No, it's ok," she interrupts, getting up for the door.

"Betty," he calls, failing to stand before the door closes behind her. With a deep chested growl, Jughead slumps back down onto the couch, fisting the crowned rim of his beanie and tugging it over his eyes. He spends the remainder of his evening in a similar fashion, wondering what the hell is wrong with him.