A/N: Line break means a change in POV
By the time Jughead got back from Pop's, the other four had already started dinner. Veronica's high pitched voice greeted him when he walked through the door with a loud, screeching, "You did what?"
"Hey, um, what's going on?" He asked when everyone looked up.
"Tell him, Betty," Veronica said, and Jughead frowned. Of all the people Veronica could be angry at, he had never expected Betty to be the recipient. "Or should I?"
"I invited Cheryl to be one of the judges for the burger-off," Betty said, softly, and Jughead saw the others glare at her. He didn't particularly like Cheryl either, but he didn't understand why it was something everyone was so mad about. He especially didn't understand why Archie was so upset with this considering that part of the reason Archie was flourishing at work was that Cheryl was now his boss.
"So? That's good, right? The more the merrier," he said and saw Betty give him a smile of gratitude.
"Usually I would agree. But this is Cheryl Blossom. Betty, do you realise how snooty she's going to be? You know on the day of the party, she literally told me that she needed to get outside because of claustrophobia. Claustro-fucking-phobia. I do not need that woman coming in here and telling me that I'm not living the lavish, spoilt life that she is, okay? And who the fuck is she to come into my house and tell me that it isn't big enough? I mean, the only reason I even called her was because Archie asked. And, after that party, I don't want her within fifty metres of my flat." Veronica finished ranting, her breathing slightly heavy with the weight it had just removed. Jughead was somewhat impressed by how strongly she felt about this. He had heard a lot of Veronica's rants but this was the first time he had seen her this passionate about something.
"Well, it's a good thing you don't want her here," Betty said, after a pause, "because we're having the contest at Thornhill."
"What?" Veronica hissed, her head snapping up as she looked at Betty through narrowed eyes.
"We're having the contest at Thornhill, Ronnie," she repeated, her tone calm but her eyes challenging Veronica to fight her on this.
"No. No, I refuse to go to that hell-hole. Betty, between the two of us, we have had terrible experiences there and I can't see why you would want to go back. I mean, it's literally called Thorn-hill. The name radiates evil, and I am not setting foot anywhere near that monstrosity."
"Fine. The rest of us will go," Betty said without missing a beat. Jughead had to bite back a smile at the nonchalance with which she proposed a non-Veronica plan. Veronica, on the other hand, looked sufficiently flabbergasted that this plan had even occurred to Betty.
"Okay?" Betty posed the question to the others as Jughead took a seat beside her.
"Um, no! That is not okay! At all!" Veronica exclaimed before anyone could respond, much to everyone's relief. The wrath would have been worse had anyone agreed.
"Great! So I'll see you all at Thornhill. Let's say… one o'clock?" Betty said, once again not missing a beat. Veronica seemed dazed at this development and mutely nodded. Betty gave a satisfied smile and clapped her hands together – to Jughead's amusement – before picking up her phone and calling Cheryl to inform her of the plans. Archie took her plate and everyone moved to the kitchen to clean up just as Betty returned from the fire escape.
Jughead, still in the middle of eating his pasta, gave her a smile of acknowledgement.
"Yeah, Cheryl. Okay, great, thanks. No, yeah, wine's fine. Yeah. See you Sunday!" She said rather chirpily before hanging up.
"That was impressive," he said, once she sat down and put her phone away.
"What was?"
"How you dealt with Veronica. I don't think anyone's ever suggested leaving her out of something."
"Occasionally I need to show her that I'm not going to take shit from her. Besides, Cheryl seemed really lonely at the office today."
"Cheryl came to your office?"
"Yeah, and guess who had to show her around? Best assistant Reggie Mantle's ever had, ladies and gentlemen," Betty said, taking a sip of wine.
"Best assistant? Wow, that's harsh," he said, remembering when he had been introduced as older brother to Jellybean's friends. It was her way of ensuring they never saw him as anything more than a background person. And he suspected Reggie was trying to do the same.
"Yeah. Guess who hates their job?"
"You?"
"And we have a winner!" She said, laughing a little. He figured she was still on her high from her victory over Veronica. "But hey, it pays the rent, so who am I to complain?"
"True," he agreed.
"Speaking of jobs, how was your first day, Jughead?"
"It was… hard. I mean, Pop assigned me to the post lunch shift which is the slowest and emptiest the diner is and, even then, I was just barely able to keep up. It was intense," he replied, thinking about how Pop had said spatula three times before Jughead handed him the right utensil. "Pretty sure Pop's eyes were gleaming with tears of disappointment at my ineptitude. Although, on the plus side, he did say my burgers were one of the best he'd ever had."
"Did he now?"
"Yeah. I mean, I'm not saying you should watch your back but… you should probably watch your back," he said with a slight smirk, and Betty laughed.
"That's adorable, Jughead. You know, once, someone decided to get married in Riverdale and wanted Pop to cater because they wanted burgers and his were the best they had ever had. Pop couldn't do it so he asked me to fill in. The couple couldn't even tell the difference," she said, with a shrug, and, for the first time, Jughead felt insecurity pool in his stomach.
"Did they live in Riverdale?"
"No, I think they ate at Pop's some ten years prior to the wedding, when they were visiting Riverdale."
And, just like that, the insecurity was gone.
"Well that hardly counts. I mean, if they forgot what the iconic burgers tasted like, they would have thought anything above average was better than usual."
"You do realise you called my burgers above average without even trying them, don't you?" Betty asked, raising an eyebrow, a smile playing along her lips.
"I don't believing in challenging mediocrity to ensure victory, Betty Cooper," he said, shrugging.
"I know. Imagine having to challenge yourself," she said, shaking her head. Before Jughead could respond, the other three returned, giving him his cue to put away his plate. When he returned, Archie was the only one left and, now that they were free of company, already taking off his shirt. How his flatmate could remove his shirt in the current temperature, Jughead would never understand. And yet, it happened so often, he was used to it. Although, he was still recovering from seeing said flatmate's genitalia.
"Oh shit, they've left?" He asked, rhetorically.
"Yeah, why?" Archie responded, opening the fridge and taking out some close-to-expiration yogurt. "You think I can eat this?"
"Sure. If diarrhea is your thing," Jughead said and saw Archie shrug and pull out a spoon. He rolled his eyes – he had already come to terms with the fact that Archie would probably be the first to go. How did Betty ever have a thing for him? "And, no reason. I just… I wanted to talk to Betty."
"Oh yeah, you guys have gotten pretty close, haven't you?" Archie asked and Jughead felt his guard rising the same way it had when Jellybean had asked him how Toni was a few years ago.
"I wouldn't say we're close. We're just friends."
"That's not what she says," he said, taking a spoon of the yogurt to test it out. "Eh, it's okay," he came to a consensus, and shut the fridge, leaning against the breakfast bar and continuing to eat the yogurt. Jughead, on the other hand, was consumed by thoughts about what Betty had said and how to ask.
"What do you mean? What does she say?" He tried to sound nonchalant – even walked with carefully casual footsteps towards Archie – while asking. Luckily, with a roommate as thick as Archie was, it wasn't hard to sound nonchalant.
"Nothing. She just said that you gave her some advice and she was really happy you did. Stuff like that. I don't know man, especially after Halloween, she seems to like you a lot more than she previously did. Not that she didn't like you but she liked you in a more… I don't know… indifferent way? Anyway, to be fair, it's not that hard to impress Betty. It's one of the good things about her," he said, with a smile. Jughead wasn't sure he was hearing right.
"Archie, are you saying Betty settles?"
"Not settles so much as doesn't have the crazy high expectations she used to have. She's more reasonable now, especially since Polly left."
"Polly? As in her sister – that Polly?"
"Yeah. I guess that was one thing Betty never saw coming. Maybe she assumed her sister was stronger than that or willing to tough it out or something – I don't know. All I know is Polly left and Betty loosened up," he replied, oblivious to the confusion he was causing in Jughead's mind. Jughead had only heard bits and pieces about Polly. He knew that Polly had gotten pregnant in high school and had twins and that she had moved out of Riverdale. He also knew her favourite ice cream because Betty had pointed it out once, deciding to try it for the first time when they went to get ice cream for the others.
"Wait, what do you mean she left?"
"Nobody really knows what happened because Betty never talks about it. All I know is she called me at seven in the morning, crying about Polly's disappearance. It's been, what? Five years since then? Anyway, if you want to know what happened, you should ask her. I mean, she probably won't tell you but can't hurt to ask, right?" Archie said, throwing away the yogurt and washing the spoon quickly. "I think I'm going to call it a night, okay?"
"Yeah, sure, night," Jughead responded, just about registering Archie's final thoughts. He could see a story forming and it was a fascinating one. The only problem was, it had too many holes and the thread was just short of tying it all up. Glancing at the ceiling, he wondered if she would be receptive to an informal interview now.
Can't hurt to ask, right?
"Waiting," Stitch said, backing away.
"For what?"
"Family."
As she had predicted before watching the movie, Betty burst into tears when Stitch said this, the waterworks only increasing when Stitch was told he had no family. What she hadn't predicted was her doorbell ringing. She jumped when it rang and paused the movie on Nani eating cereal, quickly wiping her eyes and nose before going to the door. When she opened it, she was surprised to find Jughead on the other side. But, somehow, he seemed more surprised to see her. It took her a moment to realise that she looked like she had been sobbing (the fact that she had been sobbing was a completely different matter).
"Betty, are you okay?" He asked, the alarm evident in her tone as his brow furrowed.
Thinking back to the movie only made Betty's eyes well up again. She blinked them away furiously.
"I'm fine. What's – what's up?"
"Can I come in?" He asked and Betty glanced at the TV before reluctantly stepping aside to let him in. He walked in and looked at the TV and, just like that, the alarm dissipated from his face and understanding set in, instead.
"Ah. You're watching Lilo and Stitch. That explains it," he said, going and sitting down on the couch.
"I'm assuming you've seen it?" She asked and, to her immense surprise, he shook his head.
"Never. Heard a lot about how it makes everyone cry, though. It was one of the only movies that could make my ex-girlfriend cry, actually."
"Well, unlike your ex, I cry at pretty much everything," she admitted, taking a seat beside him as he chuckled at this comment. "Do you want to watch it?"
"No," his response was so immediate and final, Betty realised that his visit had an agenda. She nodded and, pulling her legs up, raised her eyebrows in question.
"Okay. What's up, then?"
"I… I wanted to ask you something," he said. He said it in a tone that Betty had heard people use before asking someone out or confessing some level of hidden feelings. Instantly she was on edge – she didn't know how she would respond if Jughead actually asked her out. After all, she only had practice turning down people, owing to her being in love with someone else for the longest time. "Well, more like wanted to talk about something… with you."
"Okay… shoot," she said and he looked away to take a deep breath, only making Betty's worry more intense.
"I was wondering if I could talk about your sister… with you," he said and, for the first time ever, Betty wanted to sigh with relief that someone wanted to talk about Polly. Of course, the relief only lasted for about thirty seconds before it was replaced with dread. It also didn't take a genius to know where the inquiry was coming from.
"What did Archie tell you?"
"Literally nothing. All he knows is that she left – which was already arguably more than I knew. I didn't know she ran away. I'm so sorry about that," he said and she could tell he was being sincere. There was something else there too, but she wasn't sure what it was yet and didn't want to ask.
"Yeah, that seems right. We didn't tell anyone the full story. Not even the sheriff. My parents just made Polly out to be this troubled young mother, incapable of handling her children and just mentally unsound enough to want to run away with toddler twins."
"You disagree?"
"This kinda sounds like an interview, Jughead," she said, with a nervous laugh and watched him immediately check himself.
"I'm so sorry. I just… when Archie was talking about your sister and everything, all I could think about was how great a story this was. Oh god, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to say I wanted to profit from your family's grief."
"And yet that's exactly what you said," she said, shaking her head with a smile.
"I'm really sorry, Betty. If you want me to get out, just tell me and I swear I will. It's just a fascinating story and I know you haven't told anyone about it – at least that's what Archie tells me – so if you don't want to tell me, I totally understand. But I also want you to know that, if you do choose to tell me your family secrets, I will take them to my grave, I promise," he said, the former sincerity colouring this mini-speech. Betty looked at him curiously, trying to see what was churning below the surface. To see why he was so bent on learning her story. She had assumed until now that his ex was the extent of his dark past but the way he spoke about Polly told her there was more to it than she was aware of. And yet, it was this 'more' that she didn't know that was slowly wearing her down into trusting him with a story she hadn't even told the people hired to look for her sister.
"To your grave?" She confirmed and saw a smile of comprehension slowly curve his lips.
"If I don't, I give you permission to personally put me there."
"Oh I don't need your permission to do that, Jughead," she said, with a slight laugh, preparing herself for the story she was about to tell.
If the wind wasn't as strong as it had been, Betty wouldn't have noticed when she went to get herself water at five in the morning. But the amount of cool air coming from Polly's slightly cracked doorway was enough to make the door creak on its hinges. Deciding to shut the window so the twins wouldn't freeze, Betty pushed the door open and that's when she saw the rope made of curtains, clothes, and sheets hanging out of the window.
She didn't even register screaming.
All she knew was that her parents were in the room in a second, her mother's legs collapsing beneath her when she saw the empty bed stripped of sheets, the barren cupboard and the lack of her grandchildren. Hal held onto his wife, preventing her from sinking completely to the ground and going to the window to look out.
"Betty, call the Sheriff," he said.
"Dad -"
"Call the station, damn it!" He bellowed before flying past her, down the stairs, and to the driveway. Betty called the station while following him out – Polly had taken the car. The police spent days out in the woods, looking for Polly and reports of her appearance were sent to all stations within a five mile radius of the town. Somehow Polly had managed to evade them all and never came home.
It felt oddly good to tell someone, even if Betty was well aware of the tears streaming down her face. But, in addition to them being tears of memory, they were also tears of relief. It was as if the burden of truth was shifting and was now slightly lighter on her shoulders. Jughead, on the other hand, sat with a deeply furrowed brow, staring at the floor.
"Holy shit, Betty. That sucks," he said and she laughed at the simplicity of his reaction.
"Yeah. Yeah, it does suck," she agreed and saw him crack a slight smile at this. He stared at her for a few more moments before he picked up the remote and resumed the movie. Betty stared at him for a second, wishing she could read the thousands of questions clouding his mind right now but simultaneously glad that she couldn't – she didn't want to be in a position of inability to provide answers. So she leaned back too, turning back to watch the movie. The last scene with Stitch's exit speech came and she heard Jughead sniff loudly, watching him blink furiously as Stitch was allowed to reside on Earth. The credits rolled and Betty switched off the TV, sitting with him in silence for a while.
"Did she ever make contact?" He finally asked and Betty gave a small smile.
"Sporadically, but she did. Always from a blocked number, though. But still. I suppose it was her way of letting me know she was alive and okay. I just wish I could see her once. Just to sort out this mess, you know?" She asked and Jughead nodded. Again, this nod reflected the previous sincerity of his emotion.
"I understand," he said and stood up with an air of finality. Betty stood up too, to see him to the door. "Anyway, I should go now. I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow," Betty agreed and he smiled, making his way to the door. "Jughead," she stopped him at the door, "thank you for asking me to do this. Maybe I did need to talk about it with someone who doesn't know my family at all. I also hope I have given you enough material for your book." He laughed at this and nodded.
"This town has given me more than enough material for my book, at this point. The burger-off alone could be its own chapter," he said, with a laugh.
"You know, Polly taught me how to make the burgers I have become famous for. She stopped eating burgers at some point – switched to salads. But her burgers remained her pride and joy, and she passed her skills down to me," Betty said, smiling at the memories the burger-off brought with it.
Jughead chuckled too and said, "Like I said, I don't enjoy battling mediocrity."
"Of course," she said with a laugh, and he said goodnight again, disappearing down the stairs. Betty stood in her doorway for a moment, staring at the spot where he had left her line of sight.
The burger-off arrived, and - with a grumbling Veronica - the five of them went to Thornhill. Thornhill, although rebuilt, looked exactly the same as it had prior to the fire, with Cheryl's slightly sinister smile still welcoming everyone to the mansion of hell. However, thanks to the agenda and the egos dependent on it, everyone spared little thought to the gothic grandeur of the place. However, the darkness and horror movie-aesthetic didn't go amiss by anyone. Especially when there was a giant, looming portrait of Cheryl and her brother in the main hall, smiling at anyone who dared enter. The tendrils of smoke created by incense candles at the bottom of the portrait didn't help. Betty's footsteps slowed, feeling as if under a microscope. With Jason Blossom's size, she felt like he was watching her every move – somehow blaming her for everything that had happened between him and her sister. She took a step back, away from the portrait, and she crashed into Jughead behind her, feeling him grab her arms to steady her.
"You okay?" He murmured into her ear, his breath moving her hair ever so slightly.
"Yeah, sorry," Betty whispered back, standing tall once again and shooting Jason an obstinate look before continuing to follow Cheryl to the backyard, where the cook-off was being held. Once they came to a stop near the grill, Cheryl turned around, clapping her hands together, a much more genuine smile gracing her lips this time.
"Welcome to the new and improved Thornhill! I brought a fishbowl for the votes to go into and scraps of paper to write whoever you're voting for. The contestants will have to make three burgers each – a cheeseburger, a hamburger, and a turkey burger. They will be judged on various elements of each burger. The four of us will receive scorecards where we can score their burgers and tally up the points at the end of each round. Whoever wins two, or more, out of three rounds gets their name in the bowl. Seem fair?"
"Wow Cheryl, you put a lot of thought into this," Betty said, somewhat impressed at the meticulous planning that went into this. She was also convinced that literally no one would give a shit and the scorecards would remain unused. "Do Jughead and I get to vote?"
"You guys are obviously going to vote for yourselves," Cheryl said, the smile slipping as she gave Betty a look of disbelief. Jughead cleared his throat and, after Cheryl exchanged a glance with him, she reapplied the smile and shook her head. "I mean, of course you guys can vote. Anyway, shall we begin?"
To Betty's surprise, Archie, Veronica, and Kevin seemed to seriously consider using the scorecards and actually wrote things down for the first round. Veronica's mood seemed to improve with each number she wrote down while Archie and Kevin resorted to chewing off the ends of their pencils. She also watched Jughead work out of the corner of her eye and had to do everything she could not to just turn around and watch him because of the fluidity with which he moved around his station. Since she was the only one of the four who would cook, she rarely got to see someone be at ease in a kitchen. More than once she had to remind herself that this was a contest and that Jughead wasn't a zoo animal.
Cheryl held the fishbowl as if it was the Holy Grail and Betty could tell that there was a speech coming. However, it seemed the day was full of surprises: Cheryl chose not to give a speech. Instead, with a great amount of dramatic flair, she said, "The time has come to count the votes."
And so it began.
"Jughead; um… Jughead; Betty! And, um… Eli – oh, Betty, again. Wow this is going to be a tie isn't it?" She said, grinning as she pulled out the next chit, "Betty, again. And… for the last chit… Betty! Betty, congratulations! You won!" She said, folding the paper and dropping it back into the bowl. Betty stood for a few moments in shock before a large grin spread across her face.
"I won!" She exclaimed, and Veronica gave her a tight hug, Kevin and Archie piling on after a moment.
"I always knew you would," Veronica said, grinning at her.
"Guys calm down, she won a burger-off, not a Nobel prize," Jughead said in the background and Betty turned around, giving him a smirk.
"It's okay Jughead. I'm sure you'll win next year," she said, making it an annual tradition on the spot. After all, they had had fun. A smile crept onto Jughead's face as her words registered.
"You want to make humiliation an annual thing, Cooper?"
"As long as it's yours," she replied, with a shrug and he grinned.
"Guys, seriously? Give up the banter – the contest's over," Kevin said and Betty knew instantly that he was the one other than Jughead who had voted for Jughead.
"It's okay, Kev. You can vote for the real winner next year," she said and saw Kevin redden considerably at the accusation. Without a response, Kevin turned to Cheryl and struck up a conversation, beginning with thanking her for hosting the competition. Betty, on the other hand, went to take the bowl and check who voted for whom – other than burgers, remembering handwriting was her pride and joy.
The first chit she opened was Veronica's, with her name scrawled on it. She smiled and opened the next one with her name: Archie's. Kevin's and hers appeared next, revealing Jughead's and her name respectively. The next chit she opened was Cheryl's, with Jughead's name on it. She frowned, wondering if Cheryl misspoke. She opened the last chit and saw Elizabeth scrawled neatly in a line, along the centre of the chit. She stared at the chit for a few seconds, processing this information. After all, Jughead hadn't tried her burger so he had no right to judge that she was the better of the two of them. Glancing back at the man now getting a speech of consolation from Archie, she met his eye and received a sheepish smile from him. Slowly her fist closed, crumpling the note, as she put it into her pocket and returned to join the party.
Jughead walked into his flat, his breath instantly taken away. The living and dining rooms were illuminated with the warm glow of candlelight. The candles were placed on every available surface, shadows of the flame dancing on the walls. He was about to call out for Archie when Betty walked out of Archie's room, holding a covered tray. He frowned at the grin on her face, the previously homely atmosphere morphing into an eerie one. He could even swear that there was a face created on the wall when the light and shadow played with each other.
"Betty, what's going on?" He asked and she just motioned to one end of the round dining table.
"Sit," she instructed, placing the tray in front of what was presumably his chair. He didn't follow her instructions.
"What are you doing here?" He questioned instead and the smile began slipping from her face.
"I said sit, Jughead," she emphasized and, reluctantly, he sat down before the tray. Betty seemed satisfied and, with a flourish, removed the cover, revealing three burgers. Jughead frowned at this, looking up at her, waiting for an explanation. "One hamburger, one turkey burger, and one cheeseburger."
"Betty… what's all this?" He asked again and she sat down, taking something out of her pocket – a crumpled note.
"I just want to make sure I'm worthy of this," she said, letting it fall beside the tray. "And since Archie's finally left on that business trip, I figured this was as good a time as any."
Jughead unfolded the note gingerly. He could tell it was rather old because it all but fell apart in his hands. It was brown around the edges and the pencil writing within was smudged from being crumpled for so long. However, squinting slightly in the suboptimal illumination, he could make out his own handwriting.
Elizabeth.
His eyes widened and he looked back at her – it had been almost a month since the contest. Her smile widened – becoming more sinister – and she nodded at the food. He glanced at the burgers. To her credit, the burgers looked incredible. Even if her way of getting him to eat them was somewhat creepy and unnecessarily grand. However, he supposed, on some level, somewhat-creepy-and-unnecessarily-grand was a side of Betty Cooper he had never seen before. And he would much rather see it under the current circumstances than something actually creepy and grand.
Betty cleared her throat and Jughead took a bite of the hamburger. He was pretty sure that was the first time he had ever had a real orgasm.
"Betty, this is incredible," he moaned through the mouthful of burger, and the sinister smile donning her face was replaced with one of joy. Instantly the shadows returned to dancing on the wall and the warmth seeped back into his bones. Jughead had eaten a lot of burgers in his time, and yet these were the best burgers he had ever had. Maybe it had to do with the way he felt about her, but he decided not to dwell on that and enjoy his burger instead.
The three burgers disappeared in no time, the chewing occasionally interrupted by praises and Jughead leaned back, feeling his food baby. It was a glorious feeling – demolishing three burgers the way he had.
"Dessert?" Betty questioned, and Jughead laughed.
"No, I actually think I'm too full for chocolate, Betty," he said and she gave a laugh, breaking some chocolate off the bar for herself and returning to the table.
"So I'm assuming you liked them then?"
"Liked them? Betty, eating those burgers was an ethereal experience. I swear I saw heaven for a bit after the first bite of that turkey burger – and I don't believe turkey burgers are really burgers. Seriously, Betty. That was incredible. Thank you so much, and now I can say with full confidence that you deserved to win that title," he said and she laughed.
"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. Okay, just for my peace of mind – better or worse than sex?" She asked and he wondered for a few moments.
"Babe, are you coming to bed?" She asked, already starting to unbutton his shirt that she was wearing.
"There's still pasta in the pot," he said, more to himself than to her. As much as he loved leftovers, the uneaten pasta was still hot.
"I can give you something even better in the bedroom," she purred into his ear, sensing his hesitation.
"More cheese?" He asked, only half-joking. She, however, threw her head back and laughed and he laughed too, after a beat. Jughead didn't want to admit that he wanted cheese more, right now.
"More everything," she said, once she regained control and, with a sigh, he followed her. Lying on his back later, he wished he had put more cheese on the pasta.
"Infinitely better," he replied and Betty grinned, reaching for his plate. He allowed her to do so, not sure he would be able to stand after all the food he had eaten. She returned and sat down, propping up her chin on crossed fingers.
"Jughead, can I ask you a question?" She asked and he could sense the hesitation in her tone. To put her at ease, he decided to pull the oldest joke in the book.
"You just did," he said, grinning and her and she rolled her eyes at him.
"This is serious, Juggie. I need to ask you something."
"Okay, shoot."
"Why did you vote for me?" She asked, and he paused. When he had written down her name, it hadn't occurred to him that it might be weird. It was clear which of the two of them needed the win more and so he had written her name, unthinkingly. In fact, he hadn't even hesitated – almost writing his name and then writing hers. He put the pencil to the paper and Elizabeth appeared on the paper before him. So he stuck with that.
"I… don't know," he said, not wanting to construe what he did as an act of pity, or worse, of insult.
"Was it because of what I told you? About Polly?" She asked and he met her eyes. Her eyes were an even richer green in the candlelight as they probed him with questions about the vote. He couldn't lie to her and so found himself nodding, averting his gaze in shame.
"I hope you don't take it as an insult. It's just… I thought you could use a win," he admitted and watched her stare hard at a slightly darker spot on the dining table. When she stayed quiet a couple of moments, he began to worry. "I hope you aren't too mad, Betts," he said, trying to ease the tension and it was as if she was realising he was there. She glanced up at him with mild surprise, studying his face for a few moments before giving him a small smile and sending a wave of relief washing over him.
"I'm not mad, Jughead. You're right – I did need a win. And hey, apparently it was well deserved," she said, with a small smile, eliciting a chuckle from him.
"It was very well deserved," he said, and she smiled at him for a moment before pushing back her chair and standing up to leave.
"I should go," she announced, and he nodded, following her to the door. Without meaning to, he was standing close behind her, ready to open the door for her, when she turned around, colliding with him. "I'm so sorry!" She exclaimed and he could see the light blush colouring her cheeks as she quickly stepped back, away from him. "I just forgot my bag."
"Right," he said, side-stepping to give her space. Retrieving her bag, she didn't meet his eye, instead hurrying out the door, mumbling goodbye on her way out.
He stared at the now-empty flat. It was weird – colder, now that he was alone. Betty had washed the plate used for the burgers and replaced the tray – it was as if she had never come by. As if she had never collided with him and fit perfectly like a puzzle piece against him. Absentmindedly, he reached to turn on the light before checking himself and allowing the candles to continue spreading their glow. This was what she had wanted so this is how it was going to be. He made it a point to blow them out before bed. A bed filled with dreams of someone lying beside him with her head on his chest and her blonde hair spread out, staring at the sky, laying on grass in the middle of nowhere, with no baggage to worry about.
