She had been there.

For a second, but only a second, Elizabeth Cooper, known to those who loved her the most as simply Betty, he had only ever used her given name when he wanted to get on her nerves, and it had worked every single time, had been in his sight.

It wasn't the first time he had seen her, not that she would have known that, though it was the first time she had consciously seen him, and what annoyed him the most, other than Archie being there to 'save the day', as his former best friend saw it, was that he hadn't been able to gauge her reaction.

Once, he had been able to read Betty like an open book.

The perfect girl next door had always worn her heart on her sleeve, especially when it came to the crush she'd developed in the fourth grade, the same crush that the red headed boy had somehow been so oblivious to, and Jughead had hated him for that at times, for unknowingly breaking her fragile heart again and again.

Archie Andrews was the closest thing Jughead ever had to a brother, at least, he had been, until their falling out a few weeks into their freshman year. by the second semester, Jughead had opted to transfer to Southside High, where he could be around more people like him, by the following summer, he had become a full blooded member of the Serpents, and the next time he saw Archie again, he was sitting at their old booth in Pop's, Betty and the rest of their new friends surrounding him.

At first glance, they were still Archie and Betty, the aspiring musician and the girl who wanted to be a writer when she grew up, but as he got closer, he had never actually entered the diner, because though he would never admit it, it had nearly killed him to see the only two people he had ever truly let all the way in, he could see a smugness in Archie that had not been there previously, laughing loudly at some raunchy joke Reggie had probably told, and then there was Betty, sweet, innocent Betty Cooper, wearing a shade of lipstick that mirrored Cheryl Blossom's, her mouth tugged upward into an unfamiliar smile.

They were no longer the Archie Andrews and Betty Cooper he had known and loved.

And he wasn't Jughead anymore, at least not the one they had grown up with, the one they had shared countless movie nights with, always a classic at his or Betty's insistence.

The inevitable had happened; Riverdale's social war had finally pulled them apart.

And there was nothing anyone could have done to stop it.

He didn't blame Archie for playing football, or Betty for becoming a cheerleader, or Kevin, for becoming the actor they had all known he was destined to be.

And yet, they blamed him for accepting his own fate, to become a Serpent.

He had seen Archie and Betty out and about on more than one occasion during their years apart, their band of friends always within earshot, and though Betty had never noticed him, too caught up in whatever conversation she had been engrossed in, Archie had often been paying attention, fixing Jughead with an intense stare that he could never quite place.

Sometimes, he thought it was irritation, or a superiority, as if his former friend was trying to taunt him, telling h thought that maybe he could see a hint of sadness, or regret, but it would disappear just as quickly every single that he was the golden boy of Riverdale, that he had gotten everything Jughead had ever dreamed of, including a certain blonde haired, blue eyed girl, telling him that he always had been, and always would be the better man.

Other times, he thought maybe he saw a flash of sadness, or regret, but it would disappear just as quickly, like it had never been there at all.

"Betty." He heard Archie bark, catching hold of her arm.

Betty didn't look away from him, but Archie still managed to pull her from the booth without much effort, his fingers locking around her wrist. They exchanged a few words, but Archie seemed to be the victorious one, for Betty drooped her gaze, effectively cutting off the longest moment they'd had in three years.

She followed Archie outside, not looking up again, even as she slid into the passenger's seat of Archie's old classic. He'd heard from his own father that Mr. Andrews and Archie had spent the entire summer between sophomore and junior year rebuilding. The work showed proudly.

Jughead felt a moment of pride for his former friend. Archie always had been good at fixing things, other than their broken friendship, that was.

"You're got it bad." Toni teased, as he dropped down into the seat beside her.

"Shut up." Jughead warned.

Sweet Pea chuckled. "Her name's Betty, right? She's cute. A little prissy, but cute."

"Shut up."

Jughead's anger didn't seem to faze him.

"Are you ever going to tell her?" He demanded.

Juggie?

Jughead pushed the memory away quickly.

"Jones?" Fangs asked.

His lips formed a thin line. "No."

He couldn't.

He wouldn't.