5 Years On | Bughead

Four

There was only one time Jughead had ever really yelled at her - and she had deserved it.

She had been in her darkened bedroom alone, sitting in front of her vanity mirror. She'd been doing a lot of that lately – gazing at herself, wondering why she was so evil – and passively hating herself for it.

"Honey," her mom called to her softly from the door. "Jughead's here to see you."

She gave a slight dip of her head in assent, but said nothing. He came up behind her and met her eyes through the reflection of the mirror.

"Betty," Jughead said with tension running through his entire body. He was as tight as a wire. "Why?"

He sounded broken, shattered. She had no answer for him. There was no why.

"I don't know."

"'I don't know?' That's all you have to say? Hot Dog is dead! Didn't you care about him? Don't you care about ME?"

"I guess not," she answered vacantly.

"You know," Jughead's voice rose a few decibels. "I've had enough of this. You've iced me out all year. And for no reason apparently."

She just stared at him.

"And now you've killed my dog," his voice broke. "And you don't even care!"

"Guess not," she answered again.

"You know, I've been trying here, Betty - trying so hard with you - but now I'm done!" he yelled. "You killed my dog. I'm fucking done!"

Then he charged out of the room, slamming the door.

She leaned forward and addressed herself in the mirror, "See how evil you are, Betty?"

She woke to a sober Jughead. He was bringing her some tea and toast - her favorite breakfast. He remembered.

"What do you see in him anyway? In Gregg?"

I need to be punished, Betty thought. After what I did to you, I need to suffer for the rest of my life.

She found she couldn't answer him.

"You came here to say goodbye, Betty?" He looked perplexed and hurt at the same time. "What does that even mean? Why are you really here? You left me ages ago."

"You left me," she stubbornly insisted.

"A technicality. You stopped loving me, caring about me, for more than an entire school year before I finally got the picture and gave up on you."

"I didn't –"

"You didn't what, Betty?"

"I didn't stop loving you," she said in a quiet voice.

He stood there, his mouth agape for a minute. What? He asked her very quietly, almost a whisper, "What are you trying to say?"

"Don't you see, Jughead?" she looked up at him, tears swimming in her eyes. "That's why I'm here. Gregg insists I find a way to let go of you – of us – or else he refuses to marry me."

Her eyes widened in horror as she realized she had said too much – way too much – and got up and ran to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

She was having trouble breathing and gripped the white porcelain of the bowl beneath her until her knuckles went white. Her heart was pounding through her chest. She felt like she was going to die.

She looked up into the mirror and saw her flushed face - her flushed frightened face. She was no longer dead inside and it was terrifying. The woman looking back at her was not the girl who had broken Jughead's heart back in high school. No, her raw emotions were boiling to the surface with incredible intensity and she hadn't been used to feeling them for so long.

"Betty?" Jughead knocked softly on the other side of the door. "Please come out and talk to me."

She looked back at the door, hesitating. She couldn't bear to reject him again - not even in the slightest way - she needed to face him. At the very least he deserved to know why she had hurt him all those years ago.

She opened the door and stared up at him, gulping. His emotions were so clearly exposed on his face. Raw and open. It was all too much. When their eyes connected, it made her swoon. Literally.

Jughead grasped onto her just in time to break her fall as she slumped to the floor.

He was tracing a finger over the inside of one of her palms when she came to, fascinated by the fact that her scars were gone. He was relieved that at least she had healed in that way. But given all that had happened their senior year, before she was whisked away to college, it was not what he had expected.

"Betty?" he said softly and started stroking her hair as she awakened. He helped her to sit up when she was ready. "I thought I lost you there."

Betty laughed lightly. "No, you can't get rid of me that easily. Not this time, Jones."

He laughed a little with her, but it wasn't really a joke. He knew that she was talking about their break-up. He thought he had wanted to talk about it, but suddenly found himself quite nervous. No wonder it was called 'liquid courage.' When he had been drunk yesterday, he had kept hounding her for the truth. But now, in stark sobriety, he was scared – and pretty sure he didn't want to know. So, he deflected.

"Hey, Betty?"

"Yeah?"

"I noticed, um . . ." he lifted up one of her hands and softly ran his fingers over her palm. "You don't seem to have any scars anymore."

"Yeah," Betty looked down as if thinking carefully about what to say next. "I replaced that habit with alcohol and numbness for a while. And then I just . . . stopped."

She cleared her throat, still not touching the subject of their break-up either. It seemed like she also may not be ready to talk about it just yet. He was glad.

"So, I understand the alcohol, Juggie and I'm not judging you – really I'm not. I just know that you're hurting." She paused and looked at him with clear eyes. "I was."

He was definitely not ready to talk about THAT.

They sat in a heavy silence together on the bathroom floor for quite a long time.