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A few days after Polly’s body is discovered, Veronica invites Betty out for drinks at the Wyrm.
“Everybody will be there. We want to get you out of that house of yours.”
So, she comes. She sits between Jughead and Veronica, and Fangs fixes her a drink on the house. Reggie, Archie, Kevin, Toni, Cheryl, and even Tabitha are all there too. They offer their condolences, and it’s evident they’re all there because they’re concerned about her.
The table asks how she is, then Jughead asks how Alice is.
It’s so like him, she thinks, for him to ask about her mom - to care about the other people in her life. After everything, he knows how her mom can be more than most sitting at the table. Nostalgia floods her system for a moment, and it almost brings her to tears thinking about the life she used to have.
The truth is that Alice is not good. Not at all. She tells Jughead that, and she adds that her mom is listening to a musical record on repeat - a musical that eerily depicts her familial situation down to a tee.
As she opens up, Betty begins to feel like the alcohol content in her glass isn’t strong enough. Fangs gets her another drink, and her tab begins.
Toni and Tabitha leave around the same time - Tabitha has to get back to Pop’s and Toni goes home to Anthony (Fangs is working a shift, so he stays). Reggie offers to drive Kevin home, and Cheryl leaves shortly after them.
Betty orders a third drink, and it’s almost enough to make her feel numb.
Archie and Veronica leave a few minutes later. It’s a relief when Veronica hugs her after so long that it almost feels like she doesn’t deserve it.
And then Jughead’s the only one left when Fangs goes back to finish his shift at the bar.
“One more round, Fangs,” Betty tells him.
“You got it, Coop.”
Jughead looks at her, swirling his straw around his glass of ice water.
“If you don’t stop I can’t let you drive home, Betty,” Jughead says.
“Home is a nightmare,” Betty grumbles. “My entire life at this point is one giant nightmare.”
“I’m sure it’s not.”
“You don’t know anything, then,” Betty says as Fangs sets down her drink.
As she reaches for her fourth round, Jughead swipes the glass from under her fingertips.
“What the hell, Jughead? Give it back.”
“No,” Jughead says. “This is unhealthy. I won’t let you go down this rabbit hole.”
“You don’t care,” she replies. “You still hate me.”
“No, I don’t. Do you really believe that?”
“Why shouldn’t I? It’s not like I don’t deserve it after everything I did.”
Jughead sighs. “I still don’t hate you. I can’t bring myself to. Not like this.”
“Don’t lie to yourself, Jughead.”
“This really isn’t the time, nor the place, to talk about these things,” Jughead says sternly. “You’re masking whatever pain you’ve got and you’re throwing it on me. Why don’t we talk about your sister?”
“Why?”
“Because we both know how bad for you it is when you keep everything bottled up,” he states.
Betty begins to feel her eyes water. It’s not fair that he knows exactly how to get underneath her facade and poke at her emotions.
Refusing to break down in the middle of the Wyrm like this, Betty gets up, grabs her jacket, and rushes up the stairs. She prays she can get out the front door before either her tears win or Jughead catches up to her.
As soon as the cool night air hits her skin, Betty’s tears slide freely down her cheeks. Jughead’s not too far behind her because a few seconds after she steps outside, she hears the door’s bell ring.
“Betty, wait.”
She ignores Jughead, continuing to walk away. She doesn’t know where she wants to go, but she knows that if Jughead stays with her she’s going to spill her guts out to him. He always manages to open her emotional floodgates.
“Betty!” He shouts, running up to her and grabbing her shoulder. She stops when he touches her. Betty has never been immune to his gentle hands. “Stop. Don’t run away.” Jughead turns her around, and Betty watches his facial expression change when he sees her tears. “Don’t run from it, Betts.”
She looks away from him as several more tears betray her.
“Let’s go somewhere else,” he suggests. “Give me your car keys.”
“I’ll drive.”
“No,” Jughead refuses. “I won’t let you. Give me your keys.”
She finally hands over her keys to him. Before they walk over to her car, Jughead takes her coat and pulls it over her shoulders. Once he’s satisfied, he takes Betty’s wrist and leads her to her car. He opens her door for her to get in, then he drives them through town.
Betty doesn’t ask where they’re going; she doesn’t really care.
They pull into Fox Forest and Betty knows exactly where they’re going. Jughead puts the car in park, then comes around to open her door for her.
He leads them to the manhole cover that serves as the entrance to the bunker, letting Betty go down first. He follows behind her and shuts the lid tight.
“Sit,” he instructs, pointing to the cot against the wall. Betty rolls her eyes before doing what he says.
To her surprise, Jughead pulls out a bottle of whiskey and two cups.
“I have a feeling this conversation won’t be so pleasant,” he tells Betty, sitting beside her.
Jughead pours each of them a shot, and they take it together. The alcohol burns as it runs down Betty’s throat, but she doesn’t care.
“I’m sorry we were too late,” Jughead says.
“I should have done more,” Betty replies, staring into the bottom of her cup. “I should have turned the place over when you first took me there.”
“There isn’t anything you could have done—“
“And that’s the fucking problem, Jughead,” she interrupts, frustrated. “Let’s say I did do everything that I could have, and I still couldn’t save Polly. Even my best wasn’t enough. Wouldn’t that make you want to fling yourself into the abyss?”
Betty holds her empty cup out to Jughead. After a moment, he surprisingly pours her another round. She shoots it back as he pours another for himself.
“We fought before she disappeared,” she admits. “I don’t even remember what it was about. It was stupid. I was an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot.”
“It sure feels like it right now,” Betty adds. “I trained with the FBI for months and when it came down to it I couldn’t do the one thing I should have been able to do - solve a case before someone got hurt.” She swallows harshly. “Several people got hurt, all because I couldn’t see the answers right in front of me.”
“To be fair, we were lied to.”
“To be fair, I’ve been trained in lie detecting,” Betty snaps. “I should have been able to catch onto it, I should have--”
“It was out of your hands, Betty.”
“But it wasn’t!” she shouts, her anger showing on her sleeve. “If we had upended that fucking scrap yard we could have found her earlier and she’d be alive!”
Even in her self-destructive rage, Jughead doesn’t budge. He watches her rave, sorrow filling his eyes. He must think she’s insane.
“And maybe there was nothing I could have done, but… there had to have been something that could have made a difference,” Betty continues. “Maybe then my mom wouldn’t blame me for what happened!” She can feel Jughead’s bewildered stare on her. “Maybe… I wouldn’t blame myself…”
This place they once shared, her emotions bursting at the seams, the alcohol, and him - they all push her to the edge. Everything inside Betty boils and froths, and then she feels everything reach a tipping point - she’s about to overflow.
“It’s not your fault, Betty,” Jughead says, placing one of his hands on top of hers. “I know… I know Polly’s thankful that you did everything you could.”
His few words are all it takes. The dam breaks, and she sobs. Once she lets one go, she loses all control. All of a sudden she’s crying and she can’t stop herself. It almost feels good to let it out. She cries so hard that she barely processes Jughead taking her cup from her and wrapping her in his arms.
Betty’s not surprised it takes so little from Jughead to get her to be vulnerable. It was always like this with him when they were in high school.
Her arms wrap around him, like it’s a default setting for her. Jughead just holds on harder as Betty’s tears soak his shirt.
“I’m so sorry, Betty,” he whispers into her hair as she cries into his shoulder. “You don’t deserve any of this.”
Betty can’t respond, she’s too suffocated by her own sobbing.
She cries, and cries until all she can do is shake and sniffle. Betty wishes she could make more tears to let go of, but it’s been a while since she drank any water.
It’s then that Betty realizes the way Jughead’s cradling the back of her head in his hand. She feels his chest shake once, twice. When Betty pulls out of the embrace, she sees that Jughead’s shed a few tears, too.
“… Jug?”
“I never told you this, but… I’ve never been good at hearing you cry,” he mutters, one stray tear rolling down his cheek. “Life is so unfair to you, Betty Cooper.”
“If only you knew,” she mutters, looking away. Jughead turns her chin back so she’s facing him again.
“What… what do you mean?”
Betty sighs, trying to muster the words.
“Betty, what happened?”
She shakes her head. “It’s too painful.”
Jughead is visibly horrified by her response. There hasn’t ever been an occasion where she couldn’t cry on his shoulder about anything. Betty’s heart drops in her chest.
“Betty,” he whispers, his eyes wide. “I—“
His facial expressions alone bring out the words.
“There was that case I had to skip your book launch for.” Jughead nods. “The Trash Bag Killer. I fucked it up.”
“What do you mean?”
“He got me,” she tells him. “He got me and threw me into a hole in the ground,” Betty continues. “I was stuck there for two weeks before I was rescued.”
Jughead’s jaw drops and trembles.
“And the last you heard from me was that stupid voicemail,” he mutters, angry with himself. “You could have died and you would have died thinking I hated you.”
Jughead turns away, unable to look at her.
It’s then that Betty takes his face in her hands and pulls him back to look at her again.
“I almost died wanting to make it up to you,” she whispers. “I almost died thinking that… you deserved better from me. I almost died without having an opportunity to really and truly apologize for all the shit I did to you.” Betty pauses.
“I’m sorry, Jug. I’m so, so sorry for everything I did. I betrayed you, and I hurt you, and I—“
Jughead interrupts her by sealing his lips against hers. With one of his hands cupping the back of her head and the other holding the side of her neck, Betty feels like she’s floating.
She’s missed this - she’s missed him. The warmth he radiates, the softness of his lips, the pure comfort she feels from being here, being so close to him. It’s been the longest seven years of her life.
When Jughead pulls away, Betty nearly goes in for another kiss before she manages to stop herself. They both freeze, and Betty notices Jughead’s beautiful blue eyes and how wonder-struck he looks.
“I forgave you for those things a long time ago.” Jughead brushes his nose against hers and runs her fingers through her hair at the back of her head. ”We’ve wasted so much time already.” Betty nods, her eyes still locked onto his. “I don’t want to waste any more, Betts.”
“Me neither,” she replies breathlessly, diving right back into him. This time she clutches him even closer.
They don’t go further than soft kisses. It doesn’t feel right to go further yet - Betty’s emotional state is fried, and they’re both marginally intoxicated.
They sit together on the cot, their arms around each other and Betty’s head on Jughead’s shoulder.
“I want to take this slow,” he tells her. “But I want to be here for you. Always. For everything.”
“Thank you, Jug,” Betty replies. “Will you come home with me? I need to go take care of my mom, make sure she’s okay.”
“Of course.”
“Once I get her in bed… will you stay with me until I fall asleep?” Betty asks.
“For you?” Jughead replies. “For you, I’ll stay all night.” He presses a kiss to the top of her head and laces their fingers together.
fin