The Smell Before Rain // Jughead Jones

Verse one: Chapter one.

If it makes you less sad, I will die by your hand

The perpetual greyness and glint of the soaked pavement reflected in her eyes, whilst the neon sign painted her pale skin various hues of pinks and blues through the window of the diner.
He saw her, like he saw her everyday for the last three years. She, however, was too lost in her own mind to notice his gaze.
His eyes following her entrance to the abnormally bare diner over the top of his laptop from his usual seat in the back left corner of the room. They're the only two besides Pop in the retro diner, the clock already far past 2am but she takes her usual seat in the darker corner, off to the right, eyes not moving from the table in front of her.
If she were to look up, their eyes would meet and the thought of that excites him.

You see, Jughead always thought of himself as the kind of person that could read all there was to know about someone through their eyes. The eyes are the window to the soul, after all, and Jughead was good at differentiating between a mask and someone's true self.
Hers has eluded him for three years and he's not at all sure how much longer he can allow himself to let that go on before he runs up to her and begs her to notice him too. This manic pixie dream girl that made him reconsider his hatred for the character trope.
Mental illness isn't pretty or romantic, but she made him question everything he ever thought. 

He might not have ever spoken to her before, but he knows he'd let her strangle him if it made her happy.

He almost didn't hear when Pop greeted her by name and what Jughead knows from his many, many nights observing her, was her usual order. Too focused on the cyclone of irrational and completely unnatural (to him, at least) thoughts of her eyes and her soul and the possibility of what he would do to unravel her mystery.

Hope you find out what you are; already know what I am

The first time he uses her name it feels weird coming off his tongue, as if he didn't say it right. It doesn't sound as beautiful as it does on her coming from his mouth. It's almost as if he's too tainted to utter such purity. Like maybe he's not worthy. He wants to try it again. Have a do over. He has to make it perfect for her.
But she's not sure he's even talking to her or someone else with the same name as her, because she's seen this genetically superior, glassy eyed boy around school and she had no idea he even knew she existed let alone her name.
And she was so sure he was dating one of the girls in their class, Betty Cooper. A beautiful girl name for a beautiful girl. Unlike her name, masculine in tone for a girl that was raised to be a tomboy.

It takes him trying again for her to realise that she is the Brady he's referring to. She's the only one in here, or even in Riverdale with that name, so it's got to be her. 

And now he's waving her over and it takes her too long to collect her thoughts, her bag, chicken parmigiana and coke, and make her way over to the boy with the grey whoopie cap and stack of used coffee cups. Too long to be considered coordinated.
She isn't coordinated though and she doesn't want him to know that yet, but she trips on the strap of her bag trying to sit down and nearly spills her coke on his laptop and her food.
He would probably laugh if he didn't think she'd curl into herself again if he did. It's too soon for her to realise he wouldn't be laughing at her. He'd be damned if he destroyed any of the incredible progress he'd already made tonight.

The first time Jug hears her voice he swears he's never heard something so silky and fragile. It sounds as if her voice is so sweet it's sticking to the back of her throat, almost choking her up. But the logical part of his brain tells him it's probably the crippling anxiety that lives in her chest, just as it lives in his. She keeps repeating how sorry she is, stumbling over her words as she stumbled over her feet. Through all of his years of quietly observing her, he's never seen her so uncertain of herself, which is saying something.
He can't help the smile that spreads across his face as she apologises again after he says there's no need.
She's always sorry, that's something he'll soon know better than anything.