Matches ♕ Bughead

♕| Chapter Twelve

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Chapter Twelve: crashing

♕betty♕

IN THIS MOMENT, all is right. It's peaceful, enjoyable, relaxing even just sitting at Pop's Diner with Jughead, as if I have finally reached tranquility. He allows me to see past my stress, anxiety and heated hatred towards Archie, like everything is fine. In the hour that we sit at the booth do I forbid myself from letting my mind drift to the dangerous abyss that is my darkened mind, as I know nothing good will come out of letting myself ponder over this mornings events.

"Thank you, Pop." I smile, as he places our milkshakes in front of us.

"Thanks, Pop." Jughead chimes in, smiling faintly at Pop before he walks away. "Ew, vanilla? Really Betty? That's so boring." He teases, smirking widely.

"Excuse you." I scoff with a laugh. "I'll have you know, it's exceptionally extraordinary." I giggle. "Besides, you don't really get a say considering you got a strawberry milkshake." I point out.

Jughead sits back abruptly in his chair, furrowing his brows together in mock offence. "What's that supposed to mean?" He gapes.

"Nobody gets strawberry milkshakes anymore Jug! Its just a fancier strawberry smoothie!" I laugh, not quite able to finish my sentence as I'm laughing too hard.

Jughead only shakes his head, a wide grin on his face. "At least mine has fruit in it. Makes it healthier." He jokes, sipping the shake through his straw.

"Keep telling yourself that." I laugh, shaking my head at him.

We sit here laughing at one another, but soon after all the giggles and laughter die down, like the smoke has cleared from the fire. All that remains is the hot ash that we are forced to step on, forced to confide with. There's clearly an elephant in the room, but we're both just too stubborn and tired to point it out. It's hard to have a fun time when the world around you keeps shoving you down in the trash.

Jughead clears his throat, casually sitting back in the booth as he studies me. It makes me uncomfortable, but I know that's what he wants. That's his way of getting me to talk. He knows that when I get nervous or uncomfortable, I talk.

Before I have a chance to open my lips, the bell rings from the entrance of the diner, two familiar figures walking through. Archie stands there with his guitar strapped across his back, Ms. Grundy standing by his side with a binder in hand, making it look like they're doing a study session.

"Betts?" Jughead furrows his brows in worry, noticing my change in posture. His back is to the door, so he can't see who just walked in.

When I don't answer, he turns his head around and places his eyes on the pair, who still haven't noticed us yet. They're too busy laughing, sharing love eyes at one another and searching for a booth.