What Fools These Mortals Be {Bughead Fanfiction}

And Tender Me

"You spend your passion on a misprised mood:

I am not guilty of Lysander's blood;

Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell."

Jughead was starting to get it. Betty could tell and it was hard not to show how pleased that made her. He was now performing the lines and was no longer just reading words from the page but instead was feeling them- living them. He was invoking the strength and confidence that she imagined Demetrius would have and she had to admit that it suited him. Not that she'd tell him that..

"I pray thee, tell me then that he is well." She was reading Hermia's lines for him in order to give him something to play off. It still stung a little that she had not been cast in this part, but Helena was starting to grow on her more and more.

She and Jughead had mutually agreed to skip over their shared scenes as they would be rehearsing them again together soon enough and could practice then.

"An if I could, what should I get therefore?" Jughead moved towards her, his head tilting slightly as he asked the question. His body had even started to become part of his performance, moving around the stage space rather than being stuck on the same spot, and using his hands to emphasize while he read lines.

"A privilege never to see me more.

And from thy hated presence part I so:

See me no more, whether he be dead or no."

Betty looked at him eagerly, waiting for him to finish his lines and end the scene.

"There is no following her in this fierce vein:

Here therefore for a while I will remain.

So sorrow's heaviness doth heavier grow

For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe:

Which now in some slight measure it will pay,

If for his tender here I make some stay."

Jughead stopped and then looked expectedly at her for her appraisal.

Betty was not entirely successful in managing to push down the urge to smile at him. "Okay, so that was pretty good," She admitted reluctantly, as though it pained her to pay him the compliment. Sometimes it was so hard to pretend to be indifferent. Sometimes being hurt and angry with him made her so tired.

He gave an exaggerated bow, letting his playfulness usually hidden under that beanie and perpetual scowl show through and Betty wasnot entirely successfully in managing to push down her smile. He looked like he was about to say something when startlingly,there was the sound of clapping from behind them and they both spun around to find Veronica Lodge sitting in the front row.

"I'm not interrupting am I?" the brunette asked with a deeply ingrained smirk on her face.

Betty found herself wondering just how long her friend had been standing there.