I awoke with a groan as I felt the bed dip beside me, a soft hand carefully rubbing my arm as I curled up further into the warmth of the blanket on top of me. I allowed my eyelids to slowly drift open, finding an ebullient expression on the face of the man with a strange name who entered my life earlier this morning. The man who showed genuine kindness and compassion towards me, though we'd only known each other for a few hours.
The first person who had ever cared the slightest bit about me.
"Good evening, Betty.", he exclaimed. "I brought you some dinner; just some pasta with meat sauce. I hope it's alright. If you want something else, I-I'll go make whatever you want.", he was quick to say.
Pasta was my comfort food. I wondered how he knew, or if he had at all. Maybe it was a guess. Maybe it was what was easiest for him. But maybe, somehow, for some miraculous reason, he did know.
Nothing would've surprised me at that point. If he'd told me that he shrank and crawled through my ear, entered my head, and analyzed my brain and every thought within it, I would've believed him.
I sat up groggily, Jughead offering some assistance as he supported the underside of my arm with his free hand. "Pasta sounds amazing.", I said simply, my mood unexpectedly and curiously lifted. "Thank you.". I smiled. Was it authentic? I'm not sure. Perhaps.
"So, I was thinking... Only if you wanted to, we could do something tomorrow? Like, I don't know... We could go somewhere? We could talk?", he suggested, a hint of hope and desperation wavering in his tone. A sudden wave of anxiety radiated off of him, but it didn't linger.
I didn't let it concern me, though somehow, my body wanted to let it in. I stopped caring about what others thought and felt towards me. Why did I care all of a sudden? Why now? Why him?
"Um, s-sure. Well, can I think about it? I-I just don't know how co-".
"I get it, Betty. You don't have to explain. It's completely up to you.".
An inkling of a smile began to draw to my face, my thoughts stuck; dumbfounded, confused, strangely gleeful. "You really are trying to help me...", I muttered.
He heard it. "Of course I am. I told you that I would. I'm not one to back out on my word... well, most of the time. And why wouldn't I help you? You're a good person, Betty. I can tell.".
Whatever state of felicity I was in before quickly revealed itself to be delirium. Or maybe it wasn't delirium, maybe it just morphed it's way back into self-deprecation and doubt, guilt and dwelling on the imperfection that went by the name of Betty Cooper.
"You don't know me at all.", I retorted harshly. "I appreciate your help, I do, but don't go around assuming things about me that you haven't a modicum of a clue about. Not only to you not possess that right to speculate any goodness within me, but you're only digging yourself a hole to bury your soul into.". I didn't really comprehend half of what I was saying until it was out.
His head shook vigorously in response. "No. No, I refuse to believe that. Betty, I know how you feel. I've been there. You're avoiding your feelings. I understand. But shutting people down isn't going to help you.", he pushed.
"Well, I've never had anyone that I've had to shut down before. Not until now...".
