Jughead liked to think of himself as a highly intellectual being. And yes maybe that was narcissistic, but when you had the objective observation skills, writing ability and street smarts [literally] that he had, and not much else you learned to appreciate what you did have to the nth degree. So yeah Jughead liked to think he was pretty clever. But when it came to his beautiful blonde haired Watson, Jughead was astounded by his lack of ability to come up with reasonable conclusions. There was something about her, about them that was unable to be explained, something that was unquantifiable, yet it was just so right, as if it was so obvious no explanation was needed.
It wasn't just the fact that all she had to do was fix him with that intense gaze, the one in which her blue eyes lit him up like he was the earth and she was sun, and suddenly the vocabulary he had spent many years building and refining to rival that of the dictionary itself dissipated, and he was left stumbling over his words. It was the fact that despite all the less than ideal circumstances- a murder, a teacher student affair, her family breaking down- that had led to their friendship transpiring into a bond that ran deeper than anything either of them could have pictured, being together felt like the most natural thing in the world. And although he wasn't much of a believer in fate he couldn't help but feel as though maybe they were meant to scramble through this mess, and fall apart and break down so that they could seek sanctity in each other, so that they could fall into each other, so that they could come to a halt together.
But that was exactly what was so baffling. She, the supposed all American girl next door, the one who was supposed to end up with the all American boy next door, had stood strong while her world fell apart and every ounce of apparent perfection was drained from the picture of her life. And she had chosen him to weather the storm with her. She had opened up to him, let him draw her into his darkness and had shown him her own. And in the mean time she had crept into his heart in a way that much surpassed the level of friendship they had previously pertained, leaking sunshine into his veins and unlocking the light hidden away in a deep crevice of his soul.
Okay so he knew why he had fallen for her. How could he not? With her soft features, kind soul, big heart, empathetic yet strong nature, and brilliant mind as well as a witty sense of humour. Yeah that definitely made sense. But what he was struggling to comprehend was how she could have fallen for him? It didn't make sense. Of course he wasn't making objections and he certainly wasn't going to interrogate her about it. It was just a strange concept to him that someone who should theoretically be leagues above him, was quite possibly his soul mate.
It wasn't like he had been shy about his feelings toward her. Rather he had climbed a ladder into her room to check on her and kissed her. And yes maybe it was instinctual but that was just it. With her it was all about instincts. They were in tune. As nervous as he was about showing such affection toward her it was like something inside of him knew she wouldn't turn him away. And honestly he had always been a forward person, so he just went for it.
It shouldn't be this easy.
But it was. Everything with her was easy. It shouldn't have been so easy for her to conclude that her feelings for Archie were those of a childhood fantasy manifesting into her now adult life and were therefore, no more than an illusion of love transgressed from a childhood crush. But it was. It shouldn't have been so easy for him to believe that she was really over Archie when he had watched her pine over him for years. But it was. It shouldn't have been so easy for her to want him. But it was. It shouldn't have been so easy for him to like her. But it was. It shouldn't have been so easy for two people with limited relationship experience to fall into being a couple so easily. It shouldn't have been so easy to hold hands in public, or kiss her, or for her to kiss him, or go on dates. But it was. It was all so easy, such a natural development for them to undertake. It didn't make any sense. They were outsides essentially- him content being on the edge, her constantly attempting to break through the edge- but together they had created their own world on the outside and revelled in it.
It was odd, how they, abnormal by substance-her with the crazy family and him with his peculiar ways- had managed to discover a sense of normalcy in each other when the town that had been the definition of "normal" began to shatter around them. But Jughead thinks that is exactly what is so beautiful about them. They have no conclusions. They are the answer you get, but have no idea why. They are unable to defined, or explained but they make sense. They are as obvious as the particles in the air; undoubtedly there and real, but with a kind of discretion that you can't describe.
"Hey," a soft voice, delicately infused with a bright tone, breaks Jughead from his thoughts. Blinking hazily a few times, the usually alert boy, looks up at his girlfriend who is now standing beside him where he sits, at his favourite booth at Pop's, laptop open before him and coffee cup within reach.
"Betts," he responds in greeting, smiling up at her. She slides in the booth across from him, stealing a sip from his mug. He can't help his steel gaze roaming her figure. Although he always appreciates her beauty and appearance he can't help the stutter of his heart as he takes her in tonight. She's wearing black jeans with a simple pink sweater and converse. And god he loves it when she wears black, not just because it looks amazing on her but because he sees it as a small act of rebellion against her mother and the perfect, dainty image she cultivated for her daughter. And that's what he loves. He loves the Betty who stands up for herself in subtle ways, ever cautious of hurting other's, but determined to be her own person. The sky outside had morphed from grey to a dark purple and he revels in the way it serves as the perfect background the contrast against her shining golden hair and clear pale skin, illuminating her blue eyes. He doesn't register the way his gaze goes from observant to adoring, but Betty does, blushing under his passionate stare and trying to calm the accelerated beating of her heart and ignore the tingles that shoot through her body.
"What are you writing?" she asks, gesturing to the open laptop, "your novel?" Turning his attention to the piece of technology resting on the table Jughead furrows his brows, realising he actually had no idea what he had been typing. Scanning the word document before him, the beanie wearing teen's eyes lit up with amusement, as a genuine smile, laced with surprise graced his lips.
"You." He simply stated reaching for his mug, yet pinning his eyes on her, not wanting to miss her reaction. Betty beamed, her eyes going wide in shock while her entire face changed into a vision of happiness.
"Seriously?" she asked, shaking her head at him. Jughead smirked, turning the laptop around so that she could see for herself. Her eyes rapidly absorbed the words on the screen, smile widening with every one processed. He watched her with a sense of pride and gratefulness; the former due to being responsible for that look and the latter as he was beyond thankful she let him be responsible for that look.
"Juggie..." she whispered, unable to form a coherent sentence that eloquently summed up her emotions in that moment. She was stunned, amazed, enlightened, empowered. She felt beautiful and strong and important and adored and like the luckiest girl in the world quite frankly. His screen had displayed he was indeed telling her the truth he had written pages on her and them. Not really anything relevant just internal musings really, thoughts on her mind and soul and the way she made him feel, the way they fit together and she was unable to comprehend his devotion toward her, as it was equivocated by the rush of... wait. What exactly was it that she was feeling for him right now?
"You're my Juliet," he shrugged as if it were obvious and she supposed maybe it was. Betty looked like she was torn between kissing him and crying, her eyes alternating between imploring his and re-reading what he had written, her cheeks tinged pink, one hand held over her heart, the other laying on the table. Jughead placed his own hand atop hers slowly encircling it in his grip and stroking his thumb across it. His touch seemed to snap Betty out of her state of pleasant shock.
"I love you."
It was his turn to be shocked. Did he hear her right? His green eyes widened, as his lips instantly curved upwards. Those three words, leaked from her mouth, directed at him were the most wonderful sound he had ever heard. His heart jumped as it was struck by such a powerful force of light, warmth rushed through his body, his soul ached in the most delicious way possible. He swallowed, and did the only thing he could think of- he kissed her.
Grabbing her face in his hands, Jughead pressed his lips to her warm ones, in an eager display of affection. Her mouth welcomed his, lips parting to accommodate their movements. This kiss was unlike any other they had previously shared. It was slow, yet passionate, delicate but powerful; an ember sparking a forest fire. Betty placed her own hands over his and sighed as he pulled slightly away from her. Her eyes remained closed for a second, as his forehead pressed against hers, his thumbs lightly stroking her cheeks. Jughead on the other hand was leaning against her, eyes wide open cataloguing the flawless expression on her face. He wanted to memorise everything about this moment, her soft smile, the flutter of her eyelashes against her cheeks, the sensation of their breath mingling so that he couldn't tell the difference between the air he was breathing in and she was breathing out, the warmth of her skin beneath his fingers.
"I love you too Betts."