Chapter Text
I've been hoping for months, hoping for years, hoping I might forget.
Aw but it don't get much dumber, it don't get much dumber
than trying to forget a girl when you love her.
And I, yeah I still need you, but what good's that gonna do?
Needing is one thing, and getting, getting's another.
There were three things Jughead knew he was completely incapable of: leaving a mystery unsolved, skiing, and not being desperately, secretly in love with Betty Cooper.
Okay, so there were definitely more things on that list... but when Archie begged him to sign up for the school ski trip, those were the three that came to mind.
“Please Jug? It will be fun, I promise!”
Jughead shoved his chem book into his locker, the weight of certainty heavy in the pit of his stomach: it would not be fun.
“You’ve seen me trip over my own feet just walking. In what alternate universe do you think I wouldn’t shatter my spine down a mountain?” He slammed the locker shut and started the trek to the cafeteria. Archie trailed after him, his best attempt at puppydog eyes in Jughead’s peripheral vision.
“Okay,” he admitted, “you won’t enjoy the skiing, but will you come anyway? As a favor to me?”
Jug stopped short, leveling a shrewd look at Archie. “Why is this so important to you, Arch? What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” His ginger friend protested, hands raised innocently, “I just think we’ll all have more fun if you come-”
“Liar.”
“AND I think it will suck for you to be here all alone for winter break.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Do you even have a place to stay when the school’s closed?”
Jughead ignored the question- plaguing his own thoughts lately- and instead raised a mocking eyebrow. “Oh, so this is a selfless request? Purely for my benefit?”
“Um…”
“Yeah, I thought so.”
Archie had lots of natural talents, but acting wasn’t one of them. Whatever he was hiding tugged at Jughead’s curiosity, even as he tried aggressively not to care. Caring usually got him in trouble.
They pushed through the doors to the courtyard and tossed their bookbags onto an empty picnic table, where Archie unfolded a foil-wrapped sandwich with acute self-pity. Jughead rolled his eyes, but even as he thought of ways to tease his best friend, his attention snagged on another pertinent detail.
“So... who else is going?” he asked before he could stop himself.
Archie lit up again. “Like, everyone, man. It’s going to be awesome.”
Jughead thought of Betty in a ski suit and was momentarily Unavailable, but Archie continued, oblivious.
“We’re staying in this all-inclusive resort with an indoor pool and a bunch of hot tubs. They don’t even charge you to use their ski equipment.”
This snapped Jug’s attention back. “Funny you mention that, Arch, because in case you’ve forgotten: my current occupation of ‘homeless waif’ isn’t paying much. Even if I wanted to go - which I don’t - I could never afford this trip. Let’s be realistic.”
“Yes, let’s,” Veronica said, sitting down next to Archie. Betty and Kevin were right behind her, and Jughead moved to make room for them. He tried not to react as Betty squeezed in on his left, hyper-aware of the points where her arm and thigh brushed his, as she settled in with her cafeteria pizza.
“Hi Juggie,” Betty said, her soft smile flaring warmth through him.
He quirked a smile in reply, hoping she hadn’t caught much of their conversation. But when his eyes lingered on her for an extra moment, he caught the look she flashed Archie, something sly and unreadable. Archie saw it too, and he struggled to hide a smile in return. Jughead felt his chest constrict with an icy pang.
Then Veronica snapped him out of it. “Didn’t Archie tell you? You’ve got a wealthy benefactress, Pip.”
“I hated Great Expectations,” Jug deadpanned, while Archie flushed and jumped back in.
“I was getting to that, Ronnie.” Turning back to Jughead, he explained, “We’re all going for free, the Lodges’ are covering us.”
The announcement took a moment to sink in.
“That’s...suspiciously generous.”
“No,” Veronica said with a devilish smile. “That’s me getting what I want for my 17th birthday.”
- - - - -
Jughead jumped as he felt the buzz of his phone against his leg during History. Behind his textbook, he sneaked a peek at the screen, and swallowed hard at the sight of Betty’s name.
Betty: Hey are you free after school today?
Jughead: I think I can make time around rewriting the first chapter of my novel for the 27th time. What’s up?
Betty: Have something to talk to you about. Can you come to my house at 3?
Jughead: Sounds serious. You okay?
Betty: Yeah it’s nothing bad :)
Jughead: Oookay. See you at 3 then, Agatha Christie.
It wasn’t that big of a deal, hanging out with Betty. He did it all the time, albeit usually with the buffer of Archie and lately, Veronica. Still, the combination of nerves and curiosity over her request had Jug too distracted to pay attention in any of his afternoon classes, and he bolted gratefully when the final bell rang.
The walk to Betty’s house, however, was somewhat sobering. It was one thing, to see all his friends at school, sitting together without a thought to social class or income, despite their wide spectrum of life circumstances; it was quite another to follow cultivated oak-lined roads, past the manicured lawns of pristine suburban homes in shades like robin’s egg and fawn. He never used to notice, when he and Archie were kids, exploring the neighborhood like they owned it, and frequently pulling Betty along with them. Now, the sight of all that normalcy made him feel like an intruder, someone no longer welcome here, with his trailer-trash, broken family written all over him.
He felt the itch to turn around, find some secluded spot with free wifi and a power outlet where he could lose himself in writing the next Great American Novel, or so he hoped. He wouldn’t always be stuck on the wrong side of the tracks in this small town, not when the rest of the world was waiting outside of it.
But then he turned the corner, and spotted the blonde leaning under the popped hood of her parent’s car, and all thoughts of leaving Riverdale narrowed to a sharp, stabbing point.
“So are you The Fast, or The Furious?” he said, walking up behind her.
“Neither,” her tinny voice echoed as she ducked her head and withdrew from the car. “I’m Grease Lightning.”
She turned to grin at him and he couldn’t help laughing. “You’ve certainly got the ‘grease’ part covered,” he said, swiping a thumb across her temple, where a black smudge marked her.
She made a face, pointing to the roll of paper towels over Jug’s shoulder, and he tossed them to her. As she rubbed at the spot, Jughead let his eyes wander around her garage, taking in spare tires, a stack of faded frisbees, her father’s organized wall of tools and the neat line of shoes by the door, sets of heels and loafers and white keds.
His earlier discomfort echoed through him again, before Betty’s voice brought his attention back.
“Did I get it all?”
She still had a streak down the side of her jaw that he hadn’t spotted before. Relaxing into a smirk, he nodded slowly.
“That’s a no, then,” she said with a laugh in her voice, and leaned down to see her reflection in the car’s side mirror.
Jughead shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, where they would be less tempted to grab the paper towel and help clean her up. He cleared his throat, feeling warm.
“So, what’s up? Why the clandestine meeting?” he said to distract himself.
“Not clandestine, I just wanted to bring this up in person.” She straightened, facing him with a determined look. Anxiety pricked the back of his neck.
“You’re a writer,” she said.
He blinked. “Is that a question?”
“No, I’m pitching you an idea. I want to restart the Blue & Gold, and I think you should write for it.”
He tilted his head. “The school newspaper? Hasn’t that been dead for years?”
“Not dead-- dormant. It just needs a voice again. I think you should be that voice.”
He squinted thoughtfully. “You think anyone at school will bother reading it?”
“If we tell good stories, they will. Besides, even if no one ever reads it, ‘Lead Reporter’ will still look great on your resume.”
“Making you... what, the Editor?”
“In Chief,” she stood straighter, smiling proudly. “Let’s do this, Juggie, please? It’ll be fun.”
“Why does everyone keep promising me that today?” he grumbled.
“Maybe you need more fun in your life,” Betty teased, taking a step toward him with earnest eyes. He tried to ignore how close she was, smelling like the tang of metal and something more sweetly floral underneath, familiar the way that home should be.
She bit her lip as she waited for his answer, tense but hopeful, and he let himself imagine it; film noir scenes of hunching over laptops in the dark, red editor’s marks on his work in her handwriting, staking out leads in parked cars together. All rain and binoculars and pressing close.
“What do you say, Jug?”
He wanted it so badly that his voice stuck in his throat. He knew it would be torture to weave their lives together any further, reasons piling up in his head why this was a Bad Idea… but they were all the same reasons he couldn’t say no.
“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” he said, but she was hugging him almost before he finished his sentence, and he couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around her in return. For a moment, the weight of all his anxieties lifted; he was just a teenage boy hugging the girl he liked.
“And you’re coming on the ski trip, right?” Betty said as she pulled back.
In the end, he never stood a chance, when Betty was asking him.
- - - - -
The day of their departure was blustery, wet, and cold, which suited Jughead just fine. He preferred when the weather matched his mood, and sitting alone at the back of the charter bus while Betty cuddled up with Archie near the front had him in a terrible one.
He should have seen this coming, he reminded himself, annoyed to have fallen into his own emotional trap, as if he hadn’t yet learned his lesson when it came to Betty Cooper ten times over. As clever and perceptive as she was, the girl had carried stars in her eyes for their mutual best friend for most of their lives, even when Archie never returned her feelings. Or at least, he hadn’t before. Now, Jughead wasn’t so sure.
There was something happening there, a secretive air surrounding the two as they chatted together at the front of the bus. They quieted the moment he stepped on board, offering identical, over-bright smiles until he had passed them on the way to an empty seat. It was more than suspicious.
Taking his seat, he could just see the tops of their heads if he strained his neck, her glossy ponytail bouncing as she talked, Archie’s head a beacon blazing next to hers. It occurred to him that he might have signed up for five entire days of this exact view, and he gritted his teeth as he looked away, curiosity melting into malaise.
It’s not like he could even really blame his friend for finally noticing Betty, if that was indeed the case. The last year had been incredibly good to her, as she shed her braces and hit her last growth spurt. Almost overnight, the cute girl next door had grown into her curves, and there was something more knowing in her eyes, even if her smile was as sweet as ever.
Jughead’s secret crush had only grown worse, but since he’d been fighting it for years already, it just felt like another aspect of his fucked up life. If Archie and Betty were going to be a thing after all, he’d just have to try harder to accept reality and move on, to be happy for his friends.
Any day now, he thought.
“Why the long face, Heathcliff?”
Jughead turned to see Veronica sliding into the empty seat next to him, Burberry travel bag perched on her lap. He wasn’t up for her brand of clever wordplay at the moment, but she had him boxed in, eyes keen on his face.
“Veronica, I want to be a writer professionally, and I think you make too many literary references. Can’t you just obsess over Instagram and memes like the rest of us?”
“Don’t deflect, Jones, that only works with Archiekins. Speaking of whom…” she glanced around before leaning into his personal space conspiratorially. “Your self-pity-party wouldn’t have anything to do with our two mutual besties getting cozy up front, would it?”
Alarm flashed through Jughead, and judging by the amused, sympathetic look on Veronica’s face, she had noticed.
“Don’t panic,” she said, softer than before. “I’m just the new girl; it’s a lot easier to see these things from an outside perspective.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he hedged.
“Plausible deniability - that’s smart,” she said. “Unnecessary, in this case, but smart.” She sat back in her seat. “I would never give away a friend like that, for the record.”
He almost asked her if they were friends, but he could see the challenge blazing in her eyes, the false bravado of “not caring” if he did. He knew her well enough by now to recognize it as a front. Maybe they were friends after all.
He hesitated on the edge of speaking. The prospect of admitting his long-secret feelings sent his stomach for a loop. Thrilling and terrifying in equal measure, he knew there would be no going back from it.
“It’s not like anything is ever going to come of it,” he began, still skittish of putting it into words directly. Veronica smiled in understanding.
“Not with that attitude, Jones. Tell me about it? And start from the beginning.”
So he did. The bus had begun moving at some point, sending them on their way, but Jughead hardly noticed as he slowly, haltingly told the story of his developing feelings for Betty Cooper.
Veronica was a surprisingly good listener, quiet but attentive, and showing no signs of scorn, even when he pointed out his socioeconomic circumstances weren’t doing him any favors in feeling like he had a chance with Betty. Jughead hadn’t thought there was really much to say about his crush, but the words poured out of him like a broken dam, and he talked for what felt like hours.
“Wow,” Veronica said, when he had finally finished. “I had no idea this was so serious.”
“It’s really not,” he said, shrugging it off.
“Please understand I mean this with love, but you’re incredibly dense for someone so smart.”
He glared at her. “Do you always insult people right after they confide in you, or am I just special? There are plenty of empty seats on this bus, you know. Feel free to find another one.”
“Chill, Holden Caulfield. I only mean that you’re shooting yourself in the foot by being so adamantly pessimistic, without citing your sources.”
Jughead remembered now why he had never grown very close with this girl. She drove him crazy.
“Have you ever asked Betty how she feels?” Veronica continued.
“Despite your arm chair analysis, I’m not actually an idiot, so, no.”
“Well, just to recap here,” Veronica said, rolling her eyes, “You’ve had feelings for one of your best friends for years, you guys hang out all the time, she’s recently come up with ways to spend even more time with you- alone - and she asked you to come on this trip, right? You’re telling me that in the last couple of years we all have in this town, before college and adult life take us God knows where, you’re never going to ask even once if she might be interested in more than friendship?”
“You haven’t been in Riverdale that long, so maybe you haven’t noticed how she looks at Archie.” He waved his hand forward. “If you’ll direct your attention to the front of this bus, you can see for yourself. Trust me, I’m not the friend she wants more with.”
“Trust me , Jughead, when I tell you that you’ve talked yourself out of a clear perspective on Betty’s feelings, and if my hunch is correct, Archie’s too. I may look like I’ve never struggled in life, but I know a thing or two about regret, and so will you, if you never ask her.”
They settled into an angry silence after that, Jughead pulling his headphones on and leaning as far away from the brunette as he could. He knew she meant well, deep down, but that didn’t calm his frustration. Veronica didn’t understand, how much worse it would be to know Betty didn’t like him, especially right now, when the prospect of working on the school paper together was the brightest bit of news in his life.
He spent the rest of the trip staring out his window, watching the drab, grey landscape rush by and mentally preparing for an uncomfortable holiday at best.
- - - - -
By the time they arrived at the resort, the winter daylight was already giving way to night, a bitter, cutting mountain breeze sweeping through them as they shuffled off the bus and into the warm, well-lit lobby. Festive holiday ribbons in glaring red and gold peppered the rustic wood decor as if they’d been fired out of a cannon, making Jughead frown deeper than usual.
“Come on buddy, we just got here. Can you at least pretend to be excited?” Archie said, coming up behind him and clapping him on the shoulder. He looked so earnest that guilt tugged at Jughead, and he offered a crooked smile in apology.
“Sorry, you know scowling is my default setting. I’ll try to be less ‘Grinch’ and more ‘Who-ville’ for the next few days. No promises, though.”
Archie laughed as Kevin came up next to them, almost shouting in his excitement. “Did you guys hear there’s a hot chocolate bar over there?”
The three boys grinned at each other for a moment before bolting away, playfully tugging and tripping one another to be the first in line.
The joy of youth and freedom and free food buoyed Jug through the rest of the night, as they gorged on the resort buffet and squabbled good-naturedly over who would ski the best that week. Betty sat with Veronica, playing with Snapchat filters and sending their silliest selfies to the rest of the group, until the boys were drawn into face-swapping and giggling at the results until curfew.
By the time Jughead and Archie trudged up to the their shared room, both of them were in a cheerful mood, joking and teasing each other like they were twelve again, before Jughead’s life had taken a darker turn. They thumb-wrestled over who got the bed by the heater, and even though he was pretty sure Archie had let him win, he claimed his prize like a king, flopping backwards onto the mattress with arms outstretched.
It wasn’t until later, in the hushed darkness that followed their goodnights, that reality crept back in to poke holes in Jughead’s contentment.
His best friend’s exceptional optimism hovered through the room like a physical presence, even after the redhead began snoring, and Jug sobered quickly when he thought about why. He was pretty sure Betty’s laugh had intoxicated them all that night. He could still picture her head bent close to Archie’s on the bus that morning, whispering something meant only for him. Jughead would be elated too, if he were Archie.
Tossing and turning on the too-soft mattress, he stared at the glowing numbers of the alarm clock long into the night, sinking deeper and deeper into miserable speculation.
- - - - -
This is how I die, Jughead thought the next morning, as the ski lift dragged him upward toward impending doom.
Under any other circumstance, it would have taken massive amounts of money and/or mind-altering substances to get him into a borrowed snow suit, board under his arm, feet dangling- but Betty had approached him at breakfast under the guise of Blue & Gold business, dragging him off before he could finish his bacon.
To be fair, he would let her drag him anywhere, free breakfast or no.
Still, he couldn’t help the sting of betrayal when she stopped them in front of the Slopeside Equipment Hut.
“No way, Betts,” he started, but she tugged on his arm.
“This is the perfect way to re-launch the paper: a first-hand account of a thrilling experience.”
“So you write it,” he protested, digging his heels in.
“I’ve been skiing before, it won’t be the same. Your fresh perspective will make for an interesting story. Come on, Juggie, I’ll do it with you, it’ll be an adventure.”
“It’ll be my funeral,” he said, but somehow he lost the battle, and in minutes he was inside, getting suited up. The guy behind the counter had recommended trying a snowboard, since Jug had experience on a skateboard, and apparently they weren’t that different. Jughead highly doubted that, but Betty was smiling at him with all the pride of an Olympics Mom, so he shrugged and obediently followed her out to the ski lift, appreciating the contrast between her golden hair and dark blue snowsuit. He thought it would be a nice last-moments image to recall as he died.
“Where is everyone?” he asked, as they joined several families in line for the shortest chairlift.
“Veronica was still getting ready when I came down to breakfast, but she and Archie have some kind of competition set on the blue course later, so I told her I’d catch up.”
“I don’t see anyone else from school either.”
“Well,” she began, counting on her fingers, “the boys are too macho to start with the easier slopes, and the girls want to be where the boys are.” She rolled her eyes. “Someone’s definitely breaking an ankle this week.”
The benefit of all this, he realized as they climbed aboard the lift, was a cozy ride to the bunny slopes, where few if any people he knew would be around to witness his demise.
“At least I won’t have an audience, when the broken ankles are mine.”
“You’ll be fine.”
The morning wind hit them full on as they started the climb upward, and Betty shivered, shifting closer. The warmth of her body was delicious in contrast to the icy air, and Jug hesitated. Facing an imminent mountain death seemed to be lending him a morbid disregard for consequences, because without deeper consideration, he slung an arm over her shoulders, offering his warmth.
“Thanks,” she murmured, leaning into his side, but his daring stopped short of glancing at her upturned face. Instead, they rode the last few minutes to the top of the slope in companionable quiet.
It was a beautiful, clear morning. The pristine landscape stretched down the mountain beneath them and beyond, miles of glittering powder dotted with dark spruce and evergreen trees as far as they could see. With his arm around Betty, and the golden edge of dawn yielding to blue skies overhead, Jughead bemusedly wondered if he had stumbled into a gum commercial. Betty snuggled closer, her head tucked under his chin, and he found that he didn’t care either way.
By the time they hopped off, he was nearly too hot, flushed with warmth emanating from his chest as much as shared body heat. The dangers of snowboarding suddenly felt very far off, overshadowed by the impromptu canoodling. Was he supposed to pretend it never happened, just a normal friend thing? Was it a normal friend thing? Lost in thought, he mechanically stepped into his board like the equipment guy had shown him, and only when he straightened up, did he finally look at Betty again.
Already in her skis, she was smiling appreciatively at him, and he felt himself flush even deeper.
“You’re a natural, Juggie,” she laughed, pleasantly surprise.
“I haven’t done anything yet,” he said, but he smiled nervously back.
“It’ll be easy, come on.” She pushed herself forward until they were side-by-side at the top of the slope. His stomach fluttered again, but he wasn’t sure anymore if it was due to the likelihood of his mountain-death, or Betty.
“Just follow me, okay?”
She pushed off gracefully, and he watched for a moment as she glided gently down, the curve of her skis elegant as a dance.
“Come on, Jug!” she yelled back at him, already shrinking as she flew down the slope.
There was nothing else for it. Sighing, he leaned his body forward, feet feeling awkward and unbalanced, trapped as they were in the clips of his board. Gravity snagged him at once, and without really trying, he slid down the slope, gaining speed as he went. It was a bit like skateboarding, he was chagrin to notice, but it was also harder to control with his feet locked in, all his steering ability reassigned to knees and hips alone.
Looking mostly down, he almost fell over when Betty pulled even with him. He had expected her to be far ahead, but of course, she knew how to slow herself, letting him catch up. His surprise still made him wobble, and then she was taking his hand to steady him, and he didn’t fall after all.
They reached the bottom before Jughead could catch his breath, still hand in hand as Betty helped him come to a stop.
“See?” She was grinning in effervescent delight. “No broken ankles.”
She was still holding his hand, and gloved though they were, he felt the contact like an electric current.
“Only because you caught me,” he said, voice coming out huskier and more intimate than he intended.
“Any time,” she said, and he could swear her voice was softer too. She squeezed his hand once more before she let go, cheeks and lips flushed bright pink in the cold, blue eyes appearing even bluer against her snowsuit as she held his gaze. Jug’s chest was close to bursting. In a moment he was going to kiss her right there, consequences be damned.
“Mommmyyyyyyy!” A small child on even smaller skis flew by them, her mother yelling panicked directions as she skied behind, breaking the moment.
“Come on,” Betty said, pushing off again toward the chairlifts. “One more practice run and then I think you’re ready for the real deal.”
“I have a bad feeling about this,” he said, but followed her anyway.
- - - - -
“Ow, shit. Shit! I told you I had a bad feeling about this,” Jug said, cradling his wrist to his chest as Betty, Archie and Kevin rushed over to help. As he had expected, just a few practice runs on the bunny slopes had not properly prepared him for the medium-level course everyone else seemed to find easy. He had landed hard halfway down the slope, arm outstretched to break his fall, and was now awkwardly sideways, snowboard cutting into the powder beneath him as melting snow seeped into his collar and boots.
“Juggie! Are you okay?” Betty’s hand slid around the back of his neck, soothing as she crouched over him, but he was too irritated to enjoy her attentions.
“I’m fine, just let me get out of this stupid board.” He reached with his good hand for the clasps, unsnapping them with clumsy fingers while Archie and Kevin skied to a stop alongside. They hauled him to his feet as he hissed in pain, their worried faces looming closer. He felt so stupid- even stupider the more they hovered, peppering him with questions about his injury. Scowling, he plucked his board out of the snow and shoved it under his injured arm.
“I can take that for you, bud,” Archie said, reaching for it, but Juggie stumbled back a few paces.
“I’m fine, okay. I got it.” He turned and began walking back toward the lodge.
“Are you sure-” Betty began, but he couldn’t take the pity in her voice. Without another word, he flashed a thumbs-up over his shoulder and kept walking.
- - - - -
Unfortunately for Jughead, he was ambushed before he could get to his room, the chance to nurse his wounds (and pride) in privacy snatched away. One of the chaperones had spotted him in the lobby, swollen wrist held stiffly to his chest, and the next thing he knew, he was being bandaged, iced, and medicated in the resort’s onsite clinic. A sprain was dubbed lucky, compared with many of the skiing injuries the medic often saw. Jug sat stiffly in her little office, accepting her ministrations and chatter in silence. His face still burned with embarrassment.
Finally released, he climbed the stairs back to his room, seeking solitude, but the sleuth in him couldn’t help pausing by the window when he spotted two familiar figures below.
Much higher up from them, Jug could still make out the telltale blonde and redhead talking closely in front of the ski lift. He couldn’t make out their expressions, but then, he stopped trying to, after the blonde figure flung her arms around the ginger one.
Bee-lining for his room, Jughead dove beneath the pressed white sheets of his bed, careful of his wrist, and let sleep drag him down into troubled dreams.