#that riverdale is going to escalate and escalate until it explodes

[swashbucklery]

I have been informed that Papa Poutine is real. I'm so afraid to find out what's fake (the tickling?? the dog??? none of them??)

If you message OP they'll tell you the correct answer; I will say it is a hard poll that is trying to catch respondents on detail so you really do have to have a thorough Riverdale knowledge to be successful.

ALSO WHAT TYPE OF GANG CRIMES DOES PAPA POUTINE DO IN RIVERDALE THE TELEVISION SHOW FOR TEENS.

[sicklylittlesnowflake]

Hi there. Could you write a fic where Jug has asthma and its flaring up but when he goes to use his inhaler he realizes its gone but he doesn't say anything because he doesn't want to inconveniance Fred or Archie. Set during the time he was living with the Andrews. Then Archie finally realizes when Jug passes out or something like that and he ends up in the hospital. Thank you thank you thank you so much.

(It’s been a hot minute since I’ve been into riverdale, but let’s give this ago! S1 bc prompt says so and also bc s2 is a mess lmao..)

Jughead’s asthma was never something he ever had to think about until recently. He had one big episode when he was a child, but after that, he’d just carry around an inhaler and he’d be fine. It made PE a pain sometimes, but Jughead was just unathletic anyway, and it gave him an excuse to sit out of track. Asthma made his illnesses worse than they should be, but aside from that, it was never an issue.

It became an issue when Jughead lost his home and had no means of going to the hospital to get refills, and he couldn’t even get the over the counter ones that didn’t work as well for him because he didn’t have any money. Any money he did have, he used on feeding himself.

Being homeless made everything that Jughead never thought twice about so much harder than they really were. Being homeless made him live day by day, constantly on edge, and each second that went by intensified his craving for stability once again. But Jughead didn’t have a home to go back to, because as horrible and miserable being homeless was, it was better than going to a house that made him feel like he unsafe and unwanted.

And he doesn’t know how it happened, but the light of the Andrews family decided to shine upon him one fateful day and they decided to give him back the stability he lost many months ago. They gave him a bed, a roof, food and warmth, basic human necessities he had been deprived of for quite a while. Jughead was so grateful for what they had given to him, he couldn’t have asked for.

Even refills for his inhaler.

Initially Jughead didn’t think he needed refills. In his 5 months of homelessness, he’d only needed to refill once. Sure he had to make sacrifices and it had been difficult, but he was sure he could do it. Anyway, he couldn’t have possibly asked the Andrews for more. It just couldn’t be right when they’ve given him so much.

Jughead had been fine for the first month he had been living with them, but when a flu hit Riverdale high, everything came crashing down.

He wasn’t surprised when the plague hit him, it was expected after all, with a less than brilliant immune system.

Jughead had woken up a Friday morning feeling like an entire rockslide worth of rocks had pinned him down onto the air mattress, weighing him down and making him feel heavy. His head was the same, a hefty weight that he found it difficult to lift his head from the pillow. And when he did he was greeted by his world tipping over and by a wave of nausea, a rush flooding his body as he hissed in pain.

Jughead tilted his head back onto Archie’s bed and gritted his teeth to brace the pain, then proceeding to aggressively rub at his temples to dry and subside the dull ache hidden deep within his head, unreachable. He was glad that Archie had already gone down stairs, because no way would he have liked the idea of his best friend seeing him like this.

Jughead forced himself upright, despite his world that seemed to pirouette he forced himself to get changed. Cold waves rushed up and down his body causing him to tremor and shake, his hands shaking as he caused the hanger to rattle against the material of the closet. Just as Jughead struggled to get his jacket on, his eyes were involuntarily fluttering shut and he whipped his head to the side, sneezing two relatively small, albeit ticklish sneezes.

Despite the minimal power displayed, the sneezing seemed to have leeched him off all energy for suddenly he felt very lightheaded, and he could feel the sickening sensation of freefalling, but thankfully he had grasped onto Archie’s desk to stay upright. He rubbed  irritably at what he was sure was a reddened nose, which felt awfully rough, uncomfortable with the hot air he exhaled.

His chest felt incredibly tight too. Jughead wasn’t taking in enough oxygen as he would’ve liked, because his lungs physically could not take in anymore at a given time. It made him feel dizzy and weak, and very faint. As Jughead breathed out; with difficulty due to his blocked nose, and when he did out came a whistling noise.

“Fuck,” Jughead cursed under his breath, knowing full well what the issue was. But he was determined to keep it as quiet as he possibly could.

Even the smallest utterance caused Jughead to fall into a brief coughing fit, a fit awfully chesty and causing a whistling noise to erupt from him. Each cough seemed to explode within his chest, causing a hand to shoot up and support his chest to try and ease the pain. He groaned as he finished, sniffling and wiping any irritated tears before heading downstairs.

“Oh my god, dad! It’s 8:00 and I forgot to wake Jughead!” Archie exclaimed worriedly.

“Oh damn it Arch! I completely lost track of time, go get him–”

“I’m here, I’m here, we’re all good,” Jughead interjected, cringing the sound of his raspy, rough voice. His voice was husky and low, on the verge of disappearing all together.

Archie widened his eyes, “Woah, you don’t sound great.”

Jughead tried to mask his panic with a charming grin. “You don’t find my morning voice sexy? Now that’s a shame,” He quipped.

Fred chuckled at that, “Sorry we didn’t wake you earlier Jug–I swear my watch is 20 minutes behind. Look, you should maybe try and get some breakfast..”

Jughead shook his head, the sound of food at all very unappetising and making him feel sick, “No no, it’s fine. We’ll be late.”

Archie’s eyes widened in shock, “Are you rejecting food?”

Jughead scoffed, heading over to the fruit bowl to try and keep up the charade , “Food is very important to me, Archibald, but so is education. I’ll take an apple.”

Fred frowned at this too, his eyes meeting Archie’s with worry for a second, “You sure you’re okay champ?”

Jughead offered him a smile,feeling a little woozy from the sudden hot waves that surged throughout his body, trying to tame his shakiness.  "Of course. Besides, I think the Chinese we had last night has fed me for over a decade.“

Fred smiled softly, worry still laced in his features, “Alright champ, but if there’s anything you need to tell us please do. We’ll get Pops later tonight to make it up to you.”

“Sounds great Mr A!” Jughead said as he rushed out the door, stifling a series of coughs into his jacket sleeve.

“Wait, hang on Jug, wait for me!” Archie protested frantically, yanking his coat on. Just as he was about to chase his scarily enthusiastic friend, he spared a worried glance over at his father, who returned it to him. It left a nervous feeling that something was off.

Maybe his fever has escalated about a million degrees, or he got hit on the head by a meteor that he didn’t notice, but Jughead is not functioning correctly. Because had he been in his right mind, he would have made a dumb ass excuse to get out of gym, and not aggravate his already strained lungs and sickened body, but for some reason he pushed through.

Maybe there was a part of him still in denial. Maybe there was a part of him that wanted to live the lie that everything was fine. Maybe there was a part of him too prideful to give in and accept defeat; that he was sick, and his asthma was not helping. Whatever that part of him was, it truly was moronic.

Because Jughead is running (or, his definition of running, which is a brisk walk in comparison to the likes of Chuck Clayton or Archie Andrews) shuttle runs that don’t seem to end. As each foot lands on the ground he seems to land with a thump, accompanied by another throb in his head and another squeeze to his chest. As he runs Jughead struggled to keep his nose from leaking, hand constantly trying to pinch away or rub into his sleeve. He fights a tickle in his nose, although it is not quite intense that it should coax out a sneeze, its dull and constant.

There was a sharp pain within his chest and every time he breathes he felt like it was slowly cutting into him. Jughead felt like he’s on fire, he can’t breathe and he feels so weak and so exhausted he felt like dropping dead and moving on to the next existence. Everything else is a blur and his hearing fades and all he can hear is the ragged, whistle like tonality of his breathing and the rapid thumping of his heart.

Scorching hot waves rushed through one direction of his body and freezing cold waves rush through the other. Jughead didn’t think he could handle one more second of this. He pulled in, with just enough energy to just about collapse onto the sidelines.

Jughead struggled to catch his breath, feeling faint and dizzy as his lungs would not take in more air, his breaths short and ragged. He began to wheeze as his chest contracted with sharp pain, his hand running through his hair in exhaustion as he tried to recompose himself. His hand shot up to his chest in attempt to soothe himself, but to no avail his chest only seemed to close in on itself even more. His entire body shook vigorously, both from a rampaging fever and lightheadedness.

“Mr Jones! Get up!” Coach Clayton yelled angrily from across the pitch.

Josie suddenly stopped her running as her attention averted over to Jughead, worry suddenly replacing any desire to keep running. She squinted her eyes to try and figure out what was wrong with him.

“Coach? It seems like he’s having an asthma attack–or a panic attack, I don’t know,” Josie said quickly.

Coach Clayton widened his eyes, “Oh, um, well in that case, will you go check on him?”

Josie nodded quickly and jogged to the sidelines where Jughead was panting on the floor.

“Jughead? You okay?” Josie asked softly, kneeling down to his height.

Jughead looked up at her with red, bleary eyes but before he could even open his mouth his body was ravaged by an intense coughing fit. The noises he made where awfully resonant from his chest, wheezy and powerful that they doubled him over, causing violent surges of pain as a result.

Josie widened her eyes and patted his back comfortingly. When he finally finished Jughead collapsed against the mesh fence and breathed in and out to try and catch his breath again, chest heaving.  Void of all energy. He couldn’t stop himself from wheezing.

Josie frowned, “I think you should go to the nurse, Jughead.”

Jughead shook his head, “M'fine.”

She raised an eyebrow in disbelief, leaning in to put a hand on his forehead, he was too tired to try and fight her.

“Jesus Jughead! You really need to go to the nurse!”

Jughead groaned and pushed himself off of the floor, shaking his head all the way, “Im fine, Josie. I’m just extremely athletically challenged.”

“But–”

And then came the shrill ringing of the bell.

And in a flash Jughead was gone.

It takes a while for Jughead to accept it, but the sickness has taken complete control of him.

It started with his body, of course, in the physical sense of it. Now it was his brain, and everything was a fuzzy blur and nothing seemed to make sense.

As he huddled over his laptop, he tried his best to make sense of his words but every thing seemed to jumble together in this horribly incomprehensible jigsaw. The words seemed to cross dissolve in and out and Jughead couldn’t see.

His brain stopped functioning and he couldn’t speak English anymore. Each letter he typed in caused his fingers to tremor. Jughead knew the sickness had won.

Sighing he closed up the computer and packed up, trying to push through the fever and make it out of there. His brain didn’t seem to process anything but he at least knew he needed to get home, and he knew for sure that was going to be difficult.

Everything felt trippy. Jughead felt like he was walking through one of those fun houses, everything distorted and not quite right. When he staggered down the hall he felt like the flooring was shaking, like he was on some obstacle course of some kind because his legs wouldn’t stop wobbling and he felt like he was on the verge of collapse.

Jughead thought he heard his phone buzz but all he could think about was how how faint he felt, and how his chest felt like something huge was compressing it, squeezing tighter and tighter. It was like his lungs was the snowballs you kept compressing and squeezing until it turned to ice.

And even though Jughead made a continuous effort to try and steady his breathing, he couldn’t avert his full attention to it because parts of him was concentrated on the pounding pain in his head, like someone repeatedly banging on walls, and other parts where concentrated on the surges of varying temperatures that Jughead couldn’t handle,

And then he started coughing hard, the worst fit he’s ever remembered having. Because each cough is not only a bullet to his lungs, but a bullet to his brain, his vision blackening and he literally cannot breathe, his entire body was shutting down.

It’s like his entire body has gone into panic mode, and he could hear the sirens screeching louder and louder until his brain screams for help. He can see flashes of red and blue and then he loses control.

Jughead fell to his knees and slid across the floor, his hands clutching his head in pain. Jughead whimpered and groaned until he realisedhe can’t breathe, each breath shallow and he felt so faint and so weak he can’t see. Jughead wheezed, suffocating, he felt trapped. It’s was nightmare.

But through all the monsters plaguing him in this wasteland, he heard an angel.

“Jughead? Oh god, Jughead!”

Jughead felt like he was on fire. He felt like he was aimlessly drifting through space with no oxygen, he could feel himself closing down.

Archie dropped to his knees and examined him, “Jughead? What’s wrong?! Are you panicking?! Wait, wait, shit! You can’t breathe! Jug, where’s your inhaler?!”

Jughead tried to shake his head no, as Archie frantically rummaged through Jughead’s bag, in a futile attempt as there was no result.

Suddenly his reckless scavenging came to a halt when he realised what the issue was.

“You don’t have it? Oh fuck, Jughead! Did you run out and not tell us?!” Archie exclaimed, panic dripping out of his voice.

Jughead opened his mouth to apologise, but a hoarse wheeze was all he could manage. He shut his eyes in pain, convulsing as he struggled to breathe.

Archie’s hands shook as he grabbed for his phone, frantically trying to call for Fred. He put the phone against his ear, each ring seeming to last an eternity.

“Dad? Oh my god Dad, you need to get here right now! Jughead needs to go to the hospital! He doesn’t have an inhaler and he’s having an attack! Please hurry!” Archie cried out, and hung up immediately.

He rushed towards Jughead and scooped him up into his arms, placing a cool hand on his forehead.

“Fuck! You’re burning up! Hang on Jug, Dad’s gonna come soon and fix you up. Dammit, why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Archie hissed, running his fingers through Jughead’s hair comfortingly, although he was really doing it to comfort himself.

Jughead can’t really remember what happened in the next 10 minutes but all he knows is that Archie held him in his arms and refused to let go, staying right next to him the whole time. Nothing in the world could have persuaded Archie to let him go.

It seemed like an eternity. Even though Jughead could feel himself slipping away and getting weaker by the moment he forced himself to stay awake, hang on, cling on to Archie, fighting for each second. Then, his friend’s eyes suddenly lit up as a bright white light flooded the scene.

“Look, Jughead! It’s dad! You’re going to be just fine..you’re alright, you’re alright,” Archie promised, and it was the last thing Jughead heard before he faded out and he was flooded by a beam of white that swallowed him whole.

It was also a beam of bright white that brought him back.

Then the rapid spinning of a fan, and slowly his senses came back and he could hear the spinning motion of it. He felt a mask over him.

He hadn’t quite completely regained control of his sentences, but he could faintly hear Fred talking to what he assumed was his doctor.

“Yes, yes he’s under my wing for now. Just tell me everything he needs, anything at all, just please fix him up,” Fred nodded.

The doctor chuckled, “He’ll be just fine, Mr Andrews. His asthma is not a problem when he has his inhalers, which I’ve asked the nurse to go get for you which she’ll give to you before he gets discharged, I just wonder why he failed to mention he needed them in the first place.”

Archie scoffed, making his presence towering over him, “Because he’s Jughead, of course. It’s what he does best–worry us because he’s shut himself out for some otherworldly reason.”

Archie looked down on him again, worry flooding his eyes until he realised Jughead had waken.

“Jughead!” He exclaimed.

Fred immediately rushed to his side, followed by the doctor who gently removed his mask. “How are you feeling, champ?”

Jughead opened his mouth to reply but the Doctor quickly shushed him.

“Don’t speak son, you need rest.”

Jughead nodded, and looked over at Archie who seemed to be looking at him with a very fiery glare, like he had been hurt and stomped on, his arms crossed and letting out a frustrated sigh. Jughead raised an eyebrow as to ask him what was going on.

Archie scoffed, looking bewildered, incredulous, “What’s going on Jug? What’s going on?!”

“What’s going on is that less than three hours ago I found you suffocating in the middle of the hallway, on your knees and gasping for air! Less than three hours ago I felt my heart drop and shatter into a million pieces as dread devoured me! Less than three hours ago I was holding you in my arms begging you not to leave me because I was terrified you would and maybe this time, I wouldn’t get you back! All because you didn’t say shit!” Archie hissed bitterly.

Archie aggressively ran his hands across his hair and stomped off into the corner, seething in his anger, breathing ragged.

Fred sighed, placing a comforting hand on his son’s shoulder, “Arch, I know you’re upset, but take it easy on him, okay? He’s exhausted.”

Jughead could feel his heart sinking to the floor, suddenly increasingly aware of the damage he had cause, the damage he didn’t think he would cause, the damage he didn’t think he could cause because how can anybody care for someone like him so much?

Jughead reached out for the notepad and pen on his bedside table desperately. The Doctor noticed and handed it to him. The moment the pad was in his hands he scribbled down furiously onto the page, ripping it out of the pad and waggling it ferociously towards Archie’s direction.

Archie sighed deeply, reluctant to get the page but there was an urgency and pleading to Jughead’s eyes he simply could not say no to. He got up and made it towards him, taking the note from his friend and reading.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. It’s just been a while since I’ve had an actual home and I’ve forgotten what it’s like.”

Archie looked up at him, meeting his gaze and he understood. In that moment they connected, that unspeakable bond they had formed since the sandbox that no science could really explain. All had been forgiven, all was clear, and there was no bitterness, only love.

Archie leaned in and took Jughead’s hands in his and smiled, “Then I will dedicate my entire existence to reminding you what it was like.”

[bughead-ficz]

Don't Touch Her//Bughead Fanfiction (C3)

Chapter 3- Tension at Pop’s

(features unnecessary awkwardness between Jughead and Archie)

☾☾☾

It was Monday, and you know what that means. Riverdale High seemed like the perfect place to study and get an education, filled with positive and friendly students, but the brightly coloured clothing on most of the teenagers certainly didn’t reflect their personalities. The hallways roamed with douchebag jocks and bitchy females, trying to intimidate anyone who looked remotely vulnerable, like they used to do to Jughead.

Betty, even though she was saddened to not be spending as much time with him, was somewhat content in the thought that Jughead was happy at Southside High. When she first found out he’d had to transfer, she was devastated. For him, for herself, and for their relationship. She’d thought that the teasing and targeting would escalate considering that side of town was rumoured as trashy and terrorising. To be honest, she should have known better.

There were only a few Serpents who she knew for definite had actually been violent, and many more who were kind, genuine people. Take Jughead’s dad, FP, for instance, or Kevin’s boyfriend, Joaquin. Or even her own mother, the one and only Alice Cooper. But she didn’t know about her mother’s Serpent history yet.

Betty’s protective instinct had taken over and she assumed the worst of his people. But when she showed up at the high school with Archie Andrews and Veronica Lodge, relief washed over her.

There was her Juggie. Sat with some other teenagers who were laughing at some quality banter Jughead had said. He looked happy, maybe even the happiest he’d ever looked around other people (except the bonny blonde of course). It was okay. He would be okay. And that information made her content.

Betty recalled the memory in her mind as she sat in class next to Veronica. She was supposed to be studying in the room since it was a free period, but as she attempted to recall the quadratic formula, or state the different products of copper, she found her mind wandering to Jughead.

Jughead was her favourite thing to think about, and rightly so. He had been there for her through so much, like everything with Polly and her parents. The beanie-wearing boy was a blessing to her, and so how could she resist dreaming about his sarcasm, or cheeky smile? God knows he thought about her just as much.

“B?” Betty was broken out of her Jughead-consumed thoughts by Veronica’s voice.

“Oh sorry V, what were you saying?” She asked, baffled.

“Well,” Veronica began with a smug grin, “I was just wondering what exactly was so charming about copper chloride.” Betty frowned, confused, causing the dark-haired girl to giggle. “Betty Cooper you’re sat there grinning at your science notes like they’ve just sang you a highly romantic serenade.” Betty giggled slightly, but then it turned sad.

“I miss him.” Veronica slipped an arm round her to rub her shoulder. “I know, B, but you can see lover-boy after you’re education is completed today.” Betty raised her eyebrows playfully, “yes Mom.”

Veronica shoved her lightly, “get back to work young lady.” And with that the two girls sat chuckling to themselves and attempted to revise pointless information.

☾

As soon as her classes were finished, Betty practically floated out of the superficial school. She hoped to get to pops before her boyfriend, a daily thing they’d like to do- whoever gets there last pays. Sometimes he’d be sat there with a smug smile plastered onto his face which would be partially covered by his laptop screen. At first Betty would be disappointed, but only for a fraction of a second because she’d be so happy to see him after several long hours of “education”. And most of the time Jughead wished he was last, so he wouldn’t have to wait longer to see her beautiful complexion. Sometimes they just split it, no matter who got there first.

“Hey Betty!” She was broken out of her thoughts by the red-headed boy known as the one and only Archie Andrews, jogging over the street to meet her form. Her next door neighbour and one of her best friends. The two had been closer previously, before she’d confessed her romantic feeling towards him and he’d rejected her, stating she was too “perfect” for him. She hated that word. There were no hard feelings, though, because everything happens for a reason, and it led her to Jughead.

“You headed home? I can walk with you.” Archie pondered. Betty smiled discreetly before slightly shaking her head.

“I was gonna go meet up with Juggie at Pop’s.” The Andrews kid looked disappointed, even though he tried hiding it. So Betty, being Betty, invited him to join them, and it was worth it seeing his face light up.

Now don’t get it twisted, Archie greatly cared for Betty, and the excitement his face showed at that moment proved it. But they didn’t have real feeling towards each other, romantically. The feelings Betty thought she had were just a serious crush, but, now she had Jughead. And she was deeply, deeply in love with Jughead.

And as for Archie, he knew he’d somehow be involved with Veronica at some point during that very first time she walked into Pop’s whilst he and the blonde Cooper girl sat in that booth. They were currently dating, and had lost their flowers to each other. They’re relationship was strong, almost as much as Betty and Jughead’s.

A thick layer of subtle heat covered the town as Archie and Betty strolled down to Pop’s. The weather in Riverdale was mostly bipolar; some days it would be cloudy, rainy and depressing, other days, warm, bright and cheerful. Today seemed like a cheerful day.

“So have you finished your studies yet?” Betty questioned the boy next to her. He looked down as his form towered over hers.

“We’ve got ages left to do that stuff.” The blonde raised her eyebrows.

“Months. We have months Arch. With all the work we have to memorise and organise and do all the -ises with, that’s honestly not ages.” Archie looked a bit panicked, but then masked it with chill vibes.

“It’s plenty of time. And anyway, I only really need to ace football, the rest I can just get C’s in.” He argued.

They finally got to Pop’s in the middle of Betty making valid points as to why Archie should study. It was slightly hypocritical since she’d been doing the exact opposite of that whilst she was sat with Veronica earlier on in the day. But that wasn’t B’s fault. She was… distracted.

Distracted by the thought of the exact boy who was already at the pair’s typical booth. He sat buried within the screen of his silver laptop. Sloppily, his fingers danced along the keyboard as the brain within his skull kept bursting with ideas. Betty loved watching him type, to her it was mesmerising to watch him doing his passion.

Noticing their arrival, he flashed them a grin. The two slid into the booth, Betty next to her boyfriend, and Archie across from them.

“Hey Jug,” Betty quickly kissed his cheek, neither of them being much into PDA.

“How was the cliché hellhole?” Jughead’s personality was blunt and sarcastic, he had many great qualities, but when he spoke those specific two mostly dripped from his mouth. Betty liked it though, it made her giggle.

“Same as usual. Boring. Dragged a lot.” Betty looked over at Archie, silently telling him to respond too.

“Mine was fine to be honest. Coach taught us these cool new techniques to use for the game on Friday. Now my hand’s healed, it’s loads easier to play.”

Jughead frowned slightly, ignoring the three milkshakes and portion of fries being placed on the surface in front of him.

“You didn’t mention there was a game on Friday?” He question Betty, confused. The blonde didn’t seem phased.

“Yeah there is but I didn’t think you’d want to go.” She replied, “you never liked going to them whilst you were at Riverdale, but it’s okay.”

Jughead objected, “no, I want to go.” He said, unexpectedly. It caused Betty to be surprised at the sudden out-of-character statement. “You’re a cheerleader, and, you know, we’re together. So I wanna be there… for you.” He smiled shyly.

Betty stared into the blue eyes of her boyfriend. She imagined herself getting lost in them, drowning in the deep periwinkle crests of them. And she thought to herself, what a beautiful way to die.

Jughead returned the gesture as his eyes darted around her features. He wanted to remove her tight hair band and see her silky hair flow freely so he could intertwine his hands in the soft meadow that was her hair, and be absorbed by her rosé-coloured lips. He imagined those lips kissing him until all the oxygen was used up. And he thought to himself, what a beautiful way to die.

The two were dragged out of there thoughts when the Andrews boy cleared his throat. It was as if they were two entranced seahorses being un rightly trapped in a net, and Archie was the fisherman pulling them out of the mesmerising ocean and onto the hard, cold surface of his boat.

“So, anyway,” he began as the two broke eye contact from each other. Jughead rolled his eyes, slightly annoyed of Archie popping their bubble, but Betty, being the sweet girl she was, smiled apologetically. “The routine the vixens are doing is pretty good.”

“Funny that you say that Arch, because believe it or not, Cheryl actually let me choreograph some of it.” Betty stated proudly.

“Riverdale’s very own ‘HBIC’ let you choreograph her pride and joy?” Jughead raised his eyebrows, not accusingly, but curiously. The last time the Blossom girl had done something out of character, the core four had found her attempting to take her own life.

“Yep,” Betty smiled, “basically, she was yelling at us and going off on one because apparently we weren’t doing her choreo correctly, she said some really horrible things to some of the girls. She started bringing up Veronica’s dad and his… current predicament. So I just… exploded on her, I guess,” the two boys listened to each word Betty spoke, intrigued by the story. Archie’s jaw clenched tightly when Betty mentioned Cheryl offending Veronica, but kept it shut so the soft-lipped girl could continue.

“I just got so angry and I told her…” Betty trailed off and Jughead raised his eyebrows as so say “go on”.

Betty took a deep breath, “I told her that her choreography was crap anyway, that’s why no one could be bothered to do it.”

Jughead burst out laughing and Archie sniggered. “It’s not funny, she could have kicked me off the squad!” Betty explained, but then giggled too.

“Anyway, she challenged me to make better choreography than her, and if I could then she’d replace hers with it. And well, everyone voted for mine.” She smirked smugly, but humbly at the same time.

“I can’t wait to see it.” Jughead grinned.

“Well done Betty,” Archie smiled, “so which parts were yours?”

“Oh you know, the shimmy bit, the bit at the front, the pom pom section… everything except the end position. I’m just so grateful that-” Betty was cut off by a ping noise. She pulled out her phone and read something, but it was put back into her schoolbag before Jughead could even read what it was.

“Who was that?” Archie questioned.

“I have to go.” Betty stated hurriedly, before getting up, ignoring Archie’s question. As she she got up from the seat, Jughead’s arm felt cold and bare, no longer feeling the smooth material of her jacket.

“Why? What’s wrong,” Jughead looked up quizzically at his girl. Her face was covered with fear and anxiety.

“It’s Polly, she’s in hospital, my mum just texted me. Something’s wrong with the babies.”