Jughead reached down to run his fingers through Audrey’s dark hair as she spoke, letting his fingers play through the thick layers of bangs. He brushed them back absently, watching as she dragged her hands slowly down her face. If he’d been meant to act like he was less confusingly attached to her than he was, then he was failing epically. If anything, he looked far more worried about her than he had when he was demanding she enjoy all the glories of Die Krähe. “You’re not excited about the impending post-apocalyptic hellscape?” He inquired. “Personally, I can’t wait to get cannibalized by a childhood hero.”
His usually string of disparaging commentary was brought to a quick end, however, when Audrey clarified the real problem.
Betty.
Jughead’s first thought wasn’t about any of the explanations that he might have owed her. It was only that Betty shouldn’t have been here. His hand paused still tangled in her hair, and his lips parted ever so slightly. For once, he was struggling for words. They came out just as dumb as he felt in the moment. “Betty’s here?”
Betty didn’t belong in this strange purgatory. Betty belonged where he’d left her. She belonged in the safety of his memories, protected from this tainted reality. She belonged in the timeline that he’d imagined, where she’d inevitably moved on from his disappearance and found everything she’d ever deserved (and not what she’d settled for). She belonged in the joyful conclusion; in the happily-ever-afters that she’d never gotten. Not here.