Chapter Six
Mirrors

Betty had spent the entire night tossing and turning.

She'd been worrying about her dad, worrying about Chrissy, worrying about the pep rally.

And in between all that, she couldn't stop thinking about Eddie stupid Munson and his ridiculously pretty brown eyes, and his annoying grin, and his dumb leather jacket, and– fuck. That asshole had waltzed straight back into her house, and her life, as if he'd never left. Just slotted back in around the Angel family dinner table, like it had always been meant for six people and not five. Smiled with her parents, laughed with her siblings, pretended that he hadn't completely shattered her heart seven months ago.

Betty detested him.

She also wanted to kiss him. Very hard. On the mouth.

And then bash his head into a wall.

Lovingly.

"Christ, Betty, you really do look like shit," Marnie commented, speaking through a mouthful of ham sandwich.

They were sat with the cheer squad, all squeezed around one trestle table in the cafeteria. Betty was exhausted. She'd just about peeled her eyes open whilst Marnie and Kath whittled on about their party.

"Mhm, some serious bags under those eyes, honey," Kath pointed out – as if Betty even needed reminding. "Don't worry, I can fix that before the game tonight. We'll have you back looking like a goddess in no time."

Betty slumped further down the blue plastic chair. The thought of having to get ready, perform at the Tigers' basketball game, and then go to a party afterwards made her want to lay on the floor and die.

The pep rally that morning had been a complete dud too. The cheerleading performance was fine, went as planned, but the basketball team were way more insufferable than usual. Jason, of course, being the annoying fuck that he was, made the longest captain's speech Betty had possibly ever sat through, almost sending her back to sleep before the school day even started.

"Okay." Marnie rested her palms on the table. "What's up with you? You're being weird today."

"I'm just tired," Betty excused, a yawn escaping her lips on cue. "I got no sleep last night."

Kath glanced up from the salad she'd been picking at. "Oh, bless. Pep rally nerves?"

"Yeah," Betty said. It wasn't a complete lie, any performance was nerve wracking, though probably not enough to be the sole reason for losing sleep.

Marnie wasn't so easily fooled. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What time did you get home last night?"

Betty had come clean the second she saw Marnie that morning, explaining the reason she had no car. Since it wasn't a secret that Betty was meeting up with Eddie, she figured it would be better to tell the truth about what happened – although, she had purposely omitted the bit where Eddie drove her to the hospital, skipping straight to the "he dropped me home and my parents invited him inside, ugh!" part instead.

"Uh, not late, maybe seven."

"So Eddie didn't stay long when he dropped you back?" Marnie pressed.

Betty folded her hands tightly in her lap. Okay, maybe she had also left out the part where he stayed for dinner and didn't leave until nine. Big deal.

"Nope."

"Wait. Eddie?" Kath asked, glancing between them. She leaned forwards, lowering her voice. "As in Eddie the freak?"

"He–" Betty cut off. There was no point even attempting to defend him. "It's a long story."

Kath shrugged in acceptance. "Okay." She twirled her plastic fork around. "Hey, where did Chrissy get to? I wanted to ask her something about tonight."

Betty was grateful for the topic change. Not only did it prevent any further line of questioning from Kath, but switching to one of Marnie's favourite subjects also threw her off the scent too. More importantly, it gave Betty an opportunity to sneak a glimpse across the cafeteria. At Eddie Munson.

Wait.

No.

Betty quickly averted her eyes. That was not helpful.

"I don't know where Chrissy is actually," Marnie said. Weird, Betty thought she would've had a tracker on her or something by now. Kidding. "She said she was going to the bathroom, but it's been a while."

"Maybe she's on her period," Kath suggested. She always had such a simple explanation for everything. Betty needed some of that.

Marnie stared thoughtfully at the doorway.  "Yeah, maybe."

A thud prompted the girls to lift their heads. Betty swivelled round to locate the commotion. Eddie had jumped onto one of the long tables and was making slow strides across it. "As long as you're into band!" He called out. "Or science, or parties," he added in a whiny voice.

Betty rolled her eyes. Attention seeker. Eddie caught it and grinned. He strolled closer, eyes locked on the cheerleading table.

"Or pom poms–" He moved his arms mockingly, mimicking their routines. Marnie stuck up her middle finger in response. Eddie smirked, heading further down the table. He stopped at the edge and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Or a game where you toss balls into laundry baskets!"

Jason's chair screeched against the floor. The entire cafeteria went quiet as he stood. "You want something freak?"

Eddie raised his hands above his head, made devil horns with his fingers, and stuck out his tongue. The Hellfire Club table roared with laughter. Jason stared up at him in disgust.

Eddie's amused eyes drifted across the room until they locked on Betty. She was sat at the end of her table, looking up at him in disapproval.

Betty could not stress enough how much of an idiot he was. Like, easily the most annoying person on the planet. But he was so fucking...ugh? There was something dangerously charming about him.

Betty was desperate to hate Eddie Munson. To be repulsed the way her friends were. She wasn't sure what it said about her as a person to be so attracted to him. But she was. Fuck, she was.

Eddie turned to stroll away, one hand resting in the pocket of his leather jacket. He pinched the piece of paper that was scrunched inside and glanced back over his shoulder. The cheer squad had resumed their conversations. Betty was the only one watching him.

He couldn't quite figure out what her intense stare was. Contempt? Loathing? Interest? She almost looked like she wanted to jump him. But Eddie wasn't sure whether that was in terms of a fight or sex. Maybe both.

He knew he'd done a number on her last night – they'd been sat around the dinner table when her leg had accidentally leaned against his. She'd gone to pull away and then seemingly changed her mind, letting the touch linger. That had always been one of her tricks.

Little did Betty know, she'd done a number on him too. Like, Eddie had it bad. He'd been up all night thinking about her. To the point where he'd gotten so desperate for a distraction, that he decided to fix her car.

Yeah, yeah. Maybe he should've strung it out a bit longer, got her to take it to the garage he worked at during the weekends, but Eddie figured it might impress her. Which was exactly why he needed to get her attention.

So, when their eyes met again, Eddie removed his hand from his pocket and let the note float to the floor. 

At first, Betty had considered that it was an accident. Probably some scrunched up gas station receipt. But the tightly folded piece of paper had landed so perfectly beside her feet that she knew it had to be planned.

Eddie sauntered across table and back to his raucous group. Betty watched. Waited. Then bent down to pick it up. Her eyes flickered to her friends, double checking that nobody was looking at her. Then she glanced into her lap and unfolded the note underneath the table.

Meet me in the woods after school? – E

—

Eddie thought she wasn't going to come.

For potentially the first time in his life, he was the early one.

To be fair, Eddie had just sold drugs to Chrissy Cunningham in the exact spot he'd planned to meet Betty. But anyway. That wasn't the point.

She was almost always on time. As little miss perfect, she had to be. But Eddie had noticed that act slipping since senior year. And there was nobody she was more unapologetically Betty around than him. So, of course, he should've anticipated that she'd be late. Probably just to spite him.

Eddie was correct.

Betty would have been on time, she just didn't want to be.

It was challenging to reign in her temptation though. Betty had been intrigued – scratch that, she had been going borderline insane wondering what he wanted all afternoon.

Walking through the courtyard, she picked up the pace. Which was exactly how she bumped (quite literally) into Chrissy. The blonde had been distracted, watching over her shoulder as she rushed across the grass. Meanwhile, Betty was too busy checking herself out in her pocket mirror to notice the oncoming cheerleader.

The mirror had fallen to the ground and cracked – seven years bad luck incoming – sending Chrissy into a panicked and apologetic fluster. "Oh god! I'm so, so sorry!"

"Chris, honestly, it's fine," Betty assured, crouching down to pick up the broken pieces.

Chrissy knelt beside her, hands frantic as she tried to help. "I'll buy you another one or–"

"Chrissy, babe." Betty placed a steady hand on her shoulder. "Breathe. It's just a mirror."

Chrissy's eyes drifted across to meet hers. Reluctantly, she climbed back to her feet. Betty held the broken pieces in her open palm. As she stood, her eyes swept across the courtyard for a trash can. She spotted one halfway down the trail to the woods. Perfect.

Betty's attention returned to her friend. Chrissy looked behind her, rubbing up and down her arm. Her long fingernails kept catching in the threads of her white cardigan.

"You okay?" Betty asked. Chrissy whirled around, eyes wide and startled. "You seem a little jumpy."

"I, uh," Chrissy fumbled, gaze darting over their surroundings. "I promised I'd meet Marnie. Didn't want to be late." Betty knew it was a lie, but she accepted it anyway. "Wh– what about you? Where are you going?"

"I..." Shit. "I'm taking the short cut through the woods. You know, since I've got no car and all."

Chrissy nodded. Betty wasn't entirely convinced she was listening, but that was fine, it meant she got away with the lame excuse.

Chrissy peered over her shoulder again, staring in the direction of the woods. Betty frowned. She followed her line of sight, but found nothing beyond trees.

"Are you–" Betty hesitated. She didn't want to overstep. Chrissy chewed on her bottom lip, pulling the sleeve of her cardigan over her hands. "Are you doing okay? You haven't exactly...been yourself lately."

"Me?" Chrissy asked, blinking up at her. "I–I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

Yeah, no. Betty wasn't buying it. She seemed paranoid. Distracted. Scared.

"You know you can always talk to me, right?" Betty said. "Like, whenever."

Chrissy's lips parted. Then she pressed them together again. The cheerleader glanced down, fiddling with her fingers.

Betty let out a quiet sigh. "Is Jason..." she started, deliberating over her word choice. "Jason, he...he's treating you right, isn't he?"

Chrissy's head snapped up. "What?"

"Like, uh." Betty glanced thoughtfully to the left, trying to figure out how to word everything sensitively. "He's not pressuring you or anything? Or– or hurting you?"

Chrissy recoiled back. "Why would you think that?"

"I don't, I just–"

"I'm fine," Chrissy asserted. "Seriously. I guess I'm just..." she paused. "I've just been nervous about the performance tonight, that's all."

Bull-fucking-shit.

"Okay," Betty replied. "Yeah, totally get it."

Chrissy met her eyes for about half a second. "I should, um, probably get going."

Betty smiled. "Sure."

"But I'll see you tonight," Chrissy added, readjusting her backpack strap over her shoulder.

"Yeah," Betty said. "See you tonight."

Chrissy parted with a tight smile; one that should've given the illusion that everything was okay. But Betty knew for a fact it wasn't.

Chrissy ducked her head and scurried back to the school building. Betty watched after her. Weird.

Betty continued down the trail until she reached the mossy ground of the woods. Immediately engulfed underneath the green canopy, she walked amidst dappled sunlight, straying from the main path to find the spot Eddie would be waiting at. It wasn't far, maybe five minutes. Although, Betty did realise she hadn't actually agreed where in the woods to meet him, she'd simply assumed.

Leaves rustled underfoot, disguising hidden roots that Betty almost tripped over. And they weren't the only things to watch out for. Rows of stinging nettles threatened to nip at her uncovered legs. And a rogue squirrel had jump scared her when it darted unexpectedly from the bushes. Still, Betty managed to make it there in one piece.

Eddie was sat on top of a picnic table when she spotted him, his back facing her. She slowed to a stop, smiled mischievously, then crept closer, sidestepping twigs and piles of leaves.

When Betty reached the bench, she jumped onto it, smacked both hands against Eddie's back, and leaned her mouth close to his ear. "Boo!"

Eddie flinched. Betty couldn't help but giggle as he whirled around confrontationally. His shoulders slumped once his eyes locked on her, the tension alleviating from his body. Betty grinned, striding across the wooden table.

Eddie scowled at her. "Dickhead."

"Scaredy cat," she teased back. Betty tucked the back of her skirt underneath her thighs and sat beside him on the edge of the table. "So, what's with the note?"

A smile broke out on his face. She raised her eyebrows expectantly.

"I fixed your car."

Betty blinked, then double checked she'd heard him correctly. "You fixed my car?"

"Yep."

Betty stared at him a moment longer. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why?"

"It was in my driveway and annoying me."

"So you decided to just...fix it?"

Eddie shrugged. "Not like it's hard. I've worked at Thacher Tire for two years now."

Betty knew that. Obviously. She'd been there several times before. Not that she was interested in cars, she just used to love watching him in there; all sweaty, biceps flexed, oil streaks staining his skin...

Betty cleared her throat. And her mind. "I never doubted your abilities."

"Then a thank you would go a long way."

Betty glared at him. "Thank you."

"Pleasure's all mine, Angel."

Eddie tilted his head back and stared up at the sky. Betty's eyes wandered over him. She leaned forwards and rested her elbow on her knee. God, he was so damn pretty...

She sat back.

No.

Shut up.

Betty felt confused. About a lot of things revolving around Eddie. But right now, her main priority was that he was being...nice?

Not that Eddie wasn't a nice person underneath all the sarky, bitter, unapproachable metal-head persona. But he was kind of a dick to her. Which was fair; Betty was an asshole to him too. But she was used to him purposely making her life difficult, not easy. So to fix her car for no apparent reason at all? Surely not. He must want something.

"How much do I owe you for it?"

Eddie pursed his lips and pretended to think about it. "Three hundred should do it."

Betty almost choked. "What?"

"I mean, they'd probably charge you double at Thacher," Eddie pointed out. "Pretty girl like you comes in, doesn't know shit about cars..."

Betty squinted. "So the business you work for is operating on sexism?"

"Pretty much."

She scoffed. "Gross."

"I, however..." Eddie leaned closer. "Consider myself more of a feminist. So, two-fifty and we'll call it quits." 

Betty deliberated. "Two hundred."

"Two-thirty."

"Two-ten."

"Two-twenty-five."

"Two-fifteen."

"Two-twenty," Eddie bargained. "That's my final offer."

Betty huffed. "Fine."

She went to shake his hand, but Eddie pulled back with a grin. Betty's brows furrowed.

"I'm just messing. You don't owe me anything."

Her frown deepened. "But I can't...not pay you."

"Honestly, don't worry about it," Eddie dismissed. "Didn't even take long."

Betty eyed him unsurely. "How do I know you haven't, like, purposely cut the breaks or something?"

Eddie chuckled. "Ah, well, you're gonna just have to trust me on that one, Angel."

He leaned back onto his elbows. Betty's stare scrutinised him for a while longer. She could not figure him out. What the hell was going on? Everyone was acting so strange today.

"I'm sorry but this all seems...suspicious."

Eddie attempted to disguise an amused smile. "Yeah? How so?"

"Well–" Betty cut off, folding her arms as she took note of his teasing expression. "Fuck, I don't know. I just– I don't understand you. Why are you being so nice all of a sudden?"

"I am nice."

"No," she shook her head. "Well, I mean, yeah. But not always to me."

He glanced across at her. She searched his gaze for answers. Ugh. His eyes.

Eddie offered her a small shrug. "I dunno, Betts." He occupied himself fiddling with the silver chain around his wrist. "Guess I just figured you could do with a break, you know."

His eyes softened with a sincerity that made Betty struggle to swallow. She averted her stare, foot tapping rapidly against the bench.

"How is your dad, by the way?" Eddie approached the subject carefully. "It was nice to see him yesterday."

God. His voice was so tender, so genuine, that Betty had to turn away from him before she burst into sobs. Because, not only did it remind her of their late night talks all those months ago, but it proved he really did still care. And she missed him. She missed him so much. Betty had never needed him around more; to reassure her in that softly spoken way, to hold her hand, to just breathe with her.

Her chin started to quiver. She bit down on her bottom lip to prevent herself from unraveling. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

But it was too late.

Her eyes were stinging. Her heart was caving in. Her slow breaths were becoming shaky.

Betty clasped her hands tightly in her lap. "Yeah, uh, he's..."

She thought about her dad. About how she'd heard him going back and forth to the bathroom all last night. About how she knew it wasn't a good day when she came downstairs and didn't find him reading his daily newspaper. About the tears in her mom's exhausted eyes this morning.

"He– he's not great," Betty admitted quietly. Her vision started to blur. She tried to blink away the oncoming tears. "But it's the day after, so it's always pretty bad."

Despite her best efforts, the first tears came. Betty quickly brushed them away, but fresh ones soon fell in their place.

Eddie placed a hand on her knee to stop it from bouncing so high. "You okay?"

She sniffed, wiping her cheeks with the inside of her wrist. "I'm fine."

"Hey," he prompted gently. "Look at me."

"I'm fine," Betty insisted.

Even if he hadn't heard the puncture in her voice, Eddie could still see her shoulders trembling as she tried to hold back tears.

He didn't care anymore; about the walls the pair of them tried to hold up, or the performance they played to maintain their distance.

He shuffled closer, but she shifted further away. "Betty." His hand was still on her knee. The pad of his thumb circled against her skin. He reached out and brushed away her tears. "Hey, c'mere."

Eddie opened his arms and Betty gave in, allowing herself to lean into him. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck and finally cried.

The tears felt warm and sticky against her skin. She didn't want to drench Eddie's shirt too. Not to mention the way her nose kept running, but if she didn't sniff she wouldn't breathe. Eddie didn't care. He forgot everything. Just that he had Betty in his arms.

He stroked his hand down her back reassuringly. Her fingers clung tightly to his Hellfire shirt.

"I'm sorry," Betty mumbled, the words muffled against his chest. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry, sweetheart?" He asked gently, pulling her closer. "Huh?" His warm lips grazed her forehead. "Got nothing to be sorry for."

Betty tightened her arms around his back. She breathed him in; the cologne sprayed on the collar of his shirt, the woodland pine smell, the remnants of cigarette smoke lingering.

"Just everything," Betty choked out. "Everything hurts." Her face nuzzled closer into his neck. "And I miss you."

Eddie went quiet for a moment.

"I miss you too," Eddie whispered. "But I'm here. I'm here right now."

Betty pulled back, looking up at him with tearful, melancholy eyes. Strands of hair clung to her skin. Eddie smiled softly, carefully tucking them behind her ear. His thumb rested there, fingers cupping the side of her face.

"I'm right here, angel."

A/N

When Angel becomes angel. I call that progress