You awoke to a lovingly annoying Jughead jumping on you like a little boy on Christmas morning.

"Wake up," he whined.

You groaned, grabbing the nearest pillow and smacking him in the face. "Where's the snooze button...."

Jughead flopped down next to you. "There's no time for a snooze button, (Y/N)! It's my last day as a free man." He paused. "I say that jokingly of course, in total recognition of the concept's misogyny."

You sat up. "Crap. You're right."

Jughead raised an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"

You laughed off your nervousness and dread. "...you're right, Jughead. We have to make this the best day ever!" You said halfheartedly. You jumped out of bed, Jughead following eagerly after you. "...after I get ready." You slammed the bathroom door in his face with a smug grin.

After shutting the door, you slowly slid to the floor, hiding your face in your hands.

"Crap. He's right."

It was officially one day until Jughead Jones III and Elizabeth Cooper would be legally married until death do them part.

And you still hadn't told him you were in love with him.

I mean, it isn't that bad, right? You padded back and forth on the cold tile, rigorously scrubbing your teeth.

Well, it was pretty bad....

I have plenty of time! You threw your hair into a pony tail, immediately hating it and undoing it into your usual, messy 'do.

You have less than twenty-four hours.

I'm going to tell him. You finished up your makeup and put on your outfit for the day, grinning with confidence.

Well if the past five years are any indication....

You deflated. Whatever. You took a deep breath, preparing you for the last day with Jughead as you knew it, and opened the door.

Jughead chuckled. "I thought you died or something."

You raised an eyebrow. "Or something."

You paused, surveying the kitchen. Pancakes, bacon (crispy, but not burnt), eggs, milk, and orange juice sat on one side of the kitchen table, opposite Jughead. But you just woke up.

"You... cooked?" You asked, repressing a snort of disbelief.

"Some people cook, I make magic," Jughead said in an exaggerated French accent. At your lack of response, he continued, "I've seen you make this meal enough times to know how to do it, genius."

"Ah," you nodded, sitting down across from him. "Well, that's sweet, Jughead. Thank you."

"I'm really proud of these pancakes, honestly," Jughead said. He snatched the fork and knife from your side of the table, cutting piece and holding the fork out to you.

Hesitantly, you let Jughead feed you. "It's good," you said, voice muffled by the food in your mouth.

He grinned in satisfaction. "I know."

He handed you the utensils, fingers lingering on yours for a sliver of a second longer than normal. You returned to your meal, wondering if you had imagined it.

"What's first on the agenda?" You asked, hopping into the passenger's side of the Andrews's truck, which Fred had lent to Jughead for the day.

Jughead dug around in his jacket pocket, retrieving a crumpled piece of notebook paper. As he pulled onto the road, he handed it to you.

You unfurled it.

Jughead and (Y/N)'s Best Friend List

"Holy shit," you said. "You kept it." You'd written this list in the last year of high school, determined to complete every item.

"Of course I did," Jughead said, offended.

Only one item remained:

Jump off of Blossom Peak into the Sweetwater River.

You felt your heart drop.

"No, Jughead..." you moaned, sinking into your seat.

"Yes, (Y/N)," Jughead replied.

In high school, you, Jughead, and the gang had decided to skip a day of school and head down to the river for a swim. Blossom Peak was the tallest cliff of them all, and your friends had always wanted to jump off the top to canonball into the waters.

You sat by the edge of the water, reading a book, when Jughead ran past you as he followed Archie on his way for a third jump.

"Come on," Jughead said, tugging your hand. "It'll be fun."

"No, thank you," you said, tugging your hand back.

"I'll hold your hand if you're scared," Jughead said, smirking.

"I don't think that would help much," you said curtly.

"Why is that?" Jughead pouted.

"I can't swim," you returned your attention the book.

"I can teach you," Jughead offered.

"In front of all of our friends? Thanks but no thanks, Jones."

"Okay," Jughead said. "But we're going to come back to this. I want to make sure you jump." He ran off after his friends.

Later that day, he had written the last entry on the list, committing you to the task for eternity.

Jughead pulled up by the shore of the Sweetwater River.

"Let's start with baby steps," he offered, undressing to his shorts and getting into the water. You averted your eyes from his shirtless body.

You looked back and forth, biting your lip. "Jughead, I don't have a swimsuit."

He shrugged. "Just swim in your underwear. People won't be able to tell from far away."

You sighed, tugging off your clothes until you were clad only in a panty and bra, thankful you had chosen a more attractive pair that day. Jughead's eyes widened.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," you teased.

"And get in even more trouble with Betty? No thanks," Jughead said, signature glare on his face.

"You're saying you would, though," you prodded, a devious grin growing on your face.

"You're gonna pay for that," Jughead warned you.

Suddenly, Jughead pulled you into the water with a large splash. You shrieked as your body fell into the icy water.

Your teeth chattered at the chill. Why do people even do this, anyways?

"You'll warm up," Jughead said, reading your mind. "Now, let's go. Baby steps."

For the next couple of hours, Jughead walked you through some basic swimming strokes and strategies. Swimming was much more complex than you had foreseen, but Jughead made sure to give you enough time to practice to where you were confident with at least one stroke, and could tread water for a substantial amount of time.

"That's it. You're ready," Jughead said with finality, after watching you swim along the shoreline with general ease.

"No," you moaned, pretending to drown and sinking into the water.

"Yes," Jughead replied, tugging you out.

Blossom Peak would have been gorgeous, if it weren't so terrifying.

The peak was so high up you could almost see the lake in full, its turquoise water nearly sparkling in the sunny day. A short strip of sand bordered the blue, surrounded by the endless expanses of emerald that made up the untouched Riverdale forest lands and Blossom estate. This town was your home, but you had never seen it like this before. It was actually kind of beautiful.

"I'll hold your hand if you're scared," Jughead offered again, in that same sardonic tone.

You rolled your eyes at him. "I'd rather drown."

You ignored the pounding in your heart and the dizzying height. It couldn't be that high, right?

"One..." you tensed your legs to jump, taking a deep breath to relax yourself.

"Two..." Jughead slipped his hand into yours, clutching it tight.

You glared at him, but before you could pull away, he yelled, "Three!"

The two of you jumped, plummeting into the water.

When you stepped off of the ledge, your fear increased tenfold. But it was too late to go back.

Then, it disappeared.

For the short time you and Jughead were jumping through the air, you felt like you had never felt before. The sea at your feet, sky all around, you were flying, you could do anything.

As soon as it came, it went, and you crashed through the water, doggy-paddling to shore before you could forget how.

"So?" Jughead asked, shaking out his hair.

You jumping into his arms. "That was amazing! I don't see why people don't jump off of cliffs all the time!"

"I knew you'd love it," Jughead said with a smug grin.

You paused, pulling away from Jughead.

The best friend list was complete.

Jughead was getting married tomorrow.

Was this the end of a legacy?

"Hey," Jughead said, seeing you descend into your mental space. "What's wrong?"

"We finished everything on the list," You said, voice cracking.

"That's great," Jughead said, confused.

"It's not," you insisted. "It means... there's nothing left we have to do as best friends." You started to cry.

"Hey," Jughead whispered. "We can make a new list. Just because I'm getting married doesn't mean it's the end of us. I promise." He enveloped you in his arms yet again.

You nodded silently, reveling in his warmth. Droplets from his hair wet your face, washing away the tears. You had never been this close, skin-to-skin. Close enough to hear his heart thrumming in his chest, and the tightening of the sinew in his muscles as he hugged you. You could see why some found the human touch intoxicating.

"First," Jughead said, breaking from your reverie, "there's something we need to do."

Following showers at home and burgers from Pop's, the two of you rounded the corner to the old Twilight Drive-In. Long-since demolished but left at a stale-mate in the fight between Lodge Industries and the Town of Riverdale, the grass and weeds had overtaken the once-barren lot.

Jughead parked the truck in the center of the field, grabbing some blankets from the back and laying them out in the bed of the truck. You followed him outside and sat on the soft surface he'd laid out. The sky was painted orange, the sun setting on your perfect day.

"It's beautiful," you said softly, sadly.

"That's not it," Jughead said, laughing.

"Oh?" You raised your eyebrows.

"You'll see. Just wait." Jughead sat next to you, his warmth radiating onto your body in the growing chill.

It took a full hour for the sun to set. The whole time you sat with Jughead in silence. Thinking about everything you had been, and what you would become.

You remembered meeting him in elementary school, your mom meeting his dad at the orientation and pushing you two together on the playground. You hated each other instantly, knowing cooties that come with interactions with the opposite sex. You came up with a game where you were both spies and had to work together to convince the enemy (your parents) that you liked each other even though you really didn't. You wondered who was really tricking who, after all these years.

You remembered your middle school days. You'd trade a notebook back and forth, writing outrageous stories hypothesizing mysteries on campus and conspiracy theories about the teachers. One day a teacher had found it and nearly had you both suspended. While you died of boredom in detention, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned to see Jughead sliding you a new notebook with his sly grin, ready for more secret stories to be told.

You remembered high school. You had been asked to the prom by one of the cutest guys at Riverdale High and your distraction from your unrequited Jughead love. Needless to say, he stood you up at the last minute. Crying on your front doorstep still wearing your dream dress, Jughead had shown up in his dad's old suit, carrying wildflowers you knew he picked from the neighbor's garden. "I hate dances," he said, thrusting the flowers into your hands. You knew in his own language, it was one of the nicest things he's ever said to you.

You remembered the love in your heart when you'd realized you needed to tell him how you felt about all of these things before it was too late. You remembered how much it crushed you when he told you it already was.

"(Y/N)," Jughead said, shaking you gently. "It's time."

"Time for what?" You asked. Jughead pressed a finger to your lips, shushing you. He placed a hand on your face, turning it towards the field.

The sky had darkened to a blue-black, the jagged lines of the trees only faintly standing out against it. Stars speckled the night sky, bright but slightly diluted by the suburban lights.

But your attention was not directed to the sky, but instead to the grass. On the ground, appeared small spots of glowing light.

"Oh, Jughead," you whispered.

The lights began to grow in number across the ground, and some began to move, whizzing about in unintelligible patterns.

From elementary school to your car driving off to your first day of college, hunting lightning bugs had always been yours and Jughead's silent reprieve from it all. The simple beauty of these natural-born lights was always one of your favorite things in the entire world, and reminded you that there was still light, even in the darkest darkness.

You couldn't help yourself. You ran out into the field, wandering among the lightning bugs and spinning around, dancing in the beautiful lights. You laughed and sang, at home at last.

Maybe in all this heartbreak, there was still happiness.

All the while, Jughead watched you with a funny look on his face.

"What are you staring at?" You said, sticking your tongue out in a childish manner.

"My Little Lightning Bug," Jughead said, grinning. Not a devilish grin, or a sardonic grin, as Jughead was often accustomed to. But a genuine grin of genuine happiness.

You ran back to the truck, jumping in the bed and crawling into Jughead's arms. "Thank you."

He buried his face in your hair, breathing deeply. "Any time."

You pulled Jughead down onto the blankets, resting your head on his chest.

"It's amazing to me," you said.

"What is?" He asked.

"After everything you've been through, all the shit that life has dealt you, you can still see a few lightning bugs and find hope, and believe in happiness."

The corner of Jughead's mouth tugged upward. "It's not about the lightning bugs, (Y/N). Not for me."

You rolled so your chin rested on his chest, so you could look into his eyes. "Oh? What is it about then?"

He looked away, in thought.

Then, he said something that surprised you.

"It's about you."

You blushed. "What?"

"You've been dealt an equally shitty hand, (Y/N). But you can still look at some simple lights in the darkness and believe in all that stuff. I think it makes me believe, too," Jughead smiled.

You suddenly felt very childish about it all. Wanting things to go your way, wanting to mess up Jughead and Betty's marriage just so you could be happy. Jughead was right. Even if things weren't going your way right now, there was still hope. There was still happiness.

Maybe it was time to let go.

You inched forward, determined to do one thing before you let go of a dying dream. Jughead froze.

Light as a feather, you touched your lips to his cheek.

"Thank you, Jughead, for today. For everything."

Without caring about his response, you rested your head on his chest, closing your eyes and going to sleep.

The night had settled. All but the most vivacious lightning bugs had gone elsewhere. The only sound was the distant whoosh of the nearby country road, and the air brushing across the dry grass.

"(Y/N)?" Jughead whispered.

You stirred at the mention of your name, but did not awaken.

He held you tighter. "...if you have any reason why you think me and Betty shouldn't do this, tell me. Please."

To his regret, you were already asleep.