"Hi there :) id like to request an imagine along the lines of jughead finds out you self harm / sees your self harm scars? i totally get it if its way to far over your blogs boundaries. thank you :)" --Anonymous

Warnings: mentions of self harm, self harm scars

You bit your thumbnail, trying and failing to focus on the homework in front of you as the words danced around the page. They blurred out of focus, your peripheral vision zoning in on a familiar dark haired boy sitting across the student lounge. Your best friend, Jughead Jones, in all his sincere glory, sinking into a bean bag chair. He sat next to an equally familiar girl with a blonde ponytail and a sweet smile. He leaned in to her, whispering something. She laughed. They would switch roles and the cycle would continue.

It had been like this for two months now. Ever since Betty Cooper had invited your long-time best friend to write with her on the Blue and Gold, they'd been inseparable.

Which should be a great thing. It really should be.

Your growing separation with Jughead was more than losing just a friend. You no longer had someone to text for hours on end into the night, educate you on classic movies (while you educated him on popular ones), and share milkshakes with. You'd be lying if you said you'd never thought of your friendship becoming something more. For your amused glances to become sweet kisses, for your walks alongside the Sweetwater River to become hand-in-hand, that would make life truly perfect.

Any hope of that was severely crushed by the unexpected introduction of Elizabeth Cooper.

You wanted to hate her. You really did. But she was everything you weren't, and everything you wanted to be. She was beautiful, with a loving, wealthy family. She was smart, but not rude about it. She was kind indiscriminately, and always fought for what was right. She was a River Vixen, for God's sake. There wasn't anything about her to even hate.

She was the girl Jughead deserved, and you tried to be happy for him. You really did.

Sometimes, the pain would be too great to be happy for him. Those times when you'd have a great movie in mind to see, but Jughead had already seen it with Betty. Those times when you'd walk home alone, Jughead staying late at the Blue and Gold office. Those times when you'd see Betty walk down the hallway, practically glowing in her River Vixen uniform,Jughead scurrying closely behind. Those moments made you feel like nothing. Worse than nothing.

The pain became so great you had to release it through self-harm. You would politely excuse yourself whenever Jughead and Betty entered a room when you could help it. You would cut yourself in the bathroom, clean and bandage it quietly, and return, able to tolerate their presence. Your sweater and cardigan sleeves hid your greatest secret.

And no one was supposed to know. They really weren't.

With all of the wonderful cards you'd been dealt, you received another wonderful hand to be assigned to work on the English tri-fold with Jughead. You tried not to notice his shared glance with Betty when the teacher announced the project, and their shared sadness that partners would be assigned randomly.

Jughead approached you with the same charm he always did. "Long time, no see, (Y/N)," he stammered. He seemed nervous. Was he really that unwilling to be around you?

You gave a small smile. "Yeah. Sorry you couldn't be with Betty, I know you guys are close."

Jughead looked confused. "We're close too, (Y/N). I've missed you anyways. I hang out with Betty enough after school." I know that, you thought.

Oh well, it was one assignment, and then you could go back to your torturous system. You could make it through three project sessions with Jughead Jones. You really could.

You and Jughead had been typing out sections to add to the trifold in your living room. He'd originally started the project session eager to catch up, but you dodged his questions any chance he gotten. You didn't have much to say, anyways. There wasn't much you did these days, without him. Eventually he'd given up, and you silently agreed to let things alone.

"Oh, shit!" Jughead said. He'd reached over to the textbook and accidentally tipped over the glass of soda on your table-side, spilling it all over your front.

"Oh, jeez," you said, grabbing napkins and desperately trying to dab up the stain.

"I'm so sorry," Jughead said earnestly, helping wipe up the soda on the table. "I'm such a klutz today."

You stood, assessing the situation.

"Looks like your shirt is fine," Jughead commented. "Just your cardigan. Come on, I can throw it in the wash for you." From your years as friends, Jughead had become accustomed to your home and used the facilities as if they were his own. Working your laundry was no new experience to him.

"Oh, no, that's okay," you protested.

"I insist, it's way too sticky to wear," Jughead said, grabbing you and shrugging the cardigan off your shoulders. At his touch, you stiffened, heart racing. Curse hormones.

Jughead gaze shifted from the stained cardigan to you. You stood, frozen in the center of the living room. Your upper half clad in only a tee shirt, your self-harm scars, most recent ones bandaged, were on display for the whole world to see, including Jughead.

"Oh my God," Jughead breathed.

You didn't know what to say. You wished you could sink into the carpet like that soda stain.

"How long has this been going on?" He said quietly.

You shrugged, looking down.

Jughead's voice shook. "...why, (Y/N)?"

You shrugged again.

He grabbed your hands, staring frantically into your eyes. "Let me help you, (Y/N), please!"

Your gaze snapped up to his. "Why do you care?" Your tone was cold, harsh from the pain you felt.

Jughead reeled back, surprised at your outburst. "Of course I care, (Y/N)! We're best friends!"

You laughed sarcastically. "Some best friend you are. You've been avoiding me for two months."

"I've just been really busy with Betty and–"

Against your own will, tears began to leak from your eyes. "Do you know how it feels, Jughead?"

"How what feels?" He stepped closer to you, and you took a step back.

"To see you with her," you forced out between hyperventilation. "I... I see you with the most perfect girl in the world and it makes me feel like nothing, Jughead," you cried out. "I just want to be like Betty but I can't so this is all I can do to feel okay."

"No..." Jughead said. "No, (Y/N)."

"Just go away!" You said. "Stop pretending to like me!" You were about to walk away when he grabbed your wrists.

"I'm not pretending, (Y/N)!" Jughead yelled. You gasped at his force. Jughead was always the gentle one, never one to raise his voice.

"What?" You whispered, voice small.

"I love you, (Y/N), not Betty" Jughead insisted. "I never wanted it to mess up our friendship, so I've been hanging out with Betty to distract me." He started to tear up as well. "I never wanted it to lead to this...."

Your disbelief must have showed on your face, because he grabbed your hands. "You don't have to forgive me. You don't even have to stay friends with me. But let me help you. Just this once."

You knew, no matter what, you'd never be able to say no to Jughead Jones. "Okay."

He cleaned up the spill, putting away your work on the trifold for a later time. He instructed you to go up to your room and change, which you did.

He later came upstairs holding popcorn and mugs of hot chocolate. He plugged his laptop into the TV to put on one of your favorite movies to watch together. He laid in bed with you, his arm around you as you two watched the movie. You were too shaken up from the situation to enjoy it, but he still smiled at you, making his usual criticisms of popular culture. Even in your sadness you couldn't help but mutter back responses, making jibes at his classic favorites.

After the movie, you'd noticed a growing darkness outside of the window. Jughead cleaned up the food, sitting back on the bed with you and asking to see your arms again.

"Why?" You asked, afraid.

"Trust me," he said with a sad smile.

He took your arms, and for each scar, he pressed his lips to it, and said one reason he thought you were the most perfect girl in the world. They ranged in significance from "the color of your eyes" to "because you like horrible movies" to "you're always there for me". You couldn't help but start crying.

"I never knew you felt this way," you whispered in a broken voice.

His expression fell. "...I know, (Y/N). I was selfish. I never told you these things, because I didn't want to get hurt if you didn't feel the same way. I never knew not telling you could hurt you even more, to the point of physical pain. It scares me to think that worse could have happened." A tear slipped from his eye. "I... I never want to take the chance again of going a day without making you feel wanted.

Your expression dimmed, thinking of the future. "I don't know if I can stop, Jug... it's like an addiction."

He nodded. "I know. But from now on, I'm going to be with you every step of the way."

From the next day on, things really were different.

Jughead picked you up every day to walk to school together, like old times. You worked on your tri-fold during free periods, leaving lunch time to hang out together or go on walks. After school, he'd come over every day and watch at least one movie with you, followed by his ritual with your arms.

Things still hurt at first. They really did. You had trouble believing Jughead and not thinking this was some sort of charity case. At times, you'd break down, unsure of what to believe. Thinking he'd go back to Betty at any moment. But all those times, Jughead was there to reassure you with all the patience in the world. And over your days and nights together, you grew to love Jughead again, and to love yourself, little by little.

And somehow, things got better.

They really did.