[ those eyes. they've always had an affect on him, despite what jughead might tell himself otherwise. like puppy eyes, but more soulful, and jughead can't help but sigh in mild irritation mixed with affection. the affection is underlying, barely noticeable for anyone who doesn't know him, but archie does, maybe even better than betty. so he'll undoubtedly hear it.

however, jughead's not completely swayed by the look. just as archie knows him better than probably anyone, jughead knows archie. he knows the other boy's need and desire to be loved, knows about some of his darkest secrets ( like grundy, but he does't want to think about her ), and knows just the kinds of things that make archie tick. so when archie deflects, asks about what he remembers, old fears come back.

they're the kind of fears that have plagued jughead for a while. that he'll lose betty, lose archie. that he'll never see jellybean or his mom again. this time, it's the memory that betty had loved archie first. he recalls what archie had said about being with betty before arriving, about a life-and-death situation. and he wonders.

jughead's always had an active imagination. it helps to fuel his writing, after all. the logical leap his mind automatically takes doesn't seem like a strange one to him, but he keeps his expression neutral as he settles down in the chair across from archie. ]

Betty and I were at the trailer and the Serpents came by to give me a jacket. After Homecoming.

[ the jacket which he's wearing right now. he pauses, tilting his head and arching a brow under his beanie before continuing. ]

Something happened between you and Betty, or am I wrong?