In between the towns of Riverdale and Greendale, just beyond Sweetwater River, is a bank of cliffs. The further you climb, the higher they get. There's even a fence to deter people from going to the top.

Betty had been coming here for months. She climbed under the fence, the setting sun and heavy mist sending a shiver down her spine. She slowly dropped down to the ground, scooting her legs over the edge. The dirt and gravel stuck to her clammy palms, but she barely noticed. She was here almost every day, the same thoughts racing through her mind - j u m p.

Betty sighed to herself and reached behind her back, feeling for a rock. She felt a flat, smooth stone in her palm. She felt the weight, tossing it in her palm before winding up and throwing it with all her might over the precipice.

She heard footsteps against gravel in the distance, getting louder and louder with each passing moment. Her heart hammered in her chest as she scooted away from the edge of the cliff.

She was dusting the dirt from her jeans as she came face-to-face with Jughead Jones. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her. He held her gaze for a moment before widening his eyes, trying to make her uncomfortable.

"What are you doing here?" He blurted.

"Just looking at the view," Betty shrugged.

"What view? It's foggy as fuck." As if to make Jughead's point, fat drops of rain started to fall, making the stone darker where it landed. "I have definitive plans here and just because you're here doesn't mean I'm going to change them."

It took Betty a moment before she realized what he meant - he was here for the same reason as she, except he seemed set on following through with his plan.

He was dressed simply, jeans and a t-shirt with an S emblazoned on it, a jean jacket and a pair of converse. She realized, looking at him, that his usual beanie and suspenders were missing. Whenever she saw him in the halls, he was never without them.

"You're in my way, blondie."

"I'm not moving. Y-you can't jump." Betty steeled herself as best she could against the chilly, damp air. She needed to stand her ground just in case he did anything.

Jughead scoffed and rolled his eyes. She could see him eyeing the cliff behind her, the rocks, the mist and fog surrounding them.

"What do you care? You don't even know me." He said, looking her dead in the eye. It was a challenge.

"I know, but I'd like to change that. Give me a chance to change that?" Betty cocked an eyebrow.

Jughead shook his head. "Just like that, huh? Are you trying to take on a project? You'll walk down the cliffs until we're on solid ground and turn tail and run just like everyone else. Just let me get this over with."

"No, it's not like that. I used to see you with Archie. I... I heard about your dad. I'd truly like to get to know you, Jughead."

Jughead stood with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I mean, won't you miss..." She trailed off. How was she supposed to list reasons why he should stay alive when moments before he arrived, she was contemplating the same thing he was about to do? "Won't you miss milkshakes and french fries and sunrises? That feeling you get when you watch a new movie for the first time and you just feel how great it is deep in your soul? When you wake up from an amazing night's sleep? Biting into a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie?"

"Wow," Jughead laughed. It was a humorless, empty sound. "You make it sound so easy to be alive, Betty, but let me save you the trouble - I'm already dead inside. None of those things are worth staying for."

Betty bit her lip. She couldn't let this happen. "Trust me, I know how badly you want to do this. But... but what if instead of jumping, you stay with me. Stay here with me, we won't go our separate ways once we walk down to solid ground."

"What do you mean?" Jughead's eyebrows knit in conclusion.

"My family's gone for the weekend. Come and stay with me and I'll prove to you why it's not worth doing this." What the hell was she saying? How was she going to prove it to him?

"You make it sound so easy. It's not like I'll spend a few hours with you and I'll be cured." Jughead shoved his hands deeper into his jean pockets. The rain was picking up, making him wish more than anything he hadn't left his hat at home.

"I know you won't be cured. But, if we can get you to re-think this, there's hope. We can get help. Get-get you help." Betty dug at the gravel with the toe of her shoe. She only looked down for a second - her eyes snapped back to Jughead as soon as he made the slightest of movements. "Plus, it'll be for more than a few hours. Give me a few days."

Jughead sighed. "Look, this really isn't -"

"Give me seventy-two hours, Jughead."

He snorted. "Twenty-four."

"Sixty."

"Look, I could stand here and try and convince you, or you could come home with me and we could get warm. Give me forty-eight hours, Jughead."

"Okay, fine, I'll play along. I'll give you forty-eight hours to try and convince me, but Christ, you don't know what you're getting yourself into. I'll come back and fucking fling myself off this cliff, and -"

Betty steeled herself against the rain, pounding down against them now. She was facing Jughead, her back toward the edge of the cliff. Fog hung thickly around them.

"Why are you doing this, anyway? Why do you care? You could pretend you were never up here."

"Because I know what you're going through." Betty crossed her arms tightly against her chest. "Minutes before you got here, I was going to jump, too."

Jughead's hardened exterior softened, his tight-knit eyebrows and permanent frown changing into something almost sympathetic. He didn't say a word.

She extended her hand toward him, rain rolling down her cheek. "What do you say, Jughead? My house?"

He nodded ever so slightly, taking her hand and leading her away from the cliff's edge.