There must be something in the water
'Cause every day it's getting colder
And if only I could hold you
You'd keep my head from going under.
2 » archie andrews
In the morning, I start my jog across the middle of my street. The cool air rapidly sends epinephrine through my entire body, and before I start to run swiftly, I take a last look at Betty's house to see if she's awake. She's not, her window is dark and so I continue my day normally around the block.
My mind floods with thoughts, mostly surrounding yesterday and everything I almost said last night. I nearly told Betty that I saw a future with her, even if I believe I don't deserve her. But her and I could only ever work at the expense of our friendships with Ronnie and Jughead. Sometimes I'm glad that Mrs. Cooper interrupted me, but I also think my feelings need to come out inevitably.
As I reach the final turn to my house, my chest dampening with sweat, I spot Ronnie at my front porch. Her velvet coat waves as the breeze blows against her, and I force out a grin when she looks at me.
"Archiekins!" She exclaims, rushing to meet me.
I leave space between us, especially now that we're not together. I don't even understand why she's so pumped to see me if we're just friends.
I ask, "What are you doing here, Ronnie?"
"Thought you'd be more enthusiastic. We're still friends, Archie. I wanted to talk to you about yesterday," She places a finger on my shoulder, almost seductively. What's weirder is I don't feel any aroused reaction like I'm used to.
Across the street I spot her, my beautiful blonde best friend walking out her door with the most upset look anyone could own. I move away from Ronnie, not paying her attention as I can tell meters away, that Betty has been sobbing. Everything connects when her phone meets her ear.
"Ronnie, sorry to cut you off, but I have to go somewhere," I finally return my gaze to her, placing my hands in my sweater's pocket for warmth.
She nods, clearly confused, and walks away. I feel terrible for ignoring her, but for all I know Veronica's life isn't being threatened nor is it being tortured. So when she's out of sight, I jog across the street and find Betty, who wears tear-stained cheeks of mascara and concealer.
"Betty, give me the phone," I tell her, already sure that her newfound pain probably stems from the other person on that call.
She shakes her head, weakly forcing a just go signal, but I snatch it out from her hands. I hate seeing her in pain and I just want to get whoever is doing this and put him in a tight headlock.
"Hey, whoever you are, don't think you could get away from this!? I'm on the verge of finding out who you are, and Mr. Svenson–"
"Oh, Archie Andrews? Fun, young little boy. Lucky I haven't threatened Betty about you. Well, not yet," He snickers, the line fading off into the distance as my eyes find Betty's again.
"Arch..." says Betty, looking apologetic, but I don't allow her sorrow to continue and instantly embrace her.
I feel her tears soaking into my chest, her sobs dying down, as I tightly hold her in an embrace. Her blonde hair smells rich and filled with lavender scented shampoo, almost like she's taken hundreds of showers just today. And I could see Betty doing just that, to avoid her mother and family as she cries in the bathroom. The thought pains me, and I immediately check her expression, but I still can't read much with tears clouding her eyes.
"What.. do I look bad?" She jerks her head quickly, but I still catch it with my hands and turn her towards me.
Clearing my throat, I reply, "No! You're perfect."
Somehow, in a moment attempting to comfort her, she moves away from me, wearing an obvious face of disgust.
"Don't say that, Arch. Please," She glares at me scornfully, and I'm intimidated at the least.
Squinting my eyes, I nod. I thought if anything that that would be a compliment. As I'm failing to understand, I apologize and say, "Well, you look beautiful, Betty. Like always."
Wiping away her tears, Betty finally smiles, and my face naturally reciprocating her's. Then, I ask, "Have you eaten breakfast yet?"
She shakes her head, her face signaling that she's not been able to with all this stress bombarding her.
"I'll take you to Pop's. My treat," I pleasantly offer, and she takes it delightfully.
"Oh, if you insist, Archiekins," Betty raises her eyes dramatically as she speaks.
"If I can't call you perfect, then I think it only fair you don't call me that. It reminds me of Cheryl's creepy flirting," I explain, chuckling at the memory of it.
She rests her eyes, then hazily asks, "Fine. But doesn't Veronica call you that?"
"Oh, yeah. But you're different from them," I explain, and she crinkles her mouth in surrender.
Anyway, I've always liked her nickname for me better. Arch. Archiekins has a weird and childish ring to it. I'd even rather be called Archibald. But whenever Ronnie calls me by it, it's completely different, because I guess it's expected from her.
"Here, let me shower quick, and we'll go. I smell terrible," I claim, and she laughs softly.
"I know trust me, I was crying in your chest mostly because of how bad you smelled, Arch," she kids around.
I quickly run across the street, her soft steps following mine, and we both go inside of my house. I admire that after everything the Black Hood has put her through, she's able to find light in the littlest things. She's strong, probably stronger than me, I'll admit.
After I finish showering, we begin our walk along the path, on the sidewalk that never gets too small for the both of us. Once we reach the diner, I open the door for Betty in a gentleman like manner, and she curtsies as the bell rings.
"Surprised to see you kids up so early on a weekend! I suppose it's the same breakfast order?" claims Pop as he wipes the front counter with a rag.
"Sure is, Pop. Strawberry milkshake for the lady, with french toast and some scrambled eggs," I say proudly, having studied her order over the last decade I've known her.
"And for him, the chocolate milkshake and how about the entire breakfast menu, Pop?" Betty jokes, outdoing me with the humor.
"Got it, Betts!" He chuckles, heading to the kitchen as we walk towards our usual booth.
Unfortunately, the table besides it is occupied—a few Serpents, excluding Jughead, were laughing their asses off with leather echoing a scratchy noise on the seats.
"Do you.. we can get take out," I look towards my best friend, who is emotionless. She swallows hard, and continues to walk to our spot.
"It's fine, Arch. Not a big deal," Her voice breaks in a whisper.
I make sure to protect her as I catch the space between her and the Serpents, who are now eyeing the two of us. They don't seem to bother us, or our entrance, but I do catch one of them saying, "There's the star of the strip show, Jughead's doll."
As soon as my ears send those degrading words for my brain to understand, I immediately get infuriated and I want to punch whoever said that, but I'm phased by my own confusion. What did Betty do last night that I wasn't there for?
My eyes find her now glistening and entrapping irises, attempting to say something, anything to get my message out. Because of her beauty, and the emotion and fright I read, I sit there speechless, but my mind still captures everything occurring around me.
"Hey, Cooper, I'll pay money next time."
"Jones is a lucky dude."
"When you're finished with him, be sure to call!"
"I'll admit—my pants rose."
"Shut up, boys! Let's go."
The Serpents have gone, finally, but my mind focuses on the fresh set of tears falling from Betty's sky colored eyes. I regain consciousness and quickly run to her side of the booth as she cries in my chest.
"Betty, ignore them, it's okay. You're okay, they're gone. Don't worry, I'm here," I hold her tightly in her a hug, as I watch the crew of them drive out of the compound.
The amount of times I've held and hugged a crying Betty frustrates me. Knowing she's going through a lot lately, knowing that she conceals her pain and emotions hurts. I just want to be there for her and protect her at all costs, because I know she doesn't deserve this treatment at all.
When Betty's sobs finally die down, I find the courage in myself to pick her head up I look at me. Despite her mascara being smeared, and her lips seeming to be in a permanent frown, God, she still looked beautiful.
At the ring of another customer's entrance, I drop my meaningful gaze and see that Cheryl has walked into the diner. Instinctively, my heart engages in a rapid beat and I cover Betty with my jacket.
"Archie, what's—"
"Cheryl alert. I don't want her to see you like this, God knows what she'd do," I explain, and Betty nods.
Attentively, I watch her eyes scan the room, and just before she reaches our side Pop hands her the togo paper bag. She fails to thank him, I notice, and then her red heels clink to the ground until she's officially out the door.
I uncover Betty comfortably. She pulls away from my embrace, confusion flowing across her entire expression. So I quickly pull away and jump back into my own seat. And as if just on time, a waitress comes with our platters.
I express my gratitude, and even with the aroma of pancakes filling my nostrils, my concern is Betty. She's smiling now, but my mind drifts to all the other times I'm not here to distract her. How many times a day does she shed tears?
"Archie, thank you so much. I think all I really need is a milkshake to cheer me up, and I guess your company is cool too," Betty thanks me, sharing such an endearing and necessary smile.
"Of course, anything for you."
I so badly want to ask her about all the hurtful and shitty things those Serpents just said to her, but right now, she's peaceful. She's enjoying her strawberry smoothie, taking gleeful bites from her food, and I'd be a terribly curious person to ruin that. Plus, I enjoy her laughter.
When we finish our meals, I get up to pay the check. At the cashier, Pop's eyes alter between me and Betty, blatantly suggesting something non-platonic.
"No, just catching up," I tell him.
Pop shrugs, "That's good. I didn't want either of you being each other's rebound, you sweet teens deserve a fair shot."
I chuckle, exchanging a quick glance at the blonde woman sitting lonely at the booth. Although I've developed a relationship with Veronica, and her with Jughead, Pop is right. Ever since the second grade, I've always thought Betty and I would at least be something, and I still think about it today.
"Oh, Archibald. I hope I didn't rekindle conflict," Pop smirks, and he walks off again, leaving me looking longingly at Betty.
I signal to Betty that I've finished paying, and she follows me outside. We walk together back to our neighborhood, mostly silent and full of unspoken conversation.
"I-Uh, Betty?" My lips speak in a whisper, slightly catching her attention.
"Hm?"
Nervously, I ask, "Would you like to stay at my place? I-I think we should talk."
"Sure, Arch! And don't be so gentle around me, not like I haven't seen you cry either," Betty smirks, and I lightheartedly giggle.
Because my house only usually occupies two, I'm not surprised to see how tidy everything is. Well, besides my room. Clothes are thrown across my bed, the floor and there's even underwear handing on my punching bag. Everything else on the lower level is completely organized and clean, though. When Betty sees the lack of holiday spirit, I can tell she's surprised. But with my dad dealing with not only his wound, but having to get another job, and I have final exams coming, it's difficult to even cook anymore. Though we'll power through, as us Andrews men are known to do.
Betty takes a seat on the couch in my living room, examining the photo albums located inside the cabinet. I throw some wood into the fireplace to radiate some form of warmth in this room and join her, not realizing I've entered a session of nostalgia.
"Aw, look at you!" She exclaims, bumping my arm. It was a photo of me in the 6th grade, holding an electric guitar matching a bland hairstyle that seemed to be "fashionable" back in the day.
I nudge her, taking another photo album out titled Archie's Middle School. I knew exactly what page and what photo I was going to show her, because it was especially embarrassing for Betty.
Snickering to myself, I suddenly flash the photo before her and her jaw immediately flings open. "Oh my God—"
"Mind if I post a throwback picture on Instagram?" I joke, wearing a huge teethy grin on my face whilst holding my phone in my hand.
"Archibald Andrews! Don't you dare," Betty shouts with a mix of embarrassment, laughter and anger in one voice.
Getting up, I roam away from her, pretending to think of a clever caption, "Should I say, Throwback with my homegirl, or just keep it simple and say ROD?"
"Archie! I swear, I won't let you forget this!" Laughingly, Betty chases me around the living room, until she corners me. But my height doesn't allow her much to do except wait until my joke is over.
I hover my hands in the air, my thumb circling the post button. Betty helplessly jumps, occasionally threatening me by calling my mom, but seeing her this lively and happy again just warms my heart. Given, it could be the fireplace, but I love to make her smile and giggle, it's like my work as a best friend has been completed.
"Fine, just because you're begging so much," I tell her, and I let her watch as I delete the post.
She sighs in relief, punching my arm one last time before backing away, "I totally would have taken you down if I needed to."
"I believe that, Betty Cooper. But I truly have some hard muscles, eh?" I question modestly as I flex my arms.
She rolls her eyes sarcastically, once again hitting each arm with a fist, "Woah, those are ridiculous."
"Mhm, it's called lifting weights. Did it all summer as you were at your internship," I reminisce, and besides my affair with Ms. Grundy, I got a lot done. I wrote tons of songs and gained lots of muscle for football. Lately I've got no inspiration for either.
Betty returns to the couch, taking breathes from our little goose chase. Again, I sit beside her but this time, I want to talk about everything.
So, simply, I ask, "What was that about at the diner? Why were those Serpents being so rude to you?"
Before completely explaining the entire story, I feel her scoot away, as if she didn't feel the comfort of my presence. It was a bit distracting, but I allowed her to speak. And when Betty finally tells me that she basically stripped in front of gross middle aged Serpent men, I feel my face grow red of anger. I'm not pissed at Betty, I'm more mad that I couldn't be there to protect her from those creepy, pedophilia-full eyes. Though I'm also concerned as to why Jug didn't do much to help out his girlfriend.
"So Jughead sat through this entire show?" I interrogate, coming off more furious than I intended.
Betty nods shyly, and a bit shamefully. I clench my jaw and take a nice long breath before coming back to my senses, "Betty, are you okay now?"
Her eyes look away from mine momentarily, and whimpers a yes in a low voice, but I don't buy her statement. So I take her hands in mine, then ask again, "Are you okay, Betty?"
Initially she holds my hands, but it's as if once a light bulb burst, she took it away, then continued, "I'm fine, Archie!"
I swallow, hugging her again and allowing a single tear to fall from my eye. I make sure she doesn't see me upset and sad, because somehow Betty will make this moment about me instead of her.
I am still indeed pissed at Jughead, why the hell would he break up with her when he knew she wasn't well on her own? It was and is a selfish move, and I couldn't care less if he has a new Serpent lifestyle he wants to adapt to. No wonder Betty hasn't been herself, and it's not just solely the Black Hood's fault.
To change the subject, I bring up Kevin's secret santa. I picked Betty's name, and I already have the gift wrapped. It's an old read-along we used to listen to together, especially under our blankets during sleepovers. Gosh, we were such nerds, and I just smile at the thought of it. Too bad we aren't as close as we were before.
"Care to tell me who you picked?" She prods, and I shake my head.
"I wouldn't want to spoil anything," I toss out, laughing. I'm not that very good of a liar, especially around her, but I don't think she's got a clue.
For the rest of the afternoon, Betty and I stay at my place, until my father eventually calls me down to help sell Christmas trees. I invite her to join me, but she tells me that her mother has been looking for her all day. So we walk out of my door together, taking our separate ways at the end of my porch.
But when she waves goodbye, my eyes blur and I see a red substance on the palms of her hands. I take a second glance, but she's gone—was that blood? I pause in my tracks, trying to find any remnant left in the snow. I shake my thoughts loose once I realize it could have just been lipstick. Maybe it was just lipstick, I repeat, and I finally begin walking away.
