Riverdale does not belong to me; this is mindless fun.
Note: Thank you for the response! I am really, really happy you guys are enjoying this! It means the world!
I waited until 2x09 aired to write this chapter (so I could play with canon a little bit), but this fanfic still ignores everything post 2x08. I AM SO HAPPY THEY MADE UP! Their break up was pretty dumb to be honest (but it did give them another depth of angst), and they were so adorable all throughout the episode, so sweet. Archie didn't even really kiss Betty back and he gave that cheesy necklace to Veronica! Yes! Now I can come back to my angst with a lighter heart lol.
There's a bit of backstory in the beginning of the chapter, and then it picks up from the point the last chapter ended! Still, slow burn folks, hang in there.
YOUR SOUL
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chapter four
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I had all and then most of you
Some and now none of you
Take me back to the night we met
(Lord Huron, The Night We Met)
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Meet me outside? V.
The text arrived on Christmas' day of their senior year, and it surprised him. They had been broken up for two years, at that point, almost eight times more months than they'd spent together, and had no reason at all to talk since they weren't even friends anymore.
After Veronica left him in a parking lot at the wrong side of the town with his heart throbbing on his chest, the dynamics of Archie's life changed a lot. Not only his relationship was over (and he was reminded of that time after time when he couldn't buy her a Christmas' gift or couldn't call her when he was upset or touch her whenever he wanted), but Jughead and Betty's too. That meant Jug started avoiding the north side almost completely, only swinging by at Pop's when Betty was not there, always with his serpent friends beside him. Archie felt the need to take Betty's side in all that mess, because what Jughead was doing was just so dangerous and stupid, and Archie didn't have it in him to fight it anymore.
(Archie and Betty had conversations about it, but none of them had answered the real questions: since when loving someone was supposed to push them away? Since when finally latching on to a feeling had been bursting through their skin was meant to have such a painful outcome?)
So, the following years of high school were just different. He started to spend more time with Betty as Veronica started to spend less and less time with her, and once in a while Archie wondered if that happened because she thought there was something going on between them (times that made him feel something coil inside of him, something like courage to pull Veronica into an empty classroom and say c'mon, how can you think that, I chose you), but no one ever said anything. Cheryl bought him studio time in Greendale, apparently thanking him for saving her life on that snowy day, so he spent most part of his summer before junior year writing, recording, and going to Pop's with Betty, Kevin and Moose like they'd jumped the last months of their lives.
FP Jones had been arrested again, that summer; Archie heard it on the news. The Southside Serpents were involved in a lot of illegal shit and the feds were investigating a bigger scheme, concerning more important people. He called Jughead for the first time in months, but the number he had on his contacts was disconnected, and Archie felt a lot of things, anger, and bitterness and worry, but he focused on being a good friend to Betty, driving her to therapy, holding her when she cried, until he felt nothing at all.
He had seen Veronica every school day for two years. He had seen Veronica in her black dresses and purple miniskirts (unfair), in her pumps and in her sneakers, in beautiful, sparkly gowns; he had seen Veronica in her Vixens uniform (really unfair) and with her Pussycat ears blending into her raven hair. He had seen her dating Reggie for a solid part of that school year until they weirdly fell apart in the Homecoming dance, a few weeks before.
But he had not seen her name in his cellphone, not since the almost there! and a yellow heart emoji she'd sent him two years earlier, before arriving in the White Wyrm, before breaking up with him because she didn't love him.
"Hey," he frowned when he saw her at his front porch, looking as perfect as always, "Merry Christmas," he said, still unsure, closing the door behind him. It was cold outside, but his dad was in the living room, and they probably couldn't go up to his bedroom to talk without it being awkward.
"Merry Christmas," she offered him a small, sincere smile. Archie focused on not letting his heart hurt – he was over her, had been for more than a year, now, "I know this is strange."
"It's a little weird, yeah," he grinned a little too, in spite of everything. She was looking down, then, and Archie studied her face, catching up some imperfections; there was no lipstick on her lips, no little eyeliner wings framing her eyes, and she looked tired. He felt his brow crease, "Are you okay?"
"I suppose," she said, and then sighed, "I'm leaving Riverdale, Archie."
Her words took a bit to sink in. Archie felt his stomach twisting, burning, and leaving a bad taste in his mouth; afraid he'd thrown up if he opened it, he just kept looking at her.
"My parents. They – they are getting divorced," she kept on talking after noticing he had a quiet reaction, "Things are ugly between them, between all of us. My mom is ready to fight for her share of Lodge Industries and I'm caught up in this stupid crossfire, and I –" her lower lip trembled when she paused, "I am going to live with my aunt back in New York."
He couldn't say anything, so she continued, "I just came to say goodbye. I didn't want to… Disappear, you know. Like..."
Like Jughead, she didn't say. Archie nodded, still frowning, not ready for all the feelings that were boiling up on his chest after spending so much time in undisturbed apathy.
Her brown eyes were glossed. A part of Archie wanted to pick her up in his arms, to say he was going to protect her, to hold her endlessly and forget about the last two years of their lives, but he couldn't, couldn't listen to it. His body felt heavy like he was back at that parking lot, and he couldn't do it, couldn't wrangle it.
She lifted one hand and touched his face, running her thumb down his cheek, towards his jawline, and Archie's arm moved to catch her hand in his, an action that had her a little surprised. He swallowed hard, squeezing her fingers between his, and all he wanted (needed) to do was duck down his head and kiss her, but did he really? Would he really take that chance?
She must have seen the doubt in his eyes, because she smiled again, warmly, and pulled her hand back to herself, "I'll see you, Archiekins."
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Veronica's not looking at him.
She's actually staring at her hands, both resting on her lap, one of them intertwined with another hand – her mother's, Archie notes – and her shoulders move up and down slowly, following the rhythm of her breath.
The minister thanks him for the touching performance, and he looks away, going back to his seat next to Betty and his mother, both giving him heartening looks with sad, damp eyes, and he realizes he's short of breath, loosening up his tie around his neck.
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Archie doesn't speak for a while. The service ends with a prayer. He asks, quietly, if his mother can drive to the cemetery, giving her the car keys and throwing himself in the backseat. The drive there is way too short. The coffin is closed when he sees it again, never to be reopened, and he holds one of its handles with shaky hands, clasping the cold metal as hard as he can, Jughead grasping the other side.
He doesn't look at Veronica one more time, but he can feel her, senses her eyes on the side of his face as he carries his father's coffin to the sepulture, aware she is moving with the crowd, holding her mother's arm, a flash of black somewhere in his peripheral vision.
They say goodbye to Fred Andrews with a handful of dirt tossed to his grave, and Archie can feel the air shifting. Something has changed, like his soul is coming back to his body, bit by bit, and then abruptly.
The weight of it is unbearable, and he sinks his knees in the wet grass, crying.
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No one mentions his breakdown, but Betty decides to ride back with him and not with Jughead. They go together in the backseat as Mary drives, and Betty holds his hand so tightly it almost hurts, only letting it go when they arrive home and he says he wants to take a shower before the guests arrive for the reception.
Archie feels filthy, and all the sympathetic eyes on him as he goes up the stairs don't help.
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After a particularly long shower, he changes into his nice denim, the one Lauren packed for him in New York, and scatters his old wardrobe for something dark, finding a grey t-shirt and a charcoal cardigan, and they're both a little bit worn, but that will have to do, since he has nothing in black. He throws his grass-stained clothes in the laundry basket, dries his hair with a towel while looking idly out his window, and contemplates lying down for the longest time, but ultimately decides to go back downstairs, because he doesn't want his mom and friends worrying about him.
Someone – probably Lauren – had the living and the dining room ready for their guests, with beautiful flower arrangements all around, and food plates resting over counters and tables. He imagines not all seventy-three people that attended the wake are gonna come, but a good part is already there, chatting in a low voice about God knows what, whiskey and wine glasses on their hands. He scans the room looking for familiar faces, but he only finds Betty, who is talking to his mother, he doesn't want to deal with them and their concerned looks just yet.
He goes down the stairs unnoticed and heads to the kitchen, where it seems to be less movement, hoping to maybe come across Jug or Lauren, but he stops dead in his tracks at the door when he sees Veronica, trying to reach something in a cupboard that is way too tall for her, even in her four inches heels.
"Can…" he starts, but his voice sounds feeble, so clears up his throat, "Can I help you?"
She turns around, somewhat startled, but her expression softens when she realizes it's him. Her lips are painted in a deep plum shade and they twist up as she chuckles, perhaps a little embarrassed.
"I can't reach the coffee," she indicates the cupboard, and he's amazed that she remembers where they used to keep their groceries, "Betty asked me to brew some."
"Oh."
It's all he can really say. His heart is thumping in the base of his throat, and he touches his neck as if he could grab it with his fingers and snap it out his body. Archie's mind races back through time, and he remembers finding her in that same kitchen, when they were sixteen, and holding her in his arms for the first time as she cried for her father. He also remembers his father's hand heavy on his shoulder, trying to offer some comfort after she dumped him.
"I'm here with my mom," she says after a beat. He knows why she's explaining. She left him in a parking lot on the south side of this town, then she left him in the porch of this very same house after saying her final goodbyes, and it's only the third time in four years he sees Veronica Lodge somewhere outside her Instagram feed. Betty's party, Josie's wedding,
His father's funeral.
She walks slowly towards him and reaches out a hand, curling her fingers around his wrist. He looks down and sees her nails painted black, the pearl bracelet she's wearing. A part of him wants to take a step back, wants to say something that will make her stay away, but all he can feel is her touch, and he's got nothing.
"I'm so, so sorry, Archie," she utters. He's heard that a lot today. His eyes go up to her arm, the delicate embroidery on the sleeves of her black dress, her wavy hair resting on her shoulders, and then her face. She's looking down, looking at the spot where she's touching him, "I wanna help, but I don't…"
Know how, her big brown eyes tell him when she looks up at his face, and he feels his cheeks heat up. Her fingers slip down his wrist and she almost holds his hand, and he almost lets her, but they seem to give up, pulling away at the same time.
"It's okay," he says, swallowing hard before a lump forms on his throat. The arm she was touching feels foreign to him, hanging weirdly on his side now that she wasn't holding his wrist, so he puts that hand behind his neck just to do something with it, "Thanks. Make yourself at home. I'll brew the coffee."
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He's not sure how they manage to avoid each other in a fairly small house, but he only sees Veronica again a couple of hours later, when the reception is virtually over and he's politely saying goodbye to the guests, his mother beside him. She's retrieving their coats from the cupboard under the stairs while, at the door, Hermione Lodge holds him briefly, saying nice words about his dad, and then hugs Mary tightly and for a long time, eyes damp when they pull apart.
Veronica helps her mother put on her coat and Archie tries not to look directly at her, tries not to absorb too much, and nearly succeeds, only glancing up when she touches his arm again, right above his elbow. She smiles briefly, and his heart does a stupid thing,
"I'll see you, Archiekins."
(Dèja-Vu is a fucked up concept.)
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He finds Jughead sitting on the front porch, still on his kilt and shirt, rolling a cigarette with skilled fingers. Archie drops next to him.
"You want one?" Jughead asks. Archie contemplates the idea – probably no better day to start smoking than the day he's buried his father – but ultimately shakes his head.
"Your speech, Jug," Archie says, eventually, "Thank you."
"Yeah," he blows out some smoke through his nostrils, "You've been brave today, pal. Pureheart the Powerful strikes back," he nudges him slightly with his shoulder.
Archie snorts. He wants to tell Jughead about how he's truly a coward, how he'd pushed his dad away for a long time before this happened, how the last thing he told Fred Andrews was later, how he's not sure what to do from now on, but he opens his mouth, and nothing comes out. A part of him knows that Jughead shouldn't have to comfort him, not when he too had lost another father figure (one in jail, the other six feet underground), and another part of him feels ashamed of it all.
They coexist in silence for a while, the smoke making Archie's nose tickly. It's barely eight in the evening, but they both are so exhausted; it's like that day had thirty hours already.
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His mother leaves first, two days later, on a Friday morning. He drives her all the way to Albany's airport, lets her hold him and breathes in her sweet, familiar scent in between her neck and her shoulder. She reassures him things will be okay, tells him she will call every day, tells him she'll be there when Fred's will is read, kisses his forehead, and then she's gone. Archie waits until she disappears through the airport's doors and gets back into his father's old truck.
Bruce swings by to pick Lauren up in that same afternoon, and she promises to bring Archie more clothes in the next weekend. He gives her a pretty, colorful flower bouquet to thank her for all the help, and she seems moved by his gesture, offering him wet eyes and a long hug, nodding at her boyfriend after they're done. She doesn't tease him about a new EP.
It's been only seven days since he got her phone call, but he feels ten years older.
Jughead goes on Sunday night (since Nancy shouldn't stay with their neighbors in Philadelphia any longer), holding him and vowing to return as soon as possible. He catches a bus and leaves the car behind with Betty, who manages to stay for one more week, practically moving in with him.
Betty gives him a pad of paper so he can jot down important things that come to his brain – a to-do list. She says he'll need to be organized for when he's feeling better. Archie can't see quite see this day coming, can't reach out to grasp anything that sounds like better, but he doesn't have it in him to argue her (as he shouldn't; she's probably right), so he writes down the things that surface on his mind. He needs to clean up Fred's closet, sort out clothes to donation, request copies of the death certificate, contact the state's Will Registry, close accounts, open all the mail that's been piling up since he arrived in Riverdale, contact his father's health insurance company.
Archie still can't do any of those things, though, so he sleeps most of the time. He's just so tired.
Betty cooks him comforting, balanced meals he only half eats, and she takes care of the house the way she was taught to do by her mother, constantly moping the floor, cleaning the kitchen and ironing clothes. He feels weird every time he sees her moving around that house, looking like the all-American housewife in the future they could have had.
He's so grateful for her presence, but it also overwhelms him a little, so when she has to say goodbye, hugging tightly, giving a lot of recommendations about eating, sleeping and taking care of himself, and saying she's sorry again and again, Archie is somewhat relieved.
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Three days after Betty leaves, she comes back. Or at least it's what his inactive mind tells him, because it's a Wednesday, past nine o'clock in the evening, and he's lying on the couch passively watching the latest Fast and Furious when his bell rings. He runs a hand through his face – he needs to shave – and contemplates not answering it because it has to be Betty, when it rings again. Annoyed, he prompts himself to his feet, and shouts, "I'm coming!" when the bell rings one more time.
"Where is your –" he stops mid-sentence, right before key, when he opens the door and finds Veronica on the other side, "Ronnie?"
Archie has been, for the past six years since their break-up (not that he was counting), very careful while addressing her, very cautious in calling her anything but Veronica, mostly because it would hurt him to say his nickname for her as much as it hurt him to hear she call him Archiekins, but he's so stunned to see her at his door that it just slips, like it had always been sitting on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be said again.
"Hi," she breathes, biting her lower lip for the tiniest moment, "Betty told me you were alone, and I am still here with my mom so I… I thought you might want some company."
Later, Archie said over the phone, and then he never talked to his father again. It hurts, it hurts in his body, in his skin, it hurts when he closes his eyes and when he's awake, and if he could turn back time, if he could pick up the phone again and say something else, something else but later, he wouldn't have been left with that vacant, yet strikingly aching feeling, so he looks at Veronica, at her beautiful face, the face he once loved so much, the face he'd been seeing only through phone screens, the face he was always trying not to write songs about, and he thinks fuck it.
He's not going to say later anymore.
Archie smiles briefly with the corner of his mouth, and nods, letting her in.
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tbc
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Note: I hope you all like this chapter and that it wasn't too anti-climactic (it is post a funeral, after all lol)