Vantablack (or, the blackest black) is a brand name for a class of super-black coatings with total hemispherical reflectances below 1.5% in the visible spectrum.

As Betty was hauled from the projection room by her mother, she could have sworn she saw fresh footprints on the ground and a shadow of color sitting against the booth. Without thinking, in some driven desperation, she swung herself around and clawed out of her mother's grasp...hoping. But she found nothing, nothing but the knowledge that she and her soulmate had been achingly close.

She didn't know how to feel about that.

XXX

It was cruel, Betty told herself. If she and her soulmate had been so close, yet still not found each other, she began to think they never would. If her heart for this person was a door, it was nailed shut.

She wasn't seeing much color on her side of town anymore, so she only had to think that something awful happened to her soulmate or they were avoiding her.

When that door closed, a part of her felt like that was the final nail in the coffin and she'd never find him (or her).

And fine? She was just fine with it because now she was in love with Jughead. In love with him as she believed she could be. She raged against what nature told her she should do, despite every step feeling like she was wading through concrete the wrong way. A part of her, foolishly, continued to hope that he was her soulmate and that her father had been wrong. That it wasn't when you first locked eyes, but it was after a significant moment.

So, Betty waited. The first time they held hands, their first kiss, their first I-Love-You...Betty always held her breath in anticipation, willing her world to burst into brilliant, breathtaking color.

She was still waiting.

In his trailer, as the euphoria of the confession echoed in her mind and the crushing disappointment of the grays around them began to stifle her, there was a knock at the door.

XXX

"Really? Him?" Sweet Pea muttered as his feet crunched the gravel underneath the Sunnyside trailers.

"Shush!" Toni hissed to him, "Do you want to get kicked out by Tall Boy?" She asked, scrunching up her nose, "Just walk, Sweets."

Sweet Pea flicked his tongue around his cheek, huffing.

In his fingers clenched the jacket of the apparent newest member of the Serpents; Jughead fucking Jones.

The boss's son.

The son who, up until now, FP had thought was too weak or something to join. Or too pure. Whatever it was, Sweet Pea didn't like the fact that he was being invited to this merry little brigade.

Why he was carrying the jacket? Well, it Tall Boy had thrown it and he'd been the unlucky son of a bitch to catch it, and hell, it was all history now. The history, as in, the length it took to waltz to FP's trailer.

He saw Tall Boy go to knock on the door and other Serpents crowded, eager to welcome Jughead as their newest inductee.

All of a sudden, Sweet Pea was being prodded and whispered at and he rolled his eyes, passing the jacket along.

And then leaned against the side of the trailer, rolling his eyes.

"He looks speechless," Toni said, tilting her head as she watched what Sweet Pea assumed was the kid taking the jacket.

"Bad or good?"

"Is there a difference?" Toni asked, craning her neck, "I think…yeah, uh-huh…he put it on." She nudged him, "Guess we have a new kid in our ranks."

Sweet Pea gave a sarcastic smile, "Great, Toni."

Toni was on her tiptoes, watching what was happening.

Sweet Pea was most certainly not.

For, if he was, he would have seen Jughead's whole body patched in color, and perhaps he would have figured this whole tangle out much, much sooner.

But his stubbornness and grouchiness kept this from him and Toni wouldn't know what Sweet Pea needed to see, so she didn't push him to look up.

Sweet Pea walked away from the trailer that night with no idea that his soulmate had been inches away from him, right inside the trailer.

XXX

Betty's heart broke three times that night.

The first; watching Jughead put on the jacket of the group that he'd spent so long hating, worrying, and hunting down.

It reminded her of a truth she knew well. As much as you dislike your parents, you always wanted their approval.

And Jughead desperately wanted his father's.

Her second heartbreak was when he came inside, clothed in the leather jacket. She caught him pass under the dim, buzzing light of the lamp outside. As she tugged for him to come back in, she saw it.

She may have missed it because the jacket was black, and black was one of the three usual colors she always saw, but this black was different.

Was it pretentious to say that colored black was better than the fuzzy and out-of-focus black or was that just an oxymoron?

If she thought she was just imagining things, her fears were confirmed as he turned.

The embroidery on the gang's symbol, right in the corner, as though someone had gripped the jacket in their fist and slung it over their shoulder on the way here, was bright and undiluted green.

The brightest green Betty had ever seen in her life.

The third heartbreak came as this.

Betty had assumed that perhaps her colored sight was off, or faulty. Broken, like a bad static radio reception. No, not assumed, she'd prayed. Fervently. Every moment she was with Jughead, she'd sent up a plead that it had to be him and it was something within her that was broken, that she was seeing these colors late or hours later, that it took time to develop, like a photograph.

What do you do when everything you held, convinced yourself of, was apparently wrong?

The fact that the jacket was as green as it was, and the truth that Juggie had not touched this jacket until just a few moments ago, coupled with the horror as she watched him brush his hands over the leather confirmed the truth she didn't want to admit.

The jacket was not alighting with color like his fingers were paintbrushes.

Jughead was not changing the color of this jacket.

Nothing in the world would change this fact, as much as she wished it to be true.

"Betty?" Jughead asked, misinterpreting her wild-eyed stare, "I know this isn't what it looks like-,"

"One second," Betty muttered, stumbling into the bathroom, and retched in the sink.

Jughead Jones was not her soulmate.

XXX

It was only that night, late in her room, that fourth almost awful and furious thought hit her. One that her mind had been rolling around since the Drive-In, but once again, she'd stubbornly refused to engage with.

But logic demanded her attention of it.

The only person that would be touching Jughead's new jacket was a fellow Serpent. Which meant that her soulmate was a Southside Serpent.

Not some random person.

Not a down-on-their-luck worker from the Southside.

Not a kid from Greendale here on occasion for some fun.

A member of her now-boyfriend's gang…if they could even be together, that was. Now that she knew, and knew with certainty that her soulmate was out there, how could she? How was that fair…to him, to her, to her soulmate?

The irony of this realization made Betty give a low, dry, furious laugh that would not stop until she was crying. Not tears of sadness, just tears of fury.

She was angry at the world and the whole stupid concept of soulmates and color and all of that could just fuck right off because she was perfectly happy without it.

But no.

She wasn't.

Color was pretty darn great.

And for a selfish, terrible moment, she tried to imagine what the whole world would look like, bathed in colors, everywhere. But that meant finding her soulmate, which meant possibly breaking up with Juggie. Which was a non-starter, right?

Except…except.

Except she knew it would be amazing.

XXX

Sweet Pea gave not exactly zero fucks, but also not 100 fucks, about his soulmate.

He gave…about 50% fucks.

The amount of thought he gave to it was probably lower, like…30%.

He was seventeen years old, the world was wide and occasionally splashed with color, but Sweet Pea learned young enough not to pray for rain in the proverbial desert.

The first time he gave his true, full attention to it (more than the drive-in, which had been a weird fluke) was right about when Jughead fucking Jones waltz into Southside High. For real this time.

He knew that Jughead had gone here for a small stint before formally having his first day, but some presence - luck or the devil - had him home with the flu that week.

So, no color to be seen.

But this time, when he was here seriously, and worse…as a Serpent? No, nope.

F all of this.

Sweet Pea hated his guts before all of this, but oh, he certainly had reasons to hate him now.

Toni wouldn't shut up about it.

She had been asked (he suspected she volunteered and wasn't saying it) to give him the official school tour, which is her defense for how she prattled on. No one believed her, though.

Toni was a shit liar.

"I hear he's a really great writer!" She gushed, "Maybe he could start up the newspaper here. We could do with a newspaper. Or a writer's union! I could join."

"You've never written a thing in your life, Toni. Not even school assignments," Jedi rolled his eyes at her, "Geeze."

"I mean, maybe I would if we had a great person leading it," Toni scoffed, "Okay, Jedi?"

He knew that Toni was embarrassed. Would she admit that? Hell no.

"Look, if you like him so much, just date him," Sweet Pea said, "Actually, never mind. Then you'd really never shut up about Jones."

"She just hopes it gets her in good with the boss," Jedi's twin brother Vade pointed out, which had Toni spinning around, fury written clearly on her face.

"I just think we should be nice to him! He had to leave his friends, everything he knew, and he had to come here! I'm being welcoming!" She protested, "I dunno if he's even into people like me." She added, shrugging, as though that put the whole thing to rest.

"Annoying chatter mouths?" Sweet Pea said as they came through the security at his school, "Yeah. Probably not."

Toni shoved him into a locker.

"Besides, why would you want to?" Sweet Pea continued, shuddering at the thought, "Date him, I mean? Like…he doesn't know a thing about us, but he acts like he's Serpent?"

"He is. Not that I like him either, but well, he is," Jedi pointed out very unhelpfully.

"He's probably super pretentious and a nepotism baby and-,"

"Oh, look, Toni! Here he comes!" Fangs sang, pointing behind them through the doors of the school.

Sweet Pea turned and stopped in his place, staring wide-eyed at the boy in front of him.

His clothes were covered in splashes of color; a rusty red in his jacket, muted denim blue in his jeans, the color of his skin, and even his hat which was apparently really gray seemed like a more enchanting gray. Sweet Pea, who already hated Jughead because FP had busted his butt for years and now his son, who had never been one of them was going to come up like he owned the place, now knew intimately the colors of his worst enemy.

"Oh, fuck off, universe!" Sweet Pea said out loud, refusing to explain, and stomped away.

He didn't want to see color.

At least, not on fucking Jughead.

What sort of cruel Monkey's Paw trick, the only story he remembered from freshman year English? You could see color, but it had to be on a person like him.

Which meant you had to stare at Jughead.

"No way," Sweet Pea told himself as he undid the lock on his locker and grabbed his first-period class items, "Absolutely not. You can go without." He psyched himself up, "Right?"

Hahaha. Wrong.

Here's the thing about not just Sweet Pea, but most Serpents.

Terrible, terrible wielders of willpower.

Why do you think so many ended up with arrest records or police calls or general scars, tattoos, and stories? Because none of them were able to temper their impulses well.

The universe did not hate Sweet Pea totally, because he and Jughead did not share a class until right before lunch, which meant that Sweet Pea didn't have to wage war within himself and keep his nose focused on his school work (the first time ever, really…hell, maybe this Jughead issue would make him a scholar this year?) until much later in the day.

Toni was reading a book about color and soulmates. He could also tell from the cover it was one of those bodice-rippers, smutty terrible books.

Shit taste, which he often told her.

"I know it's English class, but seriously? I think even our teacher would tell you that's basically the equivalent of cocaine. And not the good kind of coke." He said, trying to grab it from her hands.

"Paws off, Sweets!" Toni said, holding the book high above her head, "I can't help it you have no semblance of romance! Better than Nancy Drew, which has zero."

Oh, okay. It was on. She could take cheap shots at him, but at his comfort books? No way.

"Words like 'gushing' or 'member' or 'mewling' have no relation to romance," Sweet Pea said, and since he was far taller than Toni, was able to easily pluck the book. He wasn't a total dick; he kept his finger on the page she was on, and read the back dramatically out loud as Toni tried to claw to get it back.

"Stetson Steele- god, really? That's a shit name. Okay, Stetson Steel was just looking for his next big con. Amelia Corn- wow, that name is worse. Amelia was looking for some excitement outside of her dull housewife existence. A chance meeting at the carnival will give them the thing neither knew they could have; color." Sweet Pea choked down laughter, "Really? A carnival? And I'm pretty sure 'color' should be replaced with 'questionable sex'.' He handed the book back to Toni, "Yeah, no romance there."

"Oh, whatever," Toni said, putting a bookmark where she was, "It's not about the smut. It's about the color. The moment of it all. The realization. The moment it all turns. Who doesn't want that?"

Sweet Pea was about to tease her some more but paused.

In all his inner turmoil about seeing Jughead speckled with color today, he'd lost sight for a moment of the purpose of it.

That his soulmate had put the color there.

That it wasn't just about the seeing of color, it was supposed to be a trail, a puzzle game, leading you to the person you would spend your whole life with.

As stupid as this book was, it got that right.

While he doubted two people that had sex on circus hay were soulmates, if they saw color with each other, well…then…

Fuck.

There was a terrifying moment for Sweet Pea in which he considered the awful possibility that Jughead was his soulmate. That would explain why he had color on him, and why it had been so bright as he walked into the school today.

If Jughead was his soulmate, Sweet Pea would riot. He'd boycott the universe. He'd send a strongly worded email to fate.

He'd just throw his hands up and scream.

As they sat down for English class, Sweet Pea watched Jughead with the attention a panther gave its prey, watching as Jughead's hands rubbed over his arms and...nothing. Still black and white color.

Thank the motherfucking lord.

But everything about Jughead was splashed with color like someone had thrown water and it had scattered over himself.

Sweet Pea's soulmate was someone who was in close contact with Jughead.

Ah-fucking-mazing.

XXX

Betty eagerly awaited Jughead's arrival home from his first full day at Southside High.

She told herself that she was just anxious to know how her boyfriend fared; her still current boyfriend, because she knew they could whether this.

She hoped.

In reality, she knew deep down that if her soulmate was a Serpent, there were ways to start to narrow it down.

One of which would be to see if Jughead came home with any color on him.

If it was yes, that meant her soulmate was at least in high school.

If not…well, she would hope it meant her soulmate just had little physical contact with Jughead, because the other option was just depressing.

The idea that her soulmate was older sort of made her shudder.

So, secretly, she waited, biting her nails, trying to tell herself that it was okay if he was colored in any way. She had come over the anger that he could have color on any part of him.

It was now a fact. Science. Immutable. Unchangeable.

So she got over herself.

Seeing color elsewhere would give her more context. Betty was nothing if not pragmatic and she needed some concrete reassurance right now.

And, she reminded herself, she was curious to hear about Jughead's day.

Which wasn't untrue.

"How was it?" Betty asked, standing up at once as he opened the door to the trailer.

He was scowling.

That couldn't be a good sign.

Her heart sank slowly as she scanned him up and down and saw not an inch of color on him.

Dear god, her soulmate couldn't be an adult Serpent, could it?

"What do you think?" Jughead snapped, though she understood he wasn't frustrated with her. At least, she hoped.

"That bad?" She sucked in through her teeth, trying to swallow her disappointment. Jughead was having his entire life thrown around and here she was, pining over someone she didn't even know!

"Well," Jughead muttered, going straight for the fridge for a cola, "There are no doors on the bathrooms, none of the classrooms have textbooks from this century and there are drugs everywhere," He rolled his eyes, "The American Dream."

"Oh, god, Jug," Betty said quietly, "I'm sorry."

"Nothing you can do about it," Jughead said, leaning against the fridge, "I…I don't know if I want to sit by the Serpent but my school guide is one and she-,"

"She?" Betty interrupted. She couldn't help but be a tad wary, which under the circumstances was silly.

"Toni. She's a Serpent. And she says I won't survive unless I hang with them. I know I took the damn jacket, but Betty, I don't think I'm…a pack animal." He said. He still hadn't put down his book bag. He shrugged it off, and then his jacket.

And there…there it was.

His shoulder.

So faint that if she hadn't been obsessed with seeing it, she might have missed it.

Just the lightest brush on the places his shirt rose and the fabric crinkled. Someone brushing past Jughead, probably in the halls, or going down the aisles of the classroom. A light faded touch, but enough to give her some assurance that perhaps she wasn't going to get a forty-year-old fated to be with her.

It took everything within her to not ask a stupid question, like, "Hey, can you list all the Serpents that perhaps brushed against you today? In detail? Oh, why? No reason…just trying to figure out who my soulmate is. Hey, great time to tell you, I've been seeing color. I have a soulmate!"

Yeah. No, that wouldn't do.

She had to be settled in the fact she gained a new insight today and leave it there.

"Awe, darn, can you grab my phone from my bookbag?" Jughead asked halfway to his room, "And then let's just watch something on Netflix, sound okay?"

"Sure, Juggie. Sounds perfect," Betty said, smiling. She darted back to the living room where he'd dropped his book bag and picked it up, digging her hands in the pockets for his phone. As she turned it around, she squeaked and dropped the bookbag.

She'd been caught off-guard. That's it.

In the middle of the weathered fabric, there was a handprint colored in a soft, light brown color. The color Betty imagined tree bark to have, or the earth toasted in the sun.

"Betts?"

Betty pulled herself from her shock and rising excitement and found Jug's phone.

"I gotta go to the bathroom first. Find something scary, okay?" She said with a grin, hoping she seemed normal. Jughead nodded absently, already opening his laptop.

Betty grabbed his bookbag and locked herself in the bathroom.

Sliding down the wood of the door to the tiled floor, she just…stared.

Unable to help herself, reached out, placing her hand over the one that was splayed in the middle of Jughead's bookbag.

It was so much bigger than hers. It had to be a male, she reasoned, for someone to have such a wide palm.

She sat, hand pressed, trying to figure out in what way this handbag had been touched. Had her soulmate slapped Jughead on his way past? Had he not been watching where he was touching and slapped it in the middle of laughing at a joke? Had he been doing it maliciously, threatening Jughead, or had he been doing it as he leaned into Jughead's personal space, asking him a question that no doubt Jughead would have found irritating?

Or did he know?

Did he know what he was doing when he placed such a perfect imprint of his hand on the bag, so precise that she could see some of the thin, delicate lines of his fingerprint? Not enough to lift a print off of it. Which would be ridiculous, right? That was insane.

Didn't matter. Couldn't do it anyway.

"Betty?"

Jughead tapped lightly on the door.

Betty jumped away from the door, jerking her hand away like it had been burned, or that somehow through the door, Jughead would know what she was doing.

"Are you okay? It's been a bit."

"Yeah, I'll be right out. Sorry, just got…distracted." She groaned, rubbing her face.

Jughead paused outside, "Oh…kay? Yeah, just, okay."

Betty winced hard, pulling herself off the floor. She flushed the toilet and washed her hands and then put on a bright smile, placing the bookbag where she'd found it, purposely putting it face down to remind herself she shouldn't even be looking at the mark and curled onto Jughead's bed to try to settle her racing mind.

XXX

Sweet Pea's soulmate was trying to kill him.

Okay, not kill him.

That was extreme.

But certainly, whether or not she knew it, she was going to make him fail.

In English, when he was up in front of the classroom to do a presentation that he had already put off doing twice and really needed a semi-passing grade, he caught it.

On Jughead's stupid pretentious little messenger bag.

It wasn't little. That's what made it stupid. It almost dwarfed Jones. He looked like he was struggling to carry it. It couldn't be ergonomically good to carry around one's back. That's why backpacks were created, right?

Alas, he digressed.

He had 'accidentally' slapped the damn thing at lunch the other day when Jughead put it up on the lunch table like a goddamn princess.

Bags went on the ground. No matter how vintage it was or how it could break if you breathed on it wrong. Sweet Pea didn't care.

So he slapped a hand on it, which was enough to get Jughead to grumble and move it, his exact hope as he stumbled through a fake apology.

He hadn't thought much of it. But he knew where his hand had landed (he had been avoiding the pointy-looking hardware, filled with tetanus and rabies probably if it stabbed him), and there, where he was pretty sure his hand print had been, was a colored, smaller imprint.

His breath escaped out of his throat.

He got a flash of it; too quick to pin down, but just a mere idea. His soulmate, seeing his handmark and placing her own over it.

It made his stomach roll and feel funny in a way he hadn't ever felt.

If this is what love was, he would like to have serious words with Toni. It sucked.

"Mr. Karan? Sometime this year, perhaps?"

Sweet Pea shook his head out of his distraction, "Yeah! Right, sorry." He cleared his throat, "Symbolism in 'The Scarlett Letter' as told by Jordan Karan."