Incarnadine: the blood-red color of raw flesh; crimson.
"Dude you down for a burger?"
Sweet Pea poked his head outside of his trailer. He saw Fangs, Jedi, Vade, Casa, and a whole bunch of other Serpents lingering outside of his door.
"What is this? A team bonding exercise?" He snorted, "A boy's club?" He asked, noticing Toni was nowhere to be seen, nor any of the other female Serpents.
"Orca has a big date with a college boy, so all the girls are helping her get ready," Jedi rolled his eyes, "They asked me if I wanted to be on braid duty and I said a firm 'no thank you'! So we figured we better all scram before we get pulled into sewing a dress or something."
Sweet Pea considered it and shrugged. As he was stepping outside, however, he scowled.
"Looks like rain."
"What are ya, the Wicked Witch?" Fangs asked, pulling him outside, "Suck it up and let's go eat. I'm starved!"
Sweet Pea charted the ever-changing clouds with a grunt. He'd rather not walk back soaked, thank you very much, but whatever. He was hungry and a microwave dinner now seemed far less enticing than a juicy burger.
"Where at?" he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets against the slightly chilly wind that was blowing into Riverdale, foretelling colder weather to come soon enough. O'Malley's Pub. If we beg, the old grump who owns it will let us in for a bite. Maybe if we're lucky, we'll get a beer," Darkon said with a wide, excited grin.
"And pigs will fly."
They all knew the best burgers were at Pop's; a location that with age and with entrance to the Serpents was now off-limits. They'd all gotten their chance to go for birthdays as small children, back when they were pure and innocent and most people just smiled at them and their chubby cheeks. However, as they grew into 'menacing' teenagers in a gang, they'd be chased off-site if they attempted.
O'Malley's was a poor substitute, but it was the best they had.
"No Jughead?" Sweet Pea said, noting his absence-and lack of color-immediately.
"Busy. Wasn't in his trailer." Fangs shrugged, none too bothered by the lack of the newest beanie-wearing Serpent.
"Shame. He may have been able to get us to Pop's." Sweet Pea sighed. Fangs pouted, having not thought of that.
"Damn it!" He cursed, stomping his foot, "Next time, next time. Show his worth to us, yeah?" He said with a wicked grin.
They made it to their destination and after some 'for the sake of it' back and forth haggling with the portly pub (Sweet Pea theorized of course he was going to let them in; they were paying customers. Teenagers liked to eat…a lot. Plus, this arguing was more to make him feel good than them) owner to let a murder of underage baby snakes into the pub - but only to partake in the fares offered, they crawled inside and took up residence at three tables and the entire bar.
They stayed until they'd clearly overstayed their welcome, around the time Darkon went sniffing around again trying to get someone to buy him a pint when they were shooed out but told to come back if they ever wanted to double his revenue for the night again.
They stumbled into the night, the neon of the Irish pub lighting against their gray-toned leather jackets. Sweet Pea had a feeling the color was 'green', but then again, his soulmate wasn't touching signs on the Southside, so who knew?
The night was muggy, and a little wet. Just as Sweet Pea predicted, it was starting to sprinkle, though not a downpour. Just a light dusting, like a fae sneezing over all of them.
Sweet Pea tilted his head, staring up at the drops of rain starting to splatter against the earth with a thoughtful frown.
He wondered…what color rain was.
He wondered if it was clear like it seemed, or if was blue, a deep blue that he hadn't yet seen, but knew was out there. He wondered how it would look against all this. He wondered how the world looked at night, or how spots look illuminated in the streetlamp.
He wondered how pure, unfiltered light looked.
And he wondered…what did a rainbow look like?
There were many colors and things Jughead could bring with him each day, like a peddler arriving from a far-off land, but there were a great many things on this earth that he wondered if he'd ever truly see.
He'd had the musing before, but now he was almost sure.
Color was a curse.
He'd never bothered with these deep, clawing questions before, questions that had no answer for him yet, but here he was…staring at the sky until raindrops hit his eyelids, moved by a color he could not yet see, but he knew was out there…waiting.
He hated that he was so eager to see what colors Jughead would carry with him each day, that his sole source of connection to his soulmate was that crown-wearing weirdo.
Because let's be real, what else did he have going for him? He didn't know her, but he had a feeling they were as different as different could be. Even her choice in Jughead was apart from him. She'd fallen for Jughead when he was masquerading as a nice Northside boy. Sweet Pea wondered bitterly if she would have cared for Jughead at all if he'd lived with his father and gone to Southside High all his life.
"I'm so fucking stuffed man," Jedi burped obnoxiously, "At least we get our money's worth there."
"That was probably everything you owned, J," BB replied with a snigger.
"Kettle black, man. We don't get birthdays or Christmas gifts or random aunts sending us wads of cash," Darkon pointed out, "Otherwise you know I'd be eating there every single day."
Sweet Pea snorted. That wasn't everything he owned, he actually was quite good about savings, but he didn't have the means to eat out all the time. It was a special occurrence, and as much as he hemmed and hawed, he was glad he came out.
Then the night would take…an interesting turn.
They stopped at the corner store a block from the trailers to grab some snacks. They were going back to movie night at the twin's house to watch the new Game of Thrones episode. Some of the group had already gone back, but Sweet Pea and about a handful of four others had been left to find movie munchies. Darkon was off on a quest to find some beer, not that Sweet Pea thought he'd succeed, and the rest were on their way back to grab blankets or to help the twins set up.
There was the tell-tale sound, a scratchy breathy one, of someone spray-painting outside. None of his guys; he was well aware of who was tagging around town. Besides, they were all with him, weren't they? And adult Serpents didn't really bother with that shit. It was really only young, dumb, angry Serpents that found spraypainting worthwhile. Sides…no one was stupid enough to graffiti in basically rainy weather. That's a surefire way to get your work all drippy and messy. Unless you're Stiffs, and that sort of thing is your artistic way, but he saw Stiffs out of the corner of his eye telling a wildly (inaccurate) story to Vade.
So…imagine his surprise and offense when he stumbled outside to find a red-haired idiot drawing a big circle on the side of the building.
Great God, he knows that they're called the Serpents, but at least there's a little cleverness and nuance to them!
But this? This is absolutely child's play.
A guy with red hair. Drawing a circle on a grimy wooden door.
The Red fucking Circle.
As if this idiot even knows what the color 'red' was - and honestly, even Sweet Pea wasn't sure if that color was even that (god, for all he knew, this caveman was drawing the Red Circle symbol in chartreuse, but hell, who would even tell anyone otherwise).
He was so caught up in wondering how stupid of an idea it had been to name your little stupid club after a color when it's very unlikely you or anyone in it was seeing a color that it took him a belated second to realize it.
He knew that this kid's hair was red.
He could see it; the whisps of ginger slicked slightly by the rain, as clear as day, under the grayish grainy light of the lights at the end of the corner.
This infuriated him.
"Hey! What the hell are you doing?" Sweet Pea demanded, coming up to get in his face. The red-headed kid just glanced at him like he was an irritating gnat, continuing to spray.
"Back up, I'm not here for you," He said, as though he was talking to a child.
"Yeah?" Sweet Pea shoved him, "Then who are you here for?"
As he did, he caught more colors hiding in the folds of this kid's clothes, peeking out, taunting him.
Why the hell would a Northsider risk his ass to spray-paint a stupid circle all the way over here? Well, it was a threat. Not a good one, of course, but what would he be...
"Aw hell, don't tell me it's for the Black Hood?" Sweet Pea snorted. Yeah, they'd heard all about him. The guy killing a bunch of Northsiders. Not that Sweet Pea cared much about white rich dudes murdering white rich kids.
Well, he'd care, he supposed, if his soulmate got caught in the crossfire, but he brushed that thought away.
No one really talked about what happened to you if your soulmate died. Much less what happened if you had been seeing color and then suddenly it just stopped…forever.
"And people say we're the troublemakers," He said with a curl of his lip. He wanted to say that this was Ole Miss Clancy's store and she was 83 and could hardly walk, let alone clean up some wannabe's graffiti off it, but the ginger probably didn't think of that, right?
Ginger.
He stared at the vandal in front of him and saw a hint of red hair like someone had run their fingers through it sometime in the past day, the variation in his strands of hair pulling him in. And perhaps hugged him, or reached out to stop him by placing their fist around their wrists. His wrists, as he reached up, were pinkish-hued, blood rushing underneath the flesh.
He charted all of it into his memory, greedily soaking up the color that he saw on him.
An olive jacket. Darker flesh tone than Jughead. Bright red hair, like fire, or what he assumed fire would look like.
Apparently, his soulmate had touched this fucktard too?
Not that he was calling his soulmate a slut or something, no. He was wondering why it seemed the universe hated him so that his soulmate would be so handsy (totally appropriately, mind you) with so many dumbasses that he happened to always run into. Apparently, his soulmate was an affectionate person. He thought about how he was sorta like a stray cat and all but hissed whenever someone tried to give him affection, and the thought almost made him laugh.
Maybe that's what he needed though. That perfect balance.
It just bothered him that his soulmate's touch was now…everywhere.
Almost like the universe was pushing it in front of him at all times, getting bolder and bolder with each offering sent his way.
The kid tried to leave. As though they'd just let him go.
"Woah," Sweet Pea said, and Fangs and BB stepped in to stop him, also having the same idea, "You're in Southside Serpent Country. You can't come here and tag our turf. Or come here with-," He cut off his own anger before he added the part that was making him actually furious.
You can't come here, taunting me with color, and leave me with the knowledge that the two only two Northsiders I've met, that I hate with equal fire, are friends with my soulmate.
And sure, he'd probably have yelled at the kid for tagging that stupid circle up anyway, but he couldn't say a part of his anger wasn't about the fact that his soulmate was like a ship passing him in the night, leaving her (or his) traces on everyone but never meeting him. It seemed like a cruel trick of fate.
"Go home." He said, drawing his power back, jutting his chin, "Before someone gets hurt."
He wondered if he cut this kid's pretty face up if, when he got home, his soulmate would see the red of his blood. He had a knife on him. It was standard. All Southside kids did; just a precaution. He'd never actually had to use it before, despite his bravado. The only person he knew that had actually pulled it was Orca and she (allegedly) stabbed a kid from Greendale when he tried to steal her purse.
"Get out of my way." The redhead said, as though he could take Sweet Pea on, no idea about the simmer starting deep down, threatening to pop off if he didn't leave and take his godforsaken color right now, "Or someone will get hurt."
Here's what Sweet Pea discovered in the moments after; not only was this kid a jackass, but apparently he was also literally insane.
You know the old joke 'don't bring a knife to a gunfight?' It's not fair when no one told you it was going to be a gunfight, nor is it funny at all when you're staring down at the face of a kid who had everything handed to him that clearly has no qualms with pointing a loaded gun in Sweet Pea's face.
Do you hear that? The kid pulled a gun.
Like some kind of maniac.
As he turned (he wasn't an idiot, thank you), he considered that if his soulmate's close friends were the trigger-happy red-head and the grouchy Jones kid, he'd need to have a serious chat with her, because he was sorta concerned about their choices of companionship.
He chuckled; he was a gangster. It's not like he was any better.
So, yeah, maybe things were going to work out okay. With his soulmate that is. The guy who threatened to shoot his face off was so dead.
They'd get him back. Game of Thrones would offer, hopefully, quite a variety of options for revenge, Sweet Pea thought sourly.
"I can't wait to fuck up his pretty face," BB said, but Sweet Pea shook his head.
"Naw…that one's mine."
"Why?" Fangs asked. Sweet Pea was not the leader of them. No one was. They were just kids. He was outgoing and often reckless, but that didn't mean much. Most were.
He wondered if they told them the truth, that his soulmate's hands were all over this kid if they'd help Sweet Pea hold him down.
Instead, Sweet Pea shrugged, watching as BB started texting the boys, planning their revenge "He pointed a gun in my face. Not yours. I think it's only fair."
No one had any disagreements there.
And he will. He'll punch until his fists are bleeding, the rain is pouring, and the world is just black and white and no colors anywhere and he wonders what his own split lip looks like back home - after the fight, how red it actually is - and wonders what the touch of his soulmate on his face might actually feel like.
xxx
Betty was signaled over to Archie's house the night that the attack at Town Hall did not happen.
She felt so stupid; was that the Black Hood's plan? To make it just difficult enough to only crack it once the meeting was occurring, so she'd seem like a stupid, interfering girl? To give her a 'cried wolf' look, so the next time she actually figured it out, she'd be dismissed?
She was furious with herself.
But, apparently, while she and Jughead had been cracking codes, Archie had been cracking bones and noses.
She slipped inside, using the key she knew Fred hit beneath the third fake rock in the yard, being careful to skip the creaky eight step on the left side, and slipped inside Archie's bedroom and closed the door without a peep behind her.
Veronica's flashlight had signaled 'S.O.S' with a finger to her lip; meaning 'come now' and 'quiet as a church mouse'.
Betty had to cover her lips from squeaking when she saw the state Archie was in.
"What…the hell…happened."
"A Southside and Bulldog brawl," Veronica said with a disapproving sigh, "Dilton took a knife to the leg."
"My god!" Betty whispered, approaching cautiously, "Archie!" She said, crossing her arms.
"They totally started it! One of them pulled a goddamn knife on me and then he showed up at my house and challenged me! Was I supposed to say no?" He demanded.
"Yes! Yes, you absolutely were!" Betty said, eyes wide. She wondered how much of this was the truth. She knew Archie was telling it how he believed, but he was hardly the most reliable narrator.
Archie harrumphed.
She drank in Archie's appearance.
He'd come home black and blue. She knew that he was black and blue because he could see it bruising across his entire body; his face, down his chest, his arms, his back…there wasn't a place on his entire skin that wasn't tinged with an outburst of pure, undiluted color.
It was a stupid thing for her to consider, but she was suddenly hit with the thought that the description of beating someone 'black and blue' wasn't really a fair description. She'd expected it to be like a Modernistic painting; two-colored and flat.
As she helped Veronica dab off the blood (it was so vivid!), she found herself entranced. The bruises across Archie's cheeks were a kaleidoscope of muted purples, yellows, greens, and blues. It was like someone had dumped crayons in a pot, heated them, and poured them out. The colors mixed and intermingled. Betty found herself marveling at how brilliant something as shitty as a bruise could be. How did people who saw in color ever get anything done, when it wasn't just glimmers of color on cheeks, but everywhere around them?
His skin wasn't the only place. His clothes, piled by the door, were scuffed in color like a shoe dragged across the fabric.
Or kicked, repeatedly.
It was stupid. She knew that her soulmate was a Southsider. She'd known this for a while. But this was somehow more undeniable proof, and violent, ugly truth at that.
There was violence shed on both sides. Archie probably gave as good as he got. If he was with Reggie, Reggie probably fucked up one of the Serpents pretty well. It might have been a fair fight if no one elected to use weapons. Since she saw no gashes or gouges, it was a safe assumption.
Still, the sheer unbridled anger and hatred startled her a bit.
Her soulmate did this and the proof was it was the blue hues that made Betty want to reach out and brush her hand over his cheekbone, follow the trail like a path, and remember the intermingling of colors in such a natural, garish way forever.
She was already dating one...so it's not as though it was anything new, right?
That is, she reminded herself, if she were looking for her soulmate to date. Which she wasn't. At all.
"I'm going to go get some fresh towels," Veronica whispered, "And a bowl of warm water. He's covered in dirt too."
As soon as she left, Betty found herself uncomfortable, almost like the truth would blurt itself out, so she jerked her fingers away and stared down at her palms as if she expected to see a bloom of pink in the crevices of her hands.
"You okay?" Archie asked her, tilting his head, wincing as he did so. Betty chuckled.
"I think that's my question. Are you okay?" She asked Archie, pushing aside her own trivial thoughts.
He gave a rickety laugh, "You should see the other guy."
Betty's heart leaped. Fear clenched her heart for a person she did not know, but yet somehow felt like she did.
"Archie," She scolded, trying not to shake, fear clutching her. Archie might be fine, but what if he was laid up somewhere, bleeding in a ditch, moments from death? Would she know? Would she sense it? Would the color on Archie slowly dim, flickering away, until there was no more of it?
She'd never considered her soulmate dying. But as a Serpent, it had to be a fact of life, right?
Even so, it made her feel ill. She wanted to stand, abruptly, and run out into the night to find him, to make sure he would be fine.
"Who did this?" She finally decided on, "I know it was the Serpents, but…who?" She fished, pushing herself right to the ledge, and then, all the way off it.
"You think I know names?" Archie rolled his eyes, "He was big and grouchy and annoying. I dunno."
Big. Grouchy. Annoying.
Huh; it almost…sounded like Jughead. Except Jughead was smaller in stature, not that she disliked that.
"And will you be arrested for murder anytime soon?" She forced herself to whisper, closing her eyes shut, fearing the answer. If Archie was more observant, or not caught up in his own anger about how the fight ended, he may have noticed this and charted it as a strange reaction.
Instead, Archie flicked her away, grounding his teeth for a second.
"He'll live," Archie finally snorted dismissively, and she understood that was the most she was going to get out of him about it.
It was enough, though. She repeated it like a mantra, clinging to it, laying in her bed that night and thinking of him, this faceless Serpent who was worming his way into her life everywhere.
He'll live, he'll live, he'll live…
XXX
Betty knew her soulmate's name.
Sort of.
It came as a complete moment of surprise. She hadn't been fishing. And god; there were so many moments she could have fished it out of Jughead, deftly hooking onto the name with Jughead none the wiser.
This is the funny thing. She hadn't even been trying.
It wasn't a full name, or perhaps not a name at all.
It was more than she ever had thought she'd get without forcing it open, cracking the question open like a geode.
Jughead was furious about the big fight. It was unclear who he was more upset with; Archie for trying to take on a literal gang or his new friends for fighting back or agreeing at all.
"They're idiots! All of them!" He groaned, caught between the two now.
"Well," Betty said, giggling, "We've known Archie our whole lives and he's not…" She pursed her lips.
"Smart?" Jughead offered with a weak smile. She lightly slapped his shoulder.
"He can be very smart. Just not with common sense. And Reggie? Well, we know it was bound to go badly."
"What about Dilton? He's the smartest kid in our grade!" Jughead protested.
"And desperately wants to be cool," Betty pointed out. She hoped his leg got better soon. It was still unclear how that happened since Jughead said that all the Serpents swore up and down that none of them pulled a knife. But a knife had to get lodged in his leg somehow, right?
Of course, no one believed Jughead. They were Serpents. Liars by nature.
But Betty did. When Jughead said that he couldn't explain how it happened but it wasn't his crew, Betty was sure that there had been some foul play from Archie's side.
"Okay, okay," Jughead rubbed his forehead, "But my Serpents?" He growled, "I could wring all their necks! They don't need to be villainized more than they already are. Don't care who started it, all Riverdale will see is a bunch of thugs who did exactly what low-life kids are meant to do. Cause problems."
Betty bit her lip to keep from asking again if they were all okay, because, well…she shouldn't give two shits about any of them. Except for-
"Is Toni okay?"
That was the only Serpent she could reasonably ask about.
"Oh, none of the girls were in the fight. Thank god. Though," He gave a wry smile, "I think Toni would have knocked Archie on his ass. Maybe she would have just K.O'd him right from the start instead of Sweet-,"
Jughead broke off.
Betty leaned in, startled because something in her body just knew. It was the way he said 'Sweet'...it wasn't just a word, it was a name. Or a nickname, or something to call someone, but it was her soulmate's identifying phrase, what someone called out when they wanted to get his attention.
Because her soulmate had been the one punching Archie, right?
She waited for more, holding her breath, staring hard at Jughead who didn't even notice her tenseness. And when Jughead said nothing more, she nudged him.
"What?" She asked, begging, him to please, finish his thought. Because she had no idea what 'Sweet' referred to.
"Nothing. Not nothing, but god, I just don't want to think about it tonight," He said, seemingly very tired.
Betty tried to stifle her disappointment.
"Right. Yeah, well…glad Archie's okay."