[They break up. It's not because they want to, or because there are any dire consequences hanging over their heads, but because their relationship is still a tenuous one, especially in the aftermath of ... everything. Neither of them can remember who suggests it first, but when Archie is getting on a bus to spend the summer with his mom in Chicago, they both know they're better off this way. Or that's what they tell themselves. Archie's reluctant to leave his dad. He almost refuses, but he knows that with his dad injured and recovering, it might be better if they're both ... elsewhere for a while. Fred doesn't go to Chicago right away, but they transfer him there soon enough. The Andrews family was on sabbatical, at least for a while.
Veronica can't begin to guess how Archie feels, or perhaps she doesn't let herself. In his absence, she is blistering confidence and take charge attitude. Little prevents her from establishing herself further over the summer, making it clear that Riverdale is her home now, and nothing will change that. The absence of her boyfriend (now ex) and impending arrival of her father (boy, she sometimes wishes she could add an "ex" to that one) keeps her busy, keeps her involved—
Most importantly, Veronica is determined to not be the cliché of the girl who reluctantly dumps her boyfriend and then spends the summer slipping from one guy to another. That's boring. Sure, she goes on a date or two, but most of her time is spent with Kevin, Josie, Betty, and Jughead (with the last two's relationship troubles taking up a lot of her time—much to her relief, which she's semi-reluctant to admit ...). She takes to writing songs, as well. They aren't her best work, but they're something. Time with Josie and Valerie helps her hone her skills. She's doing stuff.
But it's Labor Day weekend and Archie's due home. Fred Andrews has been back for a few weeks, complete with a cane and a permanent limp. He's tired, he looks older, but he's getting things ready for his son. School starts on Tuesday, and though some part of her recognizes that she ought to be dreading ... oh, something, she finds herself getting Fred Andrews' permission to wait in Archie's room for him. She doesn't want to seem like the forgotten lover who couldn't wait for her beau's return—that, too, is an unfortunate cliché—but she realizes now that the haze of summer begins to clear that she did miss him. She has missed him. To pretend otherwise would be unfair to her, and possibly to him.
Veronica just doesn't want to be the girl who waited, who didn't fall for another or seek out her soulmate, only to find that the one she wants is nothing like that. That would be ... the first word that jumps to mind is "pathetic." But she knows it's more nuanced than that. Maybe it's wrong to even be here with everything that Archie's gone through, but is it better to leave him alone? Perhaps not knowing is what's pathetic. She prefers to be decisive, to act according to what comes to mind first.
Still, Veronica is a vision of being at ease, so she begins to finish her summer reading stretched in the middle of his twin-sized bed. The problem is, Paradise Lost is just a ... touch too boring for her tastes, and before Archie returns home, she's fallen asleep.
Maybe she was too busy over the summer. Yes, maybe that's it.]
Edited (narratively touching some stuff up) 2017-05-30 05:10 (UTC)
[ Fred says it first, in the hospital after surgery: We're going to need to go stay with your mother. And Archie knows it makes sense. His dad needs to be taken care of, and Archie can't do it all on his own. But the idea of leaving makes his heat seize up. He hyperventilates in the hallway, panicky about how final the idea of Chicago feels to him. But what can he say? Archie is selfish at the best of times, but he has his father's blood staining his cast and the cuff of his letterman jacket. It's a very effective deterrent. The plaster doesn't get changed out until he's in Chicago in an unfamiliar doctor's office with his mother waiting outside the door for him. It all feels wrong.
The blood had been there when he'd said goodbye to Veronica. He still thinks about her, and maybe that's a good sign. Archie's flighty, and he knows that about himself, but his thoughts over the summer circle back to Veronica after he trips over missing Jughead and Betty.
His mother tries to make a case for the kind of life Archie could have if he stayed with her. No one says that explicitly, and it might take Archie a week to cotton on to what's happening, but he figures it out. And he gets so angry over it that he has to go on a long, twisting run rather than risk an argument. His father's face is pinched and grey with pain most days, and a fight would make it worse. Archie's answer come when Fred's buying himself a plane ticket home, and Archie asks for one too.
Neither of them want him to go. Archie's upset about that too. The anxiety over it carries him through the last month of his time with his mother, and all the way through the journey home. Dread's starting to creep in. Archie hasn't kept in close enough contact. He doesn't know what he's missed, and he worries about what he's coming home to. But Fred collects him from the airport and things are almost back to normal.
Neither of them mention getting take out from Pops.
There's a surprise for you upstairs, Fred tells him, and Archie had expected a guitar, maybe. Something his father couldn't really afford to smooth over the wretched summer they'd had. He hadn't expected Veronica, and he didn't have the heart to wake her. He toes off his Converse and crawls in beside her, nudging her gently to make room.
They aren't together. Archie knows that. But he missed her, and he thinks this is alright. He's shared beds with Jughead and with Betty both. They can do this. ]
[Her consciousness stirs just enough for her to take her book and close it at her side, turning over so that Archie can settle in beside her. Jughead's been gone long enough that the makeshift bed on the floor is missing. She's seen him enough over the summer, has been inside his foster parents' house, and she thinks he's getting the better end of the deal. But then, she's Veronica—some part of her is at least vaguely conscious that her shallow understanding of Jughead's situation is just that. Either way, in her moment of mostly being asleep, she has a hard time having any issues with Archie joining her in bed.
Or maybe that's what she'd been waiting for all along, clichés be damned.
Either way, she only wakes up a little while later, a slow smile coming to her lips as she turns toward him. Her book pokes sharply into her side, and she lifts it up as she turns into him, planting it between them like a barrier. It may or may not be necessary, but it's hard for her to decide. The look in her eyes says that it might be.
Somewhere in the breadth of keeping busy, she's been willfully removed from everything that might have to do with her parents. That includes finding out whether her father had been responsible for Fred's injury. (Though she did correct her mom on referring to it as an accident on more than one occasion.) Some part of her dreads having to deal with that now that Fred's back, now that Archie's returned—especially since it was discovered that the gunman was a man for hire down from Montreal.
But for now, she's acting as she has for the past couple of months: removed, because she knows her father is being investigated, and she's seen the simple yet very apparent threats from her father if she tries to lead anything back to him. She can see the discomfort and lack of ease in her mother's eyes. And she knows that both of them wouldn't want her to be here, stealing this moment before the shit is certain to hit the proverbial fan. They can have this moment, like nothing happened, can't they?
Veronica's fingers tease up along the line of Archie's jaw, that same smile still present.]
[ The relief of being home is a little overwhelming. Archie thinks about how easy it would have been to have gotten stuck in Chicago and never come back. But he's here, in his room, in his bed, with Veronica and her book and his dad on his feet, and Archie thinks he can give himself at least a night to savor all of it. Tomorrow he'd have to start tracking down the person who hurt his dad. It had waited all summer, and it couldn't wait that much longer.
Sleep isn't really on the table. At best he dozes, never quite dropping off to sleep. He's hyperaware of their bodies side by side on his wash-worn coverlet. When she turns into him, it's with her book to block him off from her. It's just as well. Archie's hands seem to have forgotten he's not supposed to automatically reach for her. He drops his hand back to the blanket to trace a seam restlessly as she touches him, smiling crinkling under the trip of her fingers. ]
I really missed you, Ronnie.
[ It would probably be a lie to say he'd like to have told her every day. His time had been eaten up and his focus scattered. And it was probably better he hadn't been texting her constantly. She deserved a summer without the kind of distraction Archie knew he could be. He hopes she managed to have a good one, even if he hadn't been a part of it. ]
Hi.
[ A little nervously, like Archie's just realized he's stranded in some strange space where they're a little more than friends but not quite tipped back into territory where he could kiss her. He wants to kiss her badly, but that's not a particularly new impulse. He ignores it in favor of knocking his knuckles against her book, taking in her face like he's looking for any hint of a change in her. ]
I'd try to say something like, "That makes one of us," just to see how you'd react. But I'm here. [Veronica doesn't bother to hide the fact that she missed Archie. The barrier is there between them, but a book isn't large enough to limit their interaction. She hates that she broke up with him, or that he broke up with her, or however that went—it feels like a haze from another life. She just knows that haze is going to turn into clarity sooner rather than later. It's a mess, and one she's not quite ready to deal with at this time.
That will be for tomorrow, possibly. Or the moment she leaves the Andrews house and has to return to her dad wondering if she was with Archie, because somehow, he's the type of guy who knows everything that's going on. It's going to be a really big issue now that Archie's back.
Her hand drops from his face to his hand, fingers moving over the bumps of his knuckles.]
How was big city life? I wondered how you'd do there. Did you play any shows? [These are stalling questions, because she just wants to push him down and kiss him. Veronica just wants to pretend that she has some self control.]
[Leave it to Cheryl to make an event out of something that shouldn't be an event. This time? It's the after-party of the back to school Semi-Formal. Oh, Veronica's been here before, chosen to head into the closet for the wild ride of seven minutes in heaven. Of course, things were different last time. Hell, even Cheryl's different, but she apparently felt it was important that the new Blossom residence should be Christened with some rather old and exciting activities.
Veronica doesn't ... really agree with the choice, but some part of her understands where Cheryl is coming from. Really. Okay, so, last year's makeout session in a closet had caused some problems, but things are better now. And teenagers kissing in the oversized closet of a brand new locale isn't so different from anything else that could be seen as normal—so, it works for her. Somewhat. Besides, outside of this, Cheryl ... has changed. Somewhat. She'll always be an odd one.
But won't they all?
Either way, she was chosen, and Veronica offers a quick roll of her eyes at Cheryl. "Don't rig the bottle so it stops on you," she teases her friend (because Veronica has a natch for making friends with the unlikely sorts, it's just how she is).
It doesn't stop on her (though Cheryl gives an irritated purse of her mouth before the bottle comes to a halt, one that Veronica doesn't entirely know how to read), but on Betty.
And ... here they are.]
It's different in here. Well, obviously. But I was a little worried they'd match their previously much too red interior design. [Veronica flicks her eyes upward over their surroundings before they firmly meet Betty's.] Are we going to sweat them out, or—? [The question lingers.
Though some familiar faces outside might be hurt by what could happen in here, things are ... unsteady. Unsurprisingly. And in that time, Veronica has continued to wonder about a lot of things when it comes to matters of the heart. A lot.]
[ Betty's never really been much at ease in Cheryl's company. Even now that everyone is ostensibly getting along again, even now that they've made the discovery of a family connection, Betty sometimes thinks that there might just be too much personal history there to ever truly overcome. But they're both trying, they really are... And Betty knows that a large part of that is also for Veronica's sake.
She can't really explain why it perturbs her so much that the two of them have become such good friends, since it's not like it really takes anything away from her own friendship with the other girl. Although she suspects that if Cheryl had her way, then it would be V&C, not B&V. But it's still Betty that Veronica calls for support at the end of a hard day; that she sneaks out of the Pembrooke to go out with on midnight drives together; that she shares countless milkshakes with at Pop's. So she has no real excusable reason for the immense feeling of relief that floods over her when the bottle passes by Cheryl and lands on her instead.
The closet isn't cramped by any means but she finds herself standing barely a foot away from Veronica, which she initially justifies as simply wanting to be able to actually see her friend in the dim lighting. But now, she thinks she might understand -- quite intimately -- what must have compelled Archie to want to kiss the other girl under such similar circumstances. Veronica's gaze doesn't waver and Betty swallows thickly around the growing lump in her own throat. ]
It's not like we haven't kissed before. [ She finally blurts out. ]
No, it isn't. [Veronica's visible ease with which she moves through life continues into here, though she knows somehow that this has the chance to be way more complicated than it needs to be. Or, well, that it can develop into that. Every time she's tried to write off something as "nothing more than a moment," it's come back to bite her in the ass. She knows better now. In improving herself, she knows that she's utterly changed who she is—sentimentality doesn't pass her by. It's a part of who she is these days.]
But I think we can both agree that what we did that day and what we might do in here are both entirely different things. As far as I know, Cheryl hasn't planted any cameras in here. It's just you and me. [There wouldn't be a camera in there if it were Cheryl instead of Betty, which is why she points this out. Given everything that happens in Riverdale, it wouldn't be completely unusual for someone to film two girls making out in a closet. In fact, Veronica could almost expect such a thing to occur.
She knows that her ability to bond with ease with just about anyone can be seen as contentious, as if she has a fleeting, malleable identity that's built more upon looking good and doing the right thing than any integrity. Hell, some part of her worries about it. But she wants to be good, to have things be good, which is why she's tried to work with a more candid approach with Betty.
That said, Veronica feels like this is a ball that needs to be in Betty's court. How she perceives this will also guide how they kiss, if they kiss, how long they will kiss—and whether they enjoy it. She'd prefer the last thing to be a conditional factor. Whatever is chosen, it has to be good—for both of them. And in that, it won't be about what pieces she's sliding into place, but what makes Betty feel like she has a handle on all of this.]
[ Things with Jughead are admittedly not the greatest right now. To some extent she understands why he's doing what he is -- ingratiating himself with the Serpents, accepting a place among them as family. It affords him the kind of protection that he sorely needs with his dad behind bars and his mom hundreds of miles away and seemingly uninterested in helping her son. Even though she still strongly believes that he would be better off in the long run if he'd let go of his pride for a moment and allow her, allow Archie, to continue to help as they've been doing so loyally all along, she tries not to begrudge his decision so much when she can't even begin to imagine how difficult everything's been on him this last year.
But it's hard not to let the negative thoughts creep in when he's had to make some sacrifices which have invariably placed a strain on their relationship, no matter how much he's promised her that nothing has changed about the way he feels about her. Maybe it's not his fault at the end of the day but then maybe it's not hers either if she finds herself longing for something more than he can apparently give her right now. She's a person, after all -- not just a dispenser of comfort and consolation when it's still convenient for Jughead to act like her boyfriend.
To Betty's credit, the thought of using Veronica to try and somehow make Jughead jealous never once crosses her mind. That being said, the thought of using Veronica to make herself feel better is a little less avoidable given the circumstances but then it isn't like she explicitly concocted this whole scenario for her own benefit. It's a game that they had both, for better or worse, allowed themselves to get dragged into playing.
But deep down she knows that isn't entirely true. Kevin has made more than a few veiled insinuations about the exact nature of B&V since the day that Veronica had first come sailing into their lives. Most of it had just been harmless teasing, never given a second consideration, but a few of his more recent comments in particular had struck her harder than she had wanted to admit at the time, drawing to the surface -- even if just for a fleeting moment -- the idea that her closeness with the other girl might fall somewhere left of 'normal.'
And it's true that she finds Veronica to be attractive. Anyone with eyes could plainly see as much. Even now, Betty's stomach flip-flops and her pulse leaps with the close proximity they share and the anticipation of what might be coming next. ]
Isn't it always? [ Betty's response sounds measured this time and her voice has lowered rather than pitched higher with nervousness as it's normally prone to doing. It's not that she isn't scared. She's terrified, honestly, but she's also quite suddenly filled with a certain feeling of inevitability. ] You and me?
[ Her hands gently settle on either side of Veronica's waist as if to underscore their connectedness. ]
[The strain that exists between Jughead and Betty is there between Veronica and Archie. The latter two are currently at a different kind of impasse—broken up, almost out of necessity, following the active investigation into her father's involvement with Fred's injury. They're back to a "will they or won't they" that's exhausting for Veronica, especially since she'd rather just be there for Archie right now. The pain he feels is real. The guilt she feels at potentially being the child of the man who nearly ended Fred Andrews' life is also palpable. There's nothing she can do about it.
Everyone knows about this strain and the issues there, but Veronica has done her best to shoulder it all and carry on. What else can she do? It's not like she's a stranger to what her parents are capable of, and now it feels like it hit even closer, even harder than before. Even trying to be there for Archie feels like an act meant to make herself feel better. After Ethel, she knows better than to push, and this is a greater extreme.
All of this is why she welcomed this weird act of renewal on Cheryl's part, especially since Cheryl herself is now a very clearly labeled pariah among the Riverdale community. Dealing with that felt ... easier. Cheryl is her friend, even if their relationship sometimes steers sharply into the enemies part of frenemies, but lately it's been more friendly. Almost out of necessity. Almost because it has to be that way.
In all of this, she's done her best to be there for Betty, to try to help her understand Jughead's mindset. But it's complicated, at least on her end. She had connected with Betty all but immediately, had envisioned a life with them side by side. Their pact had been important. Now that their relationships were on the rocks (or just ruins on the rocks, as it may be), it feels more complicated. Kevin's comments toward Betty are ones that Veronica has been privy to, because that's just how it is, but they were more fleeting in her presence. Now, she can't help but feel like her ease and smiles and everything else were hiding some very apparent signs that were always there.
She had said that Betty and Jughead seemed like soulmates. She believed it. Who says you can't have two? Whose soul is only linked to one other person?]
Nothing changes that. Nothing comes between that. We made a pact. [Some part of her is aware that Betty might be doing this to make herself feel better, and that part wars with the same part of her that wants this—because Veronica wants to feel better, too. It feels like an easy answer in the midst of all their pain.]
If we do this, we'll have to be prepared for what comes next. It's not just a game. [Veronica voices this because, at times, as bold and loud as she can be, she's willing to be the voice of reason. When she had kissed Archie that day, she had pretended it was just the game, had allowed herself to slip into the feeling of selfishness that led to her kissing him. But she knew better, deep down; she knows better now.]
[It all comes down to a single phrase: "plausible deniability." Veronica had insisted upon a business that wouldn't be run illegally—had known what it would take to get there. For her, it isn't long before she realizes that to have that deniability, she has to have some meat shields standing in her way. She has to have people who are willing to bend over backwards, able to incite loyalty in people—
And she has to do it without involving Archie. Her father thinks she's foolish. If he can't be trusted to be involved in Lodge Industries, then he should be used. Hiram tries to remind her of this every day, and she insists that Archie is off limits. Her father got to him once. Isn't that enough?
Apparently not.
Before long, Veronica's schemes are trailing behind her father's. For all the honesty and agreements between them, she knows she's just on the other side of the chessboard trying to keep him in check. The problem is that she hasn't posed much of a threat. Not yet. And she knows that the way things are going, eventually Fred and Archie Andrews will either have to be all in or cleared off the board.
Veronica tries.
She tries.
And along the way, there is so much deniability until she calls Archie over. Her father? Her mother? Gone on a business trip to Los Angeles. Apparently they want to beckon some investors to come over and consider shooting in a sleepy town like Riverdale. Apparently it's inspiring—and, of course, Lodge Industries would be influencing them. Behind it, she knows that it's just another front, another sketchy and skeevy way of ensuring that the Lodges own Riverdale.
So, that's why Archie's on his way. Veronica knows that the Andrews never wanted to be the one barricade between the doom and gloom of a Hiram Lodge World, but here it is. Maybe she should be talking to his father, but—well. Something tells her that she has to win over Archie first.
Like her father, Veronica has a flair for the dramatic. When Archie arrives, Andre will direct him to the Lodge study. Within, Veronica will be waiting—complete with her father's favorite chess set prepared for a game on his desk. The rum is already in her glass, and she's waiting.
Veronica knows that if this move doesn't result in a checkmate, Archie Andrews may never live to see graduation.
It's a risk she has to take.
After all, Archie's life is on the line regardless.]
[ Something's up with Ronnie, Archie had said, stretched out on his bed, Jughead's legs over Archie's as he clacked away at his laptop. There hadn't been anything else to follow that statement. Archie just knew something was off, but he couldn't tell what. Jughead's answering hum had been thoughtful but ultimately noncommittal. Compared to trying to wrestle an entire gang away from more damaging criminal enterprises, vague weirdness with Veronica probably didn't rate. So the topic just hovers at the edge of his consciousness, where Archie picks at it but ultimately lets it alone.
Veronica's helping run her parents company. Pushing too hard feels the same way running out on the ice after Cheryl had: dangerous, everything a breath away from shattering under his feet. Selfishly, Archie doesn't want to do anything to fuel that possibility.
But even after all his careful avoidance, the issue still feels primed to come to a head. Veronica's asked him over when her parents are away more than once, but it's different this time. As he walks into the study and takes her in, he's aware of how weighted the moment feels. Veronica looks so serious that Archie knows immediately she didn't bring him here for their usual tryst. ]
What's up, Ronnie?
[ Instead of taking the seat on the other side of the board, Archie walks to her instead to kiss the top of her head. ]
You want to take that up to your room?
[ Take the drink, leave the chessboard. Stave off whatever's about to happen in doing so. ]
[There's that goodness again. Veronica wonders if it's genetic. Is it something that only one family in a town like this can acquire? Even the Kellers don't seem permanently predisposed toward goodness. Kevin, for one thing, has taken to side trysts with Moose while Midge is still very much his girlfriend. If that's not a sign of some ambiguity than nothing is.
She reaches out to take Archie's hand, gripping it for a moment.]
I'd love that, Archie, but not right now. I figured I'd ... set the scene for you. [Plus, it gives her quick access to some of her father's paperwork. She knows there are still pieces of information hidden away from her, and it's only a matter of time before she has to unearth them. She also knows that it's only a matter of time before she has to reveal some of the messed up things she's had to do.]
For now ... [Veronica pulls her hand away. It isn't a sign of rejection.] Sit, s'il te plaît. Daddy's study is unfortunately the best place to really begin.
[Honestly, they should all give Cheryl some credit. Instead of setting a fire to their holiday spirit, she decided to wait until Christmas was over and they were all back in school to cause problems. She lasted ... oh, about five minutes on campus before she sauntered over, sat down next to a previously kissing Veronica and Archie, and informed them of the brief kiss between Archie and Betty right in front of her house.
Right after they antagonized poor Nana Rose Blossom.
Maybe they were just caught up in the moment, in the adrenaline of the hunt. Or maybe ... well, it's not like it was hard to guess that a girl like Veronica Lodge would be failing in a few areas when it comes to a simple boy like Archie Andrews.
As it is (as it was—they're now sitting in the Blue and Gold after school, trying to ignore the inevitability of Betty and Jughead possibly turning up), the two of them couldn't and aren't as hot and heavy. Veronica has positioned herself as far away from Archie as possible. Her chair remains turned. Her eyes focus on some ... messy collection of articles on the wall, some weird indication of whatever wild mystery Betty is going for next.
Her best friend.
Veronica knows that if this were a cliché love story, she would be chasing Betty down and wrecking their friendship. She'd rather not be a cliché right now, caught in some ridiculous romantic comedy where she's shallow rich girl trope who could never make it in a smalltown with the cutest boy because he always had a girl next door. She never even ... worried about heading down that path.
She finally turns toward him.]
It ... never occurred to you to tell me that happened? I showed up at your house on Christmas Day. It was—we barely left each other's sides, and you thought you could just leave out that you kissed our ... now oddly mutual best friend? [Never mind that they were broken up. Never mind any of it. To her, she felt so raw, and she remembers the pull of Archie's hand when she tried to reconnect. And on her end, she just ... dove headfirst into her father's business all in an effort to find a way to help Archie.
Not that she's mentioned any of that. Archie is too good to know what she's gotten herself into, and she can't ask him to accept it.]
[ As usual, Archie can't figure out exactly what Cheryl's motivation had been. But she'd plunked down and gleefully dragged out Archie's secret for Veronica's benefit. It serves him right for not telling Veronica in the first place but he'd thought—
Well, he doesn't really know what his plan had been. Veronica turning up on his doorstep had felt like a dream. Archie hadn't even figured out what had happened in the car with Betty himself at that point. He didn't have the first clue about how to start admitting what happened to Veronica. He'd thought, maybe just give them Christmas Day before he tried to admit what happened to her. Wedging it in under the mistletoe had felt impossible.
And if he's honest, he'd chickened out. He'd tried but every time he'd opened his mouth, he'd gotten cold feet. Now the truth's out, in the worst way possible. Veronica doesn't have to tell him anything. She's curled in on herself, silently rebuffing any attempts at physical contact. She'd barely looked at him before now. Archie's still at a loss, but he knows that I don't know isn't going to cut it any more than I tried will. But he doesn't have anything else. It's the truth, as much as the recitation of events Cheryl had laid for them had been. ]
It wasn't like that, Veronica. It wasn't.
[ Cheryl had made it sound salacious, almost. It hadn't felt that way when they'd been enclosed in the car together. Betty had been spinning out and Archie had wrenched her back on track. And then— ]
I wanted to tell you. I tried so many times but I just couldn't... [ Archie hesitates, watching her face, before finishing lamely, ] I didn't know how.
[The wound is fresh enough that even if Veronica wanted to do something about it, she knows that she couldn't. She can't even look at him. Some part of her wants to raise hell and rain fury down on Betty and Archie's heads, but the other part of her can't bring herself to do it. She loves the two of them too much. Even when Betty had gone all Benedict on her, she couldn't bring herself to retaliate. A few snide remarks wasn't retaliation as far as Veronica was concerned.]
Were you not able to tell me because it meant something? Because ... honestly, Archie. That's the only way where this makes any sense. [Veronica doesn't know if she wants it to have meant something. Is it fair to throw Archie's inability to piece something together in his face when she needed time to handle his "I love you" remark?
And she still knows that a part of her confession was due to needing that goodness in her life. Suddenly feeling as if she had lost all of that made her want it back. She knew that how she defined goodness was Archie. And no one else.]
Since you're overemotional and seem to be into that whole "sharing" thing, I figured you might be the best person to approach. You just have to promise not to tell anyone about this conversation. Not even Straight A Barbie.
I'll do two things for you. First, I won't tell Betty. Second, I'll kindly ignore your obvious disregard for your own penchant for extreme bouts of melodrama as long as you get to the point.
Fine. I was thinking, the other day, of what my life was like before and after the whole Jason thing happened. And ignoring the obvious, which consists of everything I ever knew being a horrible lie and the one person who ever truly understood me was cruelly taken away from me. Besides that, there was another major difference between then and now.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sticks this here immediately.
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Veronica can't begin to guess how Archie feels, or perhaps she doesn't let herself. In his absence, she is blistering confidence and take charge attitude. Little prevents her from establishing herself further over the summer, making it clear that Riverdale is her home now, and nothing will change that. The absence of her boyfriend (now ex) and impending arrival of her father (boy, she sometimes wishes she could add an "ex" to that one) keeps her busy, keeps her involved—
Most importantly, Veronica is determined to not be the cliché of the girl who reluctantly dumps her boyfriend and then spends the summer slipping from one guy to another. That's boring. Sure, she goes on a date or two, but most of her time is spent with Kevin, Josie, Betty, and Jughead (with the last two's relationship troubles taking up a lot of her time—much to her relief, which she's semi-reluctant to admit ...). She takes to writing songs, as well. They aren't her best work, but they're something. Time with Josie and Valerie helps her hone her skills. She's doing stuff.
But it's Labor Day weekend and Archie's due home. Fred Andrews has been back for a few weeks, complete with a cane and a permanent limp. He's tired, he looks older, but he's getting things ready for his son. School starts on Tuesday, and though some part of her recognizes that she ought to be dreading ... oh, something, she finds herself getting Fred Andrews' permission to wait in Archie's room for him. She doesn't want to seem like the forgotten lover who couldn't wait for her beau's return—that, too, is an unfortunate cliché—but she realizes now that the haze of summer begins to clear that she did miss him. She has missed him. To pretend otherwise would be unfair to her, and possibly to him.
Veronica just doesn't want to be the girl who waited, who didn't fall for another or seek out her soulmate, only to find that the one she wants is nothing like that. That would be ... the first word that jumps to mind is "pathetic." But she knows it's more nuanced than that. Maybe it's wrong to even be here with everything that Archie's gone through, but is it better to leave him alone? Perhaps not knowing is what's pathetic. She prefers to be decisive, to act according to what comes to mind first.
Still, Veronica is a vision of being at ease, so she begins to finish her summer reading stretched in the middle of his twin-sized bed. The problem is, Paradise Lost is just a ... touch too boring for her tastes, and before Archie returns home, she's fallen asleep.
Maybe she was too busy over the summer. Yes, maybe that's it.]
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The blood had been there when he'd said goodbye to Veronica. He still thinks about her, and maybe that's a good sign. Archie's flighty, and he knows that about himself, but his thoughts over the summer circle back to Veronica after he trips over missing Jughead and Betty.
His mother tries to make a case for the kind of life Archie could have if he stayed with her. No one says that explicitly, and it might take Archie a week to cotton on to what's happening, but he figures it out. And he gets so angry over it that he has to go on a long, twisting run rather than risk an argument. His father's face is pinched and grey with pain most days, and a fight would make it worse. Archie's answer come when Fred's buying himself a plane ticket home, and Archie asks for one too.
Neither of them want him to go. Archie's upset about that too. The anxiety over it carries him through the last month of his time with his mother, and all the way through the journey home. Dread's starting to creep in. Archie hasn't kept in close enough contact. He doesn't know what he's missed, and he worries about what he's coming home to. But Fred collects him from the airport and things are almost back to normal.
Neither of them mention getting take out from Pops.
There's a surprise for you upstairs, Fred tells him, and Archie had expected a guitar, maybe. Something his father couldn't really afford to smooth over the wretched summer they'd had. He hadn't expected Veronica, and he didn't have the heart to wake her. He toes off his Converse and crawls in beside her, nudging her gently to make room.
They aren't together. Archie knows that. But he missed her, and he thinks this is alright. He's shared beds with Jughead and with Betty both. They can do this. ]
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Or maybe that's what she'd been waiting for all along, clichés be damned.
Either way, she only wakes up a little while later, a slow smile coming to her lips as she turns toward him. Her book pokes sharply into her side, and she lifts it up as she turns into him, planting it between them like a barrier. It may or may not be necessary, but it's hard for her to decide. The look in her eyes says that it might be.
Somewhere in the breadth of keeping busy, she's been willfully removed from everything that might have to do with her parents. That includes finding out whether her father had been responsible for Fred's injury. (Though she did correct her mom on referring to it as an accident on more than one occasion.) Some part of her dreads having to deal with that now that Fred's back, now that Archie's returned—especially since it was discovered that the gunman was a man for hire down from Montreal.
But for now, she's acting as she has for the past couple of months: removed, because she knows her father is being investigated, and she's seen the simple yet very apparent threats from her father if she tries to lead anything back to him. She can see the discomfort and lack of ease in her mother's eyes. And she knows that both of them wouldn't want her to be here, stealing this moment before the shit is certain to hit the proverbial fan. They can have this moment, like nothing happened, can't they?
Veronica's fingers tease up along the line of Archie's jaw, that same smile still present.]
Long time no see, Archiekins.
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Sleep isn't really on the table. At best he dozes, never quite dropping off to sleep. He's hyperaware of their bodies side by side on his wash-worn coverlet. When she turns into him, it's with her book to block him off from her. It's just as well. Archie's hands seem to have forgotten he's not supposed to automatically reach for her. He drops his hand back to the blanket to trace a seam restlessly as she touches him, smiling crinkling under the trip of her fingers. ]
I really missed you, Ronnie.
[ It would probably be a lie to say he'd like to have told her every day. His time had been eaten up and his focus scattered. And it was probably better he hadn't been texting her constantly. She deserved a summer without the kind of distraction Archie knew he could be. He hopes she managed to have a good one, even if he hadn't been a part of it. ]
Hi.
[ A little nervously, like Archie's just realized he's stranded in some strange space where they're a little more than friends but not quite tipped back into territory where he could kiss her. He wants to kiss her badly, but that's not a particularly new impulse. He ignores it in favor of knocking his knuckles against her book, taking in her face like he's looking for any hint of a change in her. ]
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That will be for tomorrow, possibly. Or the moment she leaves the Andrews house and has to return to her dad wondering if she was with Archie, because somehow, he's the type of guy who knows everything that's going on. It's going to be a really big issue now that Archie's back.
Her hand drops from his face to his hand, fingers moving over the bumps of his knuckles.]
How was big city life? I wondered how you'd do there. Did you play any shows? [These are stalling questions, because she just wants to push him down and kiss him. Veronica just wants to pretend that she has some self control.]
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Veronica doesn't ... really agree with the choice, but some part of her understands where Cheryl is coming from. Really. Okay, so, last year's makeout session in a closet had caused some problems, but things are better now. And teenagers kissing in the oversized closet of a brand new locale isn't so different from anything else that could be seen as normal—so, it works for her. Somewhat. Besides, outside of this, Cheryl ... has changed. Somewhat. She'll always be an odd one.
But won't they all?
Either way, she was chosen, and Veronica offers a quick roll of her eyes at Cheryl. "Don't rig the bottle so it stops on you," she teases her friend (because Veronica has a natch for making friends with the unlikely sorts, it's just how she is).
It doesn't stop on her (though Cheryl gives an irritated purse of her mouth before the bottle comes to a halt, one that Veronica doesn't entirely know how to read), but on Betty.
And ... here they are.]
It's different in here. Well, obviously. But I was a little worried they'd match their previously much too red interior design. [Veronica flicks her eyes upward over their surroundings before they firmly meet Betty's.] Are we going to sweat them out, or—? [The question lingers.
Though some familiar faces outside might be hurt by what could happen in here, things are ... unsteady. Unsurprisingly. And in that time, Veronica has continued to wonder about a lot of things when it comes to matters of the heart. A lot.]
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She can't really explain why it perturbs her so much that the two of them have become such good friends, since it's not like it really takes anything away from her own friendship with the other girl. Although she suspects that if Cheryl had her way, then it would be V&C, not B&V. But it's still Betty that Veronica calls for support at the end of a hard day; that she sneaks out of the Pembrooke to go out with on midnight drives together; that she shares countless milkshakes with at Pop's. So she has no real excusable reason for the immense feeling of relief that floods over her when the bottle passes by Cheryl and lands on her instead.
The closet isn't cramped by any means but she finds herself standing barely a foot away from Veronica, which she initially justifies as simply wanting to be able to actually see her friend in the dim lighting. But now, she thinks she might understand -- quite intimately -- what must have compelled Archie to want to kiss the other girl under such similar circumstances. Veronica's gaze doesn't waver and Betty swallows thickly around the growing lump in her own throat. ]
It's not like we haven't kissed before. [ She finally blurts out. ]
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But I think we can both agree that what we did that day and what we might do in here are both entirely different things. As far as I know, Cheryl hasn't planted any cameras in here. It's just you and me. [There wouldn't be a camera in there if it were Cheryl instead of Betty, which is why she points this out. Given everything that happens in Riverdale, it wouldn't be completely unusual for someone to film two girls making out in a closet. In fact, Veronica could almost expect such a thing to occur.
She knows that her ability to bond with ease with just about anyone can be seen as contentious, as if she has a fleeting, malleable identity that's built more upon looking good and doing the right thing than any integrity. Hell, some part of her worries about it. But she wants to be good, to have things be good, which is why she's tried to work with a more candid approach with Betty.
That said, Veronica feels like this is a ball that needs to be in Betty's court. How she perceives this will also guide how they kiss, if they kiss, how long they will kiss—and whether they enjoy it. She'd prefer the last thing to be a conditional factor. Whatever is chosen, it has to be good—for both of them. And in that, it won't be about what pieces she's sliding into place, but what makes Betty feel like she has a handle on all of this.]
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But it's hard not to let the negative thoughts creep in when he's had to make some sacrifices which have invariably placed a strain on their relationship, no matter how much he's promised her that nothing has changed about the way he feels about her. Maybe it's not his fault at the end of the day but then maybe it's not hers either if she finds herself longing for something more than he can apparently give her right now. She's a person, after all -- not just a dispenser of comfort and consolation when it's still convenient for Jughead to act like her boyfriend.
To Betty's credit, the thought of using Veronica to try and somehow make Jughead jealous never once crosses her mind. That being said, the thought of using Veronica to make herself feel better is a little less avoidable given the circumstances but then it isn't like she explicitly concocted this whole scenario for her own benefit. It's a game that they had both, for better or worse, allowed themselves to get dragged into playing.
But deep down she knows that isn't entirely true. Kevin has made more than a few veiled insinuations about the exact nature of B&V since the day that Veronica had first come sailing into their lives. Most of it had just been harmless teasing, never given a second consideration, but a few of his more recent comments in particular had struck her harder than she had wanted to admit at the time, drawing to the surface -- even if just for a fleeting moment -- the idea that her closeness with the other girl might fall somewhere left of 'normal.'
And it's true that she finds Veronica to be attractive. Anyone with eyes could plainly see as much. Even now, Betty's stomach flip-flops and her pulse leaps with the close proximity they share and the anticipation of what might be coming next. ]
Isn't it always? [ Betty's response sounds measured this time and her voice has lowered rather than pitched higher with nervousness as it's normally prone to doing. It's not that she isn't scared. She's terrified, honestly, but she's also quite suddenly filled with a certain feeling of inevitability. ] You and me?
[ Her hands gently settle on either side of Veronica's waist as if to underscore their connectedness. ]
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Everyone knows about this strain and the issues there, but Veronica has done her best to shoulder it all and carry on. What else can she do? It's not like she's a stranger to what her parents are capable of, and now it feels like it hit even closer, even harder than before. Even trying to be there for Archie feels like an act meant to make herself feel better. After Ethel, she knows better than to push, and this is a greater extreme.
All of this is why she welcomed this weird act of renewal on Cheryl's part, especially since Cheryl herself is now a very clearly labeled pariah among the Riverdale community. Dealing with that felt ... easier. Cheryl is her friend, even if their relationship sometimes steers sharply into the enemies part of frenemies, but lately it's been more friendly. Almost out of necessity. Almost because it has to be that way.
In all of this, she's done her best to be there for Betty, to try to help her understand Jughead's mindset. But it's complicated, at least on her end. She had connected with Betty all but immediately, had envisioned a life with them side by side. Their pact had been important. Now that their relationships were on the rocks (or just ruins on the rocks, as it may be), it feels more complicated. Kevin's comments toward Betty are ones that Veronica has been privy to, because that's just how it is, but they were more fleeting in her presence. Now, she can't help but feel like her ease and smiles and everything else were hiding some very apparent signs that were always there.
She had said that Betty and Jughead seemed like soulmates. She believed it. Who says you can't have two? Whose soul is only linked to one other person?]
Nothing changes that. Nothing comes between that. We made a pact. [Some part of her is aware that Betty might be doing this to make herself feel better, and that part wars with the same part of her that wants this—because Veronica wants to feel better, too. It feels like an easy answer in the midst of all their pain.]
If we do this, we'll have to be prepared for what comes next. It's not just a game. [Veronica voices this because, at times, as bold and loud as she can be, she's willing to be the voice of reason. When she had kissed Archie that day, she had pretended it was just the game, had allowed herself to slip into the feeling of selfishness that led to her kissing him. But she knew better, deep down; she knows better now.]
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barges in i want mob boss stuff
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And she has to do it without involving Archie. Her father thinks she's foolish. If he can't be trusted to be involved in Lodge Industries, then he should be used. Hiram tries to remind her of this every day, and she insists that Archie is off limits. Her father got to him once. Isn't that enough?
Apparently not.
Before long, Veronica's schemes are trailing behind her father's. For all the honesty and agreements between them, she knows she's just on the other side of the chessboard trying to keep him in check. The problem is that she hasn't posed much of a threat. Not yet. And she knows that the way things are going, eventually Fred and Archie Andrews will either have to be all in or cleared off the board.
Veronica tries.
She tries.
And along the way, there is so much deniability until she calls Archie over. Her father? Her mother? Gone on a business trip to Los Angeles. Apparently they want to beckon some investors to come over and consider shooting in a sleepy town like Riverdale. Apparently it's inspiring—and, of course, Lodge Industries would be influencing them. Behind it, she knows that it's just another front, another sketchy and skeevy way of ensuring that the Lodges own Riverdale.
So, that's why Archie's on his way. Veronica knows that the Andrews never wanted to be the one barricade between the doom and gloom of a Hiram Lodge World, but here it is. Maybe she should be talking to his father, but—well. Something tells her that she has to win over Archie first.
Like her father, Veronica has a flair for the dramatic. When Archie arrives, Andre will direct him to the Lodge study. Within, Veronica will be waiting—complete with her father's favorite chess set prepared for a game on his desk. The rum is already in her glass, and she's waiting.
Veronica knows that if this move doesn't result in a checkmate, Archie Andrews may never live to see graduation.
It's a risk she has to take.
After all, Archie's life is on the line regardless.]
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Veronica's helping run her parents company. Pushing too hard feels the same way running out on the ice after Cheryl had: dangerous, everything a breath away from shattering under his feet. Selfishly, Archie doesn't want to do anything to fuel that possibility.
But even after all his careful avoidance, the issue still feels primed to come to a head. Veronica's asked him over when her parents are away more than once, but it's different this time. As he walks into the study and takes her in, he's aware of how weighted the moment feels. Veronica looks so serious that Archie knows immediately she didn't bring him here for their usual tryst. ]
What's up, Ronnie?
[ Instead of taking the seat on the other side of the board, Archie walks to her instead to kiss the top of her head. ]
You want to take that up to your room?
[ Take the drink, leave the chessboard. Stave off whatever's about to happen in doing so. ]
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She reaches out to take Archie's hand, gripping it for a moment.]
I'd love that, Archie, but not right now. I figured I'd ... set the scene for you. [Plus, it gives her quick access to some of her father's paperwork. She knows there are still pieces of information hidden away from her, and it's only a matter of time before she has to unearth them. She also knows that it's only a matter of time before she has to reveal some of the messed up things she's had to do.]
For now ... [Veronica pulls her hand away. It isn't a sign of rejection.] Sit, s'il te plaît. Daddy's study is unfortunately the best place to really begin.
canon au / canon speculative stuff maybe.
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Right after they antagonized poor Nana Rose Blossom.
Maybe they were just caught up in the moment, in the adrenaline of the hunt. Or maybe ... well, it's not like it was hard to guess that a girl like Veronica Lodge would be failing in a few areas when it comes to a simple boy like Archie Andrews.
As it is (as it was—they're now sitting in the Blue and Gold after school, trying to ignore the inevitability of Betty and Jughead possibly turning up), the two of them couldn't and aren't as hot and heavy. Veronica has positioned herself as far away from Archie as possible. Her chair remains turned. Her eyes focus on some ... messy collection of articles on the wall, some weird indication of whatever wild mystery Betty is going for next.
Her best friend.
Veronica knows that if this were a cliché love story, she would be chasing Betty down and wrecking their friendship. She'd rather not be a cliché right now, caught in some ridiculous romantic comedy where she's shallow rich girl trope who could never make it in a smalltown with the cutest boy because he always had a girl next door. She never even ... worried about heading down that path.
She finally turns toward him.]
It ... never occurred to you to tell me that happened? I showed up at your house on Christmas Day. It was—we barely left each other's sides, and you thought you could just leave out that you kissed our ... now oddly mutual best friend? [Never mind that they were broken up. Never mind any of it. To her, she felt so raw, and she remembers the pull of Archie's hand when she tried to reconnect. And on her end, she just ... dove headfirst into her father's business all in an effort to find a way to help Archie.
Not that she's mentioned any of that. Archie is too good to know what she's gotten herself into, and she can't ask him to accept it.]
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Well, he doesn't really know what his plan had been. Veronica turning up on his doorstep had felt like a dream. Archie hadn't even figured out what had happened in the car with Betty himself at that point. He didn't have the first clue about how to start admitting what happened to Veronica. He'd thought, maybe just give them Christmas Day before he tried to admit what happened to her. Wedging it in under the mistletoe had felt impossible.
And if he's honest, he'd chickened out. He'd tried but every time he'd opened his mouth, he'd gotten cold feet. Now the truth's out, in the worst way possible. Veronica doesn't have to tell him anything. She's curled in on herself, silently rebuffing any attempts at physical contact. She'd barely looked at him before now. Archie's still at a loss, but he knows that I don't know isn't going to cut it any more than I tried will. But he doesn't have anything else. It's the truth, as much as the recitation of events Cheryl had laid for them had been. ]
It wasn't like that, Veronica. It wasn't.
[ Cheryl had made it sound salacious, almost. It hadn't felt that way when they'd been enclosed in the car together. Betty had been spinning out and Archie had wrenched her back on track. And then— ]
I wanted to tell you. I tried so many times but I just couldn't... [ Archie hesitates, watching her face, before finishing lamely, ] I didn't know how.
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Were you not able to tell me because it meant something? Because ... honestly, Archie. That's the only way where this makes any sense. [Veronica doesn't know if she wants it to have meant something. Is it fair to throw Archie's inability to piece something together in his face when she needed time to handle his "I love you" remark?
And she still knows that a part of her confession was due to needing that goodness in her life. Suddenly feeling as if she had lost all of that made her want it back. She knew that how she defined goodness was Archie. And no one else.]
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Oh, Veronica, don't fret.
My affair with your little Archie was all business and I have already forgotten the encounter.
This is something else entirely.
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But do go on.
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You just have to promise not to tell anyone about this conversation.
Not even Straight A Barbie.
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I was thinking, the other day, of what my life was like before and after the whole Jason thing happened.
And ignoring the obvious, which consists of everything I ever knew being a horrible lie and the one person who ever truly understood me was cruelly taken away from me.
Besides that, there was another major difference between then and now.
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