[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.]
no subject
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.]