Chapter Text
Veronica heard it through the grapevine.
The grapevine also known as Kevin Keller after one too many glasses of red wine.
There was a look on his face, like he wanted to tell her something as they relaxed on the couch in her New York apartment. She caught it right away. From there, it hadn’t been exactly hard to coax it out of him, looking over at him with narrowed eyes. He was a gossip, as was she, but she was just a bit better about staying hushed about other people’s business.
“Spill it, Keller.” She ordered after a little bit of prodding and it spilled out like she’d prompted a volcano to erupt.
“Well… it’s just that... you’re the main character in Jughead’s new book and he won’t admit it.” Kevin’s words were strung together clumsily, bumping into each other in the rush to leave his mouth.
For a moment, Veronica was genuinely shocked. “I’m the what now ?”
It turned out it wasn’t quite as dramatic as the way Kevin had phrased it. It seemed that all people who had read Jughead’s latest manuscript had noticed distinct similarities between the central character and one, Veronica Lodge. Central themes of the plot and similarities other than a short, raven haired girl in heels and a pencil skirt weilding a sharp tongue were difficult to express without reading the novel yourself. That was the conclusion they had to come to, since Kevin was going off the opinion of others. Or, more specifically, the opinion of Betty and Archie.
Archie, her sweet, charming ex-boyfriend who’d once been her father’s new favourite underling before it had deteriorated their relationship.
They’d broken up about a month after she moved for college. They didn’t see each other often and when they did, he often had this look in his big brown puppy dog eyes as if he was hoping one day she’d change her mind. His idealism was endearing, but never quite enough to convince Veronica to tread water in that fantasy any time soon.
And then Betty, whom she saw twice a week for brunch and dinner, who had mentioned nothing about Jughead’s new novel other than the fact that it was good. Veronica hadn’t sensed that she was being cagey about it at first, but in that moment she was second guessing it. She and Jughead had called it quits for the millionth time and Veronica was just waiting for the day Betty showed up to see her with a skip in her step, announcing that they were back on. To which, Veronica usually responded that they were always on .
How could neither of them have said something to her?
“This is weird.” Was the most eloquent thing Veronica had to say, pushing the rim of her glass against her red bottom lip, eyes going wide as she stared into space.
“You’re telling me.” Kevin replied, equally glassy eyed.
It wasn’t until Veronica had sobered up and Kevin had gone off to pass out in the guest bedroom for the night that she had made the concrete decision to draft up an email to Jughead about his book.
Betty had mentioned the launch back before they’d broken up and she had assumed she would come to show support, meet some of his serious writer friends. She had to imagine they were a world away from when he was frequently running with the Southside Serpents.
The email succinctly and professionally entailed her concerns about what she’d heard about the book and the fact that she would like to, if possible, read a copy before it was sitting in bookstores. There had only been minor spelling mistakes when she checked back again after she finished writing. After rewriting it twice, rather than waiting until she was completely sober in the morning, she pressed send on impulse and then stared at the screen.
Veronica never did get an email back.
Instead, when she woke up, later than usual, she had two text messages from Jughead waiting on her phone.
Jughead Jones: can’t we text like normal people? that email read like a lawyer wrote it.
Jughead Jones: i’ll bring you a copy
Veronica distinctly remembered the last time Jughead was in her apartment. It was months ago, for a housewarming party that hadn’t exactly gone perfectly.
It was fine, at first. She had enough cheese platters to keep even the bottomless pit that was Jughead’s stomach content, as well as enough wine to please Kevin and Cheryl, who went on to become fiends when it came to the small bar in her apartment.
They chattered about school and work, the night began easy, casual. That was until Archie — sweet, clueless Archie — arrived with a girl on his arm.
It wasn’t that Veronica was mad he’d moved on. Hell, she’d brought a person or two back to her apartment, had ongoing flirtatious conversations with a couple of people she’d met. She knew what he was like, that he jumped in head first, but something about it had genuinely pissed her off, especially when it seemed the girl was unaware of what she’d walked into.
Eventually, she’d asked him to leave and the rest of the night, Veronica, Betty and Jughead sat quiet and awkward on the couch as Cheryl, Toni and Kevin entertained the rest of her guests with stories of the fabled Riverdale High. Eventually the night came to an end and they were the ones to stick around to clean up, Jughead surprisingly the one to distract her by bringing up how he’d recently been reading Pynchon. They settled on the decision that they should watch Inherent Vice together, but with busy schedules it never seemed to happen.
This time, Jughead didn’t come bearing the gift of a bottle of wine and a wrapped box set of three intricately carved black candles she’d presumed that Betty picked out.
(They were sitting on her bookshelf in her room, if he was to ask about them.)
He showed up with a worn leather book bag slung over his shoulder to match the familiar dark circles under his eyes. He offered an awkward, half smile. “Veronica.”
“Forsythe.” He scowled at her use of his real name, probably cursing the day she’d learned it. She blinked back at him, trying to read every bit of body language. Mostly he just looked uncomfortable underneath the spotlight of her gaze.
It seemed they were in a standoff for a moment, before Veronica finally took a step back, allowing him access to her apartment.
“So, how did the conspiracy finally reach you?” He asked casually, passing through the hallway as she followed after shutting the door, arms folded carefully over her chest.
“One guess.” She replied curtly.
It only took him a moment to turn around and peer at her. “ Kevin .”
“The little birdy who whispered in my ear himself.”
“And I suppose Betty told him.”
“Well she certainly didn’t say a word to me about it.” Veronica tried not to sound bitter as they both took a seat in her living room, on opposite ends of her coffee table, her on the white Chesterfield sofa and him in one of the armchairs.
The second they were seated and she began to look expectant, he launched into explanation. “They’re both jumping to conclusions. The girl in this novel… she’s not you, Veronica. I just want that to be clear.”
“So you won’t mind if I read it, so I know for sure.” She replied, almost teasing him.
“You’re going to laugh, at what they seem to think screams Veronica Lodge .”
“Okay.”
He continued on, trying to make it as clear as possible that it wasn’t quite what it had been made out to be. “It’s laughable, the very thought that I would base my novel around—”
“ Jughead .” She cut him off, sounding impatient. “Just give me the copy you brought over so I can make this easier on the both of us.”
He looked reluctant, but slipped the bag off his shoulder, laying it against the arm of the chair before he placed a large stack of white paper there. Veronica edged it towards herself gingerly, assessing the first page carefully and then peering up at Jughead in front of her.
“Interesting title.” She finally commented and then, as if from nowhere procured a pair of black rimmed glasses, slipping them on as she brought the manuscript to her lap.
“I didn’t know you wore glasses.” Jughead commented, almost idly as he sat there wringing his hands. He was used to criticism, had steeled himself to the fact that not every single person would approve of or like what he wrote. It never occurred to him that he should be so nervous about Veronica reading what he’d put so much work into. Surprising himself with his own cowardice, he longed to scurry off and hide. “Can I go?”
“No way, you’re staying until I can form an opinion about this. Besides, feedback is good. I don’t know why you never asked me to provide any in the first place.”
“We’re not exactly close friends.” He argued weakly.
“But we are friends, are we not?” She volleyed back and for a moment he was stumped.
“Sure, I guess.” He replied reluctantly, holding back more.
Veronica went back to turning the page, but unexpectedly spoke again, making his head shoot up from the way it hung low as he stared at his lap.“Isn’t this one of the things they cover in college creative writing courses, that writing about people you know is never going to go down well?”
“You haven’t even read it yet. I’m telling you, it’s not about you.” He continued to argue.
“Well from what I’m hearing I’m centre stage, not just a viciously described blip in an attempt to rival Kerouac, which I feel would have been more in character for you.” She said, finally landing on the first page but barely skimming over the first word.
“Didn’t figure you were an On The Road fan.”
She made a face. “I’m not.”
“Just… read it, will you? You’re forcing me to sit here and the more talking we do the longer I have to stay.” Jughead’s voice had taken on a surprising pleading quality, but he was shifting his gaze away from hers a moment later. He looked awkward and nervous, fidgeting with the hem of his beanie before he pulled it off entirely.
“Fine.” Veronica replied, apparently always needing to get in the last word.
At least forty five minutes later, while Jughead was scouring her fridge to make a meal and eating half his weight in expensive cheese, he heard the familiar sound of high heels aggressively clicking in his direction.
Shoving another piece of cheese in his mouth after a smooth, perfectly salted cracker, he raised his eyebrows as Veronica entered the kitchen, glasses now pushed up to the top of her head. Really, he didn’t know what he expected, but it surprised him to see that there was something icy in her expression. Not something he’d never seen, but the severity directed at him was definitely new. His stomach churned and suddenly the food in his mouth tasted off.
It didn’t help in the slightest when she finally spoke. “Get out.”
“What?” He said around a mouthful of food.
“I’ve read enough. Leave my apartment, now. Just take it with you.” She ordered, somehow standing taller than him and more terrifying than he’d ever seen her.
Jughead grabbed a napkin and spat the food in his mouth out into it, which only earned him a look of disgust and then he lost her attention all together. “Veronica…”
Rather than giving him a moment to explain or try to convince her of otherwise, she launched into what she’d found in those first three chapters. “A girl who wears pearls every day? Under her father’s thumb and clueless? Vapid, materialistic, vain… I don’t know why you bothered naming her Celine, why be coy about it when you could just call her Veronica Lodge, the girl I’ve loathed since high school.”
No one had put it like that before, so blunt, pointing out the things he’d forced himself to not think too much into. Inspiration came from everywhere. There were so many things about Celine that were so different to Veronica and yet she wasn’t exactly wrong. Unable to verbalise any of this, he ended up stuck on that last part. “If I hated you, don’t you think you would have known before right now?”
It seemed for a second she was truly considering his words, but it changed nothing. She remained ice cold. “Get out of my apartment, Jughead.”
“Okay… just… will you keep reading it?” Jughead was surprised to hear himself pleading again, still holding a napkin of cheese and cracker in his hand, feeling uncomfortable, as if she was slowly setting him alight.
“No, I will not keep reading that vile, cruel takedown you call a novel.” She replied, offended at even the idea.
Jughead took a step closer to her, though some part of him was aware it was a bad idea. “I’m not taking it with me. You wanted to read it, read the whole thing.”
“I’m not repeating myself.” At this point, Veronica was refusing to look at him, practically seething with rage.
There was no choice other than to back off, leaving with a lingering look as he left a mess on the island in her kitchen, flying past the open pages on her couch. He collected his book bag and disappeared. He didn’t get to see Veronica cutting up a particularly large piece of soft cheese to shove in her mouth as she frowned to herself. Jughead found himself in a daze as he made his way back to his smaller apartment, in a far less luxe neighbourhood, faced with the realisation that maybe he had in fact unknowingly taken Veronica Lodge as his muse. He also knew that her reading the rest of his novel would either remedy or ruin the situation further, if she wasn’t about to burn it in her fireplace.
It wasn’t until several hours later, when the food had been cleared up and she stood at the edge of her living room, sans heels and with her hair tied in a low ponytail that she even glanced at Jughead’s novel again. With her hands on her hips, for a moment she considered getting rid of it in some way, but then she realised if she had wanted to do that, it would have been done already.
It wasn’t that she couldn’t take the criticism, it was just that after all of this time, it felt so harsh. When they were younger she’d gotten used to Jughead not being all that partial to her despite the fact they ran in the same tight knit circle. Things had been so hectic that sometimes there really was no time to sit there and sort through their feelings or talk it out, a lot of the time. She assumed their bond was more unspoken and interesting, full of bickering and misunderstanding but as they had gotten older she thought they’d actually kind of become real friends. She had assumed they had some sort of lifelong bond for surviving Riverdale.
This book made her wonder if she’d been fooling herself into ever thinking any of that, though she was tempted by the fact that he’d asked her to keep going. He’d seemed pretty insistent about that.
Instead of giving in, she went to her bedroom, carefully changing out of her skirt and blouse to put on an uncharacteristically comfy outfit. She then strode out of her room in well-fitting grey sweatpants and a tiny navy blue tank top, settling herself back on the couch.
After a couple of false starts, she began to read again.
Jughead was awake when he received the text. It wasn’t like he had the best sleep schedule in general, but the whole Veronica debacle had put a bad taste in his mouth, leading to him rereading the beginning chapters, trying to get into her head as he did so.
It wasn’t great, but he wasn’t brave enough to venture further anyway. The buzzing of his phone had relieved him from the duty of trying in the first place, though he was more expecting something from Betty or Archie, assuming that Veronica had gone to one of them, most likely the former.
Betty had just been mildly amused when she’d first made the observation, giggling and trying to convince him of something he refused to believe. In the end, it seemed like it was the catalyst for their latest and worst breakup, though it was hardly the only reason for it.
Surprisingly, this time it was seeming like it might stick because it wasn’t Betty that was texting him and it never seemed to be anymore.
Veronica Lodge: i finished it. no longer mad. come over at soonest convenience to make up.
Jughead figured that right away was his soonest convenience, even considering the fact that it was nearing one a.m.
Jughead Jones: how about now?
Veronica Lodge: well, i was going to be up anyway
The moment she opened the door this time, Jughead was a little startled at the look of her. It was the most dressed down he’d ever seen her and they’d once spent a whole weekend together once. Her hair was up in a neat bun that made her look very much akin to a ballerina, but her face was clear of makeup, her glasses still sitting on the bridge of her nose. Without heels it became apparent to him just how tiny she really was. She was even wearing sweatpants, for God’s sake. It was incredible . Unlike her, he still had most of his hair hidden in the safety blanket of his worn beanie.
They began to speak at the same time, as if someone had pressed play on the both of them.
“I couldn't put it down—”
“I’m so sorry about—”
They both paused, but eventually Jughead held his hand out. “You go.”
Veronica smiled softly at him, like she was grateful. “It's really good, Jug.”
“Yeah?” He looked sheepish. Of course he wanted to take some pride in his work, but it had been a transition, going from Riverdale to the rich pool of talent found in New York.
“I was genuinely impressed. Moved, even. I sped through those pages like I was starving for it, in the least narcissistic way possible. I loved her, by the way, Celine. That redemption arc touched my heart.” She continued to gush. “Come, we can continue this over hot chocolates. It’s the next best thing after coffee, since I doubt either of us need the caffeine right now.”
Jughead followed, equally amazed and confused as he followed her through the now slightly more familiar apartment, taking a seat at the breakfast bar when she ordered him to. She continued talking, earning eager responses from him for the most part, intrigued about her point of view on it. He was thankful she wasn’t looking ready to bite his head off any longer, though he felt a little uneasy still, like she’d seen some part of him he wasn’t aware he was bearing.
Veronica finally brought over the two mugs of rich hot chocolate that she’d been fussing over, two white mini marshmallows neatly inside each. Despite their perfection, she still looked more relaxed than he’d ever seen her. That was, until she began to look amused. “I just never realised how big a number I must have done on you with that hot tub kiss back in high school. I mean, if it made this much of an impact.”
Jughead choked on the sip he’d been taking, wiping his mouth and then trying to wipe the minimal splatter with his sweater sleeve. “What?”
“Oh, come on, like you don’t remember that night vividly .” She smiled as she took a sip and then licked her lips, placing the mug down as she looked at him. He stared back at her, momentarily stirred.
“I’m just concerned about what you’re implying here.”
Veronica replied with absolute confidence. “You have a crush on me, obviously.”
Jughead looked flabbergasted. “I have a what now? What are we, twelve? I don’t have a crush on you, Veronica.”
His denial did nothing to stump her. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. I only figured it out towards the end… that guy Celine ends up with, it was a bit difficult to pick up on it, but he’s clearly inspired by you. He has you in him; the brooding, the tiredness, the sad backstory... tall, dark and handsome.”
“They don’t end up together, it’s ambiguous.” He rushed to correct.
Veronica looked proud. “So you do have a crush on me.”
The colour drained from his face, but all he did was sigh. He let her win, because although he hadn’t arrived at her apartment thinking he did, although it seemed ridiculous to even consider that maybe even some small part of him had a thing for Veronica Lodge, his work spoke for him.
It didn’t have to be a big deal and yet it sent them both into silence. At least they had their hot chocolate to take up some time lamenting over the revelation of Jughead’s apparent feelings. In the end, neither of them brought it up again.
Instead, they ended up on her couch, watching Inherent Vice like they’d planned to, forever ago now. Partway through the movie they both fell asleep, Jughead still in his black jeans and sneakers, leaned over but still mostly upright, his arm over the back of the couch. Veronica was curled up into herself, her dark hair that had partially fallen from its bun awfully close to Jughead’s fingers. She woke up first, far too early to justifiably kick someone out that looked as sleep deprived as he did. Instead, she placed a blanket over him and went to her room. When she woke up after another few hours of sleep, he was gone, but there was a new text waiting on her phone.
Jughead Jones: raided your cupboard for the commute back. we should do that again sometime.