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Archie and Cheryl lay side by side on the floor of Archie’s room, laying head to toe, smoking the weed Jughead scored for them, listening to old mix tapes. Cheryl’s Oberon mirroring Archie’s Gabbi’s golden retriever form, as he often does these days when they’re alone with people who people know their secret lately. What a novel thing that is, having friends, not minions, having people who see you and do not run.
“......I think I’m not a real person.” Cheryl asks, staring at the ceiling.
“....Yeah I’m gonna need some context for that one.” Archie says, after a long moment.
“Oberon won’t settle; and everything we try just makes it so much worse. I’ve never heard of someone unsettled at seventeen, someone who hasn’t even gotten close. Someone who can fake it but when they’re alone is as unsettled as a small child--” Cheryl says, breaking off.
“....Why would that make you not a person?” Archie asks; and Cheryl can’t tell if he’s legitimately confused or if he’s doing his bit, where he feigns confusion so she understands how silly she sounds. The outcome is the same, regardless.
“You hear what they say about people with problems with their daemons. That they’re--broken. Not even broken just--less than human.” Cheryl says.
“.....You’re a real person Cheryl. See, watch.” And at that, he takes her hand in his. “See. I can touch you, and I trust my senses, and I trust myself, so I know you’re real.” Archie says, almost smug.
“I know I exist Andrews. I mean maybe I’m not--a person, or whatever. I’m something else, something fake, and I’m just pretending.” Cheryl says, and it feels like a confession.
“....What else would you be?” Archie asks, no mockery in his voice, and Cheryl wants to hate him for his sincerity but just can’t bring herself to.
“....I don’t know.”
“.....you could ask for help. See a doctor, or something? Some kinda psych? A daemonolgy specialist?” Archie offers.
“.....The Coopers sent their pretty Polly to a daemonolgy clinic when she tried to run away with JJ. She came back--”
“.....Changed. Off. I know. S’why Betty swore us all to secrecy, after we--, after you--, after. I think she thinks she can save you and Oberon like she couldn’t save Polly and Simon…..please don’t tell her I told you that.” Archie says, eyes wide, startled at his spilling of secrets. “And anyways,” he continues, “adults and doctors and people like that always make stuff like this worse. Most of them can’t imagine there’s just--different ways of being a person. Different’s allowed. And maybe--”
“Don’t you dare tell me I’m a late bloomer Archie Andrews. Don’t you dare say it.” Cheryl says, cutting him off.
“....Why not?” He asks, again with the damnable sincerity.
“Because what if I’m not. What if Oberon never settles, what if I’m some disgusting freak of nature with some disgusting freak of a daemon?” She asks, pulling her hand away from his, now.
“.....well then maybe that means something.” Archie says, after a moment’s consideration.
“What? That I’m some kind of awful, incompetent eternal child?” Cheryl asks, feeling the hot prickles of rage at the edges of her mind now.
“No. You’re one of the smartest people I know, and you clearly can make your own decisions. I wouldn’t wanna go to court about it I mean, I’d lose….” Archie is babbling now, stalling to find the words he truly wants.
“What do you mean then?” Cheryl all but snarls. She isn’t sure what form Oberon has taken now; hasn’t been able to feel him innately in years, but she is nearly certain he has claws.
“Well, like--and I’m not so good at the symbolism, that’s more you and Jug’s thing--but I was just thinking, if he doesn’t settle, and that is an if--maybe it means you’re like, a really adaptable person? Like, you’re able to change yourself to fit any situation that calls for it? Like he can hold form a long time when he needs to; it’s not automatic like a little kid. He only shifts in a crisis or when you both trust somebody. Maybe it’s just another way of being a person.” Archie says, with a certain sense of finality in his voice.
Cheryl, Cheryl wants to cry. Cheryl wants to scream and tear her hair from her head. Cheryl does neither of these things. Instead, she shifts her body around so she’s facing Archie properly, and buries her head in his chest. Across the room; locked in their own, separate, secret-for-now conversation, Oberon has shifted into something small and fuzzy, and has buried himself in Gabbi’s fur.
“Why are you so nice to me?” Cheryl asks, almost an accusation.
“Because you let me!” Archie says, bright and chipper.
“....That’s from the Breakfast Club.”
“It sure is!” He answers, grinning. Cheryl can’t help but giggle, a little.
“....Archie?”
“Yeah Cheryl?”
“...I don’t know what I am.” She says, another confession.
“....That’s okay too.” He replies, holding her close.
“I don’t know anything. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know who I want. I don’t even know if I’m a girl, sometimes…..don’t repeat that.” Cheryl says, fearing one confession too many.
“....Me neither Cher.”
“.....you mean it?” She looks up at him, suspicious.
“...yeah. Yeah I do. Cheryl you know when I’m lying, you say I’m really bad at it.”
“You are really bad at it.” She answers.
“So you know I’m telling the truth, don’t you?”
“....yeah Archie, I do.”
“Everyone’s really pretty, like all of the time. And also sometimes people try to push and push and push at me to fit in this perfect golden boy box and it feels really wrong and that scares me and then the fact it’s scaring me scares me and then I can’t breath and Betty tells me to tell someone about how I keep having panic attacks. Which I’m not. I’m fine. Is that what your thing feels like?” Archie says, in a rush.
“...Yes. No. I--I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel. I never do.” Cheryl says, casting an eye to her daemon, still hiding under Archie’s.
“....Oh. Oh. They never let you, did they?” Archie says, and Cheryl would squirm under his insight if the warmth of a body against her didn’t feel so nice. All Cheryl can do is shake her head. He strokes her hair a while, humming a little.
“....I like you Archie.”
“I like you too Cheryl. I like being your friend. I’m glad you let me.” He says and her gut churns at his honesty.
Cheryl knows neither of them know what love is, not really. Cheryl knows people have gotten in both their heads, twisted their ideas of love so they could be controlled; love only as they were told. Archie doesn’t talk about Grundy, and Cheryl doesn’t talk about the Blossoms. But they both know, oh they know. Daemons can speak candidly; even when their humans can’t; and like will always recognize like. A soul can always recognize a soul harmed the same way. So Cheryl knows she doesn’t know enough about love to say she loves Archie Andrews, if this warm feeling and churning in her stomach is love, or admiration, or god knows what else; but she knows enough to know that she trusts him. And maybe, for now, that’s all they need to know. Maybe they can figure the rest out together.