Chapter Text
When Archie arrives at Pop’s, the lot is mostly deserted. He parks the Firebird next to Jughead’s motorcycle, and heads inside. The bell jingles softly as the door opens, and the only other sound in the diner is faint music playing from the jukebox. Archie orders a plate of fries for himself, then quickly spots Jughead, already halfway through the first of two burgers on his plate.
“Hey, man,” Archie says, sliding into a seat across the booth, “I got your text. What’s wrong?”
Jughead just stares Archie down from behind his laptop. After a moment, he closes it and pushes it aside. “I’m worried about you, Archie.”
Okay, Archie thinks, so this is some kind of intervention. “Worried about me?,” he asks, “Is this still about the Red Circle? Because you know why I had to do that, Jug, and anyway, it’s over.”
“No.” Jughead shakes his head. “Not this time. It’s—” he sighs, dragging a hand over his face and pulling off his beanie with it, “I can’t watch you do this to yourself. Not again.”
Archie blinks. “Do what?”
Jughead pushes around the ketchup on his plate with one of his fries, avoiding Archie’s gaze. “I can’t let you fall f— I can’t watch Hiram Lodge manipulate you like this.”
“He’s not manipulating me, Jug, he’s— ”
“Your sugar daddy?” Jughead scoffs, “He’s a mob boss. A killer. Maybe your girlfriend can turn a blind eye to that shit, but you, Arch?”
“It’s not like that,” Archie says, “I’m not— he might have some less than ideal business practices, but what he’s doing is right, I really believe that.”
“Alright, Machiavelli. I’m just not so sure gentrification and a for-profit prison are ends worth justifying.”
Archie can feel the anger building up in his chest, and he doesn't want to fight with Jughead, he really doesn’t, but, “Maybe they are, if the Black Hood is still out there, if people like him are still out there trying to hurt us."
Jughead slams his hand on the table, and Archie jolts. “They don’t need to be locked up in our fucking backyard! I don’t need to be kicked out of my home for this town to be safe!” He takes a deep breath, lowers his voice. “I’m sorry, Arch, I didn’t come here to start a fight. It’s just… is this really the hill you want to die on? Because it’s killing you.”
“How?” Archie asks, “How is it killing me? This is the best I’ve felt since my dad got shot.”
“Yeah,” Jughead says, looking at Archie like he’s an idiot, “that’s the problem. That’s why you can’t see what Hiram is doing to you. You’re vulnerable—”
“I’m not v—”
“You’re vulnerable,” Jughead repeats firmly. “You were traumatized, and Hiram is offering you a fucked-up way to cope, and it feels like it’s working. So now he’s got you under his thumb. It’s just like with the Blossoms.” Jughead rubs his temples. “No,” he says, “it’s worse than the Blossoms. Hiram is inside your head, Arch. He’s got you thinking about no one except yourself, and more importantly, him. You would do anything for him, and what do you get out of it, really?”
Archie knows if he lets Jughead keep ranting like this, he’ll never get a word in, so he jumps at his chance. “He’s helping me, Jug. He’s helping me with the Black Hood stuff, he’s making me a part of Lodge Industries, he got me a car.”
“Archie,” Jughead says, “he talked you into forming a vigilante gang. He brought you into the mob. He bribed you. He wants you to do his dirty work, or at least take the credit for it. And on top of all that, he’s driving you away from your family and friends. When was the last time you really talked to anyone, besides Veronica? Or even including her? You’re shutting us out, Archie, and I know you’re avoiding your dad, too.”
He’s not trying to push away his friends, but he has to. He has to protect them, not just from the Black Hood, but from Hiram. The Lodges trust Archie, and if he betrays that trust by letting something slip to a friend… It’s not that he doesn’t know Hiram is dangerous, but it shouldn’t matter. If he’s supporting Archie, putting faith in him, and working towards the greater good, then that should be what’s important.
“My dad is…” Archie sighs, not really sure how to explain it to Jughead. “I love him, he knows that, he just… He can’t see that Mr. Lodge is right, and I have to stand by what I believe in.”
“No Archie, you can’t see,” Jughead says. “If you really want to help your dad, maybe you should actually listen to him.”
“I thought you didn’t want a fight.”
“I don’t.”
Archie is tempted to argue back, but they’ve fought enough lately. They both go quiet, returning to their meals as they let the silence hang over them. It’s nice, just sitting at Pop’s with Jughead. It’s been a long time since they’ve been able to do this. When Jughead texted, Archie thought he might be reaching out to apologize or talk things through, or that he was in trouble, and if he was then Archie would’ve been happy to help him out no matter bad things have been between them. The fact that Jughead just wanted to ambush him like this hurts, but if this was really important enough for him to reach out… maybe it’s worth hearing him out. Archie knows Hiram isn’t the best guy, but he just doesn’t see whatever it is that Jughead is seeing.
“Wait,” Archie says suddenly.
Jughead hums.
Archie narrows his eyes. “What did you mean, ‘again’?”
“What?” Jughead asks, looking confused.
“When I got here you said— you said that you couldn’t watch me do this again. What the hell does that mean? That this is like the Blossoms?”
“No, not exactly.” Jughead sighs, scratching his head. “You’re not gonna wanna hear it, Archie.”
Archie glares at Jughead, more confused than ever. “Tell me.”
“I just meant…” he trails off, sighing again. “I meant that to me, it looks a lot like what happened with Miss Grundy. The way you’re falling for Hiram Lodge.”
Archie’s stomach drops. “What?”
“I said you wouldn’t want to hear it.”
Archie moves to stand up from the table, but freezes halfway, unsure of what to do with himself. “How is this anything like that? I’m not—” Archie stops short, lowering his voice. “I’m not fucking Hiram Lodge, Jughead.”
“No,” Jughead scoffs, “you’re just fucking his daughter.”
“Yeah.” Archie drops back into his seat. “Not him.” He feels a tiny piece of the tension start to leave his chest. “So what does it have to do with Miss Grundy?”
“Of course you can’t see it,” Jughead groans, “you still can’t even see what she did to you.”
“Jughead,” Archie says, “I told you, I told everyone, that relationship was my choice, it was me pursuing her.”
“She was in a position of power, Archie. You were fifteen, and she was your teacher and, as we now know, a serial child predator.”
“But I…”
“It doesn’t matter if you pursued her, it was her job to stop you,” Jughead snaps, “and she didn’t.”
“Even if that’s true,” Archie says slowly, “I still don’t see what it has to do with Mr. Lodge.”
“Because, Arch, she got in your head.” Jughead leans forward across the booth. “She lied to you, and manipulated you, to protect herself. She made you believe she was more trustworthy than your friends and family, just like Hiram is doing. Didn’t she say the both of you would get in trouble if anyone found out about your relationship?”
Archie nods. “Yeah, but I mean—”
“That was a fucking lie, and you know that. She should’ve been arrested, but instead she got to move to Greendale and assault more kids. And now, Hiram hasn’t just tricked you into thinking you’re at fault, he’s made you a goddamn accomplice.”
“I’m not an accomplice, Jug, I haven’t done anything.”
“Well, right now, you’re withholding everything you’ve witnessed from the police. And I don’t think it will be long before he talks you into doing something you can’t take back. And maybe you already have, maybe you’re not even telling me everything.”
“I’m not—” Archie stammers, “he’s not mind controlling me, I don’t have to do everything he tells me.”
“I know that,” Jughead says, “but… look, he’s been encouraging the Red Circle, or the Dark Circle, or whatever, and you listened, and now the town is in chaos. You’re obsessed with the guy, you’ll take whatever he says as gospel. You’re too trusting.”
“He’s Veronica’s dad,” Archie says, “I should be able to trust him.”
“I’m pretty sure this goes way beyond Veronica, man.”
“What are you saying, Jughead?” Archie asks carefully, the dread in his stomach starting to return.
Jughead hesitates before he answers, and when he does, his voice is soft, apologetic. “What I said already, Archie. That you’re falling for him. You’re crushing on your girlfriend’s dad, and it’s stopping you from seeing what’s right in front of you.”
Archie clenches his fist. “Like I said, there’s nothing going on. I don’t know why you would think—”
“And I believe you, okay? Trust me, if I even had a suspicion that you were sleeping with him, I would have already called the cops. That’s not what I’m saying.”
“What you’re saying is that I’m…” Archie’s voice dies off. Even if he knew what he wanted to say, he wouldn’t be able to say it.
“I don’t know what you are, that’s for you to figure out,” Jughead says. “And obviously, you know,” he adds hastily, “whatever that may be, I'm in no position to judge. But what I’m saying is that it seems to me like you have feelings for Hiram Lodge, and you’re letting that cloud your view of him.”
Archie’s words catch on his tongue as he tries to respond. “Jug, this is… why are you…?”
“I know this is a lot to hear, Archie, and I’m not trying to scare you, I just— I want you to be able to look at Hiram Lodge from an unbiased point of view, you know?”
Archie stands up. “I have to go,” he says, forcing his voice to be steady and cold. “We have school in the morning.” “Just think about it,” Jughead says, “please. Try to look at this clearly. I really am worried about you.”
“Goodnight, Jughead.” Archie doesn’t look back at Jughead as he pays for his meal at the counter and heads outside.
He feels sick as he sits down behind the wheel of the Firebird, keeping a white-knuckle grip the whole ride home. He tries to sneak back in when he gets home, careful to shut the door softly behind him and tread quietly on the stairs, but he wonders, as he’s padding down the hallway to his room, if his dad hears him and just doesn’t care anymore. A meal at Pop’s isn’t the worst reason Archie’s been out late these past few months.
When he gets to his room, he kicks off his jeans and changes into an old t-shirt. All he wants is to throw his head back and scream, to find his guitar and smash it to pieces. But it’s late, and his dad is already worried enough about him, so he throws himself face-down onto the covers and screams into a pillow instead. He hates how childish it feels, but at least it releases some tension. He knows, already, that he won’t get much sleep tonight. He’s too wound up, too angry and… Jughead had no right to make those claims. What does he know? Archie would know if he had feelings for Hiram Lodge. And what he told Jughead was true: he believes in what Hiram is doing, he wants Riverdale to be safer, it’s important for him to be on his girlfriend’s father’s good side, it’s even better if he can be in with the family business.
But there’s also the matter of the money, of the car, of the promises of more to come. There’s the veiled threats from Hiram, the lying and hiding on Archie’s end. He’s never let himself linger on the thought before, he hates the idea of making himself a victim. But maybe Miss Grundy really didn’t care about him. Jughead was right, at least, that she had Archie lying to just about everyone he knew. And as much as Archie made his own choices, maybe it’s true that she wasn’t protecting anyone but herself. He doesn’t want to believe it, it makes him feel so stupid, and if it’s true then—
Then maybe Hiram is doing the same. The realization has been a long time coming, but it hits Archie like a truck, and he knows that the truth was already in the back of his mind, waiting for a kick to force it out of hiding. Archie’s never been good at recognizing when he’s being manipulated, but he sees, suddenly, the culmination of all the red flags he’d been pushing aside. The fact is — and his stomach lurches at the thought — that he was seduced. Maybe just psychologically, by Hiram’s lofty plans for Riverdale and his convenient outlet for Archie’s anger towards the Black Hood. Or maybe it was more than that.
It’s not really a question. Archie knows. He wouldn’t be in this position if there hadn’t been something so addictive about being around Hiram. He hates that about himself. He hates the surge of pride that ran through him whenever Hiram encouraged and praised the Red Circle, hates the way his heart raced when Hiram held him down at wrestling tryouts. He hates the lightheaded feeling that overtook him when they both bled onto Archie’s journal, how he felt weaker from Hiram’s touch than from the loss of blood. He knows, and he tries so hard to pretend he doesn’t, but Jughead couldn’t just let it stay that way. Jughead had said it was like Miss Grundy, but it’s not. He didn’t feel like this about her. It’s different, and so much worse. Archie abandoned his friends, his family, everything he believed in. For his girlfriend’s father. For Hiram Lodge. The nausea comes back, and he rubs his face, trying to forget it all. It doesn’t work. Hiram is in his head, totally and irreversibly. And Archie hardly cares about the manipulation now, can hardly remember the things he did for Hiram. All he can think about is the way Hiram is in his head, and suddenly his t-shirt feels too hot. He won’t give in to that, though. He can’t. He doesn’t bother getting back under his blankets, just shuts his eyes in defiance and tries to clear his mind.