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He starts having dreams about her.
The first one comes the night after they kiss in the music room. He spent the rest of the day trying to shake the dull ache in his chest, one he refused to let himself identify. They are pretending. That's all.
So he doesn’t know why he can’t stop thinking about it when he’s lying in bed that night, staring at the ceiling after tossing and turning for hours. It wasn’t real. Get over it.
But it felt real. And he liked it. And that’s the problem.
When sleep finally takes him in the early hours of the morning, they’re back in the music room. But they don’t stop kissing this time. There’s no pulling away, no awkward laughter like hours before. Betty slides her hands under his shirt, her touch electrifying his skin. He backs her up into the wall hard. It isn’t shy and soft anymore. It’s rough, desperate.
When Betty pulls away to bite at his neck, he jerks awake. He’s sweating, his heart pounding against his chest.
He doesn’t go back to sleep.
--
They have to keep pretending the next day. And the next, and the next. That weird ache is still manifested in his chest. When they had originally come up with this plan, it sounded like a good idea. He’s starting to think it wasn’t.
As they walk down the hallway holding hands, he wonders if Betty thinks the same. If she even thinks of it at all.
He doesn’t see her when he sleeps every single night, but it happens more often than not. He dreams of when they were kids and it was the two of them against the world. He dreams of quintessential things, like sitting in a booth at Pop’s with her or working on a project together at school. He has one where he woke up in bed, tangled up with her. That one was particularly hard to shake. But there's no more dreams like the one he had the first night, and he’s at least thankful for that.
But he still doesn’t understand why it’s happening.
It’s not like he’s pining over Betty. He had years before, sure. Seeing her with Jughead back in sophomore year made him jealous in a way that he had never felt before. He never has since. He had tried to tell her back then – that it was hard seeing her with someone else, because despite everything part of him held onto the idea of the two of them being together in the end. Even though that wasn’t fair to her. He wanted to tell her how seeing her fall for Jughead made him burn inside. But Betty had doused out that fire before it could even fully ignite, telling Archie that they were lucky they had both found who they were meant to be with. So she was meant to be with Jughead. He was meant to be with Veronica. And that was that.
--
Jughead comes back to school, and they don’t have to put on an act anymore. But he’s still seeing her in his dreams. He still wakes up most nights, silently begging his mind to just leave him alone. Last night, the dream was about them holding hands in class. Something so simple, but it was enough to have him waking up in a cold sweat.
It doesn’t become a real problem until Veronica notices.
They’re eating lunch together in the cafeteria, and he’s sure he’s yawned at least six times in the past minute.
“You’ve been exhausted for weeks,” Veronica says, concern etched across her face. “Look at your eye bags. Did you even sleep last night?”
There’s really no right way to tell your girlfriend you’re not sleeping well because you keep having dreams about your best friend. And you don’t know what it means. And you’re scared to find out.
So instead he tells her, “I’m fine. I just stayed up late finishing that English essay.”
She doesn’t press any further. He looks at her, the girl he’s loved in some capacity for the better part of the past three years, and he knows something is off. It has been for a while. Things have shifted between them, subtly but surely. He thinks Veronica probably recognizes that too, though neither of them have tried to define it. There’s only a few months left of high school, and they’re comfortable, so what would even be the point?
--
It turns out to be a much bigger issue than he originally thought. He only realized that about three seconds before they kissed.
He doesn’t even understand the feeling that had come over him as he sang with her. It felt like a culmination of the last fourteen years of their lives together. It was like every memory they had ever made together flashed before his eyes in a split second. And he just knew.
It’s horrible to admit, but he didn’t even spare a second to think of Veronica. Or Jughead. The only person he was thinking of was Betty. And now he can’t stop thinking about her, and he finds he doesn’t want to. He looks at her lying next to him, her hand grasped in his like they’re kids again, and he knows he wants this. He knows this is right – it’s the most right he’s ever felt in his life.
--
It’s been a week since Betty told him it was over. He’s felt almost like he’s been sleepwalking ever since – like he’s awake, but not actually aware of what’s going on around him. He’s crushed. And the worst part is, he has to act like everything is normal. Like they didn’t almost leave their relationships for each other. Like he didn’t convince himself she was ready to be with him, too.
He wakes up to his alarm blaring, hitting snooze twice before he finally finds the will to pull himself out of bed. He opens his curtains like he always does, and is greeted with Betty laughing with Jughead as they get ready for school through her bedroom window. He rips the curtains shut again. He’s been out of bed for less than a minute and he’s already in a bad mood. That’s started to become a pattern lately.
He decides to skip out on school right before fourth period. He has his last two classes with Betty, Jughead, and Veronica, and he just doesn’t feel like subjecting himself to that today.
He heads to Pop’s. It’s quiet at this time of day, only a few people scattered throughout. He sits in a booth in the back alone after ordering and allows himself to wallow.
He’s taking the last bite of his burger when he hears footsteps stomping towards him.
“Do you not answer your phone anymore?” Betty scolds. He’s shocked she’s even standing in front of him right now. First of all, Betty isn’t one to skip school. Also, they haven’t had a single conversation in the past week.
As she slides into the booth across from him, he says, “I left it in the truck. What’s wrong?”
Betty scoffs. Okay, so she’s mad. He doesn’t know what she could possibly be upset with him about. “Do you have anything you want to tell me?”
Archie thinks, I have a lot of things I want to tell you, actually. Before he can even think of saying anything, she’s speaking again.
“You’re going to the Naval Academy?” Betty accuses, and he knows he’s fucked.
The thing is, he was going to tell her. At some point – he never planned to keep it from her forever. He let it slip to Jughead a few days back, deciding spur of the moment to tell him. Archie had asked him not to say anything to Betty before he could himself. He probably should have known better than to think Jughead would keep something from her, even if Archie asked him to.
He doesn’t really know what to say. He doesn’t think anything he does is going to make it better. Still, he tries. “I was going to tell you.”
“You were going to tell me,” Betty repeats, shaking her head in disbelief. Her voice is hard and angry like he’s heard many times, but it’s never been directed at him before. “When, Archie?”
“I don’t know. I only decided a week ago.”
He wonders if she’s putting two and two together, realizing just when he decided. If she does, she doesn’t say anything.
“You decided a week ago,” Betty repeats again, like she’s trying to work through it out loud. “How long have you been thinking about it?”
“A few months.” He never even told her he was considering it. Veronica knew, but no one else did. Deep down, he knew all along he should have told her, especially once Jughead knew he was going. They’re already in a mess, and this is only going to make it worse between them. “I’m sorry.”
Betty doesn’t respond to that, and they sit in uncomfortable silence for what feels like hour. The silence between them has never been anything but comfortable before, but things are different now. He wants to ask her why it even matters to her. Whether he goes to the Naval Academy, or stays in Riverdale, or moves halfway across the world – it wouldn’t change a thing either way. She still doesn’t want to be with him.
When she finally looks at him again, the anger in her eyes has faded into hurt. His chest aches. “Why did you tell Jughead before me?”
So that’s what this really is about. She’s upset he didn’t tell her first. There was a time in his life when he couldn’t have fathomed Betty not being the first person he shared important news with. He thinks about them sitting here three years back, talking about how he could possibly balance both music and football, her asking if he’d told his dad yet. Until I’ve got things more figured out, you’re the only person I’m telling, okay? In a way, he’s nostalgic for that life he used to live. Things were easier back then, even though it often felt like his world was ending at the time.
“I don’t know,” Archie tells her, because he doesn’t know how else to explain it. “Does it matter?”
Betty’s face instantly hardens, and he knows that was the wrong thing to say. He should have expected what was coming next.
“Does Veronica know?” She asks, her voice sharp. He wonders if she’s jealous, and though he wants to revel in that thought he pushes it away quickly. It doesn’t really matter either way.
For a split second, he considers lying to her and saying Veronica doesn’t know yet. He doesn’t want to twist the knife anymore, seeing how hurt she is. But lying is what got him into this situation in the first place. So he tells her, honestly, “Of course she knows.”
“Of course,” Betty repeats bitterly, standing up from where she’s sitting. She looks like she’s seconds away from breaking down, and he wants to die. “Good to know I’m last on your list of important people.”
That stings, and it couldn’t be farther from the truth. “Betty –”
She walks away without another look at him. He considers going after her, but he knows it’s no use. This is a fight he isn’t going to win.
He thinks about it for the rest of the day, not being able to forget the look on her face. She was so hurt, and he hates himself for it. Veronica calls him later that night, questioning why he left school. Then she asks if he wants to come over and spend the night, and he tells her he has to study. He doesn’t have a test tomorrow, and if she suspects he’s lying she doesn’t mention it.
He texts Betty when he’s trying to fall asleep. He can’t shake the feeling that there’s more he should have said.
Did you ever think that maybe there’s a reason I didn’t want to tell you?
She answers back much quicker than he thought she would. He wonders if she’s lying in bed next to Jughead right now. Why?
Archie considers if he should just explain himself now. But he’s deep down, he’s still upset with her too.
You’re the smartest person I know. You’ll figure it out.
--
The next night, he’s sitting at his desk finishing his Algebra worksheet. Veronica is on his bed flipping through one of her textbooks flippantly. It’s getting harder to be around her these days. Not only is the guilt of keeping the truth from her is crushing him, but the space between them is growing wider by the day.
Veronica breaks the silence. “What’s wrong?”
Archie looks over at her. “What?”
“You’ve been acting weird all day,” Veronica states, sitting up to face him. She raises her eyebrows in question. “And you’ve barely said a word to me since I got here an hour ago.”
Archie finds himself irritated at that, even though she’s right. His mood has been sour all day. “I’m trying to do my homework, Veronica.”
“Archie,” Veronica says in warning, like she’ll make this into something bigger if she has to.
Archie sighs. He could come up with an excuse, say he’s stressed with school or about graduation. He’s not sure why he decides to start being honest now. “I got into a fight with Betty.”
Veronica furrows her brows in confusion. “That’s what you’re so moody about?” She says it like she was expecting something worse.
“Am I not allowed to be upset about that?” Archie questions in annoyance.
“Of course you are,” she relents, like she doesn’t want to irritate him further. “But is it that big of a deal? I mean, I’ve fought with Betty countless times and we always get over it. Friends fight.”
He stops himself from rolling his eyes at her implication that her friendship with Betty is anything like his friendship with her. He tells her simply, “Betty and I don’t.”
“Right,” Veronica huffs. He thinks he’s teetering on the edge of revealing too much to her, but he’s too exhausted to even care at this point. “What was it even about?”
He doesn’t particularly feel like explaining that to her at the moment, especially because he’s already so aggravated. When he doesn’t answer, she keeps pushing. “So you’re mad at her then?”
He shouldn’t get into this with Veronica right now, but he answers her question anyway. He can feel himself beginning to crack under the pressure of everything, and he has idea what’s going to spill out once it actually happens.
“She’s mad at me,” Archie states plainly, turning back to his homework. He hopes that’s the end of the conversation.
But of course it isn’t. Veronica scoffs, then says under her breath, “I don’t know why I even asked.”
Archie shoots his head back around at that. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Veronica puts her hands up in surrender, but irritation is apparent in her voice. “Of course you’re not mad at her. She can do no wrong in your eyes. That’s all I’m saying.”
Veronica doesn’t even know what the fight was about, and she’s making all of these assumptions. He feels himself growing angry. He wonders where this is even coming from, how him talking about fighting with Betty has turned into Veronica fighting with him. She hasn’t ever said anything like this to him before, but it sounds like she’s been wanting to for a long time. “That’s not true,” he bites back.
“Please.” Veronica practically rolls her eyes. “Yes it is. You never get mad at her. And you’ll always take her side, even when she doesn’t deserve it.”
“I’m confused. Where is this coming from?” Archie questions. It sounds like she’s angry with Betty too, from the way she’s talking about her.
“It’s just the truth, Archie. Even if you don’t want to admit it,” Veronica tells him brazenly. “Think about it. We found Jughead near death, with a head wound, and Betty with a bloody rock in her hand. And you refused to even entertain the idea that she had done it.”
Archie’s head is spinning at the words spilling out of Veronica’s mouth. He’s lost as to how they’ve gotten here. She’s angry because he didn’t think his best friend was a murderer? “Now you’re mad because I didn’t believe Betty tried to kill Jughead? Which she didn’t, by the way.”
Veronica shakes her head in frustration. “That’s not the point.”
He wants to ask her what the point is then, but when he takes a moment to really think about it, he finds he already knows. Deep down, he understands what she’s saying. And he knows she’s right. He never even considered that she could have done it, even though the evidence was right in front of his eyes that night. No matter what Betty does, or who she hurts, or how she hurts him – she is always going to be perfect to him. She has always been the most perfect thing in his life. And he knows Betty has flaws just like the rest of them, he knows she’s fucked up many times before. But nothing she’s ever done has ever changed his opinion of her in the slightest. He always assumed that was just part of growing up with someone – that you’ll always view them in an innocent and faultless way. But he’s starting to realize it’s a lot more than that.
And Veronica is right about another thing, too. He can’t remember an instance where he’s ever been genuinely angry with Betty in his whole life, and he can’t say that about anyone else. He thinks about the time when they were seven, and Betty told him she couldn’t come over to play because she was going over to Emily Edwards’ house instead for a playdate. He remembers feeling betrayed, because Betty was his best friend. He didn’t talk to her for a whole two days, the longest he’d ever gone without seeing her since the day they met. He gave in when she showed up on his front porch, crying fat tears and asking why he was mad at her. He made a promise to her that day that he’d never get mad at her again.
He’s not going to tell Veronica that, and he’s not going to admit she’s right. He changes the subject, because this is escalating to a place he does not want to go. He asks her evenly, “Why are you saying all of this now? I don’t get it.”
He watches as Veronica takes a moment to calm down, the fight slowly leaving her. They were both just caught up in the moment. She sighs heavily. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just unloaded like that on you.”
“Then why did you?”
“I guess…” Veronica starts sheepishly, “I guess sometimes I’m still a little insecure. About Betty, and how you see her. I know I should be over that by now.”
She might as well have stuck a knife through his heart. He feels awful, knowing she has every right to feel the way she does. Knowing how badly it’s going to wreck her when she inevitably finds out what he’s done someday. He can’t lie and tell her she shouldn’t be insecure, because that feels too cruel at this point.
“I’m sorry, too,” Archie tells her sincerely. She nods a little, but he can tell it still stings. He doesn’t know how to make it better. Veronica stays silent, so he decides to answer her question from earlier. She at least deserves that. “I didn’t tell her about the Naval Academy.”
Realization crosses Veronica’s face, like she understands now why it’s affecting him so much – it wasn’t just a stupid petty fight. “Oh, Archie.”
He knows he must look miserable. “I know. I screwed up.”
“How’d she find out?”
“Jughead told her.”
Veronica raises her eyebrows. “You told Jughead but didn’t tell Betty?”
“I was going to tell her,” Archie argues weakly.
Veronica looks at him from across the room, pity on her face. Maybe some disappointment, too. “I just assumed you hadn’t told anybody yet. But Betty finding out from Jughead… I mean, I thought she would be the first person you told. After me, of course.”
“Right.” Archie doesn’t want to talk about this anymore. Talking about Betty with her like this, how he hurt her, when Veronica has no idea what’s really going on makes him sick. “You know what, let’s just drop it. You’re right. She’ll get over it.”
Veronica looks like she has more she wants to say, but by some miracle she drops it. She probably just doesn’t want it to spiral back into another fight. He turns back to his homework, staring blankly for so long that the numbers start to blur together on the page.
--
Archie spends the next few days going through the motions. He goes to school and does his homework. He tries to avoid any more fights with Veronica. He avoids Betty all together, and she avoids him.
He’s tried to be in a better mood, at least around Veronica. She doesn’t deserve him taking out his frustrations on her when she hasn’t done anything wrong. She doesn’t deserve any of this. He pastes a smile on his face as they buy prom tickets like he’s actually looking forward to going.
He thinks about the dance at the beginning of sophomore year. That night is the one thing that haunts his dreams the most. The night after he fought with Veronica, he dreamt about them in the closet together. This time, he didn’t kiss her. Instead he walked back into the living room, and found Betty waiting for him on the couch with a smile on her face.
Last night he dreamt about that conversation in front of Betty’s house. When she asked him if he loved her, he tried to tell her he did. He wanted to tell her everything, but no words would come out when he opened his mouth. That one was more like a nightmare.
After school, he doesn’t want to go home. He doesn’t want to be anywhere that somebody can find him, or talk to him, or ask him questions. He’s exhausted by everything. He texts his mom and tells her he’s going to clear his head, and he’ll be home later tonight. He knows she can tell he’s going through something, but she hasn’t pressed the issue yet.
He walks to Sweetwater River. It’s a place that holds some horrific memories for this town. But before that, it held some of the best ones for him. There’s a little secret alcove him and his dad found when he was eight. They used to come here together every summer, and Betty would tag along a lot, too. They’d swim, and they’d fish, even though Betty was always better than him at both. The summer before they were in sixth grade, they had walked here late one afternoon to swim. They spent hours splashing in the water, so long that time had gotten away from them. When they got back home as the light was fading from the sky, their parents were furious. He got grounded for a week, Betty for two. Betty’s mother didn’t let her see him for that whole time, and he remembers thinking it was the worst thing that had ever happened to him.
He sits at the edge of the river for what must be hours, watching the sun reflect off the water. The sky is just starting to turn pink when Betty says from behind him, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
He turns his head slowly to look back at her. He’s surprised she’s here, and simultaneously not surprised at all. If anyone was going to find him here, it’s her.
“How’d you find me?”
“Well,” Betty starts, taking a seat next to him facing the river. “I called you, but you didn’t answer. So I went to your house, but nobody was home. Then I went to the community center. Then I texted Veronica to see if she knew where you were. Then I went back to your house, and your mom was home.”
“I didn’t tell my mom where I was,” Archie points out.
“She said you were going somewhere to ‘clear your head’. I took a wild guess.” Betty shrugs, like it’s that easy. Like anyone else in his life would know that leads here.
Archie nods, but he doesn’t say anything else. There’s a reason she came here, so he waits.
“I’m sorry,” Betty says a moment later, her voice sorrowful. “For everything.”
Archie sighs, looking at her as she looks ahead at the water. “I’m sorry for everything, too.”
“I was hurt that you didn’t tell me, and I was hurt that Jughead knew. And then when you told me you’ve been considering this for months, it made it even worse,” Betty tells him honestly, finally meeting his eyes. “But I shouldn’t have freaked out.”
“You have a right to be mad at me,” Archie admits.
“I know. But I don’t want to be.”
Archie thinks that about sums it up. There have been countless times in their lives where they should have been upset with each other. They just choose not to be, because that’s who they are with each other.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said. That there’s a reason you didn’t tell me,” Betty starts, her green eyes shining back at him. “And the only thing I can think of is that you wanted to hurt me like I hurt you.”
There’s no malice in her voice. She isn’t angry anymore, and she isn’t saying it to accuse him. And she’s not entirely wrong. “I guess maybe that’s part of it. I was hurt because of everything, and even though it wasn’t my intention… deep down I think I wanted you to hurt, too.”
Betty nods like she gets it. She always does. “What’s the other part, then?”
Archie heaves a sigh. “I know you’re the only person who could talk me out of it.”
He watches as understanding washes over her face. It’s just the truth. She’s the one who influenced his final decision. And she’s the only one who could change it. But he’s made up his mind, and he didn’t want to give her the opportunity.
“You know, part of me considered doing just that,” Betty tells him, voice soft. “But I won’t. I may not like it, and I may not fully understand it, but I’ll support you through anything, Arch.”
Archie smiles, and watches as her lips stretch in return. He feels relief flood over him, but maybe a little grief as well. He didn’t want her to try and convince him to stay. It’s stupid, but it stings a little that she doesn’t want to either. “Thanks.”
They don’t speak again for a while, the only sound cutting through the air being the water quietly splashing against the rocks. It’s almost like there’s too much to say, that it’s easier to just to say nothing at all.
But something nags at him that there’s one thing he should tell her. “I had a dream about you last night.”
That seems to pique her interest. She glances back over at him, eyebrow raised. “About what?”
“It was about the night of the dance sophomore year,” Archie tells her, and he watches as Betty’s expression quickly shifts from curious to gloomy. “When we were on your porch. You were saying everything you said back then, and I was trying to respond, but no words would come out.”
She doesn't say anything for a while, like she's trying to process what he's said. He stared at the ceiling for hours after he'd woken up.
“I wonder what it means,” Betty mutters despondently, even though they both already know. He thinks about telling her that he’s been dreaming about her constantly for the past month, that she’s the reason he’s been losing sleep almost every night. But what would be the point? He knows it wouldn’t change anything.
“Do you ever think about how things would be different, if I hadn’t turned you down back then?” He asks her because he’s already in too deep. It’s too late to turn back now.
“I used to. But it was painful, and useless, so I stopped,” Betty tells him honestly. “Do you?”
Archie sighs. “All the time.”
Betty is quiet for a moment, then she says simply, “What do you think would be different?”
Archie almost laughs at the question – as if she doesn’t already know the answer. “Everything.”
The entirety of the last three years would have been altered by one answer. By Archie saying yes instead of no. It’s actually hard to fathom how that one moment likely changed the entire course of his life. If only he knew then what he knows now. If only he felt then what he feels now.
“I wonder if we’d still be together,” Betty says it like she’s thinking out loud.
He doesn’t hesitate to answer. “I think so.”
Betty smiles at him sadly, her eyes glassy like she’s trying not to cry. “Me too.”
--
When they’re walking home later, the sky above them now faded into a deep blue, he brings it up again. “You know, I guess some things would still be the same.”
She knows what he’s referring to without having to ask. “Like?”
“Well, you’d still be my best friend either way.” That gets a smile out of her, which makes him smirk too. “And I’m sure you’d still be headed off to some amazing Ivy League school.”
“What about you?” Betty asks, slowing her footsteps. They’re only a block from home now. “Do you think you’d still be going to the Naval Academy?”
Archie shakes his head. It’s something he’s thought about all day, after he had the dream last night. “No, I don’t.”
“Well then where would you be going?”
Archie tells her earnestly, “Probably wherever you were.”
He watches as the weight of his words sink in. When she looks up at him, the smile he had put on her face before is now gone. “Probably.”
He watches her walk up the steps to her front door. He wonders if Jughead is waiting inside for her. If he’ll kiss her goodnight like he probably always does, as if everything is fine.
Archie walks the short distance to his own door and heads inside. He makes a promise to himself then, to not waste anymore of his time wondering what could have been. There's no point. It's not going to change anything that's happened. And it's definitely not going to change her mind.
--
It all falls apart in a way he should have seen coming. It happens at prom. Watching Betty dance with Jughead all night a few feet away was his own personal form of torture. So in a moment of blind jealousy, he decided to perform the song he wrote for her. He knows it was a stupid fucking idea, but he hasn’t had the best judgement lately. Veronica knew right away something was up. He saw it on her face all the way from his spot on the stage. And when she pulled him outside of the gym and confronted him, he couldn’t lie to her anymore.
She had screamed at him so loud he was sure the whole school could hear her, even over the music. She asked how he could do this to her after everything, and he didn’t have an answer for her. No matter what he feels, there’s no excuse.
When she stormed away with tears streaming down her cheeks, he didn’t try to go after her. She didn’t let him even try to explain himself, but he realized it wasn’t the right time to do so anyway. He sat on the steps outside the gym, listening to the music filtering out and trying to calm his racing heart. He felt miserable, even though he didn’t deserve to. He’s the one who ruined everything.
Betty texted him shortly after, asking if everything was alright. He didn’t answer. Betty, and Jughead by extension, were a whole other issue he didn’t have the energy to deal with right now. He walked home alone since him and Veronica had taken a car to the school. They were supposed to go to an afterparty, but Archie just wants to sit in his room and wallow in self-pity instead. He tries to call Veronica a few times, but it goes straight to voicemail. He doesn’t sleep a wink that night. He lies awake thinking about Veronica. He lets himself think about Betty for a bit, too, but then he feels guilty.
He’s surprised when he gets a text from Veronica early the next morning, just as the sun is starting to peak through his curtains. Meet me at Pop’s. He doesn’t know why she wants to meet at 6:30 a.m., but he doesn’t question it. He’s grateful she’s willing to see him at all.
He gets dressed slowly, feeling a little like he’s getting ready for his execution.
When he walks into Pop’s, she’s the only one inside. They only opened about half an hour ago. She’s sitting a booth, her back to the door. When he hesitantly sits down across from her, she doesn’t waste any time.
“I want you to tell me the truth, because I at least deserve that,” Veronica starts, her voice hard. “Did you ever love me?”
“Of course, Ronnie,” Archie answers quickly. He doesn’t want her to think it’s all been a lie.
“When you told me that the moment you saw me, you knew I was it for you, were you lying?” Her expression is emotionless, a stark contrast to the devastation he saw last night.
Archie shakes his head. “No. I meant that when I said it. I honestly thought that’s how I felt.”
Veronica nods slightly. She knows what he’s implying. “But you don’t feel that way anymore.”
Archie looks back at her, his heart breaking at her cold demeanor. He doesn’t want to hurt her any more than he already has. But she’s right, she deserves the truth. “No, I don’t. I’m sorry.”
“Because of Betty.”
He sighs. He hates this. “Yes.”
“When did you stop feeling that way about me?”
”I’m honestly not sure, Ronnie,” he tells her truthfully.
Veronica barely reacts, and doesn’t push him to answer. She just moves onto her next question. “Fine. How long have you known, then?”
“Known what?”
Her face hardens, like she’s angry that he even has the nerve to ask. “That you’re in love with Betty.”
He never told her he was. But he guesses she doesn’t need him to – she knows him well enough to know it’s true. Still, he doesn’t want to admit it to her. He’s barely been able to admit it to himself. “Ronnie –”
“Tell me,” Veronica demands.
He swallows hard. “I guess I realized when we kissed.”
“Did you have feelings for her before that?” He feels his heart break at the question. He didn’t even know there was anything left to break anymore. “And don’t you dare lie to me.”
“I think I always did. I just pushed them away.” Archie looks at her miserably. He won’t lie to her anymore. He knows this has to be hurting her, but she wouldn’t dare show it. But sitting here in front of her, admitting he’s never truly let go of Betty? It has to be one of the worst things he’s ever had to do in his life, and he’s done a lot of awful things. “I really did love you, Ronnie. I still do, even if it’s not the same anymore. I’m so, so sorry.”
She doesn’t acknowledge his apology. She stands then, looking down on him like she pities him. The ice in her eyes matches her voice. “Have a nice life, Archie.”
Veronica turns around and walks away, heels slapping against the floor harshly, not looking back once.
--
Betty is forced to tell Jughead once she finds out Veronica knows. He doesn’t know details and he doesn’t particularly want to know, but he can’t imagine it went any better than it did with Veronica. Soon after, everyone knew that Archie Andrews and Betty Cooper had cheated on Veronica Lodge and Jughead Jones. They’re the talk of the school, for the little time they have left before graduation. And it’s exhausting. Jughead and Veronica won’t even look at him, and he hasn’t spoken to Betty much either. He texted her asking if she was doing okay after he found out about Jughead, but that’s it.
When they graduate the next week, Archie doesn’t think he’s ever felt more alone in his life. He has no one. Not even Betty, who has for as long as he can remember been the only person he’s always had. They had shared a small, sad smile across the auditorium, but that’s it. They wouldn’t dare speak to each other in front of everyone else, let alone Jughead and Veronica. He wants to talk to her more than anything, but he gets it. It’s all too hard right now, and the wounds are still fresh. She needs time to heal, and he should do the same.
So he’s surprised when she texts him early the next morning.
I had a dream about you last night.
Archie instinctively lets out a sigh of relief, like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. She only said eight words to him, but they’re enough to fill him with a happiness it feels he hasn’t experienced in forever.
About what?
He walks to his window, pulling back his curtains while praying she’s on the other side waiting for him. And of course she is.
She smiles at him like she knew he’d come, then looks down at her phone to text back.
It was late at night and we were walking together in the rain. That’s all I remember.
Archie smiles back at her, then types his own response.
I had a dream about you too.