She hears him before she sees him.

His voice is like a punch to the stomach, winding her. Veronica stops immediately, a statue in a crowd, people pushing their way past her, away from him. As though it were possible to ignore such beauty, such tragedy. She can hear the brokenness in his voice, the soft crooning of heartache and pain, only accompanied by the strumming of the guitar. The words wrap themselves around her heart, the voice etching itself in her soul.

And she wonders what it would be to be loved like that - so wholly, so completely. So devastatingly.

She searches for the man whose heart was shattered into fragments, each shard cutting into her as she hears his story through his lyrics. There is so little beauty in a world only black and white and all the shades of grey in between, and what she is denied by colour she seeks in other aspects of life, and music - she finds it in music most of all. She wanders through the throng, pushing others aside as she swims through the sea of people, against the current and toward the broken soul that reverberated with her own.

And suddenly she is there, he is there. She finds him.

Her breath hitches as her gaze lands on him; it is a cliche and she hates them, but it is as if her world slows down, everything blurring around him. It is picture she'll never forget, his head tilted toward the sky, eyes closed as he sings of love lost, of struggling to get by. There is a magnetic pull, drawing her to him and she doesn't dream of resisting the pull. She stays there bewitched, captivated by it all.

He opens his eyes as he strums the last chord, widening as he sees her standing before him, a picture of perfection. He stutters in his movements, slinging the guitar behind himself, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from looking foolish in front of the beautiful young woman before him.

Because she was beautiful, incredibly so. And she held herself up with such poise that he could barely believe that the look on her face was for him and his voice. She looked in awe, eyes shining, lips pulled into a grin that left him feeling out of sorts.

"Veronica Lodge," she says, hand out for a handshake.

"Archie Andrews," he replies, taking her hand. He feels the electricity in his veins, the spark at their contact. He almost jolts at the touch, tingles remaining long after they let go.

"I have a feeling this is going to be a very good friendship." And he can't help but agree with her words.

She buys his time, asking him how much he would usually make in an hour and paying him double if he would just sit with her, talk to her if that was okay. He looks at her agape as she slides the cash into his hands, head nodding as he continues to stare. She cracks a joke, and it seems to break him out of his trance, Archie shoving the money into his pocket, slipping his guitar into the case.

He follows her into a restaurant he had only ever walked past, cheeks hot as he catches the maître d's judging gaze. But Veronica can sense his unease, snapping the attention back to herself, taking a protective step forward before the man she had only met ten minutes earlier. They are led to the back of the place, cozy and sweet and he doesn't know what to do with himself in a setting like this, with a beautiful girl like her. She was so different from everyone else from his past and yet he could see bits of everyone inside of her. She sits down, beaming at him as he places his guitar case by their feet, slipping into his own chair, eyes darting around. He jumps when the waiter slips a menu before them, eyes wide as he looks through it.

"Order anything, it's fine." Her voice breaks through the noise in his mind, the calculations running through it as he tries to figure out if he can afford anything. "It's on me." She winks at him, and he clears his throat in response, mouth dry.

"No, I - I couldn't," he manages to get out. There were meals on it he couldn't pronounce, figures he had never seen in his lifetime.

"Come on Archiekins, I paid for your time, I demand you eat." She nods as though it should be enough to convince him, and he follows her instructions, hesitantly pointing toward whatever seemed the most familiar to him when the waiter returned. He looks up from the menu, meeting her gaze, a smile

The meal is delivered in silence, and they are midway through the meal before Veronica drops her cutlery against the plate, the clatter getting his attention.

"So," she starts, voice dropping in a way that sends shivers down his spine. "Tell me about yourself." And so he does, talks about the small town of Riverdale where he grew up, talks about his best friends Betty and Jughead, about being ignored throughout most of his schooling life. (She laughs, rich and honest, at his words. He earnestly maintains he was never popular however, and she believes him, she can't help but do so). He skips over parts, and she can see the storm in his eyes, see his jaw clench, spine straighten. And she takes his hand, sliding her fingers into his, a smile of support on her lips. And he smiles back, he tries, tension seeping out as he brings himself to the present. Veronica squeezes her hand around his before pulling away, ignoring the burning feeling after the contact.

"I gotta ask, who are you singing about?" He stills, but she continues calmly. "Oh please Archie, anyone with ears can hear you're singing about someone. Is it your soulmate," she gasps horrified. "Did your soulmate break your heart like that?" He shakes his head, memories of his ruined childhood, of the past he was running away from and yet could never fully let go.

"It was a - " he stops floundering. Because how could he tell her of Ms Grundy, the person who lit a fire in his soul for music - who destroyed everything she touched in his life. She taught him believe in love and then she left him to learn how to navigate through the loss and heartbreak of it. It took him years to overcome the scars of his relationship with her, music tainted by her memory and yet the crutch he relied on in his darkest times. "Bad high school romance," he mumbles, hoping she would leave it. And she does, lips pursed as she watches him, dissecting his every move. They finish their lunch talking about trivial things like favourite bands and first concerts. Soon the one hour turns into two and it has Veronica cursing, prior commitments bringing it to a conclusion.

Archie feels a twang of sadness at it ending, but she slips him her number, telling him to call her.

He does.

They meet more frequently, Veronica going out of her way to see him, Archie going out of his way to be there when he knows she'll be going by. It is wonderful and fills her heart with joy every time she catches glimpse of his smile, every time she hears his voice. Months pass, the two of them getting closer with each other. They talk about everything and nothing at all, the smallest of things, of their deepest secrets and embarrassing stories.

He tells her of how he met Valerie Brown, the legend and his girlfriend. He talks of how he walked into the underground bar, and he saw her with the other Pussycats, jamming out to one of their singles. He laughs as he recounts watching them, learning from them, soaking in everything that they could teach. Josie didn't like him initially, even less when he started seeing Val, but - he says with a hint of pride in his voice - he seemed to be winning her over.

She confesses one day about her desire to meet her soulmate, her fear that she couldn't have one - that she doesn't deserve one. She is nervous saying those words out loud, fingers fiddling with the napkin as she eats out at his favourite diner, blinking constantly as she refuses to meet his eyes. He says her name lowly and takes her hand, asking her why, why she thought that a beautiful, strong, wonderful woman like her wouldn't deserve it.

And so she tells him about her past, the cruelty she inflicted upon others in her teenage years. It brings tears to her eyes, voice cracking as she expresses her guilt and remorse, how she hates who she used to be. And she asks how anyone could love a person like that. And suddenly she feels two arms wrap around her, embrace her. She sniffs, burying her face into the crook of his shoulder. He doesn't let go, his chest tightening as he feels her tears run down his neck. He doesn't let go, doesn't want to. It's only when she pulls away, embarrassment in her eyes, hands wiping away the traces of her tears. And he wants to tell her not be ashamed to show him her feelings, to never feel like she needs to hide from him. But he can't find the words.

It strikes him fiercely, this woman by his side, a stranger on the street only months ago, now one of the most important people in his life, an anchor in a turbulent world, a stronghold he could rely on. And he wanted to be that for her, he wanted to be someone she would turn to.

"I'm sorry," she starts, "I don't normally do that in front of people."

"It's fine Ronnie, really." And she looks up at him, gratitude shining in her eyes.

(And he realises, that maybe, just maybe he is that to her.

The thought brings a small smile to his lips at night.)

"So you wanna meet your soulmate, huh?" he teases, a smile on his lips. He hadn't put that much thought into the idea; many people went through their lives without ever seeing their soulmate or colour - and as the confirmation only came through a kiss on the lips, some had let the opportunity pass them by without knowing. And while he and Val may not be soulmates, they were happy together, and that's all he was looking for. Happiness.

"Stupid, huh?" she mumbles, more to herself than Archie. But he catches the words, catches the waver in her tone.

"Nah, it's not stupid. Many people want to meet their soulmate. It just makes you human." He looks at her, a twinkle in his eyes. "And all you need to do is go around kissing every guy you know on the lips until you see colour."

She punches him in the arm at the words. But she laughs and calls him a jerk, the smile lingering, and he thinks that maybe she'll be okay after all.

"Why couldn't my soulmate be you," she bemoans one evening, falling onto his couch, eyes closed as she listens to his laughter. And it's nice, she thinks, the dulcet tone warming her up. "Life would be so much easier." Veronica adjusts herself, laying across the couch in her dark blue dress, heels hanging off of her toes. It was another date night, Reggie Mantle from one football team or another at the same party as her. He was cute, she remembered thinking, cute and tall and strong. So she asked him out. And he said yes.

"I don't think Val would like you testing that out," he laughs, a smile on his lips as he lifts up her feet and slides on the couch beside her. He drops her legs on his lap, massaging the soles of her feet. She whimpers and groans, Archie laughing at her over-the-top reactions. "Was Reggie really that bad?" he asks, stopping his actions, turning to look at her. She pouts at him and he hums a laugh before continuing, Veronica smiling content at the feeling.

"No," she sighs. "And that's the problem. He's a great guy, sweet, very nice on the eyes and amazing in bed but -"

"He's not your soulmate," Archie finishes, his sadness carrying in his voice.

"Yeah." She looks so sad for a brief second, and he can't have that. So he tickles the soles of her feet, grinning as Veronica squeals in laughter, kicking her feet to escape him, unable to with his hands banded around her ankles. Soon it dies down, Veronica relaxing in the seat, Archie resuming his massage. Silence fills the room, only broken by her moans, toes curling as he hits a sore spot on her legs. "Archie Andrews," she says, voice thick. "You have fingers my exes would die for. Hope Val appreciates those magic hands." He clears his throat and shifts in his seat, his movements faltering for a few seconds before resuming again.

She cracks open her eyes, watching as his cheeks darkened. He was blushing, she realises with a a touch of delight.

That one moment makes up for the otherwise disappointing night.

Veronica had thought of kissing Archie before, the thoughts usually fleeting , brushed off with a laugh at herself, shaking her head at the notion. She's wondered about his arms, how nice they feel around her when he gives her a hug, she wondered what they would feel like tight around her waist, whether he would run his fingers through her hair if he were to kiss her, whether his grip would tighten and pull. Or would he be gentle, fingers skimming over her skin, driving her crazy for more.

She feels guilty every time; he was dating Val, she likes Val, and to be fantasising about her boyfriend makes Veronica feel strange.

And it only ever happens when she's drunk and alone, mind wandering to the guy who had become one of her closest friends in the city, the beautiful smile, his mouth.

But she had never dreamed of him. Not sexually.

Not until that night.

She wakes up gasping, core throbbing, wet and needy. She pulls open her bedroom drawer, reaching for her vibrator. Veronica is almost blinded by images of her dream as she struggles to find it and turn it on, flashes of his mouth, of his kisses - wet and dirty - trailing from her mouth down her chest, sucking and biting. She dreams she sees colours, and it's beautiful she thinks. But no more beautiful than a shirtless Archie Andrews between her legs, tongue and mouth and fingers, sucking against her clit, curling inside her, pushing her closer to the brink. But then she awakens.

She's already so close, so desperate, that the smallest vibration is enough to have her tumbling over the edge, his name whimpered through her lips, his face on her mind as she comes. It isn't enough however, the itch underneath her skin, driving her insane. She feels no shame imagining his fingers running over her body, imagining his lips against her ear, whispering all the things he had wanted to do to her. Veronica's not alone in the room, not really, not with Archie pinning her down, stealing a kiss as he slides into her, moving until she comes around him.

And then she is so very alone, the hum of the vibrator echoing in her room, accompanied only by her pants. But she smiles at the thought of Archie and her, her body boneless and content. She sleeps well that night - it is only in the morning, when she thinks over it in the light of day, does she feel guilt seep in.

When Veronica meets him again, there is something off with her. She can't meet his gaze, her voice changing as he discussing his attempts to learn the keyboard - his fingering all wrong - with her. He is worried for her, stopping constantly to ask how she is and what is wrong. She brushes off his attempts with a laugh that is in no way convincing. She chooses to push it down until it goes away, pretending that her feelings towards him were still unchanged.

(It never really does and she knows they are.)

She loves his hair, loves the feeling of it between her fingers, loves it when he lets it grow slightly, loves running her hand through it.

She asks him about it during his break one day, Veronica promising to pay for his lunch if he would just sit for a moment with her to bask in the world around them. She was persuasive and he was weak to her smile, ducking his head as he played around with the idea, nodding as he caved in. And the smile that followed... it was intoxicating.

"It's red," he says so resolutely she feels something inside her twist. She doesn't understand why, until he continues with "I've never seen it myself, but this girl from my old town, Cheryl, she came up to me when she was five, so sure I was related to her because we both had hair like fire." And she feels relief flood her, chest deflating from the breath she didn't realise she was holding, a smile stretching across her lips.

(she'll ponder the intensity of these feelings later, when she is alone in her apartment, ice cream in one hand the remote in the other, the romance film before her playing in black and white.)

"Oh," she starts, a smile in her tone. "So she's met her soulmate when she was a baby?"

"I dunno," he frowns at the thought, as though he were just now curious as to how she was so sure. "She's always been able to see colour. And I've never seen her love anyone but Jason - her twin" he clarifies. Inside Veronica cackles at the implications, another story of Archie's she wants to know more of.

She finds that there are a lot of those - details of Archie's past and present that she wants to know, wants to see. It used to put her on edge. Not anymore.

They were planning their weekly movie night in their favourite diner, Veronica introducing Archie to the classics he had missed out on in his childhood, wilfully missed out on if his conversations indicated anything. She is horrified at the look of confusion when she mentions Hitchcock and vows to introduce him to everything.

"You need to meet Jughead," she laughs at the absurd name, smiles at the joy mentioning his name brought Archie. "You and your movie references, he'd love you," he finishes with a dimpled grin, swiping some of her milkshake as she pouts and complains, stealing some of his chips in response.

"What about you Archiekins, do you love me?" She coos the words to him, teasing tone to show that she was joking. And she was, until she wasn't. It hits her suddenly, this uncertainty - this fear. Her life had been full of people who used her in one way or another, friends for popularity, boys to get attention. Her parents to avoid an extended prison sentence. She expects to be used constantly, so it scares her, the thought of this young man, one of the few cherished people in her life, being tainted in that way.

"Always Ronnie," he cracks a grin at her, full of youthful innocence, of a soul uncorrupted by the harsh realities of high school in New York. He puts his arm around her, pulling her close, and it was all she needed, Veronica melting into his side, smile reciprocated easily. But then he glances at his vibrating phone, face lighting up as he reads the caller. "It's Val, I gotta go."

Archie presses a soft kiss against her temple, barely a brush before pulling away.

But it has her heart beating faster, mind soaring and she thought in that moment she could see colour, full of wonderful hues and vibrancy. But just as it came, it left, the world all the different shades of grey once more. It went by so fast she is sure she imaged it - especially with Archie walking away, whistling to himself as though nothing had happened.

And that was - Veronica convinces herself late at night, when her heart so desperately wants to believe in the impossible - because nothing did.

He plays more desperately when he and Val are no longer together, pouring his heart and soul and very essence into the music. The breakup was swift and devastating, and it is only then that Veronica realises that he has no one else in this city - all his friends were Val's, she had introduced him to a world he never would have imagined existed without her. She was like a hurricane, storming into his life, turning it upside down. Val had inspired him and pushed him, and then she left. Leaving him utterly alone in a city where most never truly cares to know your name unless they can benefit off of it.

Archie had no one,

but Veronica.

She steals him away whenever she can, determined to bring back the same energy and vigour he possessed before. He would smile whenever she tries, an empty smile that did nothing to hide the pain in his eyes. But more often than not he is playing, pouring out his heart and soul, draining himself until there was only but a shell left. And it hurts her, aches her to see him like this, wandering lost.

She frowns as he plays one day, a fortnight later, his chords sloppy, his vocals slightly off. He winces during a song, stopping mid chorus. Without realising Veronica found herself rushing to his side, concerns arising as she saw him stretch his digits. He hisses as he touches the tips of his fingers, shaking his hand as the pain shoots down his arm.

"Archie" she gasps from behind, peering over his shoulder to see what was giving him issues.

He had played until his fingers were raw, until the skin was peeling and bloodied. She swears low and long, tugging him with her, barely giving time to pack up supplies before she walks into the nearest convenience store, picking up their first aid kit. He mutters that he's fine, but she staunchly ignores his words, purchasing it and pulling him to the nearest seat. She doesn't say a word when she opens it up, hands shaky as she uses the anti-bacterial wipes, as she picks up the bandages and wraps them around his fingers.

"Ronnie." He sounds so lost, and she doesn't know what to do or how to make it better. And she hates herself.

She takes his fingertips, eyes fluttering closed as she presses her lips against the bandaged fingers. She hears a sharp inhale she is sure is from Archie, but all she can focus on are the fireworks inside her at the contact. She had heard of kisses between soulmates working on areas other than the lips, and she finds herself hoping that she'd be able to see colour, her heart hopeful and fearful - fearful it would still be black and white when she opened her eyes. And it is - but the way that he's looking at her, there is something in his eyes that makes her not care as much.

It takes a few days for his fingers to heal, a few more weeks for his heart, Veronica by his side whenever needed, stopping by every day as he sings. She listens to his words, of his loss, of pain. Of trying to heal. Of healing.

But there is a new song, one about love and hope she had never heard it before. She is heady listening to the lyrics, the words sung from his lips going to her heart, moving her, etching itself on her soul. There is a beauty in his words, and god, how she wanted to be his inspiration, to be the woman who made him believe again, to be the anchor in the storms in his life.

It is a terrible time to realise that you're in love with your best friend.

She does so anyways.

He takes her out for dinner one night, fidgeting with his fingers, constantly checking his phone, for a call or a text she isn't quite sure, only that it was plaguing his mind. She snaps her fingers before him a few times, Archie jumping at the sound. He looks sheepish, ducking his head slightly in embarrassment.

"Sorry, I'm terrible company."

"It's nothing Archiekins," she says with an extra bounce in her voice, before softening. "What do you have on your mind?" He opens his mouth as if to speak, but nothing comes out. Instead he closes it, smiling gratefully at the waitress who brings them their meals of burger, chips and a milkshake. Veronica gives him a suspicious glance, before picking up the burger, humming her approval of its taste. He smiles at her reaction, but even in the joy, his expression is marred by worry. She sighs, putting down the burger, arching an eyebrow at him, daring him to refuse her. "Come on Archie, spill. What's up?"

"Have you ever wondered what it would be like if I didn't come here?" Her stomach plummets and Veronica loses her appetite. "What if I didn't leave town to pursue music in New York?" His voice wavers, and he moves to hold her hand. But then he hesitates, gaze focussed downward, unable to look her in the eyes. And so she takes his hands in her own, giving him a squeeze for support.

"I can't answer that Archie, but we wouldn't have met, and that would've been a tragedy of epic proportions." He smiles faintly at her words, but she can see the sincerity in it and that means more to her than anything else.

"I could kiss you for that," he jokes.

"I wouldn't stop you," she replies, voice steady even as her heartbeat accelerates. He laughs at that, but it dies fast as he catches her gaze.

"Ronnie?" he starts, and there is a rough quality to his tone, something that sends a shiver down her spine and goosebumps across her arms. He looks as though he would devour her, and she was a willing sacrifice, a thrum of electricity underneath her skin as he motions to move from the seat across from her to the one beside her. She takes a sharp inhale, but then the spell is broken, Archie's ringtone blasting through the diner. He smiles apologetically, sliding out of the booth to answer the call, leaving her alone with her burger and fries and her favourite flavour of milkshake.

He does return much later, eyes a different shade of grey then before. He doesn't say much, doesn't eat much either, asking for his meal to be placed in a go-to box. Archie sits there in silence, a stormy expression on his face. He thanks the waitress when she returns with his food and tips her heavily, a quick apology to Veronica, telling her that he had somewhere to be before rushing off.

He leaves her again, and he isn't returning. She sits there confused, a half eaten burger and milkshake in front of her.

Something's happened, she knows. And she's fearful of the answer.

There is a change in him, a quiet difference that screams in her mind. It haunts their every interaction, every conversation. It leaks into his voice when he sings, into his lyrics and sing choices. Archie is pulling away from her and yet holding her tighter. Her breath hitches every time she finds his eyes on her, so dark and intense, as though memorising the sight of her. He touches her more, constantly running his fingers on her skin, through her hair, driving her mad with desire.

It all comes to a head one cold, Saturday night. They had gone for drinks together, Veronica determined to get him so drunk he would forget about whatever plan he had concocted to be acting in this way. But drinking only seems to make him worse, Archie more morose than ever before, mumblings of apologies. She can sense the conflict inside him, the resignation.

"You know I love you Ronnie," he slurs. She thinks that maybe he too intoxicated, but there is a clarity in his eyes that belies her assumption. "So much." He pulls her close, buries his face in her neck, breathing her in. It is a shaky exhale, and his hold on her tightens, as though she would slip through his fingers if he had loosened it. "So, so much."

"Archie you gotta talk to me," she murmurs. He says nothing, and she'd assume he hadn't heard her if he hadn't stiffened against her. He lets go eventually, shoulders slumping as he takes another swig of his beer.

"You don't wanna know," but she does. Seeing him in pain is destroying her, but she can't help if she doesn't know what's going on. So Veronica tells him that, a bittersweet smile stretching across his face at her words. And so he does tell her.

She hears the words dad and sick, hears the word business and needed. But the word that rings in her ears is g. He was leaving - leaving New York, leaving his dream to be a musician. Leaving her.

"I see." Her voice is dead, and her heart is breaking. Somewhere deep down she knows it is the right thing to do, that he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't do anything to help his family, knew it would destroy him every single day he stayed away. But knowing didn't stem the wave of hurt inside her, couldn't stop the tears that were welling up.

"Ronnie, listen to me." He reaches out, touching her shoulder. She recoils as though she were burned. It hurts them, both of them. And she can't be there anymore, can be in the same room as him. It was stifling and she couldn't breathe, she needed to breathe.

"No Archie, go back to that good for nothing town, with those people who would destroy you. Go back," she hisses, "see if I care." And she turns on her heel and storms away, ignoring the tears leaking from the corner of her eyes, head held high as everything inside fell to pieces.

She pushes the backdoor open and breathes. She can smell the rain, the earthy smell permeating the air. It is refreshing to have something than the stench of smoke and body odour, but it does nothing to soothe her aching heart. She leans against the wall beside the door, the coarse bricks digging into her skin.

But she can hear the commotion behind her. She knows what is happening.

Hesitating for only a second, Veronica pushes herself off the wall, walking through the pouring rain, hoping that the raindrops will hide the evidence of her tears. Hoping Archie wouldn't follow her at all.

(Hoping that he does.)

"Ronnie," he calls out, his voice hoarse. "Wait, please."

And so she does, heels tapping the wet pavement below her feet, arms crossed against her chest as she stubbornly refuses to move towards an shelter, refuses to shiver because of the cold. Archie spares no hesitation, rushing after her into the rain, shirt thoroughly soaked, clinging to his frame.

"What you ginger Judas, what do you want?" she spits at him, gaze unwavering as he approaches her determined. He gets close, so close she could see the freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose, so close. And he was getting closer.

But then he is kissing her with lips and tongue, hands cupping her face, holding her against him as though she would dream of pulling away. Her eyes flutter closed immediately, the taste of alcohol and mint and something so uniquely Archie she would spend her whole life willing to determine what exactly it was. It ends far too early for Veronica, but still leaves her eyes closed and leaning into his body for strength. He pulls away, forehead resting on her own. She can't find the energy to pull herself away from his embrace or to open her eyes. She rests on him, harsh breaths filling the air as the rain pour around them.

"Oh gosh," she hears him whisper under his breath, awe and amazement in his tone, and love. She hears the love.

She opens her eyes to look at him, and she can hear herself swear at the sight.

The first colour she sees is red, bright red hair matted over his forehead, she sees the paleness of his cheeks, no longer a light shale of grey, but the pinkish hue, so light it could be considered white. Her gaze flickers to meet his own, eyes shining like emeralds, green and marvellous and Veronica can feel herself being swept inside them, drowning in the intensity of his gaze.

"You -" he whispers fragmented, unable to finish his sentence. There is such disbelief in his voice, such hope in his eyes. Instead of speaking he lifts his hands cupping her face, hands trembling - from the rain and cold soaking into his bones or the revelation he isn't sure. She nods in his hold, unable to resist leaning into his touch.

"Speak to me Archiekins," and her smile flickers just that bit. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

She expects words, of surprise maybe, a confession of feelings hopefully. But he does none of that, only ducks his head towards her, stealing her breath in that one action. He hovers over her lips, only a hairbreadth away. She can feel the hot air fanning her skin, can feel his hesitancy of making the first move yet again. And so she lifts herself up, kissing him as she had dreamt of, smiling against his lips as he relaxed his shoulders, his arms winding themselves around her waist, tugging her close. It's fierce, explosive. Just like his music he doesn't hold back; his hand is tight against her waist, tugging her closer, the other sliding up, cupping the back of her head, holding her against him as he kisses her over and over and over again. She can taste the rain still falling over them, can taste the beer he had been drinking hours earlier. But there is more, something she can't quite describe or remember, but a familiarity all the same. Her hands find themselves in his unruly locks of red, her left hand sliding down, nails scraping against the stubble growing, a small thrill down her spine at the feeling of it against her skin. She holds him close, afraid of letting go.

He would never.

He tells her a story in his movements, one of a story that has been building for so long, and only just getting to its climax. But soon they need to breathe, need to talk it through. (need to move to her bedroom, pronto.)

"So," Veronica heaves, a smile lighting up her face. She lifts her hand, wiping the smudged lipstick on his lips, laughing as he presses a gentle kiss against finger. "Soulmates?"

"I don't know what you mean Ronnie," he lets out in an exhale, eyes dancing with mirth. And she can't hold in the happiness inside her, escaping in a laugh, her arms sliding around his waist, his own around her shoulder. "I've just always wanted to make out in the rain." They move toward the closest building, unable to stop looking at each other, meandering slowly.

"Aww, Archiekins, I knew there was a girl inside of you, waiting to be let out." And then, more quietly. "I'm glad it's you, I -" Her words stumble and he stills, pulling her back toward him as she keeps walking forward. "I - "

"I know Ronnie," because of course he does, he had been living it for the past few months himself. "I know." He pulls her into a hug, tight and strong. It was all she needed, relaxing into his arms in the middle of the sidewalk, head curled into the crook of his neck, Archie whispering to her all that he could never put to music, things that he didn't feel he could share to the world. But he shares it with her, because she was his world, and that was enough for him.

And it's perfection.

And it was hers.