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la petite fille de la mer

Summary:

She looks up, not bothering with one of her usual, polite smiles. Anyone could look over and see that she’s at rock bottom, there’s no use in pretending otherwise.

“No thanks, Pop,” she says. “I think I’m just gonna go home.”

He winces slightly. This isn’t his first rodeo either. He’s watched the whole thing unfold from afar, ever since they were kids.

“Archie didn’t show?”

 

or,

 

Betty gets stood up by Archie. It's all downhill from there

Notes:

Hello my second choice readers <3 As some of you may know, Betty has rapidly become one of my favorite characters ever. As such I am obligated to subject ao3 to my brainrot. Join me in watching this girlfailure have a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

Title is from, "La petite fille de la mer" by Vangelis

Enjoy!!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

She knows he’s not coming. 

 

Don’t feel bad for her, she should have known this would happen. Any other girl wouldn’t have agreed to go out with him in the first place, given his history. But when Archie talks to her, Betty tends to forget herself. He asks her out and she forgets all the times he stood her up. Overwhelmed by the fact that Archie is talking to her, that Archie wants to take her to Pop’s, it’s easy to let everything else fade away. 

 

She’s had this problem since they were kids. A compliment from Archie would send her tumbling off her bike, or stumbling into a wall. Affection from him would turn all her thoughts into red ink, rushing to color her cheeks. To this day, one word from him is enough to wash away all of her worries. 

 

Like some pathetic, love struck girl, she wore his favorite shirt today. At least, she thinks it’s his favorite shirt. A loose fitting black t-shirt with the number 41 printed on it in yellow letters. He told her he liked it the day he took her to the park, a rare day that Veronica wasn’t around to ruin things. They live right next to each other, and yet it’s rare that they have a full, uninterrupted date. Betty’s found that their most romantic moments happen entirely unplanned, sneaking over to each other’s houses late at night. 

 

The shirt, paired with pink shorts, is something Ronnie would laugh at. She can’t help but wonder what her dearest friend wore to make Archie cancel the date. A silk dress? A satin blouse? A pair of Louboutins, and nothing else? 

 

It hardly matters. Betty already lost, no point in making things worse for herself by asking how. She sat in this booth (their booth) for forty-five agonizing minutes, hoping against hope that he was just running late. She wouldn’t text him, because that would make her look more desperate than she already was. No, she would play the cool girl, act like she didn’t even care that he was late. If she caused problems for him then she’d just be another Veronica. Another girl for him to chase, not the one he returned to at the end of a long day. She prides herself on being easy to get. 

 

She waits and waits until, finally, dreadfully, her phone dings. In the end, Archie texted first. One small paragraph was all it took to explain everything. He was on his way, but something came up. He wanted to make it, he really did, but Veronica called (of course), and she had a flat tire. If he didn’t drive her to the doctor, she’d miss her appointment. She couldn’t have her chauffeur do it, because then the paparazzi might follow them. It would be awful if the media got the wrong idea, wouldn’t it? You know how misinformation spreads nowadays. Anyway, he was terribly sorry for missing the date, and he’d make it up to her. 

 

She squeezed her phone until it made an indentation on her palm. That lying, manipulative little two-timer! 

 

It doesn’t matter. She’ll find some way to get revenge, step in next time Veronica is too busy to go out with him. She’ll sneak over to his house later, just to later brag that Archie ended his day with her. She’ll…think of something. Unlike Veronica, she hasn’t got anything to lose. Except her boyfriend, if he wakes up and decides he’d rather be with Ronnie and only Ronnie. 

 

Her head falls in her hands. 

 

Due to common courtesy, she hadn’t ordered anything while she was waiting. She was waiting on Archie, not so he could pay, but to order at the same time. Her parents taught her never to eat or order until everyone at the table has their food. Just once, she wishes she ignored that rule. A milkshake would be a great source of emotional support right now. 

 

“Want anything?” 

 

As if on cue, Pop Tate comes to check on her. His white apron is stained with grease from a long day of work, red bow tie slanted to the left. His brown curls are wiry from the summer humidity. He always looks so homey, familiar. Exactly what Betty needs when she’s at her lowest. 

 

She looks up, not bothering with one of her usual, polite smiles. Anyone could look over and see that she’s at rock bottom, there’s no use in pretending otherwise. 

 

“No thanks, Pop,” she says. “I think I’m just gonna go home.”

 

He winces slightly. This isn’t his first rodeo either. He’s watched the whole thing unfold from afar, ever since they were kids. 

 

“Archie didn’t show?”

 

“Nope.” 

 

She lets the p sound pop, bitterness seeping into every letter. 

 

“I suppose I should be preparing shakes for him and Veronica then.” 

 

“I wouldn’t. He’s taking her to a doctor’s appointment.” 

 

Pop makes a face. 

 

“Allegedly,” she adds. 

 

He nods, understanding. “I’m sure they’ll show sometime soon.”

 

He’s probably right. Seasons change, but the Chock’Lit Shop stays the same. No matter where the gang goes, they always end up back here at the end (or beginning) of a long day. Sometimes Jughead heads for their usual booth early in the morning and doesn’t leave until closing. The chances of Archie taking Veronica to the same place he planned to take Betty, on the same day are…not that low at all, actually. That’s the exact kind of unthinking move he’d pull. 

 

Betty sits up straight, preparing to dart out the front door. “I don’t wanna be here when they do.” 

 

“At least let me make you a shake for the road,” Pop suggests. “Something to cheer you up, on the house.” 

 

She pauses, thinking back to the forty five minutes she spent staring at an empty table. It’s unlikely Archie would show up so soon after cancelling their date. He’s not that careless. Besides, she could use something sweet for the walk home. 

 

Her face breaks out in a smile. “Thanks, Pop.” 

 

“No problem,” he says. “Vanilla?” 

 

“Yes, please!” 

 

It doesn’t take Pop long to make the shake. The diner isn’t crowded, and she’s earned his sympathy, so her order takes first priority. He puts it in a to-go cup, with the cherry smushed beneath a plastic lid. He knows she doesn’t use lids, or straws if she can help it, but he doesn’t want her to spill it. Protesting would be rude, since he made it for free, so she gives him a smile and a tip. She ends up walking out of the diner with a milkshake in her hand, and that same sinking feeling in her stomach. 

 

The day is warm, so the streets are filled with teenagers. Couples, out to celebrate the first week of summer. Passing through town, she catches Moose with his arm around Midge, strolling down the sidewalk. She sees Chuck and Nancy through the window of an ice cream shop, and Cheryl and Toni fly past her on Toni’s bike. None of them notice her. Either they’re so enamored with each other that the rest of the world has disappeared, or she’s become invisible. She’s not sure which option she envies more. 

 

She could have a date if she wanted one. If she called Reggie, she has no doubt he would drop whoever he’s with at the moment to pick her up. But she doesn’t want to put some poor girl in the same position Veronica put her in, and it would be cruel to use Reggie as a rebound. Besides, Reggie’s great, but no guy can compare to Archie. It just wouldn’t be the same. 

 

It’s a nice day out, one she should objectively be enjoying. Sun shining, birds chirping, lovers walking arm-in-arm. The kind of day that makes you never want to pack a bag and head to the beach. That’s probably how her day would have ended, if Archie had shown up. Now, she passes by all her favorite shops, not sparing them a second glance. She makes no effort to wave at her friends, or to stop and buy herself the lunch she’s missing. Instead, she keeps her head down, drinking her milkshake and praying she doesn’t run into Archie and Veronica. She follows the sidewalk, heading straight for her house so she can find something to distract herself with while she hides away. 

 

Cool vanilla on her tongue, yellow sun on her arms, sea breeze in her hair; none of it means anything if Archie isn’t there to enjoy it with her. She has a fine life, a good life, but she selfishly wants more. Part of her will never be able to let go of the fantasy that Archie might one day swoop in and save her from her overbearing parents and endless responsibilities. She does everything for everyone. When she’s not babysitting or doing chores, she’s volunteering at the local library, or running the Green Girls, or participating in one of her many school clubs. She goes to church every Sunday with her parents and has dinner with all the Bible-thumping families they want her to meet. She advocates for clean forests and more female-centric organizations at school. She takes up every task that’s asked of her without complaint. Is it really so wrong for her to want this one thing for herself? For Archie to forget Veronica and tell her she’s all he needs? He has to feel that way, at least half-way. If he didn’t love her, there wouldn’t be a decision to make. He would’ve dropped her and ran off with Veronica a long time ago. But no, he’s stuck around. Staying up late to write songs with her, bugging her while she works on his car, kissing her under her porchlight at the end of every date. All of that felt so real, so why isn’t he here?

 

And the worst part is, she knows why. She knows him better than he knows himself. Archie’s scared of commitment, he wishes everything could stay simple and low-stakes forever. If he were running things, they’d all be in high school for the rest of their lives. He’s not a bad person by any means, he’s just not ready to grow up. The last thing Betty wants is to push him into something he’s not ready for, but it still hurts. She’s ready, she’s been ready since the day he moved next door. This is partially her fault, she chooses to put up with this. If she wanted to, she could have walked away a long time ago. Just like Archie could have chosen a long time ago. 

 

All three of them are crazy. Some twisted part of her enjoys this. She enjoys the guilty look in Archie’s eyes when he apologizes for standing her up, yet again. She loves when Veronica is the one left crying at home, while she gets the guy. It’s kinda fun to share Archie with Veronica, it gives them something to bond (and fight) over. None of that makes it any easier, but it helps to remember why she puts up with this. 

 

Maybe she enjoys suffering too. She does it all the time, she’s got to have a reason for it. There is security in having her worst fears confirmed, time and time again. That way, she knows what to expect. And when Archie surprises her, it feels even better. This is all just her way of bracing herself for how things will inevitably end, with Archie leaving her for Veronica. The two of them will have each other, and she’ll be all alone, like she always is. She might even be more comfortable that way. 

 

He hates her, she knows he hates her. What other reason would he have to treat her like this? This must be some very long, drawn out form of torture. He’s killing her slowly, twisting the knife with every cancelled date. Veronica hates her too, she’s probably only pretending to be her friend. What kind of friend would constantly try to one-up her the way Veronica does? It’s all a ploy to ensure Betty is completely alone in the end. The two of them are probably laughing together right now, talking about what an idiot she is. They probably do that on all their dates. They’re just waiting for the perfect moment to boot her out of their lives, so they can taunt her for ever thinking she could be loved. 

 

Breathe, she reminds herself. Jumping to conclusions isn’t going to help anything. 

 

She manages to get her heart rate under control by the time she approaches her driveway. Archie’s car is still gone, which is both a relief and a devastation. He’s the only person she wants to see when she feels this way. To make matters worse, her parents are both home. 

 

She notices, half-heartedly, that she hasn’t finished her milkshake. The cup is still half-full. She chucks it in the trash before going inside. 

 

“Betty, where have you been?”

 

Her mom is waiting for her in the living room, launching into a lecture before the front door closes. She’s sitting in her usual blue recliner, newspaper in hand. Her demeanor reeks of annoyance, the last thing Betty needs right now.

 

She fiddles with the lock, trying to buy herself more time. Turns out you can only take so long flipping a lever from one direction to the other. 

 

“I had a date,” she says. “I thought I told you.”

 

She makes her way through the tiny hallway, into the living room. Her dad is on the couch, not looking up from the tv. That provides her with a small bit of relief. If this were a serious issue, he’d be knitting his brow at her too. 

 

“You didn’t,” Alice sets her newspaper aside. “You told me yesterday that you’d do the dishes.” 

 

Shit, she did say that. 

 

Betty hopes that one of the tiny knives poking her stomach will translate to her expression. She needs to convey guilt, but not devastation. It’s hard to keep it together when her mom is looking at her with such clear disappointment. 

 

She downturns her lip, just enough to not be too dramatic. She lets some of her sadness seep into her eyes, but not so much that she looks shellshocked. She furrows her brow, portraying a mix of frustration and guilt. 

 

“I’m so sorry, I must have forgotten.”

 

Nailed it.

 

“Well, they’re still in there,” she gestures toward the kitchen. “Get to it.” 

 

It’s really not her mom’s fault. She couldn’t possibly know that Archie stood her up (even if this happens all the time), or that Betty had been looking forward to crying in her mother’s arms (which also happens all the time). From Alice’s perspective, all she can see is that the dishes aren’t done, and Betty promised to do them. Her lazy teenage daughter was out with a boy when she was supposed to be doing chores. She’s not technically wrong, not at all. Betty should have remembered to do them before she left, then she wouldn’t have to take care of it now. 

 

“I will, Mom,” she says, already on her way to the kitchen. “I’m really sorry.” 

 

“And put them up too!” 

 

“Of course.” 

 

Nobody’s touched the sink in several days, so it’s currently overflowing with dirty dishes. By the look of it, this will probably take her at least an hour to get through. 

 

Grabbing a pair of yellow rubber gloves, she resigns herself to the task before her. The window above the sink looks right out onto their lawn. If she draws this out long enough, she might get to see Archie walk by. 




~




As it happens, she does not get to see Archie walk by. He must have gone back to Ronnie’s  after their date. The thought sends a flood of nausea through her stomach. 

 

“Finished already?” Alice says when she walks back through the living room. “Good, then you can get started on your room.” 

 

“What?” Betty pauses by the staircase. “I’ve been cleaning for over an hour.” 

 

Alice grins at her with a familiar glint in her eye, the glint she gets when she’s about to rub salt in the wound. Her mother isn’t a particularly malicious person, but she has a habit of taking her own problems out on others. Namely, Betty. 

 

“And to think, you would have gotten a break if you started earlier.” 

 

Betty scowls. “Can’t I clean my room tomorrow? I have a lot of homework.”

 

“It’s summer.”

 

Uh-oh.

 

She fiddles with one of the belt straps on her shorts. “Summer reading. I have to keep a log for Lord Of The Flies and The Plague.” 

 

“Which you have three months to complete,” Alice reminds her. “I’ve seen you finish books in one sitting. You’ve been telling me you’re gonna clean your room all week.” 

 

She did say that, and just like with the dishes, she failed to follow through. No wonder her mom’s so hard on her, she can’t do anything right. 

 

“I’m sorry,” she says, again. “I’ll get it done.” 

 

“You can have extra dessert tonight if it’s spotless.”

 

After the milkshake, Betty would rather die than eat another dessert. Not when she has to compete with Veronica, who can eat as many sweets as she wants without gaining a pound. If she were to accept, her mom would only make her exercise more to make up for it. As if Betty doesn’t already go to the gym four days a week. Working overtime for what other girls obtain effortlessly. 

 

“Thanks, Mom.” 

 

The first thing she wants to do when she gets to her room is scream into her pillow. She envisions throwing herself onto the bed and crying like a princess until her fairy godmother shows up to save the day. You know, the type of thing Veronica probably does on the regular. Except Betty doesn’t have a fairy godmother (or a butler), and such a scene would only result in another lecture from her parents. If she’s lucky, Alice would hug her, but she wouldn’t be able to make the problem go away. Her mother doesn’t have that kind of magic. 

 

Her one, tiny saving grace in all of this is that Caramel follows her around while she cleans. Cats aren’t ones for change, and Caramel is no exception. She gets frantic when Betty moves anything around, including making her bed. In Betty’s ridiculously Type A life, her room is the one thing she lets fall behind, so Caramel has gotten used to the mess. As long as she stays out of the scratch-zone, it’s pretty cute to watch the orange feline meow and dart around. It brings a small smile to her face. 

 

“Settle down, girl,” she coos while moving her laundry. “I’ll be done soon.” 

 

The truth is, if her mom really wants the room to be spotless, it will take all night. But Caremel needs reassurance. They both do. 

 

Caramel’s only response is a thin, whined out meow. One of her cutest sounds, next to her “hello” meow and the little ribbit she does when she’s startled. It would be much cuter if it didn’t remind Betty that she also has a litter box to clean, and another bag of dry food to buy. Caramel’s bowls also need to be washed sometime this week. Her work is never done. 

 

Glancing out her window, she can see that Archie still hasn’t returned. He left his curtains opened when he left, clearly not anticipating having to cancel the date. Otherwise he would have had the foresight to avoid the awkwardness of them crossing paths. Betty’s curtains always stay open, unless one of her parents mentions something about it. She likes the idea that Archie could catch sight of her at any moment.

 

Sometimes, when the stars align, they do catch each other in various states of undress. It’s not something they talk about afterwards, for fear of disrupting their usual routine. Archie likes to compartmentalize, he often tells her that he loves her too much to sexualize her. Those are the rare times that Betty wishes Archie loved her a little less. 

 

But it’s those memories that make cleaning a little more bearable. She’s good at housework, but she doesn’t necessarily enjoy it. At least not to the extent that she’d “make a good housewife,” as her parents often compliment. Archie would never say something like that to her. Archie has told her on more than one occasion that it would be a dream to have a breadwinner wife. Someone he could take care of, while he focused on his music career. To Betty, it sounds like the perfect life. 

 

Sigh. Archie, Archie, Archie. Is that all she ever thinks about? He stood her up, she should be thinking about never talking to him again. She should be planning all the ways she could ignore him, all the guys she could go out with to make him jealous. She should be thinking of ways to get even. 

 

That’s actually not a bad idea. There are plenty of guys in this town who would kill for a date with her. Unlike Archie, there are plenty of guys who would have no moral issue sexualizing her. She could really rub salt in his wounds if she wanted to. Make him cry and beg for her forgiveness. Oh, she can picture him now, bags under his eyes from all the nights he spent losing sleep over her. Tears streaming down his cheeks, nose red like a reindeer. Saying, Sugarplum, please take me back!

 

…She should really stop caressing her broom and get back to work. 

 

On that note, her phone dings. 

 

From: Archie

I’m really sorry about lunch. Can I take you out tomorrow to make up for it?

How does a movie sound? 

 

Against her own will, her smile stretches wide enough to make her cheeks ache. That sinking feeling in her stomach turns to butterflies, excitement bubbling up until it boils over. She can’t help the little jump she does, nor the unabashed squeal she lets out. Beside her, Caramel meows, showing the appropriate amount of concern. Concern that Betty entirely ignores, waiting just a few extra seconds to text Archie back. She doesn’t want to look too eager. 

 

To: Archie

No worries! A movie sounds great :) 

 

She’ll pick a horror flick, so she can pretend to be scared while Archie holds her. If it’s scary enough, she might get to be the one to hold him. They’ll share a bucket of popcorn, and a slushie with two straws. Betty likes blue raspberry, but Archie likes coca-cola, so she’ll ask for the cola flavored one. Afterwards, they’ll split a milkshake at Pop’s, and Archie will walk her home. He’ll kiss her under the porchlight, the perfect end to a perfect night. She can hardly wait. 

 

She goes back to cleaning, forgetting the reason she was upset in the first place.

Notes:

Some notes:
- The cup being "half-full" is a reference to the saying, "glass half full." Betty throws it out because she has temporarily given up on her optimism regarding Archie
- I chose Lord Of The Flies and The Plague because I distinctly remember having to read both of those books for summer reading one year back in high school. I liked them a lot
- I wanted to imply that Barchie have seen each other in far worse states than "undress" but I also wanted to keep this fic rated T. Didn't feel very appropriate for the angst
- "Betty Typical Sadism" is a reference to "Minamoto Typical Sadism" from my TBHK fics. Sadomasochism is a running theme here, in case you're new
- This is not meant to be an anti-Barchie fic by any means but more-so one that deals with the reality of how their dynamic would impact Betty. I typically envision them getting together when they're older and more emotionally mature, and also after they've learned what polyamory is
- This is also NOT meant to be an anti-Archie, anti-Veronica, or anti-Alice fic. These characters are simply flawed people and I am writing them as such (I also have to project my mommy issues onto fictional characters. My school counselor told me to do that)
- Texting is a crucial element of many of my Archie fics. This is not intentional at all and I'm honestly not sure why it keeps happening
- I have a cat so the Caramel bits were all based on my beloved daughter, Daisy ^u^

Kudos and comments are highly appreciated, and remember to eat!!

Hope ya'll enjoyed <3