𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖕𝖆𝖓𝖞;
//
It was easy. Milkshakes shared across a sparkling table in Pop's, oil-smothered hands tinkering with Archie's car, summertime evenings spent cloud-gazing in the garden. The best times, the times he felt safest, warm and seen. It was always her.
She didn't see him like the other girls at school did. He wasn't just a high school hottie. He wasn't the flame-haired, hard-bodied, charismatic golden boy, equally athletic as he was artsy. No, Archie Andrews was the dorky boy-next-door, the kid with glowing pink cheeks, a toothy grin and auburn hair flopping in his eyes. He was grazed knees and ice cream. He was worn sneakers and loud laughing. He was spelling mistakes and bad geography. He was a thousand little things that only Betty knew. Summer nights spent sleeping under the stars. Holding hands as they chased butterflies around the river. Kissing his cheek when he was sad. All these things, 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳.
Even now, stood on the rain-soaked porch of her familiar home, she was everything he'd ever known and everything he wanted to. Her blonde hair fell in soft waves over a picture-perfect white cardigan, a pink dress. Wide, azure eyes looked up at him with a sheen of tears that tore his racing heart from his chest. Words dried up in his mouth, trapped in a stuttering throat, as the question fell forlornly from the lips he'd heard whisper a thousand secrets and stories.
"Do you even love me, Archie?"
One, two, and he closed the space between them. Both hands tilted her face towards his, and pressed a kiss to the strawberry lips he’d known since he was a boy.
With his whole heart, his warm hands on her wind-chilled skin, his lips against hers, he knew.
𝙄𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙧.
Originally written and shared as part of Verbuary 2020: https://tinyurl.com/22ejwpsb
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