Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You had always known you were nothing special. It wasn't like anyone had told you that. It was just something you had realized yourself at some point. You weren't special. You were no star athlete, you weren't a genius, your family was working middle-class, you weren't popular or an outcast at school - you were just normal. Average. In a town where everyone had to be  something , something  special , one extreme or the other, you were in the middle. 

Being in the middle meant being overlooked. Frankly, given the circumstances of your town, that was the better option. You were fine with that. You didn't want to draw attention to yourself. You weren't Veronica or Cheryl, who always headed straight for the middle of things without a second thought, and you were certainly no Jughead, reveling in being an outcast but always drawing attention to just how much an outcast he was. You were just yourself. You didn't like too much attention or being in the middle of the drama, or even being in the presence of drama (a hard thing to be, honestly, given how events at your school played out like a soap opera). 

You were so averse to drama, in fact, that you weren't even there when the Southsiders first arrived at Riverdale High. 

You had known about it, of course - everyone at school knew about it. Some of them had set up a welcoming committee, led by Veronica. And, as you heard from some of your friends who had witnessed it, some students had formed a group protesting the Southsiders arrival, led, of course, by Cheryl and the Bulldogs.

You frowned when you heard that. 

You, like everyone else in town, had heard stories about the Southside and the Southside Serpents nearly all your life, always about their crimes and their poverty and how everything that went wrong in Riverdale was because of them. It had always struck you as completely unfair, especially when you learned that nearly half of the gang was made up of high schoolers around your age. You had learned enough to understand the cycle of poverty and the cycle of violence and all of that, and you could understand their situation. While you had argued this point with a couple of different people, the majority of the Northside were opposed to your beliefs or just didn't want to apply them to the Southside Serpents. Eventually, you had just learned to keep your mouth shut, though you still brought the topic up every so often. 

Despite your dislike of drawing attention to yourself, you weren't going to treat the Southsiders badly just because they came from the Southside. Your parents had raised you right, and you had basic human decency. While everyone was either going out of their way to welcome them or be unnecessarily antagonistic, you would do what you always did - you would be normal. You would be kind. 

Maybe you couldn't do anything extraordinary, but you could help make their lives a little easier. 

You came across your first Southsider on your way to your second period English class. She was leaning against a wall and staring down at two sheets of paper, occasionally glancing up and around the hallway. 

You took in her Serpent jacket, the fact that the hallway was mostly deserted, took in a deep breath and approached her with what you hoped was an easygoing appearance. "Hey, you need help?" 

She looked up and squinted at you suspiciously. After a second, you were pretty sure she had deemed you not a threat, because she stood up straight and said, "I can't find my next class." 

"You mind if I?" You gestured towards her schedule and her map; she handed it over to you after another suspicious look. You looked over her schedule. "Oh, Mrs. Haggly's class is that way." You pointed down the hall. "It's easy to miss because it's right under the stairs. You just go that way and when you reach the stairwell, turn right, and it's right there." You handed her schedule back. 

She nodded at you, muttered "Thanks" under her breath, and walked past you without another word. 

"No problem," you said, even though you were pretty sure she had ignored you. You kept walking toward your English class. 

"Open your scripts to Act One, Scene Three," Ms. Rogers told the class. There was the usual groaning that came whenever your class read plays because Ms. Rogers always assigned roles to people so the class could read the scripts out loud. Everyone hated this. Luckily you always managed to avoid such things because you always sat close to the back and near the window, just out of her line of sight. 

You were about to open your script when you noticed a hand in the air. You followed the arm it was attached to and found yourself looking at another Southside Serpent. The rest of the class noticed and started staring at him as well. He either didn't notice or didn't care, but whichever it was, he handled it better than you would have. 

"I don't have a script," he announced when Ms. Rogers noticed his hand. You glanced to the empty chair next to him; the girl who usually sat there seemed to have decided to switch seats for the day. 

Ms. Rogers nodded. "Not a problem, Fangs." With anyone else, you would have assumed it was a nickname, but Ms. Rogers refused to call people by nicknames - she had always called Jughead "Forsythe," much to his hatred. So his name was really  Fangs ? "Unfortunately, I don't have any extra scripts at the moment, but you can share with someone else until I'm able to get a copy, is that alright?" 

Fangs nodded and Ms. Rogers looked at the class. "Would anyone be willing to share their script with Fangs?" 

You looked around. No one raised their hand. In fact, they were all engrossed in the scripts they had been groaning about only a few seconds ago. You looked at Fangs. He was looking around as well, and you watched him realize no one wanted to help him out. His expression grew stony and his shoulders rose as he crossed his arms. 

You chewed your lip, took a breath and raised your hand. Ms. Rogers noticed and smiled at you. "Yes, (Y/N)?"

She was really going to make you say it? You pulled at your shirt sleeves as everyone - including Fangs - turned to stare at you. "I can share with Fangs. If he doesn't mind." 

Fangs shrugged. He grabbed his stuff, stood up and joined you at your desk. You straightened your script, pretending to be busy as you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. He was tall, about average height. When his hand came down on the chair next to you, you noticed he wore one or two rings on both hands. When he sat down, placing his crossed arms on the desk, you had to look at him fully. He was good-looking, you noticed, with neatly styled Jet black hair and dark eyes. 

"Thanks," he said. 

"No problem," you said for the second time that day. You opened your script to the right page and slid it over so you could both read it. 

"What are we reading?" He leaned over to scan the page. 

" Taming of the Shrew , by Shakespeare." You paused. "Have you ever read it?" 

He tilted his head and made a so-so gesture with his hand. "I've heard of it. Probably skimmed a Wikipedia summary when I was bored once." 

You couldn't help but smile. "Well, then you probably know more than some people in this class." You pointed to the line the class was on. "This is the script. The right margins have a basic summary of what's going on, in case you don't understand Shakespeare. The left margins have notes and definitions for words or sentences that are archaic or just don't make sense to modern readers." 

Fangs nodded. "Cool, thanks." You shrugged in response, and as the actors Ms. Rogers had chosen began to read, neither of you spoke. Fangs gave occasional commentary under his breath, and you weren't sure if he meant for you to hear him or not. Even so, sometimes his comments made you crack a smile, and out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him smile as well.

When you passed him in the hall later, he gave you a wink and you smiled, but otherwise, everything went about normally. 

The time in-between your lunch and math period led you to a pair of Southside Serpents who were looking just as lost as the girl had earlier, but were hiding it under the guise of glaring at their surroundings. You only noticed them because you saw a familiar piece of wrinkled paper being passed between them as they took turns glaring at everyone. 

You walked up to them. They gave you a suspicious look before flipping their paper around and shoving it towards you. 

"Chem class. Beaker. Do you know where it is?" The one on the right demanded, as though they had approached you instead of the reverse.

You nodded. "It's upstairs. You go up the main staircase and then turn left, and it's the big room next to the vending machines." 

They nodded at you, saying "Thanks" as they walked away. You continued on your way. 

Math class with Mr. Bell led you to another Southside Serpent, a girl with pink highlights and a blue plaid flannel shirt tied around her waist. You noticed she lacked the Serpent jacket you had seen the others wearing throughout the day. Mr. Bell introduced her as Toni Topaz and then told her where she could sit.

You, flipping open your textbook to the chapter you were on, didn't realize she was going to sit next to you until you heard a cough, looked up, and saw her staring at you with a raised eyebrow. 

You quickly removed your bag and jacket from her new seat and placed them on the floor next to you. She sat in her chair and gave you a quick full-body scan. "You're (Y/N), right?" 

You nodded. "Yep."

"Toni Topaz." She nodded at you. "What have you been doing so far?"

You shrugged, looking back down at your textbook. "Binomials and polynomials. FOIL. Normal stuff." You glanced back up at her. "What were you doing in math at Southside?"

She laughed. "We were lucky if our teacher showed up for class." 

Your mouth set into a thin line, a confusing mix of pity and sympathy filling your chest. She noticed. Her face closed off. "It's not a big deal. It's just how it was." 

You nodded. "Right. Sorry." You pulled in your sleeve. "You have a textbook, right?" 

"Yeah, the teacher gave me one. Why, does everyone here buy their own?" She said, suddenly sitting up straight and staring at you defensively. 

You made sure to keep your own defence systems from raising, made sure to keep calm. "No, we all get ours from school. But there weren't enough books in English for your friend earlier and I thought if you didn't have one, we could share. But." You shrugged, biting your tongue before you could continue and make things worse. 

Toni frowned, not angry anymore but confused. "Friend?"

"Fangs?"

She relaxed. "Oh, yeah. He mentioned that. Thanks." 

You shrugged. "No problem."

Biology faced you with the most terrifying Southsider you had met so far (not that you had met too many). He was so  tall  and he held himself like he was constantly keeping his rage just simmering below the surface, ready to lash out at the smallest of slights. His eyes were dark, like Fangs' had been, but they held anger you hadn't seen in Fangs. The fact that he wasn't wearing his Serpent jacket did not make him seem any more approachable. In fact, it somehow made him even scarier. The only way you were able to even tell he was a Serpent was because of the snake tattoo you could see on his neck, peeking out from under his shirt collar. He looked like he could have been a Greaser in another life - Hell, you weren't even sure if he wouldn't be considered a Greaser now. 

Fangs had seemed calm, cool, a little bit more level-headed; Toni had been relaxed but still seemed ready to fight; this guy seemed like he was constantly two seconds away from flipping a table.

Even so, you forced yourself to keep calm when Professor Pierce paired the two of you up for the day's dissection. The Professor had even pulled you aside just a minute before he had paired everyone up, just to let you know what he was doing. He was only doing it because Sweet Pea's addition to the class ( Sweet Pea?  You thought in disbelief; something was up with the Southside parents) made an uneven number, and you were the only person who wouldn't raise a fuss about being paired up with a Serpent. 

You had nodded, accepted this, and then watched calmly as Sweet Pea approached you with a stormy glare on his face. One of the people you sat next to gave you a reassuring pat on the back, which made you wince since you were sure Sweet Pea would have noticed that. If the dark glare he sent your deskmate was any indication, you were sure he had. 

"You're Sweet Pea?" You asked, making sure not to make it sound like you were questioning his name or laughing at it (even though it was kind of funny). 

"Yeah." 

"Cool. I'm-"

"I know who you are," he interrupted. "What are we even doing?"

"Dissecting earthworms." 

Sweet Pea nodded and sat down next to you. He sat like Fangs did, with his arms crossed and on the desk. You chewed your lip, looking around the lab in an attempt to not make it seem like you were staring at him. You occasionally would feel him staring at you, but you made sure to keep your eyes off of him. 

When Professor Pierce placed the tray with the earthworm in front of you two, you opened your notebook. "Do you want to do the dissecting?" You asked, finally looking at him.

"Why, 'cause I'm a Southsider I know all about using a knife? Cutting things up?" He snapped, fists balling up. You resisted the urge to flinch when he raised his voice.

"No, because one of us needs to take notes and I'd rather not dissect anything," you said, making sure to keep your tone even. "If you wanted to take notes, though, I'm fine with that."

He glared at you for a few seconds more, before pulling the tray closer to him. "No, I'll do it."

It wasn't even five seconds later that you had another incident. Sweet Pea had examined the knife he had been given to cut the worm, muttered that it wasn't sharp enough, and pulled out a switchblade from his pocket. Your eyes widened and you quickly looked around to make sure no one had noticed. When you looked back he was glaring at you again. You chewed your lip and then leaned over on your desk, enough that if Professor Pierce looked over at the two of you, he wouldn't be able to see Sweet Pea's knife. Sweet Pea, noticing this, stopped glaring at you so much and nodded at you in what might have been appreciation. 

Towards the end of class, when the two of you were done and other classmates were scrambling to write down some final notes, you finally asked what you had been thinking about the entire day. "What happened to your jacket?" 

You regretted it the instant you asked it when Sweet Pea returned to glaring at you. "That Mantle guy drew our symbol on your school crest, and Weatherbee said we're not allowed to wear our jackets or show any gang symbols at all. It's fucking  bogus,  but we never should have expected to be treated fairly by any Northsider." The anger that had partially vanished over the last hour and a half was back, full-force, apparent in the fury in his eyes and the tension in his shoulders.

You chewed your lip, thinking about what he had said and how you could get him to calm down just a bit. "No, you're right," you admitted. "It isn't fair you're being blamed for this. It doesn't make any sense, anyway. If any of you had done it, you wouldn't have had the chance to do it without anyone noticing. Reggie's just an asshole, and I wish I could say most of us are different, but..." you shrugged helplessly. There wasn't much you could say. It was far too obvious that most of the school wasn't comfortable with the Southsiders present, and even beside them, the majority of the Northside was against the Southside - especially the Serpents. 

Sweet Pea scowled, and when the bell rang, announcing the end of the day, he grabbed his stuff and took off without another word, intentionally knocking into a few people on his way out. You exhaled. 

You would be better tomorrow. 

The next day you entered English and the first thing you noticed was Fangs sitting next to your seat again. He gave you a mock salute when he saw you. You allowed yourself to smile. 

"No jacket," you noted as you sat down. "I heard about what Reggie did. He's an ass." 

Fangs snorted. "You don't have to tell me twice. But it isn't a big deal." 

"Yeah?" 

"Most of us," here Fangs absentminded drew an S shape on the desk with his finger, "agree that removing our jackets and covering up our tattoos is a small price to pay for going to a good school. The only one bent out of shape about it is Jones." 

"Jughead?" Hadn't he only gone to the Southside for maybe three or four weeks? 

Fangs rolled his eyes. "Don't worry about it." 

You thought about Jughead. You wondered how he was coping with everything. 

Ms. Rogers told the class to open their books. Fangs, leaning against the desk on one elbow, holding his head up with one hand, looking incredibly cool even without his leather jacket, looked at you expectantly, though he had a hint of a smile. 

You allowed yourself to smile back a bit and pulled your script out. 

Ms. Rogers, perhaps aiming to mess everything in your life up, called on you and Fangs to read for Katarina and Petruchio. You could feel heat crawling up your neck and cheeks as you read through Katarina's lines. Was this what came from being nice to people? Drawing attention to yourself and being forced to read out loud to an audience?

Fangs read his lines well, considering he had to read them at a slight angle since your script was in between the two of you. He stumbled a bit over certain words, and he frowned at certain parts of what he was saying, but otherwise, he was doing fine.

The third time he got confused by the wording of the script, you happened to glance up and see a pair of boys sitting a few rows ahead, staring at Fangs and snickering to themselves. Your eyes narrowed. When it was your turn to read again, you read as an actual actress might when playing Katharina, raising your voice and speaking with a venomous bite. Fangs, noticing your change, quickly adjusted and began reading with a slight accent, arrogant and mighty. Once he got into character, he had no problems. You still refused to stop staring at the boys whenever you weren't reading, until they turned around and stopped laughing. 

When the scene was over, you sank in your seat and stared out the window. That was more noticeable than anything you had done in ages. 

"Nice job," you heard Fangs say to you. 

You turned your head slightly. "You, too." You were pretty sure he hadn't noticed the two boys. 

At the end of class, Ms. Rogers called you over as you were leaving the room. 

"You were very good today, (Y/N). I was surprised; you're normally so quiet. You really tapped into the character." She smiled at you. 

You pulled on your sleeve. "I just wanted to help Fangs. I thought maybe he'd do better if he was reading with someone who was doing their best." You shrugged. 

"Well, it seemed to work. You both did a good job." 

You nodded. It wasn't really that big of a deal, you thought. You were just trying to help. Anyone decent would have done the same thing. 

You passed by Fangs later on your way to class. He gave you another salute and another wink, and you smiled. 

Math happened without any incidents, good or otherwise. You pointed out an error in one of Toni's equations and she nodded at you, but that was it.

Biology was more interesting. Pierce switched up the class seating. You knew what to expect because Pierce, once again, pulled you aside to let you know you were going to be sitting next to Sweet Pea. As the professor explained it, you worked well with him yesterday and he needed "a good influence." You bit your tongue to keep from responding to that.

The first thing you noticed when Sweet Pea sat next to you was the bruise on his arm in the shape of a hand. "What happened?" 

He looked down at his arm and then shrugged. "Mantle started a fight with Jones and one of the Bulldogs grabbed me when I tried to shove Mantle." 

"Why was there a fight?"

"You ask a lot of questions," Sweet Pea noted irritably. You pulled on your sleeve, trying to avoid his angry eyes. You heard him sigh in annoyance and could practically feel his eye-roll. "Jones showed up in his Serpent jacket and Mantle tried to make him take it off. Jones said some shit about Mantle not knowing about honour. Mantle attacked and we pulled him off Jones and the Bulldogs pulled us off of him."

"What happened?" You asked before you could stop yourself. Sweet Pea rolled his eyes again, leaning back and crossing his arms.

"Jones got himself suspended 'cause he didn't want to take off the jacket. The rest of us got detention."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at this. He noticed. "What? Think we deserve it?" 

Secretly you thought that, since they had been fighting, they  did  deserve it, but you wouldn't say that. "I was just thinking that's such a  Jughead  thing to do." 

"You know him?"
 
It's a small town and he's been in my class since forever, and he's Jughead.  "Yeah, sort of. We never spoke much, but he always struck me as someone who, like, wanted everyone to notice how much he didn't fit in. You know."

Sweet Pea stared at you for a minute. You thought he was going to get angry again. He surprised you by suddenly grinning. "Yeah, that's him, alright. He's an idiot." 

You couldn't help but nod in agreement. "Are you going to put ice on that?" You asked, looking back at his bruised arm. 

"Nah, I'm used to bruises. It'll fade eventually." 

"You're sure?" Worry seeped into your tone without you meaning it to. 

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure. Believe me, I know more about injuries than you probably do." The heat was back in his voice and that made you flinch, but you had been able to get along for longer than last time. You had even made him smile. That was something, at least.

Two days later you walked into English class and Fangs wasn't there. You asked Ms. Rogers where he was, and she said he had been suspended for two days. You asked her why and she said she didn't know, but asked if you would give his homework to one of his friends. 

In math, you were planning on asking Toni about it, but your question died when you saw what she was wearing. She was dressed in a blue polo shirt and khaki pants - the unofficially official uniform of Riverdale High. The look she gave you told you not to ask, so you didn't. 

Halfway through class, you passed her the worksheet Ms. Rogers had given you. "This is for Fangs. It's his English homework."

She looked at you in confusion, but then she nodded in understanding. "Oh yeah, I forgot you two have the same class."

You bit your tongue to refrain from telling her that you two were desk-mates and shared a script. "I heard he was suspended," you said with concern. "What happened? It wasn't because of the fight the other day, was it?" 

"Surprised you heard about the fight." She sighed. You kept yourself from asking why she was surprised because you knew the answer as soon as the question popped into your head. You were invisible. You were a background character. You had no business with the main characters of Riverdale High, and you had no business with their business. "No, he was suspended because he refused to wear..." she gestured to herself with a mocking smile, "this." 

You stayed silent, waiting for her to continue. When she didn't, you furrowed your brows. "That's it?" 

"Yeah."

"What?"

"Weatherbee pulled us in this morning and said he understood that us Southsiders may not have clothes that were appropriate, so he gave us these." She fingered her shirt collar. "Fangs didn't want to, so he was suspended."

"What?" You repeated. "I don't- How does that even make sense?"

"I don't know, you tell me," Toni said sharply. "It's because we're Southsiders. Your principal thinks that because we're Southside it's okay to treat us like scum. We're second class citizens here." She crossed her arms and turned to face the chalkboard, clearly done with the conversation. 

Your mind was spinning. You chewed your lip, beginning to form a plan. 

You didn't comment on Sweet Pea's outfit in bio, even though you wanted to laugh at the sight of him in a turtleneck with the sleeves rolled up underneath his polo shirt. He was radiating pure rage, every muscle in his body so tense you could see it through his layers. His fists were clenched so tight they were white and his eyes were so dark with fury they were practically black. 

You stayed silent for that class. 

After class, however, you spent a minute or two looking over Riverdale High's dress code on the school website. Once you had it mostly memorized you headed for Weatherbee's office. 

You walked in just as Weatherbee and Jughead were walking out. 

"Miss (L/N)," Weatherbee said in surprise. 

"I need to talk to you, sir," you said.

Weatherbee nodded. "Alright. It seems that everyone needs to speak with me about something today." He patted Jughead on the shoulder. You noticed Jughead did not seem to appreciate it if his strained smile was anything to go by. "I just had Mister Jones here convince me to let Fangs Fogarty back into school, as well as form a club for himself and the other Southsiders."

You looked at Jughead. He gave a 'Yep, nothing suspicious here' kind of smile, the kind that was just making a flat line with your mouth and giving a half-smile that wasn't really a smile. 

"Okay. Well, I wanted to talk to you about Fangs, too, but also about something else," you said. You were relieved that Fangs could come back and that you had one less thing to convince Weatherbee on. Jughead gave you a suspicious look, but you ignored it. "Do you have time?"

Weatherbee nodded, let Jughead go, and allowed you into his office. You sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk and began speaking. You showed him the school's dress code. You described the outfits of the Southsiders that you had seen, taking care to point out how up until today, none of them had worn anything related to the Serpents or anything that broke the dress code. You pointed out how many of Riverdale High's students wore clothes that broke the dress code and how unfair it was for the Southsiders to be treated differently. You made sure to add that you understood he must have been under a lot of stress because of the new arrivals and everything else in the town, and that it was kind of him to give them clothes if they didn't have ones proper for the school, but that it was unfair to treat the Southsiders any differently from the Northsiders when the Southsiders hadn't done anything so far to deserve it, as well as punishing one of them for just refusing to wear clothing that he didn't need. When Weatherbee reminded you that the Serpents had defaced school property, you pointed out how there was no proof except the word of one student that they had actually done anything, and then added that there was a very small chance that any of them could have done it without anyone noticing. While you completely understood banning gang activity within the school, the treatment of the Southsiders by him was unfair and unjust, you concluded.

Twenty minutes after arriving in his office, you left his office with him agreeing to reconsider the dress-coding of the Southsiders.

The next day, the Southsiders arrived at school jacket-less, still covering up their tattoos, but in their usual leather, plaid, and denim, looking much happier. 

When you walked into English class, Fangs was grinning at you from your desk. You grinned back and asked him if he had finished the worksheet. You never once brought up his suspension or the repealing of the dress code. He casually mentioned both once but otherwise, the topics were avoided. The same went for your conversations with Toni and Sweet Pea later that day. 

Two weeks later, you arrived at English class and found that Fangs would finally get his own script in a day or two.

You tried to feel good, to feel happy for him, even though you knew that this would be the end of your casual relationship with him. The original desk he had sat in was still empty most of the time (probably for fear of the day he got sick of sitting next to a Northsider and returned to his original seat), so he would probably go back to sitting there, and that would be the end of that. It bothered you more than you wanted to admit, but you didn't ask him to keep sitting next to you. He had no reason to. You'd miss your daily conversations with him and the commentary he'd give of the class and whatever you were reading. You would never admit this, but you would miss the feeling of being acknowledged by someone. 

You walked into class two days later, fully prepared to sit alone, and stopped in the doorway when you saw him sitting in his usual seat next to yours and flipping through his new script. When you took your own seat, still bewildered, he even proudly showed it off, grinning and saying you wouldn't have to share with him anymore. You grinned and gave a thumbs up, unable to think of anything to say in response. 

You forced yourself to not ask why he still wanted to sit next to you. He'd probably go back to his seat soon.

But he didn't. Every day you walked in and saw him waiting for you, or he'd walk in and head straight for you. You didn't question it, afraid that if you asked him why he'd get offended. He didn't have a reason to sit with you. He must have just gotten used to sitting there. 

Over the weeks, eventually turning to months, a pattern emerged. 

You'd get to English. Fangs would join you or already be there. You'd chat for a while, share your Shakespeare if one of you forgot your copy, occasionally share another book if there weren't enough for everyone to have one, maybe chat for a minute after class, and then leave. You'd go to math and meet Toni. You'd chat with her, do some math, exchange help if either of you needed it, and leave math. You'd go to biology and meet Sweet Pea. He'd usually be in A  Mood™ , but you'd still try to make conversation. As time went on, you got better at making him relax, even if only a little bit for a little while, and while he still freaked you out a little bit (especially whenever he pulled out his knife for a dissection) you relaxed around him as well. 

Jughead was someone you had never interacted with much, even before his first transfer. You didn't interact with him much when he returned, as you had no classes with him and he was always wrapped up in schemes with his friends. When you did talk with him, however, you did your best to be nice to him even when he didn't seem to appreciate it. He always squinted at you, staring suspiciously, like he was trying to uncover some motive you held. You wondered if he remembered you going to Weatherbee about Fangs, and if he did, if he thought you had some dark secret reason for doing so. You were pretty sure he didn't know it was you who had gotten the dress code rescinded, but if he did, he never asked you about it. 

You didn't speak much to the other Southsiders, but when you did, you were kind. You gave them advice on certain teachers if you heard them complaining and the conversation was open enough that you could join it naturally. You did your best to distract people if they looked like they were going to give a Southsider a hard time (mentioning that a teacher was coming or blocking their way until the Southsider left the area). While it was rare at this point for anyone to need help finding something, you still pointed them in the right direction if they needed you to.

But in the hallways, whenever you passed by them or any other serpent you had ever interacted with, their eyes always slid over you. Rarely you'd get an acknowledgment from any of them (Fang was the exception, and even he would rarely stop to talk for long; usually he would stick to nods or winks or mocking salutes, sometimes a smile or a 'Hi'). You were to them what you were to everyone else in your school - invisible. Not important enough to acknowledge. That was fine. You didn't expect friendship from any of them. You were class friends with them only, and even then you didn't consider yourself an actual friend to them. You were just acquaintances. Nothing special. 

Truth be told, you were pretty sure they didn't even remember your name. But that was fine; really, it was. You weren't doing anything special by being kind to them or sticking up for them. 

"It's an example of domestic abuse!" You shouted. 

"It's a romantic comedy, (Y/N), it isn't abuse," one of your male classmates, Greg, insisted. 

"First of all, romantic comedy is a horrible term to use for a Shakespearean play. Second, romantic comedies portray romanticized domestic abuse all the time! Third, the play is about taming a person! A woman! Taming a woman like you would-" 

"A shrew?" Someone interrupted. The class chuckled. You glared. 

"No, like a horse. Or a dog. Taming a woman like you would tame an animal. Petruchio even compares her to a dog or a horse while he's dragging her out of her own wedding! Katharina clearly stated she wanted to stay at her wedding party and he carries her away while she protests! He is ignoring her needs and wants because he thinks she has a bad attitude and he physically assaults her because of it! How does that foreshadow anything good for their married life?" 

"Katharina does have a bad attitude, (Y/N)," Ms. Rogers pointed out, grinning as the class debate carried on. "It can be argued that Petruchio is trying to teach her how to behave." 

"It's psychological abuse," you spat. "He's not teaching her to be more polite, he's training her to never go against what he says or he will either physically assault her or destroy whatever it is she wants. We see it in the dress scene, and with the food and when she wants to go to sleep. He deprives her of what she needs to live just to train her to be the perfect, subservient wife! Not to mention the gaslighting and the double standards between her and Petruchio's personalities-" 

The bell rang, cutting you off. You stopped talking, heart pounding in your chest and breathing hard. Ms. Rogers stood up, beaming proudly. "Wonderful contributions to the debate, everyone. There was a lot of interesting points brought up that I hope you'll remember for your essays." 

As people started filing out of the room, you leaned back in your chair, sighing deeply. Your face was hot with both righteous anger and embarrassment.

You realized Fangs was still sitting, staring at you, his chin supported his hands, his elbows on the desk. You avoided eye contact. 

"That was new," he finally said. You pulled on your sleeve. "No, really, that was pretty awesome. I've never seen you so passionate."

"Thanks," you mumbled, still tugging on your sleeve. "I just," you sighed, "I hate  seeing people be hurt." You wondered why you were telling him this. "I want to help people, somehow. If I can. Even if it's not - even if it isn't something huge. If I can make someone's life easier or better somehow, that's important to me." 

You felt your face grow warmer when you finished talking. Fangs was staring at you with such interest, it was so different from anything that happened in the halls or in any other classes. You couldn't remember the last time someone had given you their full attention.

"What?" You asked.

"Nothing." He smiled. 

"How's the musical going?" You asked, looking away and changing the topic. 

"It's going pretty well so far," Fangs said, gathering his stuff together. "Midge is a natural Carrie. Kevin's pretty cool, but I don't think he likes me for some reason." 

"Why wouldn't he like you?" 

"I drank his tea on the first day?" 

You laughed harder than you should have at that. 

Literally the  one time  you decided to go to a school event without being dragged along by someone else, and a student was killed by a serial killer who was supposed to be dead. Of course. What else was supposed to happen in a town like Riverdale, where anything with a semblance of being good was actually corrupted and evil?

On top of that, it was the week your parents were both on a business trip, meaning you had to return to your empty house after seeing your classmate's dead body. You couldn't bring yourself to go to sleep, or even to go upstairs except to make sure all of the windows were locked, and even then you brought a French knife with you, holding it in front of you whenever you stepped into a room. Once securing every window and closing every door, you went downstairs and sat on your couch, watching YouTube videos with a knife and your phone, 911 already typed in, within arm's reach until the sun came up. Even the funniest videos couldn't make you laugh and every creak of the floorboards, every branch hitting the window, every single noise in or outside the house made you jump and nearly gave you a heart attack. You couldn't stop thinking about poor Midge, crucified on stage, and for what reason? What could she have done? What was so awful that deserved murder? The Black Hood had shot Fred Andrews, who was practically a saint. The killer clearly had a screwed up sense of morality. 

School was canceled the next day. You refused to leave your house. You called your parents to let them know what happened. They had panicked and immediately began planning to return home. When they called you back later they told you there was no way they could leave until after their conference was over, two weeks later, without losing their jobs. You sighed and told them it was fine, that you would lock the doors and windows every night, not be stupid and open the door to strangers or anyone, and would stay safe and walk with other people at all times. 

Sheriff Keller came by in the afternoon, explaining that he was going around to everyone who was at the musical. You answered his questions, stating that you had rarely talked to Midge and didn't have any reason to want her dead. Besides that, you had been in the library up until the time the musical started, and there had been plenty of people who had seen you there and had seen you leave, and you had gone straight to your seat upon arrival. When you answered all his questions, you hesitantly asked if he had any suspects. He shrugged helplessly. He looked exhausted. You offered him some tea or a snack, and he left your house with an apple and a thermos of tea that he promised to return later. 

The week that followed was awful. The energy that had returned to your town following the death of Svenson vanished into thin air, replaced by the fear and panic that had controlled Riverdale after the Black Hood had first appeared. Midge's funeral came and went; you had attended, hovering in the back, speaking quietly to nearly everyone in attendance and doing your best to comfort them however you could (Fangs and Sweet Pea had been there as well, but you had barely spoken to them except to acknowledge their presence, as Fangs looked distraught and Sweet Pea didn't know how to handle his emotions except by looking angry) (Moose and Mrs. Klump had been harder to talk to, but you had managed - Moose had even done his best to smile at you despite his grief, and Mrs. Klump accepted your offer to bring by one of your parent's pies by during the week). Keller was replaced by a new Sheriff, who came by and interrogated everyone again. You offered him some tea or a snack, and he rejected both. 

Fangs was constantly on edge in class, even more than Sweet Pea or Toni. You once asked him if he was alright, and he insisted he was. You put a hand on his shoulder and told him that if he needed anything, if you could help him at all, you were there. He had smiled and thanked you for that, but hadn't relaxed at all. 

A few days later, you found out why. 

You speed-walked through the halls, frantically looking for Fangs. You had overheard The Dark Circle's plans just minutes ago and you had to find him before they did. You nearly tripped down the stairs but you managed to catch yourself before you fell. 

It was only a five-second clip. Five seconds wasn't nearly enough to capture any actual proof. But five seconds of a dead girl and a gang member from the wrong side of town - that was enough for your awful town to pin all of the blame on Fangs. You knew you couldn't stop the Circle, they were mostly Bulldogs and were all probably stronger than you, but you could warn Fangs and give him time to get somewhere safe. 

You spotted him with Jughead and Toni, and Sheriff Minetta and some deputies standing right behind him. 

"You're dead, Vixen killer!" Reggie yelled, charging down the stairs and followed by a mob of Bulldogs. 

You frantically looked from Fangs to The Dark Circle. You made your choice. You dropped your bag to the floor and stood at the foot of the stairs, spreading your arms out and keeping them from going any further.

"Get out of the way!" Reggie spat at you.

"No!" You yelled back. "You don't know it was him!" 

Reggie looked down at you. You wondered if it was the first time he had ever actually looked at you. A second passed and then he pushed you out of the way, not hard enough to knock you down but enough to force you to move. His followers all brushed past you without a single glance. You ran around them, hoping to intercept them and keep them back. 

When you got to the front of the crowd, Fangs was pinned to the ground by the Sheriff and a pocket knife - the same kind Sweet Pea had, you noticed distantly - laid abandoned next to him.

"This fucking town," you swore, though the trembling in your voice contradicted your angry words. "This  goddamn motherfucking town ." 

You couldn't stop shaking. You had turned on the television to try and relax and had turned onto the channel that showed the mayoral debate. You turned it on just in time to hear gunshots and see Archie tackle his dad to the ground. You had watched the screen in horror until a camera was knocked over or something and the screen went fuzzy. 

Now you were pacing in your living room, running your hands through your hair, and trying to force back angry tears threatening to spill over.

Your town was evil. You had always sort of known it. 

Your phone went off with a tweet. You checked it. 

'vixen killer fogarty is being released at midnight! show him and the sheriff we dont want killers walking free! #justiceformidge' 

You didn't even check to see who had tweeted it. All you knew is that it made your blood run cold. 

This town was evil.

You ran to your front door, grabbed your jacket off the coat hanger and shoved your feet into your shoes. You dropped your phone into your pocket, snatched your keys off the table next to the door, and took off without a second thought. 

It was midnight when you finally reached the station. You nearly doubled over as you tried to catch your breath, your heart pounding and legs burning with pain. You had to keep going. You nearly tripped over your own feet but managed to catch yourself before you hit the ground. 

A huge crowd had formed around the station. You couldn't see a single space that wasn't mobbed with people, all of them waving signs with things like "justice for Midge" or "go back to the Southside swamp." Everyone was bathed in either darkness or blood red light, coming from who-knows-where, you didn't care. They were all out for blood, the blood of the same boy who confused  affect  and  effect , the boy who had made hilarious commentary on William Shakespeare and everything else covered in your class, the boy who had sat next to you for no reason, the boy who had made you smile and laugh and had worried that Kevin hated him because he drank his tea and had said you were awesome for standing up for your beliefs and had made you feel seen for the first time in so long. He was your age, just a boy, and you thought that maybe, if he wanted to be, he could be your friend. You didn't care if he didn't know your name or if he didn't talk to you in the halls, or if none of his friends gave a shit about you, he didn't deserve this, any of this. 

He was innocent; you knew in your heart that he was. 

You watched as he, in the center of his friends, walked out of the station and into the crowd of people screaming for his blood. The Serpents were protecting him. They were shielding him and they were going to get him somewhere safe. 

You looked around. What could you possibly do? You couldn't scream that a teacher was coming. You couldn't stand in front of them and hold them all back. Anything you yelled would be drowned out by the crowd. You would just be shoved out of the way, just like Reggie had before. Fangs had his friends, he didn't need you. You couldn't do anything. 

You hovered at the edge of the crowd, your breathing slowly increasing and tears stinging in your eyes. The one time it actually mattered and you couldn't do anything. Typical. 

Someone suddenly shoved you. You yelped and turned to glare at whoever it had been, but they had disappeared into the crowd. You huffed angrily and pulled on your sleeves as you continued to look over the crowd. Another person knocked into you, and another, and another. Despite your attempts to pull out, you were slowly being assimilated into the mob. You yelled at them to stop but you were ignored (like always). Another person bumped into you, and as you ducked to avoid being hit with the post of someone's sign, your eyes caught a flash of silver. 

It was only by chance and only for a second and you hadn't seen who held it but you knew what you had seen. 

Someone was carrying a gun. 

You felt your breath catch in your throat. Your mouth fell open slightly. You looked over to the split in the mob where Fangs was. Somehow every sound had faded away except for your own heartbeat. 

Without a moment of hesitation, you started shoving people out of your way, for once not caring if anyone got hurt. You had to get to Fangs. You hadn't seen who carried the gun but you knew who it was for. You couldn't stop them but you could do something. 

People blocking your path fell victim to your rush of adrenaline-driven strength. You kept your eyes on the Serpents, thanking God for Sweet Pea's height because he was the only way you could really tell which way to go in all of the confusion. You had to reach them in time. You were pretty sure you had elbowed someone in the face, but it paid off when you shoved one person out of the way and finally reached the front of the mob. 

Your eyes zeroed in on Fangs. Sweet Pea was blocking your path to him and you were one hundred percent sure you wouldn't be able to get him out of the way. 

You sort of noticed Reggie Mantle being tackled to the ground by Archie Andrews on the other side of the mob. The shield around Fangs broke apart and you were given your chance. 

You darted forward. You heard Sweet Pea yell something as you appeared in front of him. You briefly made eye contact with Fangs - he looked so afraid and confused - before you grabbed his shoulder and pushed him as hard as you could. He staggered back and you stepped in front of him. 

A gunshot went off. You heard a woman scream. 

You looked over at Fangs, who had spread his arms over his friends when the shot went off. You examined him quickly. He looked fine. You sighed in relief. He was safe. 

You felt a sting in your stomach. You frowned slightly before you looked down at yourself. Maybe someone in the crowd had elbowed you in the stomach or something. 

A dark red stain had appeared on your shirt.

You stared at the stain as it continued to grow. It was wet. You raised your hands to touch it. Your hands turned red. You felt a tear in your jacket and could feel a hole in your skin underneath. Red liquid - blood, you realized faintly - trickled from the hole.

Oh. 

You staggered. 

Oh. 

You felt hands supporting you, holding your arms and pressing against your shoulders and back. Someone pulled your jacket open. Your legs gave out. Someone caught you before you collapsed and eased you towards the ground, laying you down on your back. You were still holding your injury, but someone pushed your hands out of the way. You looked down at your hands and stared. They were covered in red. It was blood. It was  your  blood.

It doesn't hurt,  you realized distantly.  Why doesn't it hurt? 

You blinked and noticed there were people above you - the Serpents. They were all kneeling on the ground around you, all pressing their hands against your wound. They were putting pressure on it. They were trying to help you. They didn't know your name and they were trying to help you.

Something was cushioning your head. You looked up and Fangs was there, looking down at you with panic and fear in his eyes. Your head was in his lap. He was saying something you couldn't hear; the gunshot was still ringing in your ears. 

Slowly, the ringing faded. People were screaming around you. You heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh and something hitting the ground. Jughead was yelling for help. Was someone hurt? You had to help them. You tried to sit up but Fangs put his hands on your shoulders and forced you back to the ground and you didn't want to fight him.

"-st stay calm, alright? You're gonna be okay, I promise. We're gonna get you to the hospital and you'll be fine! Stay awake okay?"

Fangs was yelling at you. He was telling you that you were going to be okay. 

"Fuck, there's so much blood-" 

"-keep putting pressure on it!" 

"-get her to the truck, we need to go to the hospital-" 

"-I'll do it, I got her-  back off, Jones!"  

"-Jesus  fucking  Christ - " 

You felt yourself being lifted off the ground. You blinked - your vision was going fuzzy but you were sure Fangs was carrying you. That was nice of him. 

You could hear more hitting and yelling, but it all seemed so far away. You heard someone - Sweet Pea? - yell "Get out of our way!" Before you realized what was happening you were being laid down on what seemed to be the back of a truck. You felt the vehicle jostle underneath you, heard someone muttering swear words, and then your head was lifted up and placed on something that was not the cold, hard metal of a truck. Someone was pressing on your wound again and you hissed as the pain finally hit you. 

"Fuck, I'm sorry, I know it hurts, I'm sorry-" Fangs rambled. You realized he had once again placed your head on his lap. You looked back towards your wound and saw Jughead kneeling at your side, putting pressure on your injury, while Fangs used one hand to do the same and the other to keep your body steady as the truck started moving. 

"The hospital is gonna be filled by the time we get there," Jughead said in a low voice.

"Well, they're going to take care of her anyway!" Fangs snapped. "Hey, you're gonna be okay, (Y/N), I  promise ." 

You were starting to feel dizzy, but you managed to cling onto one thing he had said. "You know my name," you said softly. 

You heard Jughead say, "What?" before you heard Fangs say, "Of course I know your name, (Y/N), I spent months sitting next to you, why wouldn't I?"

"Because I'm not important." The fears you had kept to yourself for so long suddenly slipped out without your permission. "I'm not special enough to remember, nobody really pays any attention to me. Not even you, you never stop to talk to me outside of class, but I get it, I'm not your friend and you don't have any reason to talk to me, so it's okay, really. I'm not special, not like you, not like your friends, I'm not important, so it's okay that you and your friends don't know my name, I don't mind, really, I just wanted to help you, but that doesn't matter. I'm glad you're okay. I'm really glad that I could save you, I'm glad that I could help you somehow, but it's not important. I'm not important, not really, so I don't know why you would remember my name."

You stopped rambling and blinked. The edges of your vision were going black and fuzzy. 

"-t true, (Y/N), that isn't true - hey, don't go to sleep, you have to stay awake!  Fucking go faster! "

"What is she talking about?" 

"I don't know, fuck, I don't know-"

"We're here!"

You were dimly aware of being pulled off the back of the truck and Fangs carrying you again. Your stomach was so wet and you couldn't smell anything but blood,  your  blood. Suddenly everything was bright white and you could hear someone yelling for help. 

"She's dying!"

"What happened?"

"She was shot in her stomach!"

"I need a gurney!" You were being lowered down onto something. You instinctively reached out to grab onto something and felt someone's hand. Whoever it was held your hand for a second (you felt rings, cold but covered in warm liquid, your blood) before you were being moved again. People were speaking above you, asking you questions, but you couldn't answer any of them. You felt so tired.

The black at the edge of your vision passed over and you were in the dark, unaware of anything.