forum In Fair Verona // Modern Romeo and Juliet // Private RP - CLOSED

Started February 05, 2019 by @blue_topaz

tune

"You're throwing away the same thing you've been begging me to return for the past few days……. because you've got somewhere to be," I deadpanned, determined to keep the upper hand.

“Just back off! What’s it to you anyways?” I sneered, pressing my back against one of the rocks, feeling cornered.

"Hey, I need something to blackmail you with…" I held out a hand, beckoning carefully to him. "Come."

I don’t know why I listened. Tentatively creeping forward, half expecting her to psych me out and beat me within an inch of death. That’s how I would end up if I let something like this happen.

Sighing slowly, I leaned sideways against the trunk of a tree. "Tell me. What changed?" Though I purposefully softened my voice, we both knew that it wasn't an optional question.

I kept my gaze fixed on the dirt beneath my feet, regretting everything. “It shouldn’t matter to you.” I replied flatly. The odd thing was that I meant it. Marina was from the other side of town. We could both be killed just for talking, let alone spending time together.

"Making my boss happy matters to me," I answered, lying straight through my teeth. "I can't afford to have him upset."

(Sorry! I fell asleep early!)

“Then get out of here.” I hissed, regret forming a knot in my stomach.

(Don’t worry about it, I’m glad you got rest!)

His words hit me like a slap in the face. A knot formed in my throat, my gut twisted painfully.

Why did this hurt so much?

“Gladly,” I snapped in response, using anger as a defense. “Guess you don’t want your phone back. Have a nice life.”

I turned and walked away without another word.

(Just got out of work! I love the M&M angst lol)

I sank back onto the bench, an unfamiliar ache forming in my chest. I stayed there for awhile, curled up with a book and ignoring the twisting pain in my gut.

(XD
How was work?)
(Skip?)

Unknown POV

I stood in front of his bathroom vanity, carefully running a comb through my hair. The fluffy brown strands frizzed in rebellion, and for the hundredth time that day, I began to wonder if I should’ve put up more of a fight against my father. But to be honest, my mother was the real puppeteer behind it all. As per usual, Veronica was the one who insisted I married into the mafia family in order to stable our ties with the others, and since the Capulets had a daughter, here I was.

I gave up on combing my hair, instead getting gel and smoothing it back with a quiet sigh. In a half hour I’d be ushered into a fancy limousine and shipped over to the Capulet house for dinner. Veronica had ordered guards outside my door and windows so I couldn’t run off beforehand and embarrass her. It’s going to be a long night.

I was reciting lines from the practice script I'd been handed for my upcoming audition when the bedroom door flew open.

Angelo.

I flinched backwards, body going rigid at the sight of him. But he paid no attention to me, only rushed over to my wardrobe. Frowning, I watched him dig through my dresses…..what on earth was he up to now?

"Wear this," he barked gruffly, tossing a scarlet gown over to my side of the room. "And put on makeup. You've got an hour."
My brows drew together in confusion. Had we been invited to some kind of spur-of-the-moment gala? But my father's next words shocked me to the core.

"Paris is on his way."

Ten minutes later I was in a tux, struggling to successfully put on a bow tie. My mother waltzed into the room without knocking, effectively scaring me. “Ma!” I whined as she pinched me cheeks and shooed me over to a full length mirror, trying to bow tie around my neck just a smidge to tight.

“Bello!” She announced, ignoring my complaints. “We’re leaving soon, Tesoro. Get your things.” Veronica left the room, slamming my door. I flinched at the noise and stared in the mirror. I didn’t even look like myself. Hair slick with gel, blue in the face from this bow tie, stinking of cologne and shame.

I shied away from the mirror, getting my phone and checking it for messages. There were none. I don’t know why I expected one of my friends to care enough about my to check on me out of school. They never did anyways. Not unless they needed something from me. I shut it off and walked out of the room, the door shutting with a gentle click behind me.

My father slammed the door shut behind him, punctuating my death sentence. No— Tears were falling down my cheeks before I'd fully registered his words, a full-fledged panic attack crashing down on me. No–Anything but that—

I crumpled the dress into a ball, pressed it against my mouth to stop each choked whimper from slipping out. Paris. My future husband—I couldn't do this. Romeo…

I felt numb. The odds of me getting a girlfriend were slim to none. It wasn’t like I had someone to worry about. I’ve always been too shy in school to stand out to anyone. But still. My future wife? The words just sounded wrong in my head. I’d always sort of had a fantasy that I’d meet a girl at one of my boxing matches. A fan or something. And I’d just know as soon as she smiled at me, with the crowd roaring behind us, that she would be the one I married. Not another pretentious mafia girl. Someone who’d sooner shoot me after we got married and just take the money and run.

(Thanks, Joy
British I’m sorry I wasn’t on, my dad found my phone in my room and took it away! I’m here now, promise)

My hands shook so badly that I could barely get the dress on. I fumbled with the zipper, trapping broken whimpers in my throat, blinking away the stupid tears that threatened to fall. Why was I crying? I’d been crying way too much lately… why?

The answer was clear even to me. I’d held back tears for too long, and now that Romeo had been added to the equation…. And I didn’t even have the time to send him a text. I’m sorry…I’ll tell you everything on Monday…

It took a while before I was steady enough to do my own makeup, and even then it kept smudging. Eventually, I gave up and called for a maid, who prattled on and on about how lucky I was while she did my eyeliner. By the end of it all, I didn’t look like myself anymore.

(I’ll post a picture of the dress when I find one)

(It’s totally okay! I’m glad your back!)

My father gave me a silent, approving nod before heading to the limousine. It was quiet outside. Or maybe it wasn’t and I just couldn’t focus.

Hardwood floors. Concrete. Pavement. Fabric.

I was being mindlessly herded into the back, where my hand glided over the seat. I didn’t put on my seatbelt until my father snapped at me to do so. The engine started up, and suddenly we were moving. I wish I could get lost in my thoughts. Be somewhere, anywhere else.

But the present held an icy grip around my throat, and it didn’t intend on letting go anytime soon.

(thanks! how're you?)
(https://www.pinterest.ca/pin/778911698031559275/ « that's her dress, except a few inches longer in the rp)

I stood straight-backed in the dining room while my father circled me, tweaking a few factors of my appearance. I went rigid each time his fingers brushed my skin, whether it was to tug a carefully curled lock of hair from the half-up do the maid had procured, or to tighten the ribbon around my waist.

"Good," he said curtly, tilting my chin up with the crook of his finger. "You are to behave accordingly, do you hear? A future trophy wife. Make me proud."

It was all I could do not to take off in the opposite direction.

( l m a o
but yes, agreed)