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

Started February 05, 2019 by @blue_topaz

tune

It had been a really long day. Anxiety gnawed a hole through my stomach. I’d spent last night venting to Romeo, but it wasn’t enough. My parents were going to kill me for losing my phone to a Capulet. I’d be black and blue for weeks. All it would take is one missed call or text and that would be it.

Now I was hunched behind a dusty desk in detention, my eyes glued to a sheet of blank paper in front of me. I had a history paper to write, but my violently shaking hand above the page refused to move. I could feel the looming pressure of an oncoming attack. All I could do was try to ignore it and deescalate myself.

Juliet had been calling and texting me all through the night, worried sick. I’d finally responded….. at four in the morning, and we’d had a lengthy conversation where I spilled half of the whole Mercutio situation and she confessed her fears after the dinner with Paris.

But now, I was stuck in detention with the cause of my confusion, forced to sit in the desk directly beside him. My eyes flickered sideways, trying to gage his reaction to my proximity, but I was shocked to see how utterly destroyed he looked, his trembling hand keeping him from his work. Before I knew what I was doing, I was pressing the side of my leg against his, a silent gesture of comfort.

I swallowed the growing lump in my throat, taking short, shaky breaths as a poor attempt to stay calm. She was right next to me. The girl ruining my life sat right to me. As I blinked tears out of my eyes, I felt her leg press against mine. I assumed it was an accident, but she didn’t jerk away. I don’t know what it was supposed to mean, but I took comfort in it the best I could, gripping my pencil until my knuckles turned white in order to stabilize my hand, which didn’t work.

I glanced over at his hands, which were trembling violently. “Hey…” Leaning over his assignment, I took his wrist into my hands and began to rub my finger against the base of the thumb. “Relax, let your hands shake. Deep breaths.”

At this point, I was letting my bullshit emotions take the reins, too tired to particularly care about how stupid I was being. “Slow breaths..

The nightmare herself was comforting me, but I couldn’t afford to care. I silently obeyed, dropping my pencil on the desk and trying to force my shoulders to relax. I could feel everything welling up in my chest, only my gritted teeth keeping the mess of emotions from escaping.

Honestly, I was surprise that he was actually acknowledging me… somewhat. I continued to run at the base of his thumb, biting my lower lip.

She was probably recording this to use against me. Planning on ruining my life in some other way. I wrapped my shaky hand around hers, desperate for any feeling of pressure that might force my errant soul back into my chest for the time being. I could hear my labored breathing out loud, along with my heart pounding sickeningly loud in my ears.

My body went rigid. My eyes glued themselves to our now-intertwined hands. “What—What are you doing?” I asked shakily, but I didn’t pull away.

I squeezed her hand faintly, registering that she was talking, but not the words she was saying. “Fuck…” I wheezed, my voice hardly above a whisper.

Mercutio was clinging to my hand like I was his lifeline, and it absolutely terrified me. The moment someone peered through the window and saw us like this, Angelo would put a bullet through my head. But what scared me more was the fact that Mercutio was holding my hand like I mattered to him. And I wasn’t pulling away.

“Mercutio?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper.

”Please. Shut up.” I managed a quiet snark that sounded a lot more like a whimper than I wanted it to. My voice cracked with instability as I started to sniffle in order to defend against a flood of tears.

(Have fun/good luck!)

And for some unknown reason, I did.

We sat there, his hand gripping mine, neither of us daring to speak up. But the unspoken question hung between us—what the fuck was he doing and why?

I don’t know how long it took. Five minutes? Ten? Fifteen? My breathing finally started to even out and I could feel the color returning to my face. I held fast onto Marina’s hand, afraid of the conversation that would happen as soon as I let go.

(Back!)

(Hey! How was it?)

Slowly but surely, his breaths grew less erratic, his rigid posture softening. But he kept tight hold of my hand, almost as if he was……. afraid?

"Mercutio?" I tried again, lowering my voice.

(Good! A little awkward, but exciting)

I flinched as she gently called my name and finally got the courage to release her hand. My pale, clammy fingers wrapped around my bag, yanking it rather ungracefully over my shoulder. I stood up abruptly, making a beeline for the door.

(I'm glad!)

Oh, no. There was no way in hell that I was letting Mercutio get away from me after what had just happened. I leaned forward and caught hold of his backpack, using it to pull him sharply back to me. "You don't get to leave without an explanation."

“Fuck off.” I hissed, trying to enlarge a flame that had been quenched. I didn’t bother to fight back, stumbling backwards and almost falling over.

"No," I told Mercutio bluntly, seating him back down. "I would like an explanation for why an ally of the Montague family just broke down while holding my hand."

But to my shock and horror, I found that I was actually concerned for him, that I cared about the answer he gave me. What was happening to me?

“So you can use that against me too? Hell no.” I croaked, my throat still raw from choking back sobs.

Bile rose to my throat. Is that all he thinks of me? A moment later, I was regretting the thought. Of course it is. It's all you've done in the past.

"I'm not going to use anything against you," I found myself promising in a soft tone of voice, despite the fact that even saying so screamed danger.

“I… I’m just about to be in some trouble.” I responded hesitantly, chewing my lower lip.

"Because….?" I prompted, bewildered by my own gentility.

“Because you have my phone.” I finished softly, feeling the bout of anxiety start to surge again from the recesses of my stomach.

(I have to go, but I'll be back as soon as possible)

Oh.

My mouth went dry. Of course, How had I not seen this coming?

"How—" I faltered, trying to piece together a coherent sentence. "How much trouble?"

(If I don’t respond later, I probably fell asleep!)

I didn’t respond, staring at the floor instead.

(got it! XD)

Shit.

This was bad—regretting a move against an opponent was one thing, but sympathizing with them and understanding their fears? That was a whole different ballgame. "How much?" I repeated, balling my free hand into a tight fist.

“I—“ I paused to take a shaky breath. “I don’t know yet. But my mother said she wanted to call me around five since she wouldn’t be home… I didn’t tell her. She’ll find out.”