hey if you dont mind “when was the last time you ate?” w/ mercutio maybe??? or anyone else you want to do (also im in lov with all your writing youre so great 10/10)
Benvolio hesitates when he sees Mercutio, and it makes him feel awful. Mercutio is his best friend, they’ve been through so much together, and now that Mercutio needs his best friend Benvolio hesitates? But there is something different about Mercutio now, something that puts Benvolio on edge. It’s been a week since they last saw each other, back when Mercutio had been escorted away by his uncle, and he can’t escape the feeling that something has deeply changed in that time.
Of course something has changed. Mercutio’s brother died.
Benvolio curses at himself and ignores the bad feeling, walking over to where Mercutio silently sits and watches the guests milling through his house. The funeral has just ended, and Benvolio would have thought Mercutio would be surrounded by people. Instead it seems like everyone is avoiding him. Frankly Benvolio can’t blame them.
“Hey,” he says softly as he sits down on the sofa next to Mercutio.
Mercutio only glances at him with empty eyes, then looks away again. He looks pale, haggard somehow even though his appearance is perfectly put together. There are dark circles beneath his eyes and Benvolio wonders if he’s managed to sleep since the incident happened. He wants to reach out and hug his friend, but he thinks of Mercutio’s eyes, shudders, and keeps his hands to himself.
“You don’t, uh, seem too well,” he says instead, lamely, looking down on his hands. “When was the last time you ate? Or slept?”
Mercutio shrugs, a quick, jerking movement. Benvolio wishes that Romeo was there; he is much better at getting to Mercutio when he is in one of his strange moods. But Romeo is sick, couldn’t even get up from his bed when Benvolio left him earlier.
“Isn’t there someone to help you, I don’t know, to deal with- with everything?” Benvolio makes a broad gesture with his arm, then lets it fall to his side. Mercutio isn’t responding to him, isn’t even looking at him, and he doesn’t know what to do or say. He sighs, heavily. “You know Val wouldn’t want you to stop caring about yourself this way.”
“It doesn’t matter what he wanted or not,” comes Mercutio’s voice, so soft that Benvolio first thinks he has misheard. “He’s dead. They killed him. He’s gone, and so it isn’t possible for him to want anything. The dead are dead.”
Benvolio looks around in panic, trying to think of something, anything, to say. From what he knows the investigation into the hit and run is still ongoing, and they don’t have any clue who drove the car that hit Valentine. But the tone of Mercutio’s voice is strange, so devoid of anger or- anything, really. It makes the hair on Benvolio’s neck rise, but he refuses to acknowledge it.
“Maybe,” he says finally, “but there are still people living, people who love you and who don’t want to see you like this.”
Mercutio is silent, unmoving next to Benvolio, then he rises and looks down on Benvolio, and those eyes freezes him to the core. It’s like Mercutio is someone else, someone he doesn’t know, and the way Mercutio tilts his head gives Benvolio the image of a bird considering a bug it’s about to eat.
“Then they shouldn’t watch,” Mercutio says simply and walks away. Benvolio is left behind, sweating and staring at a his back and feeling like he has been told something important, something vital. Something he shouldn’t forget.
I said it in the tags of the last post but I’m laughing because instead of giving Amami cool new art like everyone else they just zoomed in on a sprite, put on the appropriate filter, and called it a day
“who the hell did this to you?” with Merc and Paris (and Val)? I'm in a Escalus-fam mood apparently
Mercutio closed the door behind him as carefully as he could. Hopefully no one would still be awake, and even if there might still be servants or guards around he would be able to make them stay silent. The guard stationed outside the door had only sighed heavily when he spotted Mercutio.
The way to his room was slow, especially with his limp, but at least he didn’t meet anyone. Every part of his battered body ached with every step, but Mercutio bit his tongue and focused on his task. As soon as he was in his room he could fall into his bed and sleep. It would all be better the next day, and he would have been able to come up with a fitting lie by the time he had to face his uncle. Considering the shape he was in it would have to be a spectacularly good one this time.
“You finally see it fit to return home?”
It was close that his leg gave out as he stumbled, but Mercutio managed to keep standing by leaning on the wall. He closed his eyes and cursed silently, while at the same time thanking God for who had caught him. At least it wasn’t Valentine or his uncle.
“Paris, cousin,” he said, pouring as much tiredness into his voice as he could manage, and leaning more heavily on the wall. It was dark, and Paris’ candle shouldn’t be strong enough to show how badly off Mercutio really was. “If I woke you up I deeply apologize, but won’t you please find mercy in yourself to let me beg your forgiveness tomorrow instead? I am tired and my head aches—I fear I have drunk a bit too much tonight. I will make whatever amends you see fit tomorrow.”
Paris scoffed and came closer, and Mercutio hid his face, pretending the light was too strong. Hoping Paris would fall for it.
“You know uncle invited the Capulet family to dinner tonight, where we would breach the subject of my marriage to the lord’s daughter. It was important, and the whole family was supposed to be there. You included.”
Mercutio rolled his eyes but held back the scathing words he wanted to send Paris’ way. As though everything regarding him was so damn important. Instead he sighed and waved a hand in Paris’ direction, talking a few steps forward. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You can tell me how it went tomorrow, and I’ll apologize again, and I’ll make it up to you in some way.”
Paris made a frustrated noise and walked fasted, stopping in front of Mercutio. “You’re not listen- what have you done? You’re- who the hell did this to you?”
Mercutio sighed and stopped trying to hide, just pushed past Paris’ gaping form and limped away. Soon Paris came after him, repeating his questions in a worried tone that made Mercutio’s heckles rise. “It’s nothing. Just a little fight, you know how it goes. Or maybe not, since respectable Paris never visited a lowly tavern. Whatever. Get out of my way.”
Paris refused to move, staring at him with intent eyes. It made Mercutio more conscious of how he might look than he liked, but he had discovered he needed the wall to keep his balance. The night really hadn’t gone at all according to how he had planned.
“A little fight. Are you honestly expecting me to believe that? I have seen you after fighting in the street over and over, and you’ve never looked like this. Cutio, tell me what happened.”
“It’s none of your business, so let it be. I can take care of myself,” Mercutio spat but realized it had been the wrong thing to say when Paris’ face took a determined look. “Come on, no-”
Paris didn’t listen to his protest and grabbed his arm, raising his voice in a shout that would surely rouse most of the palace. “Someone call for a physician!”
Mercutio groaned, but he didn’t have any choice but to lean against Paris, heavier than he liked to. He had to think of a good explanation, and that fast. Even if no one would believe him he wouldn’t tell them the truth.
If worse came to shove he could always hope his uncle throttled him.