Mercutio’s POV
Monday mornings are and will always be the worst. But I find they’re especially awful when your Capulet allied cousin confronts you behind your school and attempts to stab you mercilessly to death before you’ve even had your morning coffee and tequila. It was Paris. My older cousin who I had always sort of looked up to, screaming bloody murdering about stealing the spirit away from his wife. He was mad— waving a knife around with bloodshot eyes that to,d me alcohol was likely a factor.
But now isn’t the time. for recollection. He thought I was dead. And… And I might be close to that. My body burned with pain, every slashed limb aflame with agony as I used the brick wall to heave myself to my feet. Blocking open my eyes was of no use now. My glasses had shattered somewhere on the ground during the fight. No one was here yet. I could pull this off.
It took what felt like years to stagger to my locker, pulling out gauze and duck tape and stumbling into the bathroom a few feet away to patch up my wounds. The ground swayed dangerously underneath my feet with each step. Don’t die. Don’t die. Don’t die. Mercutio fucking Escalus— don’t die.
I bit back screams as I wrapped parts of my arms and legs in gauze, sealing the wounds with duck tape. The worst was the gash on my stomach. Blood gushed out of it like a fountain, and I was almost certain that my own intestines were going to spill out of it. I threw up once or twice more blood than anything else spilling from my lips. I left the bathroom looking like a crime scene and changed into my gym clothes. I snagged a bottle of vodka I kept stored in the empty locker next to mine in case of an emergency. And right now, it was one. I couldn’t go home or get to a hospital— my parents would kill me. So I drank until it hurt less. More and more and more and more.
I numbly registered that the only reason I was so calm was that I was in shock. Shock, hell, it’s a real good drug if you ask me.
Marina's POV
Drunk Mercutio was never a particularly… fun thing to handle. Granted, he had confessed feelings for me while under the heavy influence of alcohol, but dealing with the absolute mess of emotions and lack of filter all while trying to fend off a panic attack—drunk men weren't exactly… my forte—was not something I enjoyed.
But the sight of him, dragging his feet as he trudged down the hallway while clearly on some sort of mood-altering substance was too much to bear. Sympathy and worry rushed at me from both sides, overwhelming me—–and the worst part was that I couldn't walk up to him. Not while we were in school.
Then I saw the blood. A crimson blotch staining the front of his gym shirt—the pained way he was walking—the hollow expression in his eyes—
My eyes widened in shock. Dread seeped through my bloodstream, infecting every thought, every action.
No. That's not possible.
"Mercutio?"
I slowed to a stop, grateful for the reprieve. “Marina?” I mumbled faintly, my labored breathing taking up most of the energy I had. I squinted, trying to identify which of the moving blurs around me was her.
Students were already filtering into their respective classrooms—there was barely anyone left in the hallway. But in all honestly, I didn't care anymore. Mercutio, my Mercutio, was hurt, and I was going to do whatever I could possibly do to patch him up.
Before he could react, I was grabbing hold of his arm and pulling him into the girl's bathroom, hands shaking. "What the hell happened?"
I stumbled after Marina, biting back a whine of pain. “Nothin’s wrong. Just slept on the wrong side of th bed.” I offered her a shaky grin. “We gotta get to class soon., I think I have a math test today.”
"No. I sucked in a sharp breath and hoisted him up onto the sink counter, rolling up his shirt with shaky fingers before he could protest.
My eyes landed on a gaping hole, on the crimson dribbling down his stomach and sides. "Oh my god—Oh my god—" Panic shot through my mind, erasing every coherent thought. "No–no—Mercutio, no—no, no, no, no, no, no." Mercutio was going to die—My boyfriend was going to die.
"I'm getting you to a hospital."
“Nah, I’m good. I can hardly feel it.” I wheezed softly, stretching out a violently shaky hand to hold hers. “I can hardly see you. My glasses… think Paris has them… it’s starting to get foggy already. Pretty crazy how fast alcohol works…”
"Paris?" My voice was loaded with rage and utter terror as I fumbled for my phone. "Juliet's asshole of a fiancé? What did he do to you?? Mercutio—talk to me. I–I have to know what to say to the person on the other side of this phone."
“Can we cuddle first?” I protested weakly, squeezing her hand with all the strength I had left. “It’s just a scratch…”
Tears were blurring my vision by now, distorting colours and shapes around me until the one thing I could focus on was the horrible wound, like a gruesome, gaping mouth. "Don't—"Don't say that," I choked out, and my phone slipped from my fingers. "How did this happen??"
“Pazza…” I murmured softly, straining to keep my eyes fixed on her face. “You worry too much.”
"You're dying," I cried out suddenly, scrambling to retrieve my phone form the floor. Fingers skittering anxiously across the screen, I released a tiny whimper. "You're drunk. And you worry too little. Do–Do you really have this little regard for your life?"
Finally, I managed to dial 911.
“At least I’m not gonna have to get my stomach pumped…” I snorted with laughter, which was followed back a sharp whimper that escaped my throat before I could stop it.
"911, what's your emergency?"
The whole story came out in a jumbled, panicked rush, tears streaming down my cheeks. The woman on the other side of the phone assured me that an ambulance was on its way—and I was on my own again.
"Mercutio. Phone. Now. What's your password?"
I fumbled for my phone, struggling to take it out of my pocket. “It’s… twelve… uh… zero, six, zero, one.” I held it out to her, almost dropping it.
I unlocked it and immediately went to the Phone app, where I selected Romeo’s number and raised the phone to my ear a second time. “Please pick up…”
I watched my girlfriend in a bit of a daze, trying my best to stay conscious. A faint, “Mercutio! Where are you, man?” From the phone told me Marina had called Romeo.
“Romeo—“ I nearly choked on a sob. “This is Marina—I’m with Mercutio—I need you to get over here. Now. He’s—I think he’s dying. An ambulance is on its way. We’re in the girl’s washroom. Please.”
I didn’t hear Romeo respond, but within a minute the bathroom door flung open so fast I thought it might tear off it’s hinges. “Hey…” I croaked, my eyes still fixed on Marina.
“Mercutio what the fuck?!” Romeo gasped, rushing over to Marina’s side.
His sloppily duct-taped bandages were coming undone, exposing more and more wounds. I thought I was going to throw up—but I was too busy crying and panicking. “I—I need help getting him to the front. I can’t be there when the ambulance comes—if it gets back to his parents, they might actually kill him. We can’t risk that.”
“I’ll stay with him, Marina.” Romeo assured her. Their words hadn’t yet sunk in yet, but as Romeo helped me off the counter, I latched onto Marina, determined to stick by her side.
“Hey, love, it’s okay…” I murmured, blinking rapidly as I gripped his shoulder. “You’re going to go with Romeo, okay? I—I’m going to be with you as long as I can, but—I need you to be strong for me, okay? Can you do that?”
“Don’t want you to leave.” I heaved softly, clinging to her. I refused to move, even as Romeo gave me a gentle tug in the opposite direction. “I… I want your face to be the last one I see…” I wheezed desperately cupping her cheek.
“Don’t talk like that..” I whispered, voice breaking. “Go with Romeo, love. Please. For me?”
“For you…” I managed a small croak. “I’ll see… see you again.” My voice cracked and fizzled out, dying in my throat.
“I can hear the sirens. We have to go.” Romeo was already slinging my arm over his shoulder, pulling me away from Marina.
”Pazza!” I made a last ditch effort to cling to her, crying out as my bloody hands slipped off her skin.
