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

Started February 05, 2019 by @blue_topaz

tune

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I sat alone at the back table in the public library. The section with all the plays. Shakespeare, Homer, etc. My notebook sat open on the table with our notes from class with my pen sitting idly on top of the page. But why was I, the great Romeo Montague, skipping football practice to struggle reading Macbeth in the back of this dusty wasteland? The answer was simple.

Guilt.

Juliet had been furious with me after I punched her boyfriend. Whether I liked it or not, she had every right to be mad. I didn’t get far from school before I turned around, forcing Mercutio to hand her a note asking if she would meet me here at five so we could work on this stupid project. She agreed. So here I was, my jaw still aching from earlier.

Why am I reading Macbeth? Good question. If I’m going to be somewhat useful, I have to figure out what I’m doing. It was a struggle to say the least. I had ripped out an extra piece of paper specifically for deciphering the garbled nonsense Shakespeare seemed to spit out every other sentence. I checked it out of the library when I first got here an hour ago at 4. I told Juliet to meet me at five, so she should be coming in soon. I’ll shove Macbeth in my bag when she comes. I don’t want her to know I have to study just to talk to her. It has to seem effortless. My earbuds were in as well, playing the same song Juliet had me listen to in class yesterday, the volume turned down low so I could hear Juliet coming.

For now though, I had tried to make myself more comfortable and crammed myself into the chair by curling up in it. Macbeth and my translate notes pressed up against my knees.

(Lol yeah)

I arrived at the imposing red brick building just after five, my hands balled into fists and shoved into the pockets of my thin black jacket. Why on earth was I doing this? Why on earth had I agreed to meet Romeo Montague at the library after he’d punched one of my closest friends and insulted my mafia family’s honour?

There were two answers to that question: Marina, and the situation with my father. Marina had insisted that it would be a vital to making Romeo pay for everything. My father had no idea about both the project and the Romeo situation…. though I knew that I’d have to tell him soon enough. After this whole marriage business blew over…. For now, I just needed to get out of the house before I threw up.

I felt sick as I forced my legs to carry me into the library, my gut twisting with nausea. One problem at a time…. I told myself, forcing a blank expression into my features. And the problem I needed to focus on right now was actually finding my idiotic partner in the huge building before me.

It took roughly twenty minutes for me to sweep the whole goddamm thing, but I finally found him near a Shakespeare section, curled up in an armchair. I said nothing as I approached him, only dropped my bag on the floor and kneeled down next to it, seething with rage.

I tensed a bit as Juilet came over, sliding Macbeth discreetly into my bag. I took out my earbuds, already on edge. I silently asked myself why the hell I was doing this. To be honest I expected her to pull out a weapon from her bag and do me in right here.

“Hey.” I greeted, my voice sounded a lot softer than I intended it to. I cleared my throat to cover it up and sat up straight in the chair. She was obviously angry. Furious even. I was going to have to approach this whole situation with extreme caution. As far as my parents were concerned, I was going from practice to a clinic to make sure none of my wounds were infected. Practice usually went from five to six, so I had plenty of time to spare. Chances are she was going to injure me further anyways.

I pulled my legs into criss-crossed position and lifted my head, looking him squarely in the eye, daring him to even try and look away. My fury was definitely there, coiled up like a snake ready to strike, but it was as if my father had wrapped an invisible hand around his neck to keep it exactly where it was. I could still remember his exact words the moment I'd arrived home from school….

Paris. His name was Paris. Wealthy family, Sicilian mafia, his parents old partners in crime with mine. Those days were long past, but their son was only two years older than me….. I repressed a shudder, my balled fists the only sign of the nerves and dread wreaking havoc in my body and mind.

Realizing that I'd allowed my thoughts to drift, I brought them sharply back to the present. Still keeping eye contact with Romeo, I slid a leather-bound notebook from my bag. "Alright." My voice was hard, words pooling in my mouth like molten lava. "We've got an hour to work on this. Sometime between now and the end of this meet-up, you are going to tell me exactly why you punched one of my closest friends." It was not a question, nor a suggestion.

I stared back into Juliet’s eyes without complaint, watching her seem to struggle with repressing her anger. As soon as she spoke my face fell slightly. I could think of an excuse, yeah. That was no problem. But it was the way she phrased it. This meant one hour of interrogation, not quietly listening to music and relaxing in a comfy armchairs. I probably should’ve expected this though, and it was wishful thinking that caused me to ignore the problem at hand.

“He punched me first, and I don’t think I’d be allowed to go home if I didn’t retaliate. You know how it is Juliet.” I lied smoothly, still feeling pinned under her glare. “If your father came in right now would you not start a fight instantly to save yourself?” I asked, a little bitter about it myself. Granted I was lying, but… not really. Getting my ass kicked by Capulets on two consecutive days made for a shit track record and a worthless son.

I inhaled slowly, never breaking eye contact.
"He punched first, after you doused him in…. pudding, or whatever that was. You deserved it. And if my father walked in right now, the one thing I would do is sit back and watch you cower in fear before scampering away." Carefully, I opened my notebook, still not looking away from Romeo. "And I do know how it is, but I'm not sure you do. Why start the fight by trying to humiliate him, anyways?"

I knew the prolonged eye contact was a fear tactic. The problem was that it was working a little too well. I finally looked away, instinctually look around for Mercutio to help me cheat my way through this. But I was completely alone at the moment. No one but Juliet to seek help from, and she was most definitely not going to help me in this situation. “I don’t scamper.” I grumbled, trying to avoid answering the question. I needed to buy myself time to come up with an excuse. This seemed like a bad idea as a whole anyways.

“Well, this was fun. I was an idiot for thinking we could get some work done when we aren’t being forced to work together. See you tomorrow in class.” I leaned over and zippered up my bag, preparing to get the hell out of here. “I gotta get to practice too. Coach hates it when I miss them.” I continued to ramble, getting to my feet and shouldering my bag.

"Sit," I ordered, not about to take no for an answer. "You did not drag my ass all the way out here and make me search the building for twenty minutes to wimp out and run away. I fucking climbed out my bedroom window to get here, stop whining like a little bitch and sit." I reached over, grabbed hold of his backpack strap, and yanked it down. "Fine. I won't touch the subject of what you did to my friend until it's time to go. Let's work on this goddamn project."

I felt my face flush red, but I bit down on my lip, suppressing any noise. “Yeah, right. Your friend. I know we aren’t even supposed to interact, but you could at least try being honest?” I glared at Juliet , sitting on the very edge of the chair. “I’m not an idiot, you know. I have eyes.” I snapped, praying my blush would miraculously vanish.

Jealousy dropped from my voice like venom and I didn’t bother to disguise it this time. “If your friend can’t hold his own in a fight, he shouldn’t have gotten involved with you.” I added sourly, expecting to get slapped at any moment.

"Is that why you attacked him?" I shot back, not bothering to hide or disguise my fury. "Because you thought he was my boyfriend?" Of course, I already knew the answer, but I wasn't going to let that, or anything else, hold me back. "Well, idiot, he's not. And what are you trying to say? That I should only 'get involved', as you so expertly put it, with other people like my family? Is everyone doing their best to make sure that I end up with someone who benefits them?"

I hadn't meant to say the last part, but I kept going anyways, bitter words spilling from my mouth. "I guess you might as well just take away any freedom I have. Might as well hook me up with Joe. I'm already being fucking chained down by one part of my life, so piss off. You don't get to attack the people I care about."

“Why would I care if you had a boyfriend? I’m a Montague for Christ’s sake!” I hissed through gritted teeth. “Do whatever the fuck you want. Marry someone out of the family. Ruin their life with our bullshit laws too.” I raged, looking up to meet her eyes. It was like a punch in the face. How much this all sucked. “Do you even know why our families hate each other? Seriously, I’m asking. My father won’t even tell me, and I’m pretty fucking sure he just doesn’t remember anymore.” I ran my hands through my hair, leaning back against the armchair and gritting my teeth in frustration.

I froze, my passion and anger dissipating like water left out in the sun for too long. The blood drained from my face. My fists, loosened by the renewed trembling of my hands, fell into my lap. It was a long time before I spoke again, breaking the tense silence filling the spaces between us. "I don't want to talk about that." My voice came out a pained whisper—why couldn't I just get a grip? Pull on another poker face? "Let's just get this project over with."

I wanted to keep ranting about how unfair everything was, but I stopped instantly when I heard the change of tone in Juliet’s voice. I desperately wanted to comfort her, but I knew she wouldn’t appreciate me, of all people, seeing her like this. So I pretended I didn’t see it, sliding my phone onto the table, the earbuds dangling off the edge. “Your song is still there if you wanted to listen to that again, but otherwise you can change it.” I replied quietly, not wanting to push her. I put the earbuds in my ear, letting her decide. “I was uh… thinking about the setting. In Macbeth most of the story takes place in the castle, and I imagine it’ll be easier if we don’t have to change props around too often.”

I stared straight ahead, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees then covering the bottom half of my face with my hands. Of all the things to bring up in an argument…… it had to be that? My fire had left me, leaving me cold to the bone, repressing shivers, blinking rapidly before I did something as idiotic as crying. Even just the tiniest indirect mention of my mother's death had been enough to do this to me….. and though it made sense, given who it was coming from, I knew how wrong my reaction was. How weak.

"I—You can listen. I'm not in the mood for music," I answered quietly, letting out a breath I'd forgotten that I'd been holding. "Yeah. That makes sense. If the main character is—is a runaway teen, then we could do a lot of it on a generic street, I guess?"

I scribbled down the word ”street” on my paper before raising my eyes to meet Juilet’s. “I uh… I’m sorry for taking things too far earlier.” I murmured, unsure if that’s what she was sad about.

“I just— I don’t know how to put this and I didn’t expect to be doing this now, but I really like you okay? And I know that’ll probably get both of us killed if I keep acting on it. So I’ll stop.” I stared at the table, my face a furious shade of red. “And I know your friend Marina knows. I read your texts while we were in class, and I know I should’ve been minding my own business. But I didn’t think— I don’t think as often as I should.” I let out a soft groan and rested my head on the table. “And everything is shitty and awful and please don’t punch me too hard for admitting all that.”

Romeo's confession ripped through my daydream, jolting me back to life. However expected, it was…. startling, almost, to hear it from his own mouth. I was silent for a long time, using my black pen to doodle flowers on the cuffs of my jeans while I fished for an appropriate reply. Finally, I let my lips part to let through an answer, not looking him in the eye. "I'm not going to punch you. And you did take things too far, but that's not why I'm upset. Third, I know you saw the texts, I let you read them on purpose. And lastly, just………" Falling silent for another moment, I began to add details to the rose I'd just finished drawing. "Don't you dare touch my friends." It was said like a threat, but I had no energy left to put any conviction into it. "Or me," I added, almost as an afterthought. "Don't touch me, either."

“Not planning on it.” I snorted, finally gathering the courage to look up from the table. “Wait, you let me read the texts on purpose? You knew already?” I groaned in embarrassment, hiding my face. “Mercutio was right. God, he’s such an ass.” I stared at my notes blankly. “I can talk to Mr. Rizzo about getting you a new partner. We can just ignore each other from now on.”

I tried to contain my disappointment about having to avoid Juliet, but at the same time she didn’t deserve to be put in danger because I can’t control my emotions as well as I’m supposed to. “We can just forget this ever happened, right?”

"You weren't exactly being subtle about it," I muttered, just loud enough to be audible. This whole situation was drawing up an ocean of confused panic from my reserve of emotions—I couldn't be conversing with him like this. Casually, as if we were friends. This couldn't be happening, and I needed to do something in order to fix the whole ordeal, and fast. "I already spoke to him about getting a new partner after school. He declined," I continued, forcing a familiar drop of harshness into my tone. "So I'm stuck with you. And let's make one thing clear—that thing, a minute or so ago? Where I went quiet? That never happened. Do we understand each other?"

“Hold on, one more thing I should show you before we get back to stomping my heart out and all that fun stuff.” I picked up my phone, scrolling through my photos until I found the one from the party last night. “Once again, please don’t punch me, I have poor self control and that’s the only explanation for this that I can offer you.” I smiled sheepishly, sliding my phone over to her. “This probably doesn’t mean to much coming from me, but you looked really pretty in the dress. You have a nice smile too. I know you said that kid wasn’t your boyfriend, but you uh… you looked happy. With him, I mean. Which is why I thought, you know…” I let myself trail off, starting to get embarrassed all over again. It hurt to hear her tone get so icy so fast. This was a last ditch effort to change things, even if it was just for the remainder of this hour.

My eyes widened the moment I glimpsed the picture—but not in shock, in fear. "Delete that," I said as quickly as possible, panic seeping into my voice. I didn't have enough time to properly appreciate how unusually carefree I looked as dread flooded me, leaving me without a mask to hide my emotions with. "If that—If that gets back to my dad—he's going to kill Matteo." And I was surprised to find that I meant it literally, without exaggeration. Now that he'd formulated his plans for me, anyone who got in the way would be going down. And he'd always hated Matt anyways—I couldn't risk it. "He—Shit. Have you sent that to anyone??"

“No! God, no. I figured you’d kill me if it got out. Go ahead and delete it, I know you don’t trust me and I don’t want you to have to worry about it.” I pushed my phone towards her. “I take it your dad’s pretty protective of you. Must be nice.” I sighed, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling. This was just another reminder that going after Juliet would get me killed.

I deleted the picture as fast as humanly possibly, pushing the phone back into his hands and shoving my own back into my pockets. Breathe, I told myself, Matteo is going to be fine. After registering his question and properly processing everything he'd said before my frantic outburst, my face hardened. "No, it's not really nice to have a father who—" I cut myself off before I could finish the sentence, moving quickly past my idiotic slip-up. "And….. at the party……. the whole thing, on the dance floor was a dare. Of some sort. We wanted to see if…." I didn't bother finishing the sentence.