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

(aw, poor bb)

The bell rang, and for the first time in the past few days, the sound made me flinch, which caused Joe, Marina, and the rest of the group, who were gathered around me, to blink at me in shock. I exhaled slowly and got to my feet, slipping between Jamie and Andreas to get to the doors.

I pushed through the heavy crowd to my locker, but my foot snagged on an uneven tile. I caught myself before I stumbled, but in the process of doing so, my eyes latched on a very familiar shape.
Romeo?

Just as quickly as they'd found them, I was tearing them away and fixing them to my combination lock. I couldn't be caught looking at Romeo. Especially not by him.

“Fuck you.” I spat at my locker, glaring at the metal doors. I had no idea what the combination was. It wasn’t worth the fight. Since when do I even look at my books in class? I shot one last glare at it before retreating, my bag still slung over my uninjured shoulder. I kept my eyes on the ground, dragging my feet on the way to precalc in defeat. I kept my head low, unwilling to deal with anyone at the moment. Mercutio eventually appeared at my side, but thankfully remained silent since he understood my injuries the best.

I had PreCalc first thing… Fantastic. Math at nine in the morning, Romeo and Mercutio in the class with me, a set of barely covered bruises in plain view. This day really couldn't get any worse, could it?

I kept my back straight and my chin up the whole way to class, staring straight ahead while lighting a false fire in my eyes, one hopefully good enough to fool everyone around me. When I arrived, just in time to hear my name called from the attendance, I didn't glance in the direction of Romeo a single time, only made my way to an empty seat across the room from him.

I couldn’t focus the entire class, my eyes on Juliet. She looked… bruised. At that infuriated me to a whole other level. I rounded on a Mercutio but he insisted no Montague was behind the attack. I didn’t buy it, but there was only one way to find out. I had drama with Juliet lunch period, and I knew we were the only two that had that lunch. I had to find out what happened. But I had to wait. It was going to be a long day…

The day wore on. I spoke little, glared a lot, kept my chin up. No one bothered me, except for Marina and Joe, who's bothering was welcome. But eventually, the looming threat of lunch arrived… and there was nothing I could do about it. So I took my time getting to Drama, arriving just in time for my name to be called for the roll call—but another issue had arisen. There was a seating plan on the board. And my spot was next to Romeo's.

Slowly, I walked towards it and sat down, avoiding his eyes as I set my notebook on the desk.

“Hey.” I breathed softly, my cast resting on the table between us. I had made sure to get the left desk that way she wouldn’t have to reach over if she were to draw on my cast. Her defeated posture ruined me, and if I wasn’t in so much pain, I would’ve tried to hug her. But instead all I could do was silently will her to make eye contact, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Hey," I echoed, though my voice was as hard and flat as I could make it in my current state, holding no trace of hope like his. But even so, I knew how evident it would be to him that I was not myself. I could only shake my hair in front of my face to mask the largest of my bruises—other than the ones on my throat, of course.

Every internal alarm I had went off immediately. “I know you’re not going to tell me what happened, but can I at least see your face?” I asked quietly, keep my voice low and gentle. “I need someone to mock me for my dorky glasses.” I added on, trying to coax her into looking at me. My heart now felt as though it was being wrenched from my chest. Seeing Juliet like this was incredibly worse than being rejected.

I wanted to curl into a little ball on the floor and never get up again. I wanted to stand up and leave, just like that, ride the bus to Greg's. But I didn't. I only stoked the false fire in my eyes and turned my head to look at him, unflinchingly, unwaveringly. After a beat of silence, I exhaled slowly and opened my mouth to speak, then closed it again and lowered my gaze back to my notebook.

I bit down on my lip, my eyes watering. “Fuck.” I hissed in frustration. The physical pain was already too much, and my parents refused to give me an pain killers besides the occasional Advil. But this? This right now? It shook to me my core in a way I didn’t think was possible. “I’m sorry.” I muttered, dipping my head as well. “I don’t know if I caused this— or who did this, but I’m so, so sorry.”

His words, so soft and sympathetic, hit me harder than my father ever could. Fuck. No. I didn't need this, didn't need him complicating my life more than he already had. Everything hurt too much to be bearable with a sizeable helping of Romeo Montague on the side. So I squeezed my eyes shut, tightened my grip on my pen, and when I opened them again, they were hard and unyielding.
"Don't be."

It came out as less of a growl and more of a snarl, the effect largely ruined by the way my voice cracked on the last word. "Let's just work on the project."

I flinched, not at her tone, but at the painful crack at the end of her sentence. “You don’t have to talk to me… I-I know you don’t want to…” I rejected the whole speech I had planned during the day, demanding she tell me what was wrong. I didn’t have the strength to cause anymore damage. This was agonising on so many levels. “But… But my cast. I’m uh… I’m not asking you to sign in, since, you know. But I was thinking, maybe you could draw on it? Instead of your jeans this time..? I can just work on Alessandro while you do that. And we don’t have to say anything. Would that be okay?” My sentences sounded desperate and pleading in nature. I was literally begging her to draw on my cast, just above kissing her shoes begging at this rate.

He was asking me to do what?? Shock spread like a wildfire across my features before I managed to smother it.
"Romeo." I hated how… finished I sounded. "Do you seriously think that would be a good idea with people watching?"
How could he even consider that as a possibility?? Did he have no concept of what war between mafia families meant??

“Everyone’s working on their projects, I doubt they’ll care.” I murmured back. “If they’re taking about anything, it’s how I vanished for about a week and came back with my shit absolutely wrecked. I’ve heard the rumours. They all think it was you or Tybalt anyways. I’ve been telling people it was you. I refuse to let Tybalt enjoy that.” I scrunched up my nose in disgust. “So what do you say?”

"I say no." I kept my eyes glued to the paper, my voice low so that only he could hear it. "You're an idiot if you think no one will care. Everyone in this room will care. Marina will care. Joe will care. My father will care. I will care. My life is complicated enough without all this. We're not friends. We can't be friends. Stop acting like there are any other possibilities."

Why did I feel like I was about to cry? In the middle of drama class? In front of Romeo Montague?
"My dad is mad enough at me already. So just stop." Swallowing hard, I stood, and left the class to go to the washroom.

(why did it hurt me to write that?)

I bit my lip hard, unwilling to show vulnerability in front of my classmates. I rested my head against the desk, my breathing growing unstable. It was her father who did this to her. Broken her spirit like the shitbag he was. Fuck this war. Hell to all of it. Anything that ruined lives like this was wrong. But how was I supposed to stop it? Rat out my father to the cops? Half the cops in this city were already corrupted. Running away was an option, but I couldn’t bear to leave Mercutio and Juliet behind to suffer. I’d lose everything. My family, my friends. I wouldn’t finish high school so I’d never find a job… Maybe that was the solution? Finish high school and then run away like a coward?

As soon as the stall door was locked behind me, I just… broke. Tears, an ocean full of them, poured from my eyes despite the fact that they were squeezed shut, my shaking hands muffling the choked sobs that escaped every few seconds. I pressed my back to the wall, trying to stop myself, trying to rein in the shitstorm of emotions raging inside of me, but my attempts crumbled to dust.

I felt like a cracked vessel, something broken to be cast aside just like Angelo had. I felt broken, and finished, and defeated, and done with everything. There were the bruises decorating my body like some sort of twisted medals from a battle I had never wanted to fight in. There was the fact that my father wanted to marry me off at eighteen right after I finished school. There was the assignment that he'd handed me yesterday. And on top of it all, there was Romeo Montague.

Fuck everything was all I could take away from the situation. Mr. Rizzo had even asked if I wanted to see the nurse. I declined, choosing to suffer and wait for Juliet. I couldn’t go home and face my parents right now. I was weak and useless to them. I never wanted to be apart of this. My father knew that. Yet still he trained me for it. But now that I had allowed myself to get injured? Well, forget about me then, right? Because he wasn’t concerned for me. All I am is damaged property right? He could choose to wait until I was fixed, or discard me and take the loss. The best part was that I don’t think he’s even decided! He might show up at any moment and end me! What could I do about it? Nothing!

(why did it hurt me to write that?)

(I’m in physical pain from writing this too send help)

(afsgdhfjgkhjl same why do we do this to ourselves)

I still remembered exactly what Angelo had said to me yesterday when he'd pressed the file into my hand.
"You're ready."
I had never known two words could hurt that much. You're ready. He thought I was ready. To hold a gun in my hand, to press it against someone's forehead and pull the trigger. To watch the blood as it splattered over the pavement. He thought I was ready.
And there was nothing I could do about it.

After a good five minutes, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, having emerged from my stall to furiously scrub my face clean of tears. I couldn't return to class in a state like this—everyone would know I'd been crying. But eventually, my puffy, red eyes calmed, my features hardened once more, my hands grew still. And as soon as that happened, I was slipping away, back into the class, back into the dark. I sat down in my seat without a word, without a glance at Romeo.

I couldn’t look up at Juliet, everything aching. I was suffering from some kind of sensory overload, my skin paled. My hands clammy and shaky. I squeezed my eyes shut, my head pressed against the cool desk, trying to block out the lights. The sounds. What if he did it? Killed me? Mercutio might care. Nobody else would. Juliet would probably celebrate that the biggest nuisance in her life was gone. I wouldn’t have a real grave, that was for sure. The mental image of my own funeral were cripplingly graphic. My father and mother the only ones present. My mother would take her blade. Carve the word traitor across my lifeless chest. My father tossing me into a tub of wet cement without a single tear. Doing the honours by covering me with the rest before dumping the solid block at a construction sight somewhere. No one would even know. They’d just assume. Maybe that was the worst part…

(I think I might cry oml Romeo)

Romeo didn't try to speak with me, didn't make any attempts at interaction. I allowed myself to be grateful for five whole seconds, then snuck a glance at him through my curtain of hair……. and all of a sudden, I was falling apart again. He looked so…. broken. He looked exactly like I had felt just a few minutes ago, biting back sobs in the last stall of the girl's washroom.

Being carved up by his family…. he must have been through hell and back before he returned to school. Absolute living hell. And now, he was just as afraid as I was. When I'd come into class, and he'd seen me…. Romeo had said he was sorry. I hadn't said a single word to address his situation, to address what he'd been through…….. because I couldn't. I was afraid, yes, but after my current assignment, Angelo would give me another one. And another one. And eventually, he would hand me a file with Romeo's name stamped across the top in ink as red as blood and I would have to do it. It was him or me—if no bullet went through Romeo's head, my father would put one through mine. So I couldn't afford to befriend him, and he couldn't afford to befriend me. But the sight of him, so lifeless, trying to keep himself together…. it put a crack right down my decimated carcass of a heart.

So I waited until no one was looking. I shifted my chair closer. I picked up my fallen pen, and began to draw a rose on his cast.

((You just RUINED me omfg))

I flinched at the scraping sound of the chair moving closer, but seconds later I felt something on my arm. My injured arm. But it didn’t hurt, and my overactive senses picked up on the gliding movement. I opened up my eyes and shakily lifted my head to see Juliet drawing a single rose on my arm. And I immediately broke down in tears. Silent tears. In front of the entire fucking class like the idiot I am. I willed myself to stay as still as possible, hiding my face while Juliet drew so she didn’t have to see me cry.

(you ruined me first!!)

Panic welled up inside of me—what the hell was I doing?? With everyone watching?? My hands began to tremble, causing one petal of my rose to come out sloppier than the rest. But it was too late to stop. Inhaling shakily, I continued to draw, struggling to keep my expression neutral. That particular battle, I failed, just as I failed to keep my eyes away from Romeo's face.

He was crying. Actual tears. In the middle of class, while I drew on the cast of his injured arm.
I had never seen a Montague cry before. I'd never touched a Montague before, not in a way that wasn't intended to cause harm.

I didn't know how to comfort him, didn't know why comforting him was even an option at this point, and the sight of his tears only wore me down further. So I tore my eyes away and kept on drawing roses until his whole cast was covered in careful line art. Then, I drew back, fixed my eyes to my notebook, and read over my notes as if nothing had happened.

((I’m actually on the verge of tears, holy shit why))

I wanted to hug Juliet as tight as I could, but that would take too much strain, physically and emotionally. Instead I let the feather light touch of her pen soothe me. I slowly calmed down, feeling flower after flower inked onto my arm. By the end I was more shaking than crying. I felt her pull away after she finished, leaving me to cope with my unstable breathing. God, I felt so drained. So exhausted. I could just pass out right here. And I did about five minutes later, having successfully cried myself to sleep in the middle of drama.

Psh, and Juliet said I’d be bad at drama? If this isn’t dramatic I don’t know what is.

( s a m e
holy shit are we only on page 16??)

His breathing had changed, so I took that to mean he was asleep. I did nothing for the rest of the class but read my notes, over and over again, barely blinking, barely breathing. I had no other way to cope with the colossal fucking mess of emotions balled up inside of me, tangled like the string of a kite that was never meant to be set free.

The bell rang after what seemed like a millennia. I snuck a glance at the other students in the room, but none of them seemed particularly surprised. Maybe…. no one had seen?
Oh thank god.
I could have cried from relief, but I'd done too much of that already. After everyone else had filtered out of the class, I shook Romeo awake. All I could bring myself to say was "If anyone asks, you drew the roses," before I left the room, pace measured, footsteps soft.

(That honestly seems impossible, but yes)

I awoke to Juliet, shaking my shoulder. I lifted my head, disorientated at being woken up so suddenly. I blinked and nodded at her words, but she had already left. I sluggishly grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder. I couldn’t stop staring at my arm. How was I supposed to? A garden of roses was stretched out across it, far more beautiful than the wilted one I planned to give Juliet a week ago. I stumbled out of class, still emotionally drained. But I could feel my heart beating. This was proof I couldn’t give up yet. Proof I had something left to fight for. Proof I had something left to live for.

(welp)
(Romeo, stop making me cry, goddammit)

I could barely function throughout the whole of lunch. While my friends chatted and laughed around me, I only stared numbly at my uneaten meal, thoughts wild. Marina sat next to me, the side of her arm pressed against mine as a silent show of solidarity. Eventually, my spinning head got the better of me, and I leaned against her shoulder, rubbing at my itchy, red-rimmed eyes.

"Juliet?" Joe ventured tentatively for the third time in the past half hour. I only lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug and cast my eyes downwards. Words couldn't explain the void that had opened up in me, so I didn't bother trying, didn't bother speaking at all. I could barely care enough to breathe every few seconds, and when Andreas reached over to offer me a chocolate bar, I shook my head.

"You know, you can all stop treating me like I'm a wounded puppy." It was the first thing I'd said since I'd left Romeo behind in the drama classroom, and it had an immediate effect on the group. Everyone's eyes widened slightly, and Matteo took the silence as an opportunity to speak. "Juliet… you can't blame us for being worried. You haven't acted like this since….." He didn't need to finish the sentence.

"Since my mother died?"

(Its all payback for Juliet making me cry lmao)

I sat at a table full of football players. Well, at the very end of the table with Mercutio shielding me from most of them. After a chorus of “what happened, man? Are you gonna be at our games still?” I forced myself to speak up.

“It was Juliet. Saw her outside school. Didn’t expect a girl to wail on me so hard. Snapped my arm like a twig. Head thing was insane. I was doing some training with one of my cousins after the fight. Recover some pride, you know? And he tackles me! My head slammed into a rock! There was blood everywhere!” I faked excitement as I told the story. To be honest, I felt like I wanted to throw up. I’d only eaten a few bites of the school pizza, and that was because Mercutio was forcing me to.

“And what’s with the roses?” Someone at the other end of my table sneered. I traced one of the roses on my cast with my finger fondly.

“My girlfriend drew them. She doesn’t go here. Her name’s Aurora. She uh… came to visit me in the hospital, spent the whole day at my bedside trying to take care of me. You know how chicks are.” My voice softened, already caught up in the fantasy of Juliet at my side in the hospital. Worried. Concerned. Safe. It was a little too much for me to handle at the moment.