closed: let them measure us by what they will

[bymyheelies]

Mercutio has always been fond of fashion. Specifically -- sparkly, colorful things, things his father would call gaudy or womanish. It is no wonder that arriving here was like a revelation, free to wear what he pleased and feel no judgment for it, whether it be a sparkly floor-length gown with fishnets and combat boots or a ratty Iron Maiden t-shirt and jeans. It is time, he has decided, that Benvolio gets to discover all this as well. Will he give Benvolio a choice in this? It is quite unlikely.

Therefore, it should be no surprise¹ to Benvolio that Mercutio appears at his door one morning, looking intent and not at all like he's mildly singed any eyebrows recently or anything like that. "Ho, art thou up?"

¹ Doubtful. Mercutio is always surprisingly chaotic, that's one of his charms.

Comments

[keep_the_peace]

The absurdity of that last bit comes as such a shock that Benvolio has to take an extra moment just to process what he heard. "Hate thee? Mercutio, thou art my closest friend, I could never hate thee. But -- Tybalt?" And then, because he can't get his brain to properly form any more sentences, he asks, "Why?"

[bymyheelies]

Mercutio has never been one to resist a joke for too long -- and he knows this is serious, but he cannot help himself. "Mayhap the Capulets have some enchantment or another," he says, extremely drily, and stretches before hopping up from the bed.

"I know not," he says, soft and oddly fond for him. "He was wounded, when he was here -- like me. Mayhap it gentled him some. Thy feud was foolish, anyhow."

[keep_the_peace]

"'Tis not that he is a Capulet, but that he killed thee, Mercutio," Benvolio says, and it comes out harsher than he intended. He rubs his hands down his face and breathes deep, trying to calm down. He doesn't want to yell at Mercutio about this.

[bymyheelies]

"Ay, he did," Mercutio agrees, crossing his arms over his chest as if to cover up the scar that lies there. "'Twould have come sooner or later," he adds, defiantly, though somewhat subdued. "Mayhap it were--" No. He can't finish that sentence, not to Benvolio; not when he remembers everything that happened after the duel.

"He paid his own price for it," he says instead, changing tracks. "I do not know if I can forgive him for it; but I could not fight a wounded man."

[keep_the_peace]

"Because thou art an honorable man, but thinkest thou, were the positions reversed, would Tybalt have been half as kind? Tybalt, who did not even allow a moment of reprieve after thy death before attacking dear Romeo again?"

[bymyheelies]

Mercutio stops -- for once in his life (afterlife?) -- and then sits on the bed again, rubbing his hands across his face. "Ay," he says after a long moment; thinking of Tybalt's kisses, the laughter he had managed to startle out of him, how much gentler he had seemed without the threat of a feud looming over them. "That was his duty, as Romeo's was to avenge me. Tybalt may be fiery and too bold¹, but he is a gentleman."

¹ Hello, pot, I have a kettle you should meet.

[keep_the_peace]

"Sorry that I did not have time to consider how gentlemanly he may be while I held thee dying in my arms from wounds he inflicted."

[bymyheelies]

"He is not thy villain, Benvolio," he says, a thread of annoyance sneaking into his voice. "Ay, he slew me; what of it? I goaded him to it, knowing he is easy to prick at -- but think thou, is it not the same with him as it is with Romeo and thee? He is as bound by his family's honor as thou art. Therefore have done with it, there is no feud here. He and I --made a peace, of a sort."

[keep_the_peace]

Benvolio could point out that he has never killed anyone. He could point out that Romeo started the day wanting to make peace with Tybalt. He could point out that slaying Mercutio was, actually, a big fucking deal, and that even though Mercutio might not place much value in his own life, Benvolio has had to live with his absence for two months, and that it hurt him deeply. He doesn't.

Instead, he walks into his bathroom (if the door slams, well, can you blame him?) where he turns on the water, watching it pour out of the faucet -- the magic or science of this place that can allow this simple convenience as well as bring back the dead. He rinses his face, turns the water off, dries with a fluffy towel, and finally trusts himself enough to continue the conversation without saying anything else he'll regret later.

When he returns to the bedroom, he sits beside Mercutio on the bed. "I care for thee," he says at long last. "Thou'rt my closest and dearest friend, I love thee, and do not wish for anyone to hurt thee, whether by purposeful harm, or by absence."

[bymyheelies]

By the time he returns, Mercutio has curled in on himself; deciding to wait it out. Thankfully, the wait is not as long as he had feared. He lifts his head once Benvolio sits, and sighs. "I know," is what his eyes say, but as ever he'll try and turn the subject into a joke, even if it doesn't quite land. "Ay, well, thou hast missed thy chance to see me as fishified as Romeo. My apologies."

[keep_the_peace]

Benvolio places a hand on Mercutio's back and rubs it gently. "I could still see thee fishified one day. There are many others here, and judging by my recent arrival, more to come in the future as well. Mayhap someone else will one day have thee flopping about the floor gasping for air, just as my dear cousin oft did." It hurts him, it really and truly hurts, to know that Tybalt has such a strong hold on Mercutio's heart. For many reasons, of course, but -- Tybalt is incredibly different from Benvolio, both in looks and personality. If that is who Mercutio is interested in, then there's not really any hope for Benvolio to be anything other than his good friend.

But, precisely because he is his good friend, he resolves to not let this get to him. Mercutio is a good man who deserves happiness, even if that is with someone else. Benvolio just... doesn't think that happiness would ever come for him with Tybalt, even if he were still here.

[bymyheelies]

"Nay," Mercutio says, for a moment enjoying the gentle pressure on his back; but then he's grinning again, seemingly as careless as ever. "'Tis but a dream, as I have told thee time and again; and thou hast seen what love may do to a man. Better to have done with it and flit about, like yon butterfly, or hummingbird, that may go from flower to flower and be gone."

[keep_the_peace]

"Mercutio."

[bymyheelies]

"Ay?"

[keep_the_peace]

"Thou dost not have to pretend to be happy. Not with me."

[bymyheelies]

"And what wouldst thou have me do? Weep and wail and gnash my teeth? It hath been some months now, I do not think he will return."

[keep_the_peace]

"There is much middle ground between weeping and pretending none of it matters."

[bymyheelies]

"And what of it? 'Tis shallow and inconstant, to drive a man mad over a woman or a man -- or worse, to drive them to a grave; and I, fool that I am, thought I might have something, for it only to last a day...tell me, then, what am I meant to do? I know not."

[keep_the_peace]

"There are -- there are many others who would love thee as thou deservest." Not naming any names, of course. "Shouldst not swear off all love from one heartache."

[bymyheelies]

Mercutio simply looks at him for a moment, about to reply, and then drops his head to his hands with a sigh. “Prithee, Benvolio, let’s talk of something else. I do not wish to think on this any longer.”

[keep_the_peace]

Benvolio sighs, and wraps his arm around Mercutio’s back again, this time leaning his head over to rest on Mercutio’s shoulder. “I am sorry, I should not have brought it up.”

[bymyheelies]

He shrugs. “Who told thee he was here?”

[keep_the_peace]

“Sagramore. Shortly after I arrived.”

[bymyheelies]

"...Ah." He makes a brief face. "Sagramore is a good fellow, but he does not know the whole of it."

[keep_the_peace]

"He said he was glad for my arrival, because thou hadst been ... upset, since Tybalt's departure."