Lovesick {Romeo + Juliet}

Prologue 2.

It happened one day, one that was not unlike most days. Close friends and even employees of both families had no qualms with getting involved in their rivalry. Every other day there would be a fight between them, though usually just a brief dispute or a screaming match would suffice. At times it would cause an even larger disturbance, and this had been one of those times.

Romeo couldn't recall what had exactly started this particular fight. He could, however, remember that his side had drawn their humble steel first just after the situation became physical. The Capulet party had followed soon after with their own extravagantly decorated weapons. Tybalt, in particular, had The Virgin Mary painted on one side of his grip and a bible verse engraved on the other.

"El justo se alegrará cuando vea la venganza, se lavará los pies en la sangre de los impíos." It was a phrase he'd often say when drawing his gun, sometimes whispered like a prayer. Romeo was not sure what it meant, and he was almost certain Tybalt didn't either. Surely God would not approve of how he used his weapon or of him having one in the first place. On that day he said this verse, then shot one singular bullet into the air, slicing through the sound of their uproar and silencing them all momentarily. It was during that brief silence as his adrenaline lowered slightly that Romeo felt something missing at the side of his pants.

A small journal was with him at all times, but now it wasn't, and suddenly he was much less preoccupied with the fight. Months of expression spilled onto those pages in the rings and curves of his messy handwriting, and he had lost them. Panic prickled under his skin, rising frantically as he strayed from his group. He'd likely have broken into a sweat out of pure dread if his eyes hadn't found her as quickly as they did.

She sat somewhere off to the side of all the commotion, seeming to not even notice it was happening. Romeo didn't see her at first though, he saw what she was looking at; his journal with a few pages already flipped through it. With tunnel vision focused only on what was in her hands, he rushed towards her and grabbed it back, nearly ripping the pages as he did.

His mind filled with venom ready to spill from his mouth within seconds, but then he saw her staring up at him with a wide-eyed, startled expression. He finally looked at her, every detail of her face, her hazel eyes clear of any emotion besides utter shock at his impromptu arrival. The boy was entirely stunned and unable to say a single word. It was her who broke the stillness between them.

"That was yours?" Her voice held the weight of air as if she had exhaled the words rather than spoken them.

"Yes," he answered with the book in question protectively held to his chest.

"I apologize for being invasive," her body rose from the ground, but her gaze stayed there, "but I can't say that I'm sorry to have read it." Before he could vocalize his confusion, she spoke up again and effortlessly hushed any objections he may have had. "Your writing is very good, and I'm glad I read it." Her lips stretch into a faint smile as she finally allowed their eyes to meet again.

"Good or not, your eyes should have stayed away, or I'd have...plucked out their sunlight." The words left him before he could stop himself and the finished statement baffled even him. Was he still reprimanding her or trying to court her? Neither he or his mind was quite sure of it.

The girl barely had time to react to his words, and that was perhaps for the best. A voice familiar to both of them shouted something that diverted their attention.

"Choose now and choose wisely; is this how you want to die?" It was Tybalt who gave the ominous warning while aiming his gun in the Montagues' direction. Several clicks were heard from both groups, but before any more shots were fired the sound of sirens approached rapidly. Immediately the argument ceased, but with some visible reluctance from several of them. Everyone scattered, some diving into cars while others fled on foot. When Romeo turned back, he found the girl had already vanished, and there seemed to be no trace of her now.

"Romeo!" Directing his attention to the source of the yelling, he saw his cousin Benvolio running towards him. The disheveled teens ran off together, narrowly escaping the police as they parked at the now abandoned scene.

As you could already guess, this would not be the end of his odd encounter. Later that very day the boy would tell his older cousin of this encounter and be swiftly informed of the girl's lineage. He would completely denounce her afterward only to find that she won't leave his mind without a struggle. It's a struggle that he would pitifully lose. He was now aware of her existence and every rare chance he caught sight of her would ignite what he tried so hard to repress.

The first week he would try to condemn her for being the Capulet she was and fail completely. There was absolutely nothing about her he could deride. Her entire being was without a single flaw that he knew of aside from her family. The weeks passed and turned into a full month with no change.

Romeo's shift in mood was evident to those close to him, but only his two closest confidants knew the true reason. He was unquestionably ill, but only Mercutio and Benvolio knew the source of his affection. He trusted them to keep this secret; a secret that he felt could burst from he himself any moment. Still, he could not allow himself to say her name, not while he was in this house. He could not even bring himself to say it as he lay in his own bed.

From his stomach to his torso to his limbs he was filled with her, this ache he could not explain no matter how hard he tried. It took over and held him hostage in his own body. This name he had heard before a number of times, but never with this feeling attached to it. How could a name, that was just a meaningless name before, torment him so much now?

Juliet...

Every syllable was perfectly combined, sounding more saccharine each time he repeated it in his head. He would lie in bed most hours of the day trying to convince himself of the exact opposite, but her voice and her name would still invade his thoughts. At times he would even attempt to combine the two, imagining her telling him her own name.

Juliet...

He longed for those eyes to meet his again or at least glance in his direction, but her gaze was always aimed downwards. Romeo would admire her humility if he hadn't found it so absurd that she hid her beauty so stubbornly. He would not have guessed one with the Capulet name could shine so naturally without being adorned in their expensive jewelry. Juliet was gold.

"Juliet..." 

Finally he let a fragment of his caged thoughts slip into the world, in nothing above a whisper that stayed between him and whatever God looked upon this pitiful scene.