A Way To End This- MercutioxRomeo oneshot

Act 3 Scene 2

Chloe Phelps
May 30 2018
Pd 1
                                          Act III, Scene I

I exit the stone building into thick sunlight, Benvolio humming lightly by my side. Clearly, he feels none of the chaos that currently rattles like so many avalanches inside my skull. My worry begs for attention as I walk, blinding me to my surroundings. Memories float to the surface, vying for space in an overcrowded mind. The challenge from Tybalt to Romeo, the knowledge that someone will have to answer it. It's proof that everything is going to plan, and that everything is falling apart. Two sides fight inside of me, one that wishes nothing but pain on the Capulets and the Montagues alike. This side sees the suffering their fighting causes to others, innocents that should never have to be involved. It claims the inevitable duel will finally show them how damaging their actions are. The other side thinks only of my love. Tall, brown hair, and startling green eyes. It holds our recent battle of wits close, insisting that it's proof my efforts are working. Today he did not push me away, did not mope about for other loves. When he is happy, I am at my best. Yet, I must remember how he rushed off after lunch at his father's home. How he tosses away one plaything after another, try as I may to impress him, or sway him from his habits.
"Come on, Mercutio, let's call it a day. It's hot outside, and the Capulets are wandering about. If we bump into them, we'll certainly get into a fight. On days like this, people are rash and hot-blooded." Benvolio's voice breaks my thoughts into confusing shards. I turn suddenly, and watch his eyes roam over my expression. Hastily, I compose myself. The beginnings of puzzlement are forming on his face, and as if pulling on a mask, I grin confidently and begin to speak in a carrying voice.
"Only now people are rash?" I sling an arm across Benvolio's shoulder, laughing boisterously. "Why, look at yourself!" Spinning around, I poke a finger into Benvolio's chest, a bit of relief rising within me at his surprised expression. "You are like one of those men who walk into a tavern and slams his sword on the table, saying "I pray I shall never have to use you!" And yet, by the second drink you're challenging the drawer himself!"
"Am I really like one of these men?" Benvolio asks, following me as I walk backward, facing him and gesturing animatedly.
"You're as angry as any man in Italy when the mood strikes you! When the smallest thing happens, you're angry. And when you want to be angry, you find something to make you so!" We're moving faster now, my words pulling my friend along like a fish on a line.
"And what about that?" Benvolio inquires. I smirk with satisfaction, noting the effect my tales can have. Despite what people think, it doesn't come naturally. In my childhood, interacting with nobles, I learned the best ways to draw attention and minimize-or maximize- conflict.
"Why, if there were two men such as you, soon enough there would be none, because you'd kill one another! You'd fight a man who had one more hair or one less hair in his beard than you had in yours. If you saw a man cracking nuts, you'd fight him for no other reason besides that you have hazelnut colored eyes. Only you would quarrel over that. Your head is full of combat like an egg is full of yolk and you've become scrambled from all the violence." I pause to laugh bitterly, hoping he doesn't recognise the meaning I've hidden. It's not him starting fights so obscenely, but his family and their rivals, both of which seem to destroy anything in their path.
"You started a fight with a man who coughed in the street because he woke up a dog that was sleeping in the sun. Didn't you argue it out with your tailor for wearing one of his new suits before the right season? And with another for tying the new shoes he made with old laces? And yet you're the one who wants to teach me about restraint!"
We soon cease our banter, Benvolio perching on the edge of a fountain while I stretch across the wall beside him, soaking in the sun's rays. My eyes are just closing, my brain just beginning to whir and click with bustling thoughts, when Benvolio pipes up suddenly.
"By my head, here come the Capulets."
"I don't care." I make a show of stretching and adjusting my lazy sprawl across the wall. It hasn't been a minute before my ears catch the voice of Tybalt and my mind burns with fury. Here he is, the insolent cultivator of this needless feud. One who would harm Romeo. My Romeo.  In an instant, the two sides are warring again in my head. This fight could be the one. The fight to end all fights. But I know that if two men get in a duel now, neither will last through the next day. With the Prince's decree, even if Romeo were to survive the confrontation, he would be executed. And I know with growing conviction that I could never live for that. Slowly, pieces of a plan align in my mind.
Tybalt must be looking for Romeo, who is probably with yet another girl. Thinking of this awakens a sting of jealousy, deep in my chest. Mentally, I shake myself, refocusing on the task at hand. Tybalt is notoriously headstrong and provoking him would be easy. If I could start the duel with him in Romeo's place, it could still be the end to the hostility. And it would protect the one I love. My life for his.
"Gentlemen, good afternoon. A word with one of you." Tybalt approaches, flanked by several of his men. He attempts a placating smile, though the effect is rather like lipstick on a leech. I steel myself, then speak.
"Only one word with one of us? Couple it with something. Make it a word and a blow." The cocky mask appears again as I slide off the wall to look over them loftily.
"You will find me ready to do that, should you give me a reason." Tybalt stops walking, any trace of warmth draining from his expression. I circle around him, turning us both until his back is facing the wall.
"Can't you find a reason without my giving you one?" I cluck my tongue and shake my head, smile widening.
"Mercutio," Tybalt almost growls. "You consort with Romeo." I watch the anger flash through his eyes as he speaks my beloved's name and something inside me cracks. It's for him, I remind myself. Just a little longer and he'll be safe.
"Consort? What, are we musicians? If we are, you can expect to hear nothing but dissonance. This is my fiddlestick," I pull my sword slightly out of its sheath and touch the blade, satisfaction and dread mingling at the chorus of "ooh"s that rose up among Tybalt's men. "And I will use it to make you dance!" I announce.
"We are in public," Benvolio says, warning edging his tone. "Let's either go someplace private, discuss this logically, or leave one another alone." I turn my head towards him quickly, just in time to notice a figure come jogging around the corner.
"Romeo!" Benvolio says, friendly cadence laced with panic. And at the same time:
"Romeo," I breathe, chest and mind exploding into a flurry of conflict.
"Peace be with you gentlemen, for here comes my man!" Tybalt takes several strides towards Romeo.
"He's not your man," I bit out, darting ahead to cut him off. "I'm sure if you walked into a field, he might chase you, but that says more about you than it does about his allegiance. Although, in that sense you still may call him "your man"." I look over at Romeo, to see how he is reacting and suddenly, I could watch him forever. His posture is tall and strong, but his face remains earnest and unafraid. So like him, to be optimistic and forgiving. I have tried time and time again to instill a more sensible mindset in him, but he always retains that gentle faith.
"Romeo, there is only one thing I can call you. You are a villain." Tybalt states gravely, hand already resting on the hilt of his sword. I am filled with weighty dread, feeling my plans shattering.
"Tybalt, I have a reason to love you that lets me put aside the rage I should feel and excuse that insult. I am no villain. So, goodbye. I can tell that you don't know who I am." Romeo turns away, and begins to walk lightly down the wide cobblestone road. I am shocked into a motionless silence.
"Boy, your words can't excuse the harm you've done to me. Now, turn around and draw your sword." Tybalt's words are harsh and demanding. I watch in speechless horror as Romeo pivots slowly.
"I disagree. I've never done you harm. I love you more than you can understand, until you know the reason that I love you. So, dear Capulet- which is a name I cherish as dearly as my own -you should be satisfied with what I say." Romeo smiles genuinely. I barely leave any time for confusion, instead jumping on this newfound opportunity to put myself in the duel.
"This calm submission is dishonorable and vile. A thrust of a sword will end this surrender!" I draw my sword, eyeing Tybalt. "Tybalt, you rat catcher, will you fight me?"
"What do you want from me?" Tybalt glares at me. Realizing I must aggravate him further, I begin to pace about, all bravado.
"Good King of Cats, I want one of your nine lives. And depending how you treat me after that, I might beat the other eight out of you as well. Will you pull your sword from its sheath? Hurry, or my weapon might be about your ears before yours is even out." I wave my sword towards either side of his head, and can clearly read on his face that I've incensed him enough to warrant a fight.
"I'll fight you." Tybalt snarls.  We circle one another, looking for weaknesses. Before we even begin, we are both startled by Romeo's voice.
"Noble Mercutio! Put your sword away!" He cries. I look at him, trying to pour my thoughts from my eyes into his. This is for you, I tell him. I love you. But, I read only fear in those emerald orbs. A darker, grimmer part of me whispers; this is the way to finally get his attention and show him how much he truly cares.
My thoughts are interrupted as a searing line is traced down my arm, splitting my shirt and dripping warm blood along my wrist. I whirl around to face my adversary. We move all about Verona's streets, neither sustaining any serious damage. I hope desperately in between parries and thrusts that leading Tybalt on a chase will not only tire him out, but prevent Romeo and Benvolio from following us and breaking up the fight. However, after a while we are found and the cousins first plead and call to us, then make moves to physically come between us. Please, I silently beg. Trust me. This is for you.
"Gentlemen, stop this outrageous violence. Tybalt, Mercutio! The Prince has forbidden fighting in Verona streets." He steps in between us, arms outstretched to prevent our weapons from striking around him. He looks at me, and I desperately search his expression, trying to understand. I observe anger, nerves and pity. But before I can assess this any further, a blinding pain strikes me in my stomach.
Looking all around me, I see Tybalt's shocked face. What this could mean doesn't register quickly. Not until I explore the source of my pain with shaking fingers, and find my shirt soaked in blood. No one speak or even dares to move. Then suddenly, Tybalt's men are tugging at him and they turn and flee. As if this action had unfrozen the world, Benvolio rushes to my side and hastens to support me with an arm.
"I am hurt," I murmur, clutching the slick fabric with one hand. Anger rises in me. "May a plague bring down both your houses!" I speak with force, words and ideas tripping over one another as contradictory emotions struggle for control. Rage finds its way to the surface. This shouldn't have happened at all. This wretched feud is tearing Verona apart. It's been taken too far, and now even those not related to either side are caught up in a web of loathing.
"Why the devil did you come between us?" I turn on Romeo, but don't wait to listen to his answer. If only he had been paying attention. He could have seen that a fight was inevitable, that I was taking his place to help him. But he was always too wrapped up in fantasy and lofty ideals to trust me, to value me or even recognise me when it didn't suit him. This in itself feels like a betrayal. I had tried to help him, to bring him away from these damaging values. Yet he could never understand. This had truly been a one sided relationship. Now, I would never get to know him, never get to tell him how much he means to me. I will no longer be able to protect him.
Benvolio watches me with tearful eyes. They have moved me to somewhere cool and shady. This will end the feud, I tell myself. My Romeo will not live in it's shadow any longer. I focus one last time on his eyes, picturing them in my mind. Then as my eyes close, his fade away as well and the pain is gone.