Editing DbS (section)

== FOURTEEN ==
⚇乂⚇

'''*INSERT CHAPTER TITLE HERE*'''  

AS WE SAT DOWN, I had but one thought: ''something is going to explode and end horribly.'' I know, I know, it’s not the most encouraging of thoughts, but I wasn’t about to get my hopes up, especially since I knew that one, this was a Shakespeare tragedy, two, what Romeo was going to say, and three, the ending of the play. '' '' 

I also had a thought about somehow fixing the comm. device, but I’ll get to that after this, maybe. After Romeo “spills the tea”, so to speak.  

As we all sat down, Romeo began to pour out his story. The entirety of it.  

As it turns out, Romeo had met a girl last night. A very pretty girl, one prettier than Rosaline, which is pretty much impossible, but I’d assume that when you’re in love, that’s just what happens.  

This girl, whose name was Juliet (Romeo said the name quite wistfully, probably excited and missing his girl, but anyway), had fallen for Romeo immediately, as Romeo had fallen for her. In Romeo’s own words (he repeated the same thing a couple thousand times, as if he couldn’t fathom the fact), she was “the most beautiful gem I had ever laid eyes on”, and “two stars twinkle where her eyes are, and the brightness of her cheek would shame the stars”. He was love-struck, alright.  

He went on with his story, and then broke the news to the three of us.  

“We’re getting married!” he blurted out, extremely excited at the idea of marrying his “beloved Juliet who I [he] have felt I’ve known my whole life”.  

Mercutio scowled. “You’re marrying a Capulet!?” he exploded, annoyed at the idea. “Do you have ANY IDEA what they’ve done to us!?” 

“Define ‘us’,” said Romeo in a small voice, shrinking back a little, trying to escape the wrath of Mercutio.  

“US!?” roared Mercutio like a lion, getting fired up as he paced the floor, fidgeting madly with a small bracelet that wrapped around his arm. 

“Mercutio,” said Benvolio, trying to smooth the situation out. “It’s not the end of the—” 

“End of the world!?” exclaimed Mercutio. “Ohoho, I think it is. Romeo is going to be MARRYING a CAPULET! I THINK THIS CALLS FOR ‘END OF THE WORLD’ TYPE THINGS—” 

“Mercutio,” snapped Romeo, gaining confidence by the second. “This is my life.” 

“And I’m part of your life!” Mercutio snapped back, still pacing and fidgeting.  

“Not if I cut you out!” Romeo shot, glaring. 

“Cut me out then!” Mercutio said, plopping down on a chair, brooding.  

“Mercutio, Romeo,” said Benvolio, looking between the two who were both brooding. He gave a small laugh at their positions, which mirrored each other almost perfectly.  

“What?” asked Mercutio, annoyed, not making eye contact with anyone.  

“You two are too similar to not be friends,” said Benvolio simply, sitting back in the chair, arms crossed.  

“Opposites attract?” said Romeo, more a statement than a question, glancing to Mercutio and accidentally making eye-contact with his friend, quickly looking away after that.  

“Opposites attract,” stated Mercutio gruffly. “Besides, we’re too similar to BE friends.” 

“Doubtful,” said I. “Great minds think alike. Why do you think you’re both crossing your arms and pouting in the exact same position?” 

“We’re not—” Mercutio started, objecting to the fact that he was pouting, but being cut off by Romeo, who he looked to curiously as he started talking. 

“He has a point,” said Romeo in a conversational tone, lightening up, having thought about what I’d said.  

Benvolio gave a sigh, relieved the tension had been broken between the two. “Details,” said he, in an almost-sing-song voice, tipping his head to Romeo, who was staring off into space, a vacant look on his face. 

Being dragged back into reality, Romeo blinked twice. “What?” 

“Daydreaming about Juliet,” said Mercutio with a little smile.  

“Was nooooooot,” argued Romeo back, blushing a little. 

“Oh yeah,” said I. “Definitely day-dreaming.” 

“You don’t know my brain—” started Romeo, before being cut off by a chuckle from Benvolio.  

“But I do,” stated the older boy. “And you were definitely daydreaming.” 

“But you don’t know what I was daydreaming about!” exclaimed Romeo victoriously, a grin on his face. 

“What were you dreaming about then, friend?” asked Mercutio, laughing at this whole conversation.  

“Rosaline,” said Romeo in an ‘I’m-lying-but-I’m-not-telling-you-that’ voice.  

“Romeo, Romeo,” chastised Benvolio jokingly. “Don’t think about two girls at once.” 

“Trust me,” added in Mercutio seriously. “It never helps.” 

“Okay, okay,” said Romeo, rolling his eyes. “I was daydreaming of Juliet, but that’s not the POINT, the point is I tricked you—” 

“EUREKA!” I said in a not-quite-yelling-but-we’re-getting-there voice.  

My three companions gave me a weird look.  

“What, I can’t say eureka? It’s a eureka moment for sure,” said I, before realizing that, oh yes, this is the Elizabethan era, the gold rush, where “eureka” originated hasn’t happened yet.  

“''What'' are you talking about?” questioned Benvolio, still casting a confused look to me. 

“Made-up word,” I said, shrugging, trying to play it off. Such a Shakespeare move. 

“Why would you want to make up a word…?” asked Romeo, confused as well. 

“I mean, if I can’t find a word I like, why not make up my own?” I asked, still trying to play it off. 

“All words are made up,” murmured Mercutio, coming to a life-changing conclusion.  

“Mhm,” agreed Benvolio, as if he’d already known this. “But back to the topic at hand.” 

“RIGHT,” yelled Romeo, being a little loud. “The topic… at hand.” 

“The details of your wedding,” quipped Mercutio, all eyes on Romeo.  

“Oh,” said Romeo. “Uh…” he trailed off, seemingly unsure. 

“How do you not know when your own wedding is?” questioned Benvolio after an awkward pause had elapsed for a couple seconds.  

“OH,” exclaimed Romeo, finally coming to an answer. “This afternoon.” 

“I’ll bring the flowers,” said Mercutio under his breath, getting out of his chair, ready to go grab some things for the wedding. 

“Wait, Mercutio!” called Romeo, causing the older boy to turn around. 

“Yeeeeees?”  

“I don’t— I don’t think you can come to the wedding.” 

“I ‘can’ do anything I want. What you mean is I ‘may’ not come to the wedding,” stated Mercutio quickly.  

Romeo sighed. “What I mean is,” he said, fumbling for words “is that you—uh—you tend to draw a lot of attention to us.” 

“Define us,” said Mercutio smugly. 

“‘Us’, used when defining multiple persons, including oneself,” said Romeo as if reading from a boring textbook.  

Mercutio rolled his eyes, and said half-sarcastically, “Benvolio, come break this up, I’m not going to win this battle of the wits.” 

Benvolio did nothing, watching the two boys. Romeo cut in at the end, suspecting Benvolio would say something. “Let’s continue the battle… or else,” said he, ominously.  

“Or else what?” quipped Mercutio, crossing his arms. 

“Or else I’ll declare myself winner,” said Romeo with a lopsided grin.  

“Look, our jokes are going to go on a wild goose chase, and I’m already finished. ‘Sides, was I even close to you in the chase for the goose?” 

Romeo laughed, a smirk on his face. “Well… were you ever anything except for the goose?” 

Mercutio gasped dramatically. “How dare you? I’ll get you for that one.” 

Romeo gasped, mustering up as much drama as he could. “Don’t get me, good goose!” 

Mercutio gave a sigh, somewhat annoyed. “Benvolio?”  

“Mercutio?” said Benvolio in the same tone Mercutio had used.  

“Want to tell him about the, ah, thing?” 

Benvolio frowned. “I think it’d be best if we did tell him, just maybe not right now—” 

Romeo gave the two a look. “What thing?” 

I was confused, as well, as I certainly didn’t remember this. “Tell him what?” 

“Funny story,” said Benvolio kind of awkwardly, trying to laugh whatever was going on off.  

“Romeo got a letter from that rat, Tybalt, and he’s been challenged to a duel,” said Mercutio flatly. “And of course, he’s going to accept it. Right, Romeo?” 

“I…” Romeo trailed off, unsure. “I don’t know.” 

“Romeo, you have to take this! If you don’t, you’re going to be a laughing stock until your death,” said I, fingers propped up against each other, deep in thought. Surely the story would continue as normal? But… the slain. This was certainly a moral issue.

“Your street cred!” exclaimed Benvolio, trying to get through to Romeo. 

“I have to think about it,” said he. He stood up, brushing off his tunic.  

“Where’re you going?” asked Benvolio, watching him start to walk off.  

“To get married!” Romeo called back, casually leaving the fortress to get married to his family’s mortal enemy.