Editing DbS (section)

== FIFTEEN ==
⚇乂⚇ 

'''A PILLOW FIGHT BUT WITH SWORDS, PROBABLY''' 

MERCUTIO LOUNGED ON THE CHAIR, presumably bored out of his mind. I stared at him, unblinking, as he tried to get comfortable on the blue cushions across from me.

“What?”  

I shrugged. “You’re just moving around a lot.” 

“Duh, it’s hot as a baker’s oven in here.” 

“Imagine how hot it’ll be outside,” Benvolio mused, reading a book, chin on his hand as he flipped a page. 

Mercutio gave a dramatic sigh. “It’s better than being bored out of our MINDS,” said he, rolling his eyes and in the process rolling backward off the chair he’d been casually barely hanging onto.  

Benvolio sighed, flipping another page. “You can go outside for a walk if you want.” 

“Why’re we waiting here anyways?” asked Mercutio, really bored now, laying on the ground in a starfish shape. 

It struck me that I knew what was to happen today, and I really didn’t like it, at all.  

“Benvolio,” tried Mercutio, still staring at the ceiling. 

“Mhm,” said Benvolio, still reading his book. 

“Psst,” Mercutio tried again. 

“Yello,” said Benvolio, eyes still scanning the pages of the book as he skimmed the well-loved volume.  

“Do you wanna go outside?” 

“Nope,” and with that Benvolio turned another page.  

“But I’m bored,” said Mercutio, sprawled out on the floor. “‘Sides, I’ve got a feeling something important is happening in town.” 

Benvolio let out a long sigh that any commercial pilot would’ve been proud of. “Fine,” said he, closing the book. “Let’s go.” 

Mercutio hopped up like an excited puppy. “Where’re we going? The market?”  

“Nope,” said Benvolio, closing his book. “Town square. Let’s go,” he stood up, stretched and started for the entrance, Mercutio following him closely, excitedly jabbering. I still sat in my own chair, watching the two as they headed off, having a sort of out-of-body moment, just thinking about life and what had happened over the last day or so.  

''Twenty-four hours ago, I was preparing for a mission,'' I thought, staring off into space. ''Not a care in the world except for maybe figuring out the best way to take down a couple of body guards.'' I gave a small chuckle, then was yanked out of my thoughts. 

“Hamlet!” exclaimed Mercutio, motioning for me to follow the two. I was yanked out of my thoughts and quickly stood up, stretching a bit before dashing after them and catching up.  

We walked out the entrance of the courtyard towards the town square. It was bustling, as always, people walking about, minding their business. Shades of brown, dull blue and red dyed clothing were present in the town square, with a few greens mixed in wherever merchants were (actually, there was quite a lot of green near the market stalls, but not the bright green, more a darker, duller, green).  

A bright red outfit lurked among a duller red, next to group of people wearing brownish-red outfits. The vibrant outfit belonged to no other but Tybalt. Beside him was one of the guests from the night before, who I recalled being Petruchio. And flocking around Tybalt were people who weren’t very interested in the feud at all, wearing brownish-red clothing. They seemed to be on the Capulet side, but that was either for show or because everyone had to be biased in Shakespeare.  

Benvolio’s attention was focused on the Capulets. “Mercutio,” he said cautiously, grabbing Mercutio’s attention.  

Mercutio made a ''hmming'' noise as he examined a bouquet of flowers, probably to give to Romeo in congratulations for his wedding. 

“Mercutio,” hissed Benvolio, and the blue-clad boy looked to his older friend.  

“What?” asked he, clearly already done with this conversation.  

“We ought to go home,” said Benvolio, watching the Capulets cautiously, unmoving. 

“Why?” asked Mercutio, going back to examining the flowers, not taking notice of the group of followers around Tybalt, or the Capulet himself.  

“There are Capulets walking around—if we bump into them, trouble’ll be sure to come our way,” said Benvolio knowledgeably, and I couldn’t help but agree.  

“Mercutio, it’s probably a good idea to not eng—” 

Mercutio was already rolling up the sleeves of his tunic. “No way are they getting away this time,” he said as he angrily scrunched them up. “I’m gonna get my revenge and they’re gonna pay and…” he trailed off into saying something unintelligible, but I assumed it was something about vengeance and what he was going to do to Tybalt once he got his hands on him.  

“NO, Mercutio,” reprimanded Benvolio a little too loudly, drawing the Capulets’ attention on us three.  

“Good afternoon. I’d like to have a word with one of you,” said Tybalt, walking up to the three of us, rapier glinting dangerously at his side.  

“You just want one word with one of us? What a waste of time. Mix it with something else, maybe a word and a parry,” said Mercutio cleverly, smirking a bit and crossing his arms.  

Benvolio drew him aside. “Mercutio,” said he in a hushed tone, looking over his shoulder at Tybalt who stood waiting impatiently. “Don’t fight him. You’re wasting your life. Don’t fight.” 

This was clearly a conversation they’d had multiple times. Mercutio gave a sigh. “You’re afraid for me, is that it?” 

Benvolio frowned and thought a moment, as if he had not considered the idea that he might be worried about the younger boy. “I ''am'' worried for you,” he conceded after a minute of thinking.  

“But,” he went on, when Mercutio gave a smirk as in “I knew it, I was right, obviously”. “Even if I ''am'' worried about you, I’m also worried about other people. Come on, Mercutio, call it off, just for one day. We should really talk it over with Romeo—.” He was cut off by Mercutio. 

“You once started a fight with a tailor for wearing something when it wasn’t the right season. And you’re getting onto ''me'' about being restrained?” 

Benvolio gave me a tired look and signaled to try talking to Mercutio. “If he fought as much as you fought… well, he’d probably go hungry most nights.” 

“What’s ''that'' supposed to mean?” asked Mercutio, crossing his arms. Benvolio facepalmed in the background.  

“I’m just saying that it’s not always a great idea to fight, especially when people could get hurt—” 

Tybalt tapped me on the shoulder. “I need a word.” He cast a glare to Mercutio. “Actually, more than a word.” 

“Great, here comes Tybalt’s posse,” said Benvolio under his breath, rolling his eyes.  

“RIGHT,” said Mercutio, drawing his sword. “A word and a blow. Let’s see who shall fall first, eh?” 

Tybalt stepped back, away from me as Mercutio stepped forward, and drew his own rapier. “You’ll find me ready to add a blow to my word if you give me a reason to.” 

As the sun’s warm rays cut through a film of clouds and towards the ground, Mercutio’s rapier gleamed, having been cleaned only a small amount of time beforehand. “I hang out with Romeo. Need you a reason?” 

“Mercutio…” I said in a warning tone in a “you’re going to regret this later don’t do it” way.  

“Hamlet…” said Mercutio in the same warning tone. “I’ve got this,” he said, confidence abounding.  

“Mercutio, Tybalt,” snapped Benvolio. “We’re in a public place. Can it. Figure it out without violence or go somewhere to fight it out.” People were starting to look at what was going on between Mercutio and Tybalt, gathering in a sort of circle around the two as if ready for them to fight. 

“Let ‘em watch,” said Mercutio, proudly holding his sword in a starting fencing position. “I’m no people-pleaser, who cares what they think.” 

Mercutio stared Tybalt down, Tybalt returning his look.  And then a familiar voice came through the air.