Editing DbS (section)

== SIXTEEN ==
⚇乂⚇ 

'''WHAT, YOU EGG? [HE STABS HIM]'''

“MERCUTIO? ''TYBALT?'' WHAT’RE YOU DOING here?” Romeo’s voice cut like a knife through the murmurs and whispering of the crowd as Mercutio and Tybalt each stared down the other. 

“Ah, there he is. Man of honor,” said Tybalt, not letting his guard down as he watched Romeo saunter in.  

“Tybalt!” cried Romeo with a smile on his face. “I’m glad to see you, I have—”  

Tybalt shook his head. “I don’t want to hear your excuses for whatever you’ve done. I know for sure that you’re a villain.” 

“A villain?” Romeo sounded confused.  

“A villain,” confirmed Tybalt, sword drawn, eyes locked onto Mercutio yet again.  

“Tybalt, Tybalt,” said Romeo, trying to smooth over the situation. “I have no reason to think you’re a villain, I have no reason to hate you at all! In fact, I have reason to love you like a brother! I’m no villain, you have the wrong guy.” 

“Yes, the wrong guy,” I confirmed, trying to steer Romeo away. Mercutio stared at us, gaze almost impossible to read. 

“Your sweet talking isn’t going to get you out of this,” warned Tybalt, a gleam in his eye, unparalleled even by the glint of the rapier he held.   

“Tybalt, I have no reason to hate you—” 

“So you said,” Tybalt rolled his eyes, sounding bored. 

“In fact, I have reason to love the name Capulet as my own name! I will not draw my sword against you, for I love you.” 

“Romeo,” Benvolio muttered under his breath before Mercutio took over.  

“This… is dishonorable. Romeo, you’d submit to this guy!? He’s your enemy!” 

“YOU’RE THE ENEMY,” roared Tybalt. “YOU TRAITOROUS FIEND.” 

Mercutio ignored Tybalt’s outburst. “You’d give up your honor for this… this GUY!?” 

“Yes,” said Romeo simply, not having drawn his rapier as he stared off into space, looking quite like Luke Skywalker.  

“Tybalt,” said Mercutio, turning from Romeo to Tybalt once again. “Tybalt, you king of rats, will you fight me?” 

“I have no quarrel with you—” 

“Fight for your honor and your name, or die a coward,” threatened Mercutio, sword drawn, pointed at Tybalt. 

Tybalt’s gaze hardened. “En garde.” 

“Hamlet,” said Romeo, sounding panicked. “Get your sword out, we need to stop them. They’ll be arrested if the Prince finds out—which he inevitably will—quick, stop them.” 

I drew my own sword, one I’d borrowed from Benvolio the day before and forgotten to return, and began to try to break up the fight, parrying a few of Tybalt’s blows to Mercutio, who was surprised I’d been able to even draw my sword in the first place.  

Swords flashed in the sunlight, like lightning. The sound of metal against metal rang out in the clearing, where the two were surrounded by a crowd of people, me and Romeo trying to break up the fight as the citizens of Verona kept egging them on, whispering, shouting, making exclamations.  

Finally, Tybalt and Mercutio were away from each other, separated by Romeo and myself. ''Peace. Calmness. We’re fine.''  

In a fluid motion, Tybalt reached under Romeo’s arm and stabbed Mercutio. The boy, who couldn’t have been but a year older than me, fell to the ground, clutching his bleeding side.  

“Mercutio!” yelled Benvolio, running over to his friend and kneeling down beside him. “What happened!?” For once, Benvolio sounded panicked.  

“It’s a small cut. It’ll heal,” said Mercutio, voice laced with pain, but trying to keep up a tough exterior.  

A wave of pain seemed to hit Mercutio, and the boy fell to the ground, laying on his back.  

“Mercutio,” said Benvolio, trying to hide the panic in his voice.  

“Curses,” muttered Mercutio “on both your families. I’m done for.” 

“NO, you said so yourself, you’d be fine,” protested Benvolio, glaring at Mercutio in a “you’re not dying” way.  

“Romeo,” said Mercutio accusingly, glaring at Romeo, who was staring, watching a fleeing Tybalt and his servant. “I’m dying and you’re watching my enemy flee!? Are you serious!? I—how did you think it was okay to back down from a fight!?” 

Romeo sighed. “Tybalt’s been my cousin for an hour, I wasn’t going to just fight him!” 

Mercutio seemed to summon strength. “Curses on both your families. I’m dying.” 

Romeo surveyed the cut, eyes flicking over every detail. “It’s not that bad,” he decided. “It can’t really hurt you, right? It’s not so bad you’ll die.” 

“It’s not as deep as a well, or as wide as a church,” agreed Mercutio. 

“Stop speaking in riddles, man!” commanded Benvolio, straight-forward as always.  

“I’m dying,” Mercutio flatly stated, a dry chuckle escaping his mouth. “Oh, sweet death.” 

“You’re not dying,” Romeo said, looking to Mercutio for the first time since he’d fallen to the ground in agony.  

“Oh, I’m dying,” said Mercutio, dragging it out.  

“No,” said Romeo, voice shaky, as if it was impossible for his friend to die. He couldn’t die. He wouldn’t die. Surely.  

“Yes,” said Mercutio, letting out a breath. “I fear it’s time to meet the angels of Heaven- a place I don’t belong.” 

“No, no, NO,” said Romeo, shaking his head. “You’re not dying.” 

Mercutio laid his head on the ground. “I must,” said he. The light flickered out of his eyes, like a flame dying, and Mercutio’s body went limp.