One Shots (Feat. Shakespeare's Characters)

The return of the prince

Mercutio is a prince in this one, just go with it. And I'm taking a bit of dialogue inspiration from The Selection, a series by Kiera Cass.

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Benvolio slipped on the mahogany colored boots he'd purchased on a whim last week and sighed. He was tired of feeling so stuck, so alone in the enclosed walls of his university. Before he could close the door to his room, he was washed over by a wave of nostalgia. 

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Mercutio had said, gently placing a hand on Benvolio's knee.

Benvolio turned, angry tears falling down his face without their creator making any move to stop them.

"For a cage, sure, it may be very nice." The boy said, gazing not-too fondly across the path to the edge of the garden walls.

"Is that what you think this palace to be, a cage, my dear?"

"I am not your dear. Especially since I'm sure you call everyone that!"

Mercutio smiled gently at him, a gesture far too kind for what Benvolio deserved for degrading a member of the royal family.

"Perhaps, but none of them seem to mind it quite as much as you do, my dear." He said it with an annoyingly perfect lopsided smile, his crown tilted slightly to the side of his ruggedly perfect curls. Everything about him was polished to the nth degree.

Benvolio shook the memory off like one might do to dry off from a torrential downpour and shut the door. When he reached the campus quad, he lifted his gaze to the sky. It never ceased to amaze him that all of human history had occurred beneath that same sky, his sky. The very thought brought a contented smile to his face.

He wondered what he might have done if the prince was here now.

Push him, perhaps, and let into the temperamental nature the prince had always sworn he had.

Kiss him, just to see.

Scream a thousand grievances in his face, to watch the self-assured, more-than-human smile falter and inevitably slip from his face.

Perhaps he would do nothing.

Using his temper against the prince would not win him any more favors, especially as he'd fallen gracelessly from public favor. The prince would have him exiled, at the best.

Never thought we'd be here. A small voice in his head mused.

No, we didn't. Even with the  limitless imagination of a child, he never would have imagined growing up, loving a boy, then the prince in turn, and being cast aside by both.

If history did, in fact, repeat, this was one thing Benviolio was not sure if he would like to do-over.

Not that it mattered much now.

Because Mercutio was standing in the quad close to him, as fate had chosen.

And he couldn't ever have imagined what would have happened next.

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Cliffhanger, gotcha.

Go to sleep and take care of yourselves, loves.

- Azz