Hospital

They rushed him to the hospital.

Verona Island had only one, but it was a serious overkill. It could've treated the entire population at once, and then some, but accidents weren't a rarity.

An island of ten thousand conducting high-tech research under lockdown was always busy. The rivalry between the two megacorporations helped little to make things safer.

"To be clear, you signed the NDA, right?" Governor Escalus asked.

His perfume felt suffocating in enclosed spaces, mingling with military-grade diesel.

"You mean the one every kid on the island has to sign as soon as they learn to read?" Romeo answered with another question and a nod. "So the brawl is top secret?"

"The brawl?" he raised an eyebrow. "Now that you mention it was the third one this month."

The soldiers exchanged knowing glances. Without a dedicated police force, the governor's men had to uphold the fragile peace on the island. They were never bored.

"I'll have to call in both CEOs and deal with the situation."

That was the last thing Romeo wanted to hear. His father was busy, and he imagined his disappointment, learning about the incident. The governor shook his head.

"But I mean your—transformation?" he motioned at his new hairstyle.

The looks he caught sent a chill down his spine. Was it that bad?

His only consolation prize was that they carried him with the same troop transport Julie got to ride. She didn't wake up by the time they got there, and the medic stuffed him with iodine pills.

"What are these for?" he asked, confused.

They were tiny, but tasted both bitter and too sweet at once, making him drowsy.

"Radiation," the medic shrugged, avoiding his eyes. His senses prickled.

"Anyway, you'll be in good hands, but don't say a word to anyone."

With that, the governor rode away on his armored carrier, and the hospital staff took over. They rolled Julie into an operating room and insisted Romeo would sit in a wheelchair too.

"I'm fine," he protested but lost his balance twice.

They led him to a private ward, the perks of being the Montague heir. It wasn't luxurious, but at least it didn't smell of antiseptic.

"I've never seen anyone with skin this hard to pierce," a nurse trying to hook him up to an IV complained. "And I've been working here for twenty years."

She was the third to try, and only her tenth attempt succeeded.

Not because they couldn't find a vein, but because their gear couldn't get through. The liquid they hooked him up with smelled like bleach and sugar, and he almost threw up.

They monitored him, conducting one test after the other, but the longer it lasted, the worse he felt. When Benvolio entered his room hours later, staying awake became a struggle.

"You look pale," he greeted him.

Romeo had no comeback. His cousin clutched his inhaler in one hand, and his recovered necktie in the other. Was he afraid of him? He made the effort to visit but averted his eyes.

"So, what's wrong with me? They don't tell me anything," he complained.

"I didn't get to ask," Benvolio shook his head, glancing at the beeping monitors. "But your vital signs don't look terrible." A tentative smile tugged on his face but didn't reach his eyes.

He walked closer but stopped shy of his bed.

"There was a huge uproar about the earlier fight," he noted. "The governor was super upset and interrogated everyone. Who started it, et cetera—"

"And who did?" Romeo asked, noticing the nervous fiddling.

"Uhm, a guy named Tybalt? He's in a class above us, Capulet, of course."

"I thought it was one of Julie's bodyguards," he sighed, remembering the girl. He was about to ask how she was but got sidetracked.

"No, no, but I got their names too, they're—"

"Mercutio," Romeo yelled, sitting up on his bed.

"What? No." Benvolio didn't notice the blonde guy entering, confused by the name. He was tall and handsome, bearing a vague resemblance to the governor, except he wore jeans.

"Dude, what happened to you?" the newcomer asked. "I rushed as soon as I heard it."

"I got this weird new hairstyle, but I'm fine," Romeo forced a grin but still felt drowsy from three bottles of iodine. His cousin shook his head before squeezing Mercutio's hand.

"He's not fine, but the staff won't say anything."

Mercutio was an old friend, one of the few on the island who belonged to neither of the corporations. He was Escalus' second cousin or something, but a friend nonetheless.

Unlike Benvolio, he saw no fear in his eyes.

Concern? Yes, but he dropped on the edge of his bed, pinched his face, and pulled on the now-white hair without second thoughts. "You got me worried. Jumping under a truck—"

"It was because of a girl," his cousin spilled the beans.

"Oh, dude, come on," Mercutio punched him on the shoulder. "Rosalie rejected you, but so what? No girl's worth enough to kill yourself."

"Who?" Benvolio's eyes widened, and he puffed his inhaler between coughs.

"It's not—" Romeo protested, choking on the menthol smell. "I wasn't—"

"I'll hook you up with the finest chicks in Verona," his friend promised. "I got that you're of the age to cry about girls, but the moment they let you out, we'll party—"

"No, it was Juliett," Benvolio finally got his voice back. "Who the hell is Rosalie?" He eyed Romeo with arms crossed and puffed his cheeks like someone left out of the loop.

"She's old news," Romeo waved his hands, but his friend's jaws dropped.

"Ju— The Capulet heir Juliett?!"

It was Mercutio's turn to act surprised, jumping off the bed. There was no time to clear up that misunderstanding.

"I take it back, dude, it was a justified suicide attempt," his friend laughed, slapping his knees. A nurse poked her head inside at the noise, shooting them angry glances.

"I was not— Don't even joke about that, idiot."

"He tried to save her," his cousin clarified, still hung up on the other girl. "But who's this Rosalie? When? You never told me you were in love with someone."

He was too tired to answer.

"Oh, Romeo, never change," Mercutio wiped away a tear from the corner of his eyes. "I know a romantic hero when I see one. But this is pure gold." He kept on laughing.

"Shut up," Romeo was dizzy, the room spinning around him now. "And it's a bit late for that. I mean,—" he motioned at his new hairstyle, "I bet people think I'm some mutant now."

"Nah, you're good," Mercutio said, trying to calm down.

"I saw members of the Church outside—" Benvolio noted, but his friend waved him off.

"They're here because of some kind of brawl," he said. "Your hair color changed, so what? Like, you got radiation poisoning, I've seen it happen before. Half the people here have white hair."

"You mean a quarter, and they're old."

"No, young workers exposed to radiation," Mercutio insisted. "Sometimes even their kids inherit it. You rich bastard never saw the worker's quarters?"

"That usually takes weeks," his cousin shook his head, clutching his inhaler. "Romeo stood beside me one second with black curls, then was fifty yards away, white-haired."

"Could be stress or coincidence," Mercutio shrugged, turning serious.

"Jokes aside, your old man's rivals might celebrate something like this," he reminded. "What if someone tried to assassinate you?"