Secret Visitor

It was hard to tell when Mercutio joked.

An attempt on his life?

"Come on, why would anyone—" Romeo stopped mid-sentence, compiling a list in his head. The Capulets were obvious, but if he counted his father's rivals too, the list never ended.

Cold sweat beaded on his temple.

"See?" his friend opened his arms. "Think about it."

His grin showed how much he enjoyed the situation but that didn't make it less scary.

"Don't joke like that," Benvolio choked out between puffs.

The monitors beeped faster, betraying what Romeo thought about it. So much so, that an angry nurse came to check on him, followed by a cloud of antiseptic.

"Okay, visit's over," she threw them out, "Mister Montague needs rest."

"Either way, you'll be safe," his friend yelled back from the doorframe. "I'll put a word in with the governor. And then we're going to party—"

"What if I don't want to?" Romeo asked the empty room. "Damned thrillseeker." Drowsiness took him over again. "And how do they expect me to rest when—"

At that moment the film stopped rolling.

Did the drugs do him in? The car crash? It's not like he was familiar with the symptoms of gamma radiation either. In general, he was slower on the uptake today.

He fell into an uneasy coma, swimming in sweat, with a complete memory lapse. At least when waking up, the cinnamon scent lingering in his room calmed him down.

"O Romeo, Romeo. Wherefore art thou Romeo?"

His eyes snapped open. The ward went dark, but green irises and copper hair shone through.

"Julie—" he sat up, head still spinning. It was like a dream.

"Easy, stud," she smirked in her school uniform. She got it a little dirty but made even that look good. "I'm fine. I wanted to say thank you—though you broke my leg."

She knocked on something blue encasing her right leg.

"What?!" He rubbed his eyes. Julie laughed.

"Don't worry. I'm not mad or anything," she threw her head back. "My idiot bodyguards said you jumped in and took the brunt of the impact. And if they admit that a Montague helped—"

"I'm sorry about class," Romeo blurted out.

"Huh?" Julie's eyes widened, her thick lips forming an 'O'.

"I shouldn't have said those things about your family and stuff," he confessed. "It's always fun arguing with you, because you're smart, and—" He shut himself up. Why the oversharing?

"Aah, aren't you nice?" A smile spread across her face.

She hooked a finger into her long orange locks, twisting them around. If it weren't for the dark, Romeo would've said, she blushed. His heart throbbed, and the monitor's beep betrayed him.

"Haha, calm down," Julie teased. "I wasn't angry at you, but seeing that footage—"

"And I should have comforted you, instead of being a prick." Dead silence.

"Aww, come on," she punched his shoulder. "Don't be such a gentleman now. I enjoy our banter too," she flashed a disarming smile, "but don't tell anyone. I'll deny it."

With a wink, she leaned back on her wheelchair. The cinnamon scent was intoxicating.

"We both have our images to uphold," Julie noted, "but I'd be happy to be your friend." It was almost like she confessed. "Only to argue with you all the time. In secret. A secret frenemy."

Romeo blushed, but couldn't deny his disappointment.

"I um, might've had something else in mind."

"Don't." Julie shot him down, eyes flashing. He raised his eyebrows, and the girl paused to massage her temples. This reminded him of the faint buzzing sensation he felt for a while.

It wasn't the first time today, though the drowsiness made it go away. Almost.

"Look, I'm the heir of the Capulet Corporation," Julie explained with a sigh. "I'm legal to marry next year, and you can bet your Montague ass that my dad already has someone in mind."

Romeo couldn't decide what was more surprising.

Was it the profanity, or Julie being so open? Did they drug her too? Should he feel sad or happy about it? The girl didn't give him time to decide.

"I'm sure it'll be the same for you," she ruffled his white hair.

It sent an electric current through his whole body and her hand snapped back.

"You're not half bad," she giggled, "but it's better if we're not going there." She took a deep breath and averted his eyes. "No, scratch that, I take it back."

"Thake back what?" Romeo hoped the darkness kept his blushing hidden.

"You look ridiculous," she covered her mouth. "I mean, your hair."

"Gee, thanks." The spell broke.

But there was a buzz, and currents sparkled between them. She must have felt something too.

"I hope it's not my fault. You looked—" Julie paused to count on her fingers. "About twenty-three percent more handsome with your black curls. Well, I guess, you're still all right."

He wanted to call her out on the mixed signals when someone yelled.

"Miss Juliett," they repeated twice. "Your parents came. Please sign your papers before leaving."

"Oops, busted." She grinned, rolling her wheelchair back.

"You snuck out?" Romeo's eyes widened.

"I did," she stopped, looking dead serious. "Got to say, I was a bit disappointed that you didn't."

"They never left me alone," he protested, but a sudden yawn betrayed him.

"Haha, sure," she waved from the door. "Well, see you in school, and—don't make this weird."

His heart throbbed again, and she was gone.

All that remained was the constant prickling in his temples. Sensory overload? A cool breeze from the window made him pull his covers tighter. Did she feel the same about him?

Could this go anywhere?

"Adorable, isn't she?" A voice sent chills down his spine.

A silhouette by the window—with the governor's perfume—triggered a buzz worse than ever.

Paris.

"How the hell did you—" he started, then it hit him. "We're on the 5th floor."

"I knew we were the same," as he spoke the prickling intensified. "But our taste in girls was this close too?"

"Same?" Romeo spat, too drowsy to do anything else. "I don't even know who you are."

"Hmm? So Daddy kept it a secret?" he tilted his head. "Well, you must still feel it."

The buzzing escalated until his ears rang.

The monitor's beeping became urgent, and steps echoed on the corridor.

"Ah, he's here," Paris backed toward the window. "Then you can ask him about his last project with the Capulets. Vat 16, don't forget to mention."

Images from the morning class flooded Romeo: shattered vats, one marked with '16'.

The steps got closer, and Paris was on the windowsill.

"Oh, and don't worry," he glanced back, "nobody tried to kill you. Yet."

Before he blinked, the night swallowed Paris whole. Rushing to the window there was only a 70-foot drop, no balconies, and a distant thud echoing.

"You've done it, young man." Lord Maxwell Montague entered, fuming.

Romeo turned to face him from the open window.

"A fight on the street with hundreds of witnesses, and—" his tirade died mid-sentence. He hit the lighting switch, his gaze flickering around the room. "What have they done to you?!"