Peace

The school was boring.

If not for the constant stares—because all his fears came true—this would've been the most mundane of days. The worst part was that he never saw Julie.

He missed her sweet cinnamon scent, getting this thick incense Church smell instead.

"I mean, she broke her leg yesterday," Benvolio noted, clutching his inhaler.

He was even more paranoid than Romeo, sticking close but staying further than usual. He acted like a guard dog fearing his owner instead of a clingy cousin.

"I know, but I wanted to apologize," Romeo came up with the lie. He never mentioned her secret visit, his feelings for her—or anything that happened after.

Benvolio still guessed some of it.

"So who's this Rosalie your friend talked about?" he steered the conversation during lunch break. Romeo took the last of the fries, drowning in its oily smell.

He picked a table, and an enormous gap freed up around them. Mercutio swooped in on cue.

"Right, I haven't seen her for a while." He stole from Romeo's plate. "You didn't get Max to assassinate her, did you? Like refusal is rough and all—"

"You're not funny," Romeo shot him down, shielding his fries from further theft.

He didn't need a reminder about all the weirdness happening after his friends left the ward.

"It's weird that there was a girl who got you depressed, and you never told me," his cousin complained.

"What?! I wasn't—"

"Our hero, Romeo, didn't want others to share in his pain," Mercutio explained. He was too loud.

"Shut up," he furrowed his eyebrows. "I haven't even thought about her for a week." It was closer to three days, but much has changed since the semester started.

"How long has it been?" Benvolio insisted, getting on his nerves.

"She's still in middle school because, you know, Romeo likes 'em young—"

"I'm serious, shut it," he snapped, adding a forced explanation. "There's like six months between us, and I met her there last year. Nothing special."

Students shot glances at them, but that wasn't new.

"So she rejected you? The Montague heir?" Benvolio's mouth hung open.

Mercutio snatched his inhaler away and puffed into his open mouth, making him jump and cough. Romeo didn't need the drama, rubbing his forehead.

"It wasn't like that," he sighed. "We were friends, and after graduation, I told her, 'It would be a shame if we haven't met anymore,' and that we should hang out."

"And she shot our Romeo down like nobody's business."

"Screw you, Merc—but yes, she avoided me after that." He downplayed how it affected him, though his summer break was rough. Then high school began, and he met Julie.

"Unfathomable," Benvolio choked out, fighting for his inhaler.

Was he blushing? Was it the exertion?

"Anyway, it's old news. It never even mattered, and I was never—let me press this home—never wanted to kill myself over it." With that, Romeo decided the discussion was over.

"Yes, I apologize for the misunderstanding," Mercutio grinned. He ramped up the volume when he spoke again. "I never expected you to be so heroic—saving a rival's heir."

"What?" he glanced around, and everyone in the cafeteria stared at them.

"It's too bad I missed that show. To think, such things as delayed hair dyes exist these days," his friend yelled. Romeo knew of no such thing. "And to get that timing right—"

"Oh, yes, you looked like an anime character getting his power-up," Benvolio joined in too.

Romeo tried to look insignificant, but his white hair didn't help.

Whatever these idiots were on about drew too much attention. Mercutio winked, returning to his food, and Benvolio took nervous glances around.

They left the hospital together yesterday. His friends must have thought of this dumb explanation for his hair once the staff kicked them out.

Would anyone even believe such a thing?

All Romeo wanted was to finish his lunch in peace and hide. It was not to be a stranger from a higher grade walking up to them.

"You b—" he caught himself mid-word, looking around.

It wasn't hard to guess what he wanted to say, but Mercutio turned it into a joke. "No, he's Romeo. If you're looking for Benvolio, it's this gentleman."

"I know who you all are, Montague dogs," the student sneered. His black hair was longer than the regulations, the sweater wasn't the uniform's.

"Then you're wrong. I'm not a Montague, nor do I work for them," his friend interrupted him again. Romeo had no idea what he wanted but guessed his target.

"Are you Tybalt, by any chance?" he asked, remembering the name his cousin told him yesterday. "The Capulet who started the whole fight?"

"All I did was to protect our honor," the stranger slammed his chest.

Now that made sense.

"Ah, you're here to pick a fight." Mercutio stole more fries from Romeo's plate. "I thought you wanted an autograph from the hero who saved your Juliett, and that would've been weird."

There was no helping his friend, but he kept the situation under control.

"Here's the thing. My close relative—the governor—said if someone starts a fight again, he'll banish them." He crossed his arms, leaning back on his seat.

It didn't sound likely when everyone on the island had to sign an NDA.

Romeo could never tell when his friend was joking, but he didn't mind as long as it worked.

"I only wanted to test his strength, to settle things." Tybalt turned to Mercutio as if he were his manager or lawyer. "Like man to man, in a fair mech duel."

"A mech duel?" Romeo almost spit his lunch out.

"Training mechs in the arena. All legal," the Capulet clarified, his lips curling up as he stared him down. "Unless you're afraid." his shadow stretched over the table like vulture wings.

"Trainers killed more pilots than graduated," Benvolio choked it out. "You can't be serious—"

Tybalt scoffed, but even light mechs weighed 25 tons. Anyone who underestimated them was an idiot in Romeo's book. Of course, he was afraid, but he had a valid reason to refuse.

"My nervous system isn't compatible," he ground it out.

"Ah, who would've thought you're so inferior?" Tybalt grinned, raising his nose. Calling two-thirds of the world's population inferior was a very Capulet thing to do.

"I'll take you on," Mercutio kicked his seat back. "Unless you're afraid," he repeated. "But first, answer me this. If a nightguard dies during the day, can he get a pension?"

"What?" Tybalt froze. "That's a stupid question. Why wouldn't he?"

"I do wonder about that myself," his friend smirked.

Romeo couldn't decide to cry or laugh, shaking his head at the interaction.

"No, because he's dead," he sighed, earning a glare from the Capulet thug.

"And there you have it, Mr Superior. I'm afraid I'll have to turn your challenge down." Mercutio bowed, grabbing his seat again. He sat down with every eye on them, Tybalt fuming.

"That makes no sense," he lashed out, but that was the point.

"Well, better luck next time," his friend winked, and the thug had no choice but to leave, defeated. Benvolio's inhaler puffed twice, he held his breath all this time.

"You're an idiot," Romeo said, shaking his head. "Where did this even come from?"

"Grandpa loved to pester us with riddles. It's a shame he never got his pension either." Mercutio shrugged, his smile fading. "May he rest in peace."