Taking You Closer to the Edge|(Benvolio)INACTIVE

[queenmab]

There was not a single shining star to be found across the indigo canvas stretched above New York City, for night had not yet fallen. It was still the evening, a cold one at that. Strong, chilly winds screeched eerily through the streets of Brooklyn, making it rather uncomfortable for those few people still out and about without the protection of a sweater or jacket. It was otherwise deserted in Brooklyn, especially near the infamous bridge. During the day it was a lovely attraction for tourists and locals to walk across and admire the view, or it was occupied by cars. Not a single person wandered the path now, nor a single car. That section of the bridge was temporarily prohibited to drive across, because it was undergoing some repairs and modifications. It was probably safe enough to drive upon, but the city officials wanted to be especially safe. After all, it’d cost much more money to have to fight in a lawsuit raised by angry civilians raging war over their dead or injured whoevers and their damaged vehicles.

Not a single person wandered that bridge, except for one.

Mercutio wouldn’t have chosen to spend his evening lurking around Brooklyn – in fact, he’d rather be eating a meal fit for a king at a downtown Manhattan restaurant with his friends. But he was here instead. Why on earth was he here, again? It was deadbeat. Idle, so idle, and it reminded him too much of his own loneliness.

Oh, yeah.

He was supposed to meet his connections down here, but no one had showed. How was that possible? Dealers and pushers were always desperate for a buck, hell, they wasted all their time creeping in seedy places, by bridges and tunnels, just waiting for those junkies. Waiting, because they knew someone would come. That was the great thing about that business – the customers would keep on coming back, until death or rehab parted them, and they’d always get their money. And if the druggies were in debt, they’d just remain waiting. Reminding them that their dealer was indeed watching them, and that they would have to cough up the cash eventually.

“Fuck, where are they?” Mercutio whispered to himself, leaning anxiously against the rail of the bridge. He took a moment to glance at the face of his wrist watch, squinting at the roman numerals to make sense of them. Very late.

He hated to remind himself how much time had passed by. Rambio had confirmed they’d meet for the exchange at eight o’clock sharp, and it was actually beyond half past six. It was 8:40 exactly. This wasn’t normal for a drug dealer – they were usually all ready around by the time Mercutio arrived. At least, that’s how it’d been from experience.

The young man groaned, feeling defeated, and decided that while he’d better figure something out to do instead of wait around here, and fast. He slipped out a cigarette from his pants pocket and slipped it between his lips, lighting it quickly and impatiently. Mercutio didn’t even really feel like a smoke. He was just desperately bored, and it gave him something to focus on for a moment. To clear his head, think about his options. Mercutio was hardly a logical person but no other ideas were grabbing him for the time being.

Then it suddenly crossed his mind that Benvolio vaguely mentioned something about a course he was going to take in Brooklyn. Was it possible that he was here right now, just barely finishing his class and starting to leave? Well, he’s far from the risk-taking adventurer Romeo is, but he’d be comfort to have around.

Mercutio took out his phone (thankfully he had remembered to take it with him this time) and began a new text message to his friend.

Meet me at the Brooklyn Bridge right now.

What else was there to say, really? Besides, if it sounded urgent, Benvolio would arrive faster. He sent it and flicked off the long ash that had gathered on the end of his hardly smoked cigarette. Hopefully Benvolio would arrive soon, no doubt he’d scold him or lecture him. But that didn’t really matter – he just didn’t want to be alone anymore.

[benvolio]

Ben's face was flushed, his eyes were wide, and he just generally looked as excited as a three-year-old on Christmas day. As part of his med school education, one of his professors had suggested he get some experience at a hospital. Not an internship, exactly; that would have to wait until he finished his degree. Not exactly a "candy striper" deal either; Ben could have opted to do that, but he found something rather more interesting from his point of view.

The Brooklyn Hospital offered classes. They weren't classes that would help advance his degree, but instead served to supplement the knowledge he learned from his NYU classes. He was beginning to pick up little hints that would be helpful when he finally joined a practice; things like a proper bedside manner, or how deal with insurance companies in a way that did not make you want to scream. Okay, perhaps that second one was a bit optimistic, but it was at least a start.

He had spent this particular afternoon shadowing a pediatrician as he made his rounds. This pediatrician had seen several cases of chicken pox, advised the parents of a weepy toddler that a tonsillectomy would be needed soon, though it could wait a few weeks, sent a four-year-old girl with a strange rash on her legs to a specialist, looked at endless runny noses and reassured the hyper-worried parents that they were nothing to be worried about, gave flu shots to six children and a bored-looking teenager who had yelped louder than any of the younger kids when the shot went in, and many, many more. Ben was slightly overwhelmed by it all, but Doctor Graham had been calm and collected throughout the entire afternoon, stopping every now and then to explain some or another procedure to him.

Ben didn't know how to fit all of the information into his head, but he had never been quite so excited to try in his life.

And so, at the end of the evening, he was uncharacteristically cheerful as he exited the building at a quarter to seven. He strolled leisurely through the parking lot, located the shiny black Mercedes that had been a birthday present from his father a few years ago, and got in. He strapped on his seat belt (of course! reckless he was not), then remembered that he still had his phone turned off in his pocket. He flipped it open and held the little red "end" button down for a few seconds. Soon, the phone buzzed softly and the screen lit up. A few seconds later, it buzzed again, and the words "2 new messages" popped up. The first one made him smile; it was a long, rather chatty text from his little sister Freddie. Apparently, there was some or another type of high school drama that her friends had been sucked into, and she wanted his advice. Poor kid; he'd call he back when he got home. He clicked out of the message, then read the other one.

Aw, shit. His eyes glanced down at his watch. 6:50. Mercutio had sent the text ten minutes ago. Why did he always send him these dramatic summonses right when he had his phone off? It wasn't as if he cared so much about being "late," but Mercutio always sulked when Ben didn't respond immediately. Gah, this was just his luck!

He quickly texted back, "Just got out of class. Be there soon." Mercutio would probably tease him for using full sentences, but Ben was just one of those anal people who couldn't stand to abandon grammar, even in a text message.

He flipped the phone shut again and crammed it into his jacket pocket. Then, he drove at what Mercutio would scoff at as an unbelievably slow speed towards the bridge. It was, in fact, exactly the speed limit. Ben hated breaking laws.

He drove about halfway across the bridge before he spotted his friend. He found himself in a bit of a conundrum just then; what was he supposed to do with the car? He then did something he would never have dreamed of doing if there had been any traffic: he drove as close to the pedestrian walkway as possible, turned his lights on so if, on the off chance, a car did come along its driver would see his car, and parked.

He slid out of the car, brushing a bit of lint off of his jacket. "Hey, Mercutio!" he called, "What's with the dramatic setting?"

[queenmab]

The wind prickled the tender skin of Mercutio's neck as he crouched, leaning against the rail, phone in hand. The sky was gradually darkenning, seeming quick over the next few minutes. It made him feel worse, the pit that was his stomach descending even lower as he waited but to no avail for a response from Ben. Luckily, in about eleven minutes or so the palm of his hand tingled from the vibrations from the phone in his grip. One new message.

"Just out of class. Be there soon."

Absolutley impeccable spelling and grammar as usual, what else is new?he thought to himself, caught between feeling bitter for being ignored by Romeo, and a sense of endearment from the quirky tick Benvolio had. While it was irritating at times, it soothed him because it was familiar. He could always latch on to familiarity when solitude became too difficult to bear. Of course, no one ever recognized this side of him. He was a playful "bachelor" who jested and got off on mocking people's obvious insecurities and flaws, a party boy who loved a good high and a good time, and those two elements usually went hand in hand when it came to Mercutio. While all this much was truth, he was deeper than that. There was only two people who had ever slipped inside the crack of his mask, who discovered the edge of tragedy that at times, overwhelmed him.

Benvolio wasn't the first person Mercutio had attempted to make contact with today. Of course, Romeo had been his first choice. Ever since he spyed that pretty young thing at the Capulet shindig he was nonresponsive and virtually nonexistant. He hardly saw him anymore, and Romeo hadn't answered any of his calls or texts this past week. It was uncharacteristic to Romeo's nature and utterly abnormal and it infuriated Mercutio. The ugly green demon named envy grew uninhibited with the passing of each day without him. Without seeing his beautiful face, and hearing his laugh of mirth that was always bright in the time they spent together.

Mercutio tossed his cigarette and sighed. At least Benvolio was coming. The low buzz of an engine drew nearer, the sound of a car. On the side of the bridge that was still safe entered a vehicle, that black Mercedes that was no doubt the present Benvolio received from his father.

Mercutio rose from his hunched over position and watched as Benvolio stepped out of the parked car.

"Why act so surprised, Ben? Surely you know me well enough to recall my unreasonble impatience and self-absorbed attitude" he joked with a small smile.

"I was supposed to meet someone here but they haven't shown, such godawful manners! I'll have to give them a little lesson later."

Benvolio was no Romeo, and that had all ready been established from the moment they had all met eachother. But he was cute, like a puppy, whether he liked to hear it or not. Mercutio prided himself for having gorgeous friends who were both appealing in the language of physicality but also, by nature. While Benvolio had yet to unlock his massive sex appeal (it was heavily caged, deep down beneath that coy exterior), the day would soon come when he'd lay down, and stay down, for having been without it for so long.

"Have you saved any lives yet, brave soldier? You know, I've always wondered how you struggle to formulate words in the presence of a woman yet you manage to study medical journals and soil your hands with inside gut squiggles for sport."

[benvolio]

Ben was tempted to stick his tongue out at his ever-melodramatic friend, but settled for rolling his eyes instead.

“I do, at that. I have no idea how I could have forgotten it, even for a second.” he said, laughing. “Your impatience knows no bounds, and you are obviously a reincarnation of Narcissus.”

“I’m afraid that the day you put someone else before yourself will be the day you keel over and die.” he said with mock-seriousness, playfully shoving Mercutio’s arm.

His smile faded a bit at his friend’s next words. Who had he meant to meet? If it had been a girl he meant to meet, then he would be moaning theatrically about the icy lump that people call a woman’s heart, or some other such drivel. He wouldn’t be promising to “give them a lesson.”

He couldn’t be waiting for friends; at least, nobody Ben knew, and Ben knew nearly all of Mercutio’s friends.

And Mercutio had been… edgy this week…

An icy shock ran down Ben’s spine. He knew of Mercutio’s drug habits; how could he not? But he still didn’t approve in the slightest. He had been scared even before he started his medical training; now that he was learning how to deal with overdoses and what to do with somebody violent on a bad trip, he was still more anxious for his friends to give up the stuff. They never listened, of course, but to ask him along when Mercutio was stood up by his dealers? That was…!

Ben’s frustration deflated. That was exactly the sort of thing Mercutio did. It infuriated Ben, but he knew that deep down, he expected nothing less.

These thoughts only took a few seconds to whiz through his head, so it was only after a momentary pause that Ben replied quietly, “Good.”

That serious monosyllable was all he would say on the subject now. No rants, no tirades, no nothing. Ben was glad that Mercutio would have to delay his next purchase, but Mercutio was probably irritated enough by it that he would probably snap back at any attempts on Ben’s part to give his usual speech. Ben really had no desire to get into a fight just then.

He winced as Mercutio steered the conversation back around, “Not yet; I’ve yet to actually interact with patients in any more depth than just being in the same room. And,” he said, gritting his teeth, “no medical journal ever asked me if its dust jacket made it look fat.”

Mercutio had tried before to help Ben with women. If anything, it had made things worse.

“They’re scary! I never know what’s going on in a woman’s head. They defy logic!” he said this with the air of one with an unshakeable argument.

[queenmab]

Mercutio smirked and dusted off his bottom with one hand, straightening his copper tailored jacket with the other. Yes, he looked sharp and put together today, but on the inside he felt completely the opposite. It was always a good idea to front an appearance in order to keep up the reputation and ensure no one suspected anything. Of course, Mercutio had an audience to impress, especially at the hot clubs and downtown fancy shmancy dining halls.

On this evening, that gathering ceased to exist, so there was hardly a point in dressing at all. He should have just stayed home, for once, and had a lazy night with the cable TV and a few good pornos. But that was alltogether too sleazy, even for a man as bawdy as him. He hardly ever settled to participate in the act of masturbation, much preferring to experience the real thing, and to have the soft hands of another caress his body over his own.

Normally after hearing Benvolio go on about his negative qualities like that, Mercutio would have recoiled with the delivery of a rant to outline Benvolio's own flaws, whether they were completely true down to every last mocking word, or total fabrication. Mercutio just couldn't give that spiel today.

"But then I would be a grave man, and it'd be impossible for me to demonstrate my changed nature with the living" Mercutio replied with a grin, cleverly making use of a double pun to boot. He couldn't really help the way he spoke, even if it was irritating for others to listen to at times, especially when matters were dire. But wasn't this a dire matter?

To die. Peter Pan once said that death would be an awfully big adventure, but Mercutio had never really understood what the eternally young boy had meant by those words. Death was the last thing Mercutio wanted - though eternal youth would have been pretty sweet. Growing older, gaining much valued wisdom, yet remaining young and available for all the skirts and pants. The best of everything, that sounded.

But now as Mercutio lingered on that idea of death, it sounded more...appealing. He hardly heard his friend talk as he pondered these thoughts deeply, that playful grin falling away slowly, as if it were dripping off his face like honey.

"Can you tell what's going on in my head now, Benvolio?" he asked suddenly, the tone of his voice unmistakably serious, with a subtle hint of intensity. A part of him wasn't even expecting a real answer to that question, and he almost felt as if he were asking it for no reason at all. It didn't matter what Ben's answer would be, because it wouldn't change the situation, or the dark thoughts that began to fog Mercutio's mind.

[benvolio]

Mercutio, Ben reflected, always knew how to look his best. Whenever he made a slight adjustment to his clothes, as he had just done, it only directed people's attention to them. Ben ruefully looked down at his own outfit. Pale blue collared shirt that had been clean and neatly creased this morning, but was now sweat soaked and rumpled, with one sleeve pushed up his arm without bothering to roll it? Check. Black slacks that had once been professional-looking, but now had a seam unravelling on the left leg? Check. Spending time with Mercutio was always a reliable way for Ben to feel hopelessly inadequate. He usually put at least a little more effort into his appearance, but hanging around a hospital for hours is not a good way to remain a fashion plate. He had purposefully chosen old clothes for today, but even if he had tried his hardest, he would never achieve Mercutio's effortless style.

Nor, for that matter, could he match Mercutio's style in any other category. Witty repartee was one of the most entertaining aspects of their friendship. It also qualified as on of the most trying. Ben's mind tended to be much too straightforward to match Mercutio's endless punning. Romeo was always much better at that; those two could go off at each other for hours at a time. Ben always felt rather left out of those verbal fencing matches; he seldom thought of anything witty to say during them, and most of the times he had said something clever, it was completely by accident.

Still, he had to smile at the double pun. Some things would never change.

Ben knew Mercutio as well as he knew himself- better, probably, because he could be more objective. He had known him since they were kids together, and had witnessed his rapid mood swings on too many occasions to count. Many people would think that his friend's sudden seriousness was just part of the joke, but Ben caught a glint in his eye that worried him a bit.

Watching his friend's smile fade, his own followed suit. His face shifted into a pensive half-frown. "I never quite know what you're thinking." he said slowly. "Even after all these years, you still manage to surprise me every time." He absently traced somebody's initials, scratched into the metal railing of the bridge.

His eyes flicked back upwards, meeting Mercutio's bright blue ones and almost matching their sudden intensity. "Tell me, then, my enigmatic friend. What is going on in that whirlwind of a mind of yours?"

[queenmab]

It was a thousand to one
and a million to two
Time to go down in flames and I'm taking you
Closer to the edge~

There wasn't a sound to be heard but the low whistle of the wind chiming through the metal arches of the bridge, reminding Mercutio of how high in the air they were. Far up above the still waters and minature fishies swimming beneath their feet. On pleasant, sunny days there'd be high-end yachts passing through the waterways, the captain and his following of significantly younger (and likely gold digging) guppies having a cocktail and tanning their voluptuous bottoms on the deck. Those who scourged beneath the Brooklyn bridge would look on in envy, malice upon their soot-tinted faces and great sorrow in their sunken eyes. When the night sky appeared over New York, a boat or two might dock itself while those onboard danced to the blasting music till the break of dawn. The sounds of clinking, laughter and a pumping beat could be heard for miles around. By two in the morning at minimum they'd consider stumbling back to their rooms to rest and sober up for the day that'd follow.

What a life, and oh, Mercutio had tasted sweet excess. It was wild! Every night was unpredictable but guarenteed to be luxurious when you rolled with the high class boys and girls. When your charisma, your damn swags always turned the heads and captivated the audience. But...it wasn't every single night, was it? No. Otherwise he'd be set with his junk, and he'd be howling with some buddies somewhere - whether it be in a club or simply at someone's pricy pad.

No boats in the harbour. No flashy boats blasting music and passing through the waterways. It was still early for that, after all. The golden sun had indeed sank low above the horizon, but it was not yet hidden from sight. It was only fifteen past seven, after all. Still evening. But that light would disapear quickly, and with it would vanish the light of another's hope.

"My mind - a whirlwind?!" Mercutio questioned, still not looking at his friend. "I can read you like a book, Ben, and your tumultous emotions, whatever they be, are noticable like an air raid. Cease fire! You're in no position to make foolish assumptions, as they have their ways of proving you wrong and rendering you vulnerable."

His fingers traced along the cables absentmindedly as he came to a definite decision. He yanked himself off the boardwalk and stood one foot on the bar, the other balancing in the air. Mercutio gave a chuckle bordering on psychotic as he swayed dangerously.

[benvolio]

Ben quirked an eyebrow. He had known Mercutio long enough to be able to gage his friend's rapid-fire mood swings. He even had a scale worked out in his head, ranging from "five-year-old with ADD" to "high out of his mind on god-knows what." Mercutio's current mood seemed to fall into a category that was particularly hard to appease: namely, "belligerent, truculent, and many other words that amount to being likely to pick a fight." The last time Mercutio had snapped at him like that, he had nearly gotten arrested later in the day for picking a fight with Tybalt Capulet.

Even Ben had trouble with Mercutio when he got like this- luckily it didn't happen often. Ben sighed, rubbing his temples tiredly. He just would pick today. He stared out over the railing, absently staring out over the water at the sunset. Normally, on a night like this, Mercutio would be at some party or other on one or the other side of the bridge. Sometimes Ben would go too, but he never felt comfortable in that sort of setting. Mercutio belonged to that world. It was a little surreal for him to be out here, halfway between Brooklyn and Manhattan, getting moodier by the minute.

Ben shook himself out of his little reverie, then attempted to meet his friend's eyes. "Peace, Mercutio. I've just told you that I wasn't going to assume anything where you are concerned. When I call your mind a whirlwind, I mean that it moves faster and in more directions than I can follow- that when it comes to you, there can be no assumptions."

That slightly manic glint in his friend's eyes only intensified. To Ben's distinct alarm, Mercutio began to laugh. Ben normally quite like Mercutio's laugh- it was usually lighthearted and full of mirth, and contagious enough that everyone around felt compelled to join in. This laugh was different- deeper-pitched, and completely without humor.

To Ben's even greater alarm, he then swung himself up onto the railing. One foot lingered on the rail, the other parked itself in empty space, just waiting for the rest of his body to lose balance.

Ben's eyes widened, and before he knew what his legs were doing, he had sprinted the three paces between him and Mercutio. "What are you doing; get down from there!" he called up at Mercutio, craning his neck to meet his friend's half-crazed blue eyes. He was tempted to pull him down himself, but he wasn't sure enough of his strength- Mercutio might be just perverse enough to shove off with all of his strength in the other direction, and plummet over the edge. Or, said the naggingly cynical part of his brain, he might punch your lights out for killing his thespian vibe.

Ben shook his head vigorously to clear it. Those sorts of thoughts were annoying, and if anyone heard them, would probably make Ben seem like a terrible friend. But that was how his mind worked: ceaseless cynicism, and realist practicality. Sometimes Ben wished he were more like Mercutio; inventive enough to imagine seven impossible things before breakfast, and audacious enough to try and pull them off.

He did not envy Mercutio now. Instead, he simply held out his hand, willing his friend to take it. "Come on, Mercutio. Get down from there." Please, he said with his eyes, come back to your senses.

[queenmab]

Big empty sky hung above them, big empty wind whipped Mercutio's back, and big empty emotions ate wildly at his sanity. It was a dark existence - to be the funny man. But that thought didn't often occur to those being entertained. Did they know that all pain and heartache of life could be manifested into a twisted joke for all the world to jeer at? Go ahead and laugh at the suffering of another, because we all do it. It's okay, that's just how it works. There is no reason to feel sensitive about it. Everything must be examined and judged and ripped apart and examined again. And right now, at this lingering moment in time, Mercutio was consumed by himself and driven to the very edge. Of goodness, how could it have gotten this bad? But the truth was, all this time degrading himself and all around him made him feel sick.

Waiting up for Romeo, God Romeo, the one boy he just couldn't admit his love for. Because Romeo would always leave him behind for some other woman, and he could never satisfy him that way, as much as it hurt him to realize. Because Mercutio was the one to laugh and scoff and make light of the dark, make the shadows of doubt disappear. His role was justified - Benvolio was the reluctant one, Romeo was the handsome romantic, and he was the adventure boy. He couldn't step out of line and forget who he was, and what he was meant to do. It felt like a sort of cage, and he had shaped its bars, and now he was contained. It felt better to test the limits, anyway...because, life is only what you conjure, after all.

Mercutio could hear the panic in Benvolio's voice as he screamed at him. His doe eyes grew bigger with fright, and he looked quite at a loss indeed. Such an amusing reaction that he had stirred, and it caused Mercutio to laugh a little more. Feebly, Benvolio had offered his widespread palm for the taking, but the bawdy young man wasn't quite ready for that. He'd have to try harder than that!

Mercutio slapped his friend's hand down, as if he were giving a rather violent low-five, and began to twirl across the bar as if it were a gymnastics beam. It was a miracle that he kept his balance and remained a defiance to gravity, for his movement were jerky and reckless.

"Why on earth are you always so serious, Benvolio? Even the wind blows like the world might end! It's all very depressing, you know" he said, a little too casually. He tilted his head to the sky slowly, staring up at the darkenned sky with wide eyes in eerie silence. And almost as if on cue, a rumble of thunder broke the painful silence and rain pelting towards the city with a ferocity. The violent drops struck the metal of the bridge and chilled Mercutio's skin. He shivered. The bar had been slippery enough, and soon it'd become like butter...

"Even the sky cries for me! Oh, I've become impregnanted with desolation! Am I so alone?!" Mercutio screamed over the sound of the rain hitting the bridge, his eyes beginning to sting. It'd be okay if he cried now, for the rain would mask his tears. Despite the fact that he failed to contain his parade of emotion, he'd hold on, because boys don't cry. Mercutio never cries.

[benvolio]

"I'm depressing?!" Ben realized that he was hysterical. Calmly, he filed that thought away in his mind. Mind you, that was the only thing he was capable of doing calmly right now. That in and of itself was highly unusual. Mercutio had a point: Ben always was the serious one. It was one of life's little constants; Mercutio was always the lighthearted troublemaker, Romeo, the hopeless romantic, and he, Benvolio, the serious one, the rational one. The one who always kept his head. Well, he wasn't keeping his head now, and Mercutio's current troublemaking was anything but lighthearted.

Compartmentalize. That was always Ben's watchword in a crisis. Just keep calm, stay detached, and think of a plan. Save the emotions for later. God, he'd like to laugh. Detached indeed! All he could feel was his heart pounding harder and harder in his chest. He barely noticed the sheets of rain that soaked him, except that they blurred his vision. Except that the rain was cold, and the liquid in his eyes was suspiciously hot...

Ben blinked furiously. Mercutio would only scoff at his tears, he was sure of that- hadn't he laughed every time Romeo sobbed over his latest obsession? Romeo was the crybaby when they were kids; even now, it was Romeo whose emotions easily capsized his common sense. Ben never cried; he hadn't since Freddie was born and he knew he had to be a strong big brother for her. Now, though, it was beyond him to stem their flow, and he had to rely on the rain to camouflage them. His hysteria reached fever pitch as his friend- his best friend- executed some truly alarming maneuvers on the rail. It was raining, for crying out loud! What if he slipped?!

"Mer- Mercutio!" Ben choked on the name, his voice cracking. "Why do you insist on scaring me like this? Cut it out; get down form there!"

And then Mercutio's words hit him, and Ben really snapped. Of all the selfish, insensitive...! "Alone? Alone?! Mercutio, you can be a completely self-centered ass at times, but this one takes the cake! Stop working yourself up, already! While you're enjoying wallowing in your own misery, guess who can't help but feel every single lash of pain?!"

Ben's voice broke, and all of the energy drained out of him. He was crying even harder now, he realized. What the hell, that was the least of his problems. He reached up, and took Mercutio's hand in his. "Please, Mercutio. Please come down. You're scaring the shit out of me. You're the best friend I have in the world, so don't you dare moan about being alone. I know I'm too serious for you your taste, and I know I'm always raining on your parade. But goddamnit, I'm here with you, here for you whether you want me or not."

Ben was panting now. Between the violent panic, his tumultuous emotions, and the crying, it was getting harder and harder to breathe enough to speak.

[queenmab]

((Hey, hope you don't mind but I changed the time of our thread. It's now about 10:15pm, if that's okay. I somehow like this scene better happening at night. I plan on putting a post in here very soon...hopefully I get a break over the next five days. If not, right after the 22nd.))

EDIT: Edited the post on to this one before but decided to just add on a fresh post instead.

[queenmab]

The metal of the bar beneath Mercutio's feet was deathly slippery. By this point, most people would have long slipped off the edge, whether with intention and meaning or through accidental actions, and tumbled to their untimely death. It was a perfect night to commit suicide, Mercutio thought morosely.The water below was disturbed from the rainful and the vicious winds that ripped beneath the bridge, no doubt to make for an brutal landing. The skies had darkened significantly, swarmed by storm clouds.

Mercutio finally stopped his dancing and twirling after Benvolio shrieked at him not to and clung to the railing with both hands instead. His body was trembling slightly from a mixture of the temperature and his own vulnerability.

"Scare you? You think I'm still trying to scare you?!" Mercutio roared back in disbelief. "This is about as serious as it gets, scary or not, Benvolio! I figured you'd feel right at home!"

No, Benvolio didn't understand. Few people could ever keep up with Mercutio, so it didn't come as much of a surprise. He could only flail his white flag and scream philosophies when the shit hit the fan. Even after all this time, Benvolio hadn't even had a go to guess at what was wrong. Contrary to popular belief, Mercutio didn't always feel like involving himself in insane situations willy nilly...there was often a motivator in the equation.

Mercutio jumped violently at the roar of thunder cracking across the sky, drowning out Benvolio's voice for a moment or two. But he had caught most of what his best friend was hysterically screaming at him, and he turned to face him with wide eyes. The lightening that accompanied the thunder displayed the distraught expressions on both their faces, the glint of desperation in Ben's eyes, and the manic glimmer in Mercutio's electric blues. Then, Ben grabbed his hand tightly.

"It's not enough, it's not fucking enough!" Mercutio roared, shaking their clasped together hands. "Romeo's abandoned us, abandoned me, yet again and you seem to accept this rather inevitably! By contrast it strikes me like an Achilles heel, for he is my only reason to fall!"

At this point, Mercutio's visage crumpled and tears tumbled down his cheeks before he could try to stop them. Now the both of them were sobbing, and Mercutio couldn't even make a comment about Ben being a cry-baby without it being fair game.

"It's always been about Romeo!" he shrieked, finally coming out with his confession - he was fed up with the attention constantly being on his other best friend, yet he fed it just as much as anyone else did.

"Why, I'm just Mercutio, good old Mercutio! Nobody expects me to have the potential to be something grander than that!"

He took a moment to breathe, quietly wheezing as he swayed dizzily on the spot, unnoticing that his hand was still trapped in Ben's.

"...I...I'm just a beast in pain."