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i don’t smoke except for when i’m missing you
A chill carried the rough odor of cigarette smoke through the night air. A crescent moon shone faintly in the indigo sky, stars scattered like a jar of spilled beads. Thin black clouds hung low; Tybalt thought that they looked like watercolor paintings, they were so wispy and light. He took another drag from his cigarette, staring deeply into the sky. The breeze caressed his tear-marked cheeks, reminding him of why he was here in the first place. It was stupid. He knew that it was stupid. Still, he didn’t care. He took another drag. He didn’t care that it was stupid. He was still going to sit here, and wait, and cry as the minutes passed.
i don’t smoke except for after i’ve held you, baby
A text flashed across Benvolio’s phone screen, illuminating his dark room. Groggily, he shifted towards his nightstand, letting his eyes adjust after being shaken from his half-sleep.
Hey, are you up?
Jesus Christ, Benvolio thought. Not this again. I can’t do this again.
I need someone to talk to.
It’s not your job to help him anymore, he reminded himself. You tried, and you failed, and you both need to grow up. Unless he’s in danger, just ignore him.
Please, Ben.
I need you.
I think I just got dumped.
Oh, shit. Do I do it?
text me your address. i’ll pick you up.
Fuck it. He needs me. He’s hurt.
being with you makes the flame burn good
Tybalt rested his head against the cool passenger seat window. The radio played low, keeping the stalemate from becoming uncomfortable silence. Neither one of them spoke. Tybalt’s breath came out in shaky half-breaths as he tried to suppress his tears. Why was he even here? He felt pathetic, like an abandoned puppy or neglected child. He felt every nerve in his body revolt against being there. But, he didn’t want to leave. He knew that he couldn’t. He knew that he needed this, whatever this was. It was comforting in a way, knowing that even after things had ended, that Ben would still be there to talk to, even if no real talking was involved. Tybalt swiped snot from under his nose, sniffling like a kid with a cold. “Do you have any tissues,” he mumbled. Benvolio nodded, tapping the glove compartment. “Thanks, Ben.” Benvolio’s hands tightened on the wheel. Tybalt didn’t notice.
if you need to be mean be mean to me
The diner lights shone harshly on them. A bored waitress in the corner was the only other person in the room aside from them. Benvolio always wondered what the night shift in a diner was like. How many heartbreaks has she seen? Does this one even phase her?
“I warned you about him, Tyb.” Benvolio took another sip of his coffee. “You should’ve listened.”
Tybalt stared blankly at his half-eaten plate. “I know, okay?” He weakly stabbed at his eggs with a fork. “What do you want me to say?”
Benvolio sighed. “I just didn’t want to see you get hurt.” He looked up at Tybalt. He was wearing the bracelet that Benvolio had left at his dorm months ago. Benvolio pretended that he didn’t notice. “I still care about you. I hope you know that.”
He really wished that he didn’t.
Caring about someone like Tybalt wasn’t easy work. It hurt, badly. Tybalt could be whoever you wanted him to be; he had gotten really good at that after years of living in the Capulet house. He could be charming and gentle, the perfect young man for your daughter. He could be spontaneous and wild, the man that all of the songs on the radio are about. He was always wearing a mask, a painted clown’s face. He was so, so good at it.
But, even the best of actors can’t play pretend for too long before losing themselves.
Benvolio noticed the cracks in the image early. Tybalt was always tense, constantly on defense. Every time Benvolio tried to bring him down from the adrenaline high, Tybalt broke. He spent the last of his energy on cruel words hurled towards anyone that would listen, including himself. He spat venom at the mirror, burning bright before falling apart. Benvolio was always there to clean up the aftermath, to sew the seams up again and fill the fractures in the plaster. And Tybalt would just sit there and accept it, too weak to save his image. Benvolio didn’t care, though. As long as he could keep Tybalt safe, none of it mattered to him. For awhile, at least, none of it mattered at all. Every unkindness was either forgiven or returned, like a video playing on loop forever. Neither one of the cared once the streets were empty and the lamps illuminated their path, alone.
i can take it and put it inside of me
Mercutio was the first to notice it. Benvolio was…different. Those hazel eyes were unfocused and sunken, always deep in thought. He moved like a ghost, as if he was ready to leave at any moment, just passing through. It happened little by little, so slowly that Benvolio himself didn’t notice. Tybalt was ashamed. He knew that it was his fault. It hurt to think about. He had pulled the knife from his chest and thrust it into Benvolio’s back. He didn’t mean to hurt him, but he was hurting so, so badly himself. They were like matches that couldn’t keep the flame to themselves. Tybalt was sorry. He really, really was. But, it wasn’t all him. It couldn’t have been. If it was, why did Ben keep coming back? Why did they turn to each other in the dark time after time, still searching for that same old flame?
you can lean on my arm as you break my heart
Benvolio was a hypocrite. He knew that. He warned Tybalt the same way that Mercutio had warned him. Benvolio wasn’t very good at heeding warnings.
It started off with being the shoulder to cry on. The red lights of Tybalt’s bedroom had washed over them, reducing them to shapes in the dark. They were just means to an end. Tybalt needed to be soothed, and Benvolio needed to escape. It wasn’t meant to become anything more than that. They hardly even liked each other. They certainly weren’t meant to love each other.
Still, as once in a blue moon turned into once every few days, Benvolio needed more. He needed more than to feel Tybalt’s lips on his neck. He needed to feel Tybalt by his side for longer than it took for the pressure to build and release. Tybalt needed the same thing.
It turned into coffee dates and sleepless nights roaming Verona with the top of the car down and the music blaring. Those were the things that Benvolio remembered like a baby’s blanket. He could still picture Tybalt’s careless grin and wind-tousled hair, as if it were right there in front of him. Those were the moments that lived inside of his heart, crossing his mind whenever they pleased. There was one time at the museum that Benvolio was trying to explain the technique used in a painting they were looking at. Benvolio had assumed that Tybalt was watching along, analyzing the layers of oil paint with him. But when he turned to face him, Tybalt was staring right at him.
Those were the moments that kept him coming back. Even after the screaming, the fighting, and the mess that they left things in. Benvolio still found himself wandering that maze, trying to find the better times in the heart of it. He always ended up in the same place: in Tybalt’s arms, suffocated by the chilling warmth in his chest. He always thought it would last forever, that it was different this time.
It never was. One of them would always leave before the afterglow even dimmed.
just don’t leave me alone wondering where you are
Tybalt sat in his dorm, the silence too much for him to bear. Benvolio had known better this time. He was too smart for this. Tybalt wasn’t. He cracked open the window.
The crickets kept him company as he lit another cigarette. He wasn’t a smoker. He really didn’t smoke as a habit.
He only smoked when he was missing Ben.