Chapter Text
Yet another family feud amongst the Montagues and Capulets, yet another scene of bloodshed, and yet another warning from Prince Esculus. Romeo of the Montague family, a handsome yet sentimental young man, had grown tired of these arguments. To him, they were but pointless childish bickers. Each time he would refuse to fight (despite having been in a fight literally at the beginning of the original story but hey ho), and he'd sit at his balcony, picking the petals off a lonely rose with the occasional dramatic sigh. Fucking emo. Often times, not even spending tine with his friends Mercutio and the other one could heal his moments of desperation. He wished for peace (not), for the families to not kill each other every chance they got because fuck you, that's why. Moments like these made him weak at heart. A simple insult like "doilum" could instigate a fight that could result in death. Petty bastards never learnt to take it like good boys.
The Capulets were all the more spiteful. Even at the slightest issue, their resolve would be to resort to violence. Hence why a Capulet called Giacomo got rocks thrown at him for saying to a Capulet that they looked "oilier than a Greek olympian in Athens". Fly high Giacomo, you were only 4 years old. However, one especially spiteful member was Tybalt, a warrior who wanted nothing more than the deaths of the Montague household. He was ill-mannered towards them; spiteful for no particular reason. But one thing was evident: no one dared to cross him. The alpha. As much as Mercutio and the other one despised him, they never picked fights. Especially not with someone as valiant and talented as him.
However, on one fateful night, everything changed.
The heads of the Capulet household, Lord Capulet and his wife, had the bright idea of hosting a masquerade ball. Everyone who was invited had arrived with handmade face masks, except of course, the Montagues. However, the rule did not exempt Romeo from sneaking in with his friends. Perhaps it was to gather intel to figure out their weak spots, but Romeo was selfish. He wanted some Rosaline cooch. His may not have been the biggest or the best, but she was still gonna get that Montague dih.
Rosaline was Romeo's first true love, despite the two barely having spoken before. Her beauty was indescribable. Her long flowing brunette hair always seemed to shine in the light, her creamy skin rosy and sun-kissed. Her eyes were as big as a doe's, full of life and empathy. Romeo's heart fluttered at the mere sight of her grace. Mercutio was always telling him to stay in his lane, as Rosaline was way out of his league. But Romeo was resilient, and delusional. He debated talking to Rosaline all night, but he froze whenever she gazed in his direction. His breath hitched in his throat, and his mouth went dry. Even the occasional sips of wine he took from the glass he held in his left hand made him remain parched. But his blood ran cold the moment he noticed another man near her; his heart almost stopped once his gaze fell upon the engagement ring Rosaline was now flaunting. Had the mask not concealed his facial features, the whole room would've noticed the baffled expression on Romeo's face. He clutched at his chest, feeling as his heart beat rapidly in it. He pushed his two friends away, scurrying to a hidden room, far away from the party-goers.
As he wept, his tears were stopped by a voice.
"Quit crying you gimp."
Romeo stopped in his tracks, turning as he heard the feminine voice ring out. The voice belonged to Juliet, young daughter of Lord Capulet. Despite being five years younger than Romeo's nineteen year old self, he noticed how mature she seemed for her age (I'm not a creep this actually happens in the story, this is for shits and gigs). He recoiled as if struck, sparkles appearing in his eyes. Yeah, fuck Rosaline.
"Wow, you're gorgeous," Romeo spoke huskily, his breath hitching in his throat at the sound of her elegant voice.
"You know I'm like, fourteen, right?"
But Romeo didn't seem to care.
"It's the sixteenth century." Romeo replied in a way that made him sound more self-aware than he was, hoping to get in her pants. Well, skirt. Women didn't wear pants at the time, otherwise they'd be burnt at stake.
Romeo inched forward, closing the distance between them. His hand reached out, gently caressing her cheek. Juliet didn't move away surprisingly.
"My lips two blushing lines, cleanse me from sin with yours," Or whatever he said. The two kissed, much to Juliet's initial reluctance. Why? Romeo tasted like alcohol and regret.
"Oh, oh heavens, exorcise me" Juliet was getting weirded out.
From a nearby corner, Tybalt peeked into the room. He was skeptical. Juliet was to be wed with Paris, a distant relative of the Capulets. And the man she was kissing was sure as hell not Paris.
The two lovers broke the kiss, much to Romeo's reluctance. Juliet licked her lips, the odd taste from Romeo's lingering on hers. Mmm, olives.
"Can I... Can I see what you look like underneath?" Romeo asked, his fingers tracing the outline of Juliet's mask. In retaliation to the touch, Juliet pulled it down, and Romeo's pants almost collapsed.
"Holy shit I'm cooked." Romeo almost exclaimed hadn't he been focused on Juliet's face. She just looked confused.
"Because you kissed a minor?"
"No... I'm a Montague!!"