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Mercutio smiled softly, his footsteps keeping pace with his friends as they paraded down a cobblestone street, stuffing the atmosphere with their rambunctious laughter.
The alluring backdrop of Verona invited joyful thoughts into his mind, thoroughly convincing him the evening that lay in wait would be nothing except for the purest of fun.
It was a warm night, further illuminated by fiery torches carried by a few select members of the gathering.
The balmy sun had set hardly half an hour ago, the remaining rays casting a simmering mixture of hues across the vast sky—a stunningly beautiful view.
Mellow air hugged Mercutio loosely as he silently applauded the gorgeous Italian dusk.
Only God knew how much time Mercutio had spent admiring the heavens as of late.
With the feud at what seemed to be its disquiet peak, anyone who boasted either blue or red was positively on edge.
The airspace above was his only escape from the longstanding vendetta that plagued the streets.
Well, that and his precious companions.
So here he was surrounded by several of his friends, including his closest confidant Romeo and his dearly beloved Benvolio.
At the thought of his friends, he appreciated the ether for a heartbeat more before returning his sights back to Earth.
Excitement flowed through his veins at the prospect of what the forthcoming night promised; a crew of Montagues promenading inside a Capulet festivity was sure to germinate trouble!
It was an itch for adrenaline Mercutio had been aching to scratch.
He opted to spare a glance at Romeo amidst the chattering frames of his friends, wondering if the romantic had recovered from his prior misery.
Mercutio had spent the past couple of minutes playing Queen Mab into reality to cheer him up, a feat that had left the group buzzing.
He would be damned if the age old party trick failed.
Fortunately for Mercutio’s poor mortal soul, Romeo was cheery as ever, prancing around his servant Balthasar who seemed equally enthralled, their faces partially irradiated by flickering flames.
Anytime one of his friends was downcast, it seemed a portion of his heart withered away.
That was why Mercutio filled his vocabulary with such hilarity and comedy—to ensure his friends did not suffer.
For some odd reason upon which he could never place his finger, Mercutio had always been consumed by an unwavering love for his mates.
Watching Romeo dance gleefully amongst his closest friends brought sparks of genuine jubilation into his heart.
The feeling thronged him with a staggering intensity of emotions: immense fondness, proliferating warmth, and sterling adoration.
Mercutio chased the high ceaselessly, constantly pursuing the contagious laughter of his cherished friends, relishing in the precious moments he shared with them no matter how leisure or chaotic.
Their sounds of happiness blessed his ears in a way no other sound could.
Such fierce sentiments currently held hold of his heart as he thought of his amities, and yet Mercutio chose to risk a glimpse at his beloved Benvolio.
And, of course, the action only further crippled his doting bosom.
Benvolio ambled towards the rear of the group, maintaining a watchful and wise eye on each member of the party.
His calm demeanor and commendable bravery never ceased to amaze the young Della Scala.
(Everyone in the Montague crew knew Benvolio was granted the most respect by Mercutio.)
But what captivated his sights was the man’s radiant smile as he merrily observed the posse’s exuberant dynamic.
He couldn’t decide which scene pulled forward more ebullience: the Venetian nightfall or Benvolio’s beaming face.
Mercutio treasured that he was friends with such congenial souls.
It truly melted his heart each time he recalled any affectionate memory of any given friend he had.
How could one ever bear to choose romantic or familial love over this?
Mercutio had dabbled in romance a few times, even so, no woman had ever compared to his amusing friends; likewise, he loved his family very deeply, but Mercutio enjoyed his time much more when he dashed around the city alongside his closest pals, laughing and disregarding all of the troubles that ate away at his consciousness.
Frankly, he had not a clue who he would be without the merciful influences and gentle love of his companions.
His friends repaired his essence, crafting his weary person into the shining, jocular man as which he was known.
It filled Merucito with serendipity to be sure of the wonderful people about him, that he could count on such kind individuals.
With another long, tender look at Romeo and his dear Benvolio, he allowed himself to soak in the softhearted moment that he alone was experiencing.
And as Mercutio cast his eyes around the people who walked before him and as he took in the laughter and bliss that surrounded him, he knew from the innermost part of his being that for his friends he would do anything.