Chapter Text
Benvolio stared at the boy in front of him, his earnest, eye-liner rimmed eyes staring at him, trying to remember. But he couldn't. Couldn't he understand?
He gulped, studying Mercutio's boyish, open face.
"I-I'm sorry? I know I'm not supposed to be here-" He cut off, nervously wringing his hands. "Look, please don't tell the authorities."
The boy whose name was Mercutio grinned. "Come on. I know you've lived here for the last five years. No one, even someone as sexy as me, is going to change that."
Now, Benvolio's expression changed to suspicion. "Wait, it's been five years? How do you know all this?"
"No time to explain. For now, you'll have to trust me. Everything that you've endured and will endure has been for the chance, for the hope of a better future." Mercutio said this whole sentence with one, long shuddering breath, and at the end looked up to meet Benvolio's skeptical gaze.
Benvolio's eyebrow furrowed. "Do you always talk in riddles?"
"Only when I meet someone I really like," Mercutio winked. "Happy birthday, by the way. I can't believe you're eighteen already."
"Look, you seem like a great guy. But... we only just met today. And there are too many questions in my head. Who are you? Are you a spy from my former life, intent on destroying me? Or are you more like a guardian angel? I'm pretty sure no one lives around here except me and my mum."
"These are all good questions. But, ask yourself this," He lent forwards, his face close to Benvolio's. "Could a villain be as pretty as me?"
Benvolio snorted. "I'm sure he could."
Mercutio smiled, and his whole face changed. He looked like he was framed in light, and there seemed to be a spark in his eyes. A wave of deja vu came over Benvolio so suddenly, that he felt he needed to clutch to the branches of the tree to keep his balance. Mercutio's face softened. "Look, let me ask you something. Do you remember anything about your life before you came here?"
"Of course I-" He trailed off. All the endless nights, the cold, lonely nights where the constant feeling of not knowing consumed him. How had he gotten here? He had always felt that there... there was more than this. More than these artificial, plastic days with his mum, hiding in the woods with an alien, and never knowing why he was here. And here was a boy, who could tell him everything.
"No, it's okay. I know you don't." There was kindness in his eyes, but kindness that gave way to a type of superiority. Here was Benvolio, and for the first time ever, Benvolio needed Mercutio, and not the other way round. For years, it was Mercutio who cried about heartbreak, woken up screaming from the prophetic dreams that had consumed him since a young age. And always, Benvolio was there to comfort him, perhaps with a sonnet he had written for him, or sometimes just a loving hug.
It was always Mercutio, the helpless one. The one who needed Benvolio. Regardless of all the times Mercutio told himself he didn't need anybody, he knew he needed Benvolio.
But, here was Benvolio, in front of him. Confusion dancing in his eyes, his lips almost jutting out into a smile, like he was on the brink of Mona Lisa's smirk. Nevertheless, Benvolio was helpless. He knew nothing about where he was, and how he had gotten here. He remembered nothing about Mercutio, all the endless nights they had shared together, under the stars. All the infinite days, when their problems seemed to fade away, and the times when the gargantuan problems of childhood shrunk to negligence as Benvolio lent towards Mercutio and pulled him into a tight hug. Benvolio remembered nothing, and yet, there was a power to this. There was a power which Mercutio held.
Mercutio held the secrets of Benvolio's past, and despite how much it pained him to hold on to them, he had decided to keep Benvolio's past to himself for a little longer.
Benvolio stared at Mercutio. "Well, aren't you going to tell me?"
"Well, you see, all good things come at a price," Mercutio winked.
Benvolio groaned. "Oh, what the hell. I guess I shouldn't have expected a straight answer. I guess the mysteries of my life are too many to just be given to me just like that."
"Oh, shut up, Ben." As soon as the name was out of his mouth Mercutio knew he had made a mistake. That nickname was affectionate, and from another time. If a human was just the product of past experiences and relationships, then the boy in front of him, the Benvolio that no longer remembered who Mercutio was, was not longer Ben. He was Benvolio, and it was stupid to pretend otherwise.
Benvolio smiled cautiously, his soft blue eyes softening a little. "You know my name? I'm not even going to question it."
"You're learning, young Jedi," Mercutio laughed.
"I'm serious, though. I understand that you're someone from my past? Who are you?"
"That's confidential," Mercutio said. "Come on, be patient. Don't you want to get to know me first?"
"Yeah," Benvolio sighed. "But I also want to get to know myself too."
He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Always the philosopher. Always the poet."
Benvolio grinned. "Admit it. You love it." Their eyes locked for a second, the rich paints of chocolaty brown and ocean blue mingling together in the gentle sunlight. There is something to be said about eye contact, about something that is more intimate than physical touch. The fact that two people, at the same time, can see the same iris and get lost in the same view, is... something, to say the least.
It's definitely something.
"Wanna see one of my poems? I wrote it... about..." God, the sun was so bright. Why was it so bright?
"Ben? About what?"
"About someone... I can't remember his name..."
It was right there... the name... just out of his reach.
"Ben? BEN! Are you okay?"
The world snapped back into focus, and there was Mercutio's concerned features, staring at him, his hand resting on his knee.
"Oh! The poem, right," Benvolio reached into his waistcoat for his notebook. "Here's one of the verses, I guess."
I want to talk about wild dreams
And sleep that just won't near.
The childish laughs, the broken bones,
And all your hopes and fears.
"Wow," Mercutio said. The sunlight framed his face perfectly. "The guy who wrote this about must be very lucky, huh?"
"If only I could remember who it was about," Benvolio sighed.
There was a silence so thick you could collect it and mold it into any shape you wanted.
"I'll tell you about your past, on one condition," Mercutio said, quietly.
"What's that?" Benvolio looked up, in excitement.
"A kiss."
"I'm not gay!"
"Huh." Mercutio was momentarily stunned. "And... when has that ever mattered?"
"Oh, for goodness sake." Benvolio blushed, his whole face and flaming tomato. "Just..."
"Just what?" Mercutio was enjoying this.
"Let's... get this over with?" His voice came out as a squeak.
"Anything you say." Mercutio lent forwards, and his lips met Benvolio's. He closed his eyes, and despite himself, despite the fact that Benvolio couldn't remember who he was, despite the fact that Benvolio had just told him that he was straight, he lost himself in the moment. The feel of Benvolio's chapped lips, the cold, sun-light drenched wind blowing his hair about, their noses touching - a fleeting thought came to Mercutio - this was everything he had ever dreamed of.
And then he fell back to reality when Benvolio was the one to pull away, his nose red from the cold and his blue eyes made more clear by the gentle sunlight.
"So..." Benvolio smiled shyly, and Mercutio felt himself burning up inside.
"So," Mercutio smiled back, the eye contact suddenly more intense because of the intensity of the kiss they had just shared. Things were different now, however they would deny it in the future.
"How did I get here?"
And it was in that moment, Mercutio felt his heart break. Here was Benvolio, who had once been his best friend, and Mercutio had hoped, someday something more. Now, Mercutio was nothing but a stranger to him. His attempt to bring him back to reality through a kiss had failed, and Benvolio was just as lost as ever.
Why had he ever given Benvolio that memory eraser? He was sure it had felt right at the time. He had saved him, hadn't he? If he hadn't...
But now. Now, he wouldn't given anything to have the old Benvolio, Ben, here with him.
This is where he did something selfish.
"I don't know."
"WHAT? MERCUTIO!"
"I did it to get a kiss out of you. You know, hot poet, sitting in a tree, I have to kiss him, you know?"
"You're so selfish! Why are you even here?"
"Come on, Ben-"
"GO AWAY!"
"Fine," Mercutio snarled. "But I'll be back. You need me, remember."
"I don't need anyone," Benvolio said, turning away.
"We'll see about that," Mercutio whispered to himself. "We'll see."