Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sometimes, Benvolio thought, things don't go the way you expect them to.

Like now.

The gaze of his gentle eyes swept around the room he had been sleeping in, his skinny body bundled in the cold, white sheets he had managed to leap into the night before, before dropping into the endless, incomprehensible pool of sleep. 

Wasn't the light of Betelgeuse meant to stream into the room, like it had always done, for every long, endless day of his past twelve years? 

God, it was so cold. 

Shivering, he let himself be drawn into the smiling darkness of sleep in the welcoming, cool sheets for one more time. 

Little did he know, it would also be his last. 

***

"Benvolio! Benvy, Ben, get up!" A terribly familiar voice was screeching in his ear. 

"For God's sake, Mercutio, what time is it?" Benvolio groaned, his pillow automatically rising up to his ears. 

"Never mind that! Look, we've got to go. I'll explain everything. Meet me on the roof in ten minutes, okay?" 

In the end, it was the unusual panic lacing Mercutio's every syllable that caused adrenaline to rush through Benvolio's sleepy brain. 

When he sat up, alarm coursing through his veins, Mercutio was already gone. 

Rolling out of the sheets that had so very perfectly encased his sleeping form, Benvolio sat up, running a hand through his curly blonde hair. He didn't know why he thought of this at this exact moment, but he suddenly remembered how Mercutio used to tease him as a kid, messing up his locks and calling him a golden spaniel. A small smile tugged at his lips at the memory, then, suddenly remembering what it was he was supposed to be doing, he grabbed a plain white shirt and some black trousers. And, hell, he grabbed the red waistcoat too. 

He could've made his way to the roof where Mercutio and Benvolio always used to meet in his sleep. As he climbed the steep stairs, slowly, small memories began to flood back. Reading poetry under the stars together. Mercutio threatening to push him off the roof if he didn't tell him who he liked at their school. Hugging as Mercutio cried, his first heartbreak as raw as ever. The crushes had come and gone, but their friendship was forever. As cliched as it sounded. 

But that day seemed somehow... different. 

He had climbed onto the roof, the cool wind blowing his messy hair into his eyes. He hadn't bothered to push it away. 

The roof where they met was called a roof only charitably. It was essentially, a slab of concrete where they hadn't finished the construction of the roof. Nobody knew about it except them. 

The first thing Benvolio saw when he stepped onto the roof was Mercutio, his dark hair blowing in the wind. He seemed strangely contemplative, and his normally perfectly applied eyeliner was streaked. Almost as if he had been crying?

Mercutio, crying?

"Mercutio?" Benvolio's voice was strangely tentative, and he detected a strange tremor. This was all wrong. He wasn't supposed to be on the roof with Mercutio at seven o'clock in the morning. Mercutio wasn't supposed to be crying. The ever-present star of Betelgeuse, the star that had illuminated the planet he had spent his whole life on, wasn't supposed to be gone. Panic began to claw at his throat, though he had no idea why this would be. 

You're being stupid, he had told himself. I'm sure you're still dreaming. Just bide your time, and you'll wake up soon. 

Mercutio's head snapped round at the sound of Benvolio's voice, but then his whole body relaxed when he saw who it was. "Oh, it's you. Thank God."

A lump had appeared in Benvolio's throat. "Is everything okay?"

"No, Ben. Everything isn't okay." Slowly, their eyes met, and Benvolio saw the extent of worry etched into Mercutio's features. His eyes were red-rimmed, beneath the generously applied eyeliner. 

A few moments passed before Mercutio spoke again. "Look, we haven't got much time. Oh, God. I should have warned you earlier. Oh shit, this is all my fault. Everything is my fault."

He was pacing now, his voice growing in volume. "We've got to get you out of here. Before it's too late!"

Benvolio caught Mercutio by the shoulders, and stared into his eyes. "Mercutio, everything's okay."

"No, no, it's not. Are you delusional?"

"There's no reason to worry. Mercutio, listen. You're having a bad dream!"

"God, Ben. Will you fucking listen to me? The world is ending."

Alarm flashed in Benvolio's eyes for half a second, but then he pushed it down. "The world has been around for..." Benvolio wracked his brain for a few, agonizing seconds for the sparse knowledge about the world that he lived in  that he had been taught in his school. Though he was grateful for the gift of knowledge, he couldn't help thinking that the history of their planet, Vogsphere, seemed to be a secret that everyone kept from him. "For a few billion years. There's no reason why it should end today."

When Mercutio looked up, his eyes were filled with a scary kind of darkness. 

"But there's no reason to say that it couldn't have ended yesterday, is there?"

A few seconds of silence ensued, Mercutio's statement hanging in the air.

"What are you-"

"There's no time. I'll explain everything." A small smile played on his lips, but it held a hint of sadness. "One day, I suppose."

Benvolio started to speak, but a crash from below interrupted him. "Who goes there?" A booming voice called out. 

"Oh shit, it's Captain Capulet. Let's get out of here." Benvolio was still staring into space, his endless thoughts blocking him from moving.

"BENVOLIO! MOVE!" Mercutio whisper-shouted, and when Benvolio failed to do so, he pushed him onto the other end of the roof. "Goddamnit, move!"

And finally, the feeling returned to his bones, and he began to run. The wind rushed passed their ears as they ran, tears streaming out of Mercutio's eyes as they ran, their breath catching in their throats as they ran. And despite the panic, despite the tears, despite the fact that Capulet, goddammit, Capulet, was chasing after them, the exact moment Mercutio reached out his hand and took Benvolio's hand in his, Benvolio felt exhilarated. He felt free. 

Was that messed up? Was he messed up?

They ran together, the sound of Capulet calling out for his guards fueling their every step, and goddammit, they ran. They ran like their lives depended on it. 

And Benvolio's thoughts ran just as fast in his head, incomprehensible things, like... God, it was so stupid. 

But... what if Mercutio was right?

They had been friends since such a young age, and Benvolio had been witness to many of Mercutio's eccentric moods, he had comforted him in his lowest moments, he had written him poetry, and he had laughed at his crazy ideas. 

In a way, Mercutio had become the boy who cried wolf. He had woken up screaming so many times, about the craziest dreams, that no one even humored his worries any more. No one except Benvolio. 

But this time, he had gone too far. 

Hadn't he?

The world wasn't really ending. 

Wasn't it?

Wasn't it?

"I know you don't believe me," Mercutio breathed, quietly. 

"What?"

"It's written all over your face. It's okay. I mean, it's not. But I wouldn't believe me, either."

Mercutio pulled him into a bush, his face so close to Benvolio's that their breath mingled, both of them breathing heavily from the running.

"It's okay. I think they've gone. For now."

"Why were they chasing us?" Benvolio asked, panic catching hold of his throat. 

"There's no time. I just want you to know something."

"Well, what is it?" Benvolio was strangely nervous, though he didn't know why. 

"You won't remember this soon. That's why I'm telling you this." Reluctantly, almost, Mercutio reached into his pocket and pulled out a small syringe. He plunged it into Benvolio's arm, and we winced, alarm growing. 

"Hey, what are you doing?"

"One day you'll forgive me for this. Because, this was the only way you could ever be free."

"What..." Benvolio arms and legs began to feel like lead, and his eyelids grew heavy. 

"I love you, Ben. I always have. So one day, I hope I can tell you in different circumstances. And who knows? Maybe you'll ever say it back."

But Benvolio was gone, into the drug induced slumber that Mercutio had given him. 

"I'm sorry," Mercutio whispered. Then he reached down, and took Benvolio into his arms. 

He walked down the path, to where he knew Montague was waiting. 

"There you are, good Mercutio."

"Here I am."

"Are you sure this is going to work?"

"It's the only way we can save him from what they were going to do."

"Well, then."

They placed him into the waiting spacecraft, and watched him slump into the seat. 

"You gave him the memory drug?"

"Yeah, and the one that ensures he survives the space travel."

"You did good," Montague smiled. "You know we had no choice?"

"I know that. But I still feel..."

"Well, don't." There was an edge to his voice. "Come on. You'll see him in five years."

"But he won't remember me, will he?" Mercutio snapped. Then he gulped. He knew he had crossed the line. 

"Come on. Get him in the spacecraft. You did the right thing."

"Fuck off," Mercutio muttered under his breath.

"What did you just say?"

"Nothing,"

"Watch yourself," Montague growled. 

As Benvolio slept, Mercutio watched him with a tender expression. He knew that all the memories that had once had been so dear to Benvolio were now disappearing, being erased from his memory. He looked at his closed eyelids, knowing that he would never be able to gaze into the bottomless blue of his eyes until five years later. 

The truth was, it was true. Everything was true. 

The world was ending.

Just not the way Benvolio thought. 

"I wish for you a better life, Ben. I'll come back for you, I promise."

He shut the door of the capsule, and set the destination to planet Ceronine. 

"Godspeed."

As the capsule begun to shudder, tears began to flow from his eyes. Did he have something in his eye?

"See you soon."

Chapter Text

Five Earth years later

Behind the oh so beautiful farmhouse, there was something he had come to see as a tree. A gnarled, ancient tree with branches that just begged to be climbed. 

And who was Benvolio to ignore such a heartfelt plea?

A light from a star he had not yet come to know the name of filtered through the metallic leaves. He sat there, his legs dangling, and observed the gentle, unobtrusive beauty that the light bestowed upon him. Gratefulness for the simple life suddenly washed over him, despite of the gnawing sadness that clung to him, like a scratchy jumper he just couldn't throw off. 

He chewed the ink pen in his hand, one of the only things he had been able to salvage from his old life... somewhere. A part of him told him that it didn't matter, that he didn't know how he got here, in this unfamiliar world where creatures stared at him as if he was an alien. Which to them, of course, he was. 

And it didn't matter, did it? All that mattered was that he had a loving family, and that he was happy. 

He was happy, wasn't he?

He didn't know why he was thinking about this on such a beautiful day as this. 

But enough about that. Today was his seventeenth birthday, and everything seemed to be perfect. The way the light penetrated the trees, the way his pen rested in his hands, and even the unstained white notebook open in his hands. Today, the works wouldn't come to his head. The normally flowing poetry was stuck inside his pen, waiting for another day before appearing in his notebook. But even that was okay. 

How could he ever be sad, when everything he had ever known was right here?

I found out that I've lived a lie, 

I stopped believing my dreams wouldn't die, 

I found out why it is that I peacefully cry:

The thing I've been fearing has always been home. 

Benvolio sighed. His poetry writing still left a lot to be desired, and it wasn't as if he knew that it was that was wrong with his writing. There was something wrong, but he just didn't know what. It was infuriating. 

Anyway, what he was reading through now was a poem he had written last night, when he was unable to hold back the loneliness any longer. 

What was home, truly, for him? The place he went back to after a long day? The feeling of safety he would hypothetically have when non-existent arms encased him in a loving embrace? The thing was, he didn't know. He had never known. Five years ago, when he arrived here, a young boy of twelve, confused, heartbroken, and had been taken in by the people he now referred to as his family, he had practised saying the word "home", over and over again, in order to convince himself that this was what he wanted. 

This was what he had always wanted. 

Because what did anyone really want in this life? You breathe. You respire. You fill your days with endless activity that doesn't really mean anything. You write poetry. 

You convince yourself that this is a life worth living, until you truly believe it. 

"Benvolio!" A familiar voice called. 

"Coming," he whispered, then louder, so that they could hear, "Coming!"

He jumped down, quickly stuffing his notebook into his waistcoat so that they wouldn't see. As much as he loved his family, he never would let them read his poetry. 

They wanted him to be happy, and he just couldn't be that for them. Not all of the time. And his poetry was the only thing that understood him. 

"Why do you always go behind the house? You should play in front, where I can keep an eye on you!" This declaration came from his Mother. Her long, red hair was tied back into two pigtails, showing off her birthmark covering her right eye. 

If you didn't know better, you would think that she was human. Except for one thing, that hinted at her true ancestry. Her long, forked, reptilian tongue, which she was strangely self-conscious about. She had taken him in, five years ago, when no one else would. 

"I'm not a little kid, mum! I'm actually seventeen. You haven't forgotten about my birthday, have you?"

She tutted. "No, you're becoming a young man, and a cheeky one at that! Happy birthday, anyway." She spoke with a slight lilting accent, as they all did in this foreign place. 

Benvolio suddenly moved to hug her, and she flinched away, automatically bringing up her hands. 

Lowering his hands, he exhaled. Benvolio understood. She didn't like to talk about her past, but he understood. He would try not to forget next time, and respect her past, and that it was under lock and key. 

So was his past. But to him, it was under lock and key to himself, as well. 

His mother tried to dredge up a smile, but he could see her pain. He understood. 

"What do you even do back there? Why do you love the big tree so much? You've been climbing it every day since..." She trailed off. No one wanted to mention to day Benvolio had arrived. They both had tried to bury it. 

"It reminds me of home," Benvolio smiled. Then, finally, his mum relaxed and smiled. She ruffled his curly, golden spaniel hair. 

Now that was a strange comparison. What was a golden spaniel, anyway?

A memory, just out of his reach. 

There were so many things he couldn't explain in this world. Why did he enjoyed reading poetry under the stars so much? Why did he compare his own hair to one of a golden spaniel, when he didn't even know what a golden spaniel was? 

Why did he feel that there was something... something more?

"You're an old soppy," his mum laughed, interrupting his thoughts. 

"No more than you are," he laughed too, enjoying the built up tension leaving his body. 

"Well, come in. I made your favourite dessert," she winked. In truth, they were more like siblings than mother and son. He enjoyed it. 

"Didn't steal too much for yourself, did you?" He was having trouble containing his laughter. He knew how much she hated angel delight. She called it demon's delight. 

"I had to restrain myself," she said dryly. "Come in."

His birthday meal was filled with animated conversation, punctuated with frequent bursts of laughter. His mum kept looking at him with a faint, amused smile, as if he had turned out to be so much more than she had ever expected. So he let her be happy. He knew that she deserved it. 

When they had finished eating, Benvolio sat back, wishing to return to his tree, where he could write poetry in peace. But he didn't want to be rude. It was his special day, but it was also his mother's. He would do anything to make her happy. 

"Open your present! Open your present!" she said, a glimmer in her eyes returning. 

Benvolio laughed, loving to see her happy.

"Alright, alright." 

"Come down to the basement."

Curious, Benvolio grabbed a lantern and they descended the steps in the darkness which threatened to swallow them whole. 

"Okay, so as you know, they banned History in all schools in our solar system, right?"

"Right..." 

"Which is why you don't know the name of our big star, the star that illuminates planet Ceronine."

Benvolio wondered where this was going. "I do..."

"No, you don't." She smiled. "And that's totally okay. I don't, either. I can't even read. But you can. You'll be me, but a million times better."

Benvolio could see tears in her eyes. "So, I've kept this secret down here for... twenty years. Back when I got married the first time." Her eyes grew dark, concealing memories behind them. "It's not... strictly speaking, legal to possess this. But, I thought I'd give it you."

She picked up a book, its yellowing pages half crumbling. 

"Today is your seventeenth birthday. And I want to give you the gift of knowledge."

Benvolio could not take his eyes off of the book. "Is that... an encyclopaedia?"

She nodded. "Yes. Please don't do anything stupid. The officials would do anything for everyone to stay stupid. I couldn't allow that to happen to you, just like it did for me."

He hardly knew what to say. "Th-thank you. You've been so good to me, I hardly know how to-"

"You don't need to." She smiled. "Just don't turn out like me."

***

Happiness utterly consumed Benvolio. Today could not have been any better, and just for this one day, he let out a smile that nearly split his face in half out, and smiled at the infinite sky. He smiled through the ancient branches, in the hope that someone would notice, and someone could see how happy he was. 

He took out his notebook, and started writing. 

You've been away for a very long time, 

Submerged in your mind and left in your lies. 

For so very long, you've been alone, 

So welcome home, now, welcome home.

"That's beautiful," someone said, quietly. 

Benvolio screamed, jumping and dropping his notebook. "I'm sorry, you scared the shit out of me! Who are you?"

The boy smiled, with just a touch of sadness.

"Don't- don't you remember?"

Benvolio shook his head, utterly confused.

His eyes were heavily lined with black eyeliner, and his eyes were dark, as dark as the bark of the tree. 

The boy held out a hand for Benvolio to shake. 

"Mercutio, at your service."

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."