|Good Luck, Benvolio
Author: Vellev PM
Benvolio, a character commonly overlooked. Has anyone ever wondered why he just doesn't show up in the second half of the play. Shakespeare had a reason. There will be slash.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Drama - Chapters: 9 - Words: 24,460 - Reviews: 15 - Favs: 6 - Follows: 3 - Updated: 08-18-12 - Published: 04-01-12 - Status: Complete - id: 7979478
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
*_ * I decided to finish this story. This is the last chapter. It is short, and it is a little sad. *_*
Around me, a normal morning was apparent. Or maybe happier than normal. I couldn't tell. My world was faded, shadows sprung from the sun, and my eyes seemed to only see through the browned pages of old parchment. It was so, so cold outside, but everyone wore happy clothing.
I felt a warm, itchy feeling in the bridge of my nose, and sneezed. "Bless you." A passerby said, and I froze, all my muscled seemed to tense with fear. Had I caught the plague? No, no, you couldn't have, Ben. You're just fooling yourself.
I looked back to the door of the household. I should go back, heed the words of my uncle. He was going through a rough time, he needent more disrespectful kinsmen.
I continued to wander the streets, tears flowing down my face, and I couldn't remember just when I had started crying. I was so tired.
I found myself in front of the Friar. I should speak to him. There is no sin that cannot be forgiven if confessed for, except lack of faith…and I still had faith, hadn't I? I was not fully a member of Sodom, was I? I knocked on the door, and when there was no answer, I went in.
"Hello." I looked to where the voice came from.
"Hello, Friar." I said, nodding politely. "Is Friar Lawrence in?"
"No. I suppose you know there is a wedding next morn in the Montague household?" The Friar said.
"No, I hadn't heard of that." I said.
"Well then, maybe you can speak with me? I'm sure I can help you in some way."
I paused. Friar Lawrence, I might, just might, have been able to confess to. But this man, who I didn't even know the name of, could I? "You may not be able to. I don't even know what to say."
"What do you mean, lad?"
"…I have sinned in ways maybe unforgivable." I said, stammering a bit over my words.
"The Lord forgives all sins, my boy, and since you have come here to seek help, surely you still have faith."
"I do hope, Friar."
"Now tell me, what is your trouble? Maybe I can counsel you." The Friar said. He was nice, too benevolent.
I sat down, and sat across a table that had different herbs thrown all over it. "Well, I am a Montague, my name is Benevolio. A lot has occurred throughout the last through days. My best friend, my source of life, and my kinsmen all in the same person was murdered by a Capulet, the recently deceased Tybalt. This Capulet was then killed by mine other friend, Romeo, who has been banished. Everyone I know has just been killed. I know not what to do, Friar." I said, halfheartedly. This was not going to work. "Friar, I think I must go."
"No, stay here, boy. People have had everyone they knew killed throughout time. You must get through it. God will-."
"I'm sorry, but I must be going." I said, and shut the door behind me.
My mind was blank. Death surrounded me, everywhere I looked. Withering flowers, rotten fruit, meat being sold. So I thought, if I am so sick, why not join the death why not finish it all?
The idea grew on me. I could join Mercutio, and now he would only be mine. I could go back to the times were I fought Tybalt, I even missed those. I could live my own life again, but in death.
What if I go to hell? I have sinned. No, when that door closed, I had given up faith in God. I will find whatever reaches me at the end of my own life.
It was all I could think of. Now, my mind was filled with a most happy kind of Death. Looking back on it, it was frightening. Demented. I had convinced myself of an underworld, as the Greeks had called it, where I would meet everyone I knew, and relive my life. I was all too happy to die, and even, in my lazy state at the time, excited to meet my end. I didn't know where to look to, so I looked to the only person I knew would help, who was dead. I was a fool.
How to die? I wondered if there was anywhere to get fatal poison? Or could I just slit my own gullet? No, I wanted to die the way everyone else did. By the sword. Who could I get to kill me? Oh, I bet Tyb—he was dead already.
I opened the door to the household. A servant ran up to me. "Benvolio, sir, something horrible has happened! Please come with me." No…no more horrible things. I'm done with horrible things. Still, the woman pulled me with her, and up to my aunt and uncle's room. The sight I was met with was, truly, horrible.
Lady Montague lay on the bed, and Lord Montague kneeled at the bedside, tear falling from his face. I ran up to her, and touched her. Her skin was icy cold, and there was no hint of her breathing. She was dead. I stood up, and there were no tears. I think I didn't have any left. I had cried enough to last my now short lifetime. I walked out of the room. I left the house. Too much death for one household. It was stained. The family stained with its own blood. Surely, Benvolio adding to that stain wouldn't do anything, the blood already ran too dark.
I found myself at the sycamore grove, though I didn't remember how I got there. It didn't really matter. I was like an old cat, wandering off to find a place alone to die. So, under the canopy of the sycamore trees, I unsheathed my sword, positioned it right under my ribcage pointing up, and pushed it in.
Suprisingly, it was uneventful. No person in a cape with a scythe came, I had no flashbacks of joy, I just felt pain, and then nothingness.
And then, somehow, I felt somethingness.
I was in extreme darkness, and there was nothing near me. I couldn't see, it was so dark, and my eye never adapted. I was knee deep in some substance, but I didn't know what it was. I didn't know if I existed, because I was no cold, nor was I warm, and I felt no pain. I never got unbalanced. I just…was. Or maybe I wasn't.
Sometimes I passed by someone. I didn't hear them, nor did I see them, but I could just tell that they were there. We exchanged stories, told each other everything about ourselves. Opened our hearts, and poured them out to the other person. We could stay a few seconds, or a billion years together, but we always parted ways, and continued to walk. My legs never hurt, and I could never remember the other person's story, no matter how hard I tried.
I wish, though, I still wish, someday, if time exists here, that I can meet Mercutio.
*_* In Shakespeare's 4th Folio, there was notes that Benevolio died when Lady Montague "died of sadness" It was pretty much, "oh, and Benvolio too." It did not say how. I formed this story and forgot about it to explain it in that matter…and I just noticed, this is really sucky yaoi isn't it? It barely counts, XD. *_*