Wingman

Excellence Award in the 'Legendary 2012' competition

It wasn’t easy for Mercutio, he was so sick of being the fall-back when Romeo’s little escapades failed within his love life. Sure, Mercutio was Romeo’s best friend, but last night was the final straw. They had planned their run from the party, the meeting up later and the celebrating of the fact Romeo was back to his usual self, and not lovesick with the thoughts of Rosaline, who frankly, wasn’t even aware of Romeo’s existence. Mercutio sighed with pure exasperation before reading the last text from the boy that was basically his brother.
“M, meet me down the street at say… twelve? Sorry about last night man, something came up suddenly.”
Mercutio sighed again, but this time it was to control the anger that was coursing through his veins at the message displayed on the small screen. Who did Romeo think he was, leaving him behind? And Mercutio knew what for. It was for a girl. A girl. The thought made him shudder with anger all over again. Mercutio wanted it to be like when they were children. As close as two peas in a pod, their names would only be spoken together within Verona. It was never “have you seen Romeo?” or “where has Mercutio disappeared too?” with the two friends, the city knew that the two names simply belonged in the same breath when spoken. “Romeo-and-Mercutio are such troublemakers!” was probably the most common term that was scattered across fair Verona.
Thinking back to their childhood always caused Mercutio to smile, it was a time they were close, unlike now. It was near impossible for Mercutio to catch Romeo on his own; they could never meet up for a bit of fun as just them anymore. Mercutio believed that things hadn’t been the same since Benvolio joined in their friendship. The anger had started to consume Mercutio at that moment. It began as a slow and hot bubbling deep within him, as though lava was emanating from the pit of his stomach and into his veins.
It was that moment though Mercutio understood what his problem was. It was jealousy. And it was a different kind then he had ever expected. The problem wasn’t that Benvolio was trying to take Romeo from him; it was that Mercutio did not want anyone to have Romeo but himself. Mercutio realised, sometimes you don’t want to be just a wingman. And as his thoughts continued to build and his mind wrapped itself around the fact he had feelings for Romeo, the familiar face appeared at the door to their usual café.
“M?” said Romeo, tentatively. “M, what’s wrong? You look like you need to talk…”

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