money, power & montague

As he waited for Romeo to read the multiple screenshots that he had taken of the story, Lysander began pacing around the room. On the inside, he was freaking out, which was manifesting itself outwardly by his need of movement. What were they going to do? Two of the people he cared most about were suddenly in a lot of danger, unless this was contained somehow. What if Old Man Capulet found out and actually sent someone after Romeo? Juliet was going to worry herself into a coma. Or what if his uncle decided that the situation was a liability and had Juliet taken out? And then Romeo would do something rash, nobody ever thought of anything anymore. Lysander was not good at math, but he was 83% sure that someone was going to die because of this.

Obviously, Romeo had been the one who blabbed. The idiot. But that conversation could wait until all of this was contained. “Process it quickly because we need to figure out what we’re going to do about it.”

In fact, in the moment it took him to stretch and throw a gruntled look at his cousin, Romeo hadn’t considered the possibility that all of Verona would soon know his business - business that was meant to be secret, or else Romeo could end up in his own cold grave. He hadn’t considered the fact that his drunken mistake had turned into family scandals and bad publicity, or the fact that twelve missed calls from an omnipotent father was never a good sign. For the time it took Romeo to take Lysander’s phone, he was protected from the wrath of what his father would dub as a Capulet’s Slander.

As he read the headline, the blood drained from his face, unable to tear two wide eyes away from the post. Montague Heir Admits Love for Capulet - six words that were a death sentence to him. An inkling of hope remained that maybe it was still under wraps, but Romeo knew better than to hope for such impossible things.

He mustered up the courage to look into his cousin’s eye, giving him a forlorn look before he asked, “When did this go up?”

But it didn’t matter - even ten seconds was enough time for a screenshot.

“How many people saw? Are there any other websites posting about it?” Romeo asked frantically, forcing himself from his bed and pulling on whatever clothes lay on the floor (ignoring whatever Lysander’s reaction was to his briefly naked body). “Shit - fucking shit.” He groaned, grabbing his own phone and rushing to unlock it. Fifty six texts, mostly from Lysander and one from Ben, the rest all from his mother.

Dimmi che non è vero, Romeo.

He ran a shaky hand through messy hair. “Ly,” Romeo breathed, feeling himself turn red with anger, “Do my parents know?”

The moment she had woken up that morning, she had been bombarded with texts; some ranged from angry, to upset, to curious. The majority had jokingly sent her the tabloid headline ( ‘Montague heir admits love for Capulet’ ) expecting her to laugh in return, while a few choice others had simply sent her angry and confused messages. She hadn’t replied to any of them. Instead, Juliet had felt herself drown in the overwhelming urge to run; run away from Verona, from Romeo, from her family, from everyone. And that was what she had done. She stumbled out of the door, her mind completely numb as she focused on the sound of her own breathing and the pace of her feet on the road. Left, right, left, right. She didn’t even realise where she was going until she’d stopped in the playpark miles away from home, a place that had brought her nothing but happy memories — as if it would wash away the emotions roaring inside of her. Juliet had occupied a spot on one of the swings, keeping her eyes to the ground, blocking out everything. If she didn’t let herself think about it, it wasn’t real. This line of thought wa the only thing keeping her from hyperventilating.

With her toes dangling inches from the ground and a drooped head that made Romeo’s heart sink - he had found her (finally), infiltrating This Side of Verona even with the very real possibility her father would shoot him down. Because, despite the brief moment the post had been up, their secret was out.

Romeo hadn’t realized how big his mouth grew when he was drunk, big enough to lay in streets and spill his secrets to any stranger who would listen, even if that stranger was sweet and smelled like poisoned flowers. If he had known that a small gossip blog would be posting about their relationship a mere few days later, he would’ve never touched a drop of that cheap whiskey.

But it was too late for would’ve; his damage had already been done, and the eyes of strangers had already eaten him alive today. Everyone except the rock-dwellers knew about The Heir and The Heiress, Star-Crossed Lovers, as the media had dubbed them. Everyone now watched them, with every intent of finding out the truth -- as if it wasn’t already revealed.

His father was working on it, that much was promised to a fear-shaken Romeo, too ashamed to look even his mother in the eye.

He cleared his throat before he spoke, struggling to find the right words to say. There wasn’t anything Romeo could tell Juliet that would make this better; although this consequence wasn’t unexpected, it was Romeo’s incompetence that brought it forth. He swallowed harshly. 

“I won’t shout at you,” he murmured, trembling hands in jean pockets. “We’re a team, remember?” Romeo was tempted to add the anecdote of ‘for better or for worse’, but he was uncertain if Juliet still believed in death do us part with him.

[10:40 AM] no seriusly call me

[10:42 AM] WAKE UP

[10:45 AM] fine im coming over

It was eleven-thirty on a Friday, and Lysander had a feeling that shit was about to hit the fan. He was up much sooner than he should be, but had been woken up by a text from an old girlfriend in London. Marissa, a girl he had dated a few years ago, who was completely engaged in pop culture and gossip, had screen shotted a headline from some D-list Italian gossip website: Montague heir admits love for Capulet.

[10:34 AM] AREN’T U RELATED TO THESE PEOPLE????!!!

Without a response to the text, Lysander knew he needed to respond to the situation. First, by texting Romeo, not Juliet. And then, by contacting another old friend who owed him a favor. The website was hacked, but only for a few hours, enough time to figure out further response. 

He was still a little drunk from the night before, and wearing the same clothes as well, but he found himself half running, half stumbling through the streets of Verona. He didn’t bother knocking on the door, it was times like this Lysander was glad he had made a copy of the key. 

“ROMEO??” Lysander yelled as he walked through into the house. He continued to shout his cousin’s name until he reached his bedroom. “Yo, hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we have a problem”, he said as he tossed Romeo his phone with the image of the screenshot pulled up.

But maybe not -- it felt as if only ten minutes had passed since Romeo closed his eyes, before he heard the tell-tale buzz of his phone.

He reached over to his bedside table, not even bothering to open his eyes, and turned the ringer off. Although... his phone continued to light up. Romeo again ignored the blue glow, falling back easily into his bed. Honestly, he couldn’t bring himself to get up, even if whoever the hell was texting him had news of the impending apocalypse. 

Drifting into sleep again, Romeo didn’t plan on Lysander storming in.

It was the shout from downstairs that initially got his attention, Romeo’s eyebrows furrowing into early-morning anger -- “What the hell,” he muttered, rubbing sleep-filled eyes until he sat up, covered still by his white duvet. By the time he opened his eyes, Lysander (his beloved English Muffin, although Romeo wasn’t too excited about seeing him now) had welcomed himself into Romeo’s room, throwing a phone at his face.

Although he caught the phone, Romeo was hardly shaken by his cousin’s words. “What are you talking about, Stewart?”