welcome to my twisted reign

A small sob forced its way out of Ben’s mouth and he moved eagerly towards Hamlet, trying earnestly not to jostle him too much as he settled in beside him. For a moment Benvolio felt that in some wya they were normal, though perhaps was the least normal thing they’d ever done. “I am so sorry I let this happen to you.”

While he was the one to lay in the hospital with cuts and bruises, Hamlet couldn't find it in him to worry about himself. The amount of concern for a man he couldn't remember seemed to take over his whole body and soon, he had an arm weakly wrapped around him. "Don't," he muttered, "don't say that because it's not your fault. It's no ones fault but my own. I'll pay the price when I'm out of here but for right now, I just want to remember you, okay? I want to wake up in the morning and remember you. Remember what it's like to have kissed you and - what it meant to love you."

“You were, but it’s okay.” He tightened his grip on Hamlet’s hand. “The anger, the fear- it’s all in the past. And you knew that already- all of this is repitition. You and I are in a good place now Hamlet, I promise.” He tightened his grip on Hamlet’s hand, the thought that his memory wouldn’t come back hadn’t even occurred to Ben, though now it was present in the front of his mind like a ticking bomb- a disaster he would deal with later. “That’s why I’m here- to help you remember.”

How could his own mind betray him like this - to let him forget these moments that the two shared. Out of everyone that had come to see him, this one person felt the most important. They would do anything for each other. And yet, he had forgotten the other's name in the beginning and how they weren't just friends but there were still those instincts. Of wanting to protect him, of just wanting to be neard him. Wetting his lips, he scooted over in his bed and tugged at Ben's hand. "Come here. Lay with me."

He could feel his breath stop in his throat, and he brought his eyes up to meet Hamlet’s again, surprised and pleased by the warmth he found there. “You were scared.” His voice came out as almost a whisper. “We don’t live in a world that is forgiving, and you were absolutely terrified.” Ben turned his hand over, his fingers lacing with Hamlets as he gave no thought to overwhelming the boy now. “You came back, and I never thought you would…” He faltered. “But now you’re gone again.”

"What was I scared of." Hamlet only seemed to get bits and pieces that didn't seem rather important. Like the facts of the world and those who hated others just for living the life they wanted to live. "Don't," he breathed, "don't say I was scared because of my feelings for you. Don't.." His father had taught him to be better than that - to live above those who judged and to not care how people saw him. "The doctors.. They said this could be only temporary," he spoke softly as his eyes began to water, "I'm here. I'm here, okay. I just need help."

Benvolio shifted on the bed twoards Hamlet, his hand resting between them, though he fought the urge with evey breath to grab Hamlet’s hand. “Well- we started out as enemies.” Benvolio smiled, thinking of Hamlet’s pigheadedness. “Then as-” Lovers? Definitely not the right word. “Well- we kissed. And if kind of freaked both of us out, a lot. And you got so scared that you ran off for a few months, and when you got back I was so mad at you that we didn’t talk for a couple of weeks. But then we started talking and uh- you told me you loved me.” Ben flushed, breaking eye contact with Hamlet for a moment. “ And ever since then we’ve just been….taking it slow.”

Perhaps he had been wrong about himself this whole time - memories of his childhood and Hamlet swearing he would never fall in love. That girls had cooties - but, well.. Benvolio wasn't a girl. What would his father think of this relationship. If there was even a relationship to speak of. At the mention of a kiss, Hamlet couldn't help but drop his gaze to the male's lips. "I love you," he questioned as he looked at the other, as if they were foreign words never meant to be said. "I refuse to believe I would run away from someone as kind as you seem to be.." He moved his hand slightly so his fingertips rest on top of Benvolio's, "I feel like it would be an honor to love you, if I'm being honest."

By the second he was losing his own battle of keeping Hamlet in the dark- it was hard when the brooding, insufferable, delusional jackass he was so used to was replaced by this doe eyed boy he just seemed to want to know who he was and what had happened. Just friends- what was he supposed to say to that? “I- er” He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly fascinated by the color of his shoes. “I don’t think there’s a word for what we are.” 

Moments like this were when Hamlet started to hate himself for not being able to remember. Feeling like an idiot that he couldn't even remember what had been happening just a week ago and that all of his memories were of him as a child. The two seemed different - like polar opposites who might've just stumbled upon one another at the right time. "Can you - explain to me what we are then," as he struggled to sit up properly, he reached down to barely graze Benvolio's hand with his fingertips. "No one is telling me a lot of things and I just - please?"

“Yeah,” she said, and she let herself lighten up.  It wasn’t the sort of conversation she was accustomed to receiving.  It was the verbal equivalent of drinking hot chocolate in a blizzard.  “Don’t apologize about anything.  My Ma was years ago.  What’s done is done, you know?  Wait.  Your name is Hamlet?  That’s like.  Inches away from being Piglet.  I dig it.”  She flashed him a smile.  

"It's just - weird, y'know. How people apologize for things that aren't even their fault. Like..me apologizing for your mother. A woman I didn't even know. I don't know how I like being associated with a pig or an animal in general.."

There were so many things he wanted to tell Hamlet- this new Hamlet. So many regrets he had about turning him down the last time they’d spoken. Even now when he sat still and quietly he could feel the memory of Hamlet’s hand lingering on his waist as they danced. He had loved him. And now? They were nothing more than chums, though Ben was hardly about to go pouring his heart out to someone who would most likely only become distressed by such an act. “From what I know you don’t have a lot of people close to you, you have a lot of walls… But…” He faltured, afraid to overwhelm him. “You let me in. And that means something to me.”

"I let you in," those words alone caused a chuckle to erupt from him. His head throbbed but that didn't seem abnormal after the past day or so. Of all the people who had come to stop by, only a few of them seeme genuine. Like they knew him without having to force themselves to spend time with him. Why did this moment feel different. Even with his own mother, the time they spent together felt fake on his own part but with this man.. "So - you and I, we're just friends?"

“They do,” she said, and it was true.  But he didn’t think she was odd for it, and that alone made her want to stay, if she’d let him.  “If you hang out in cemeteries around here, then you’ve probably been keeping my Mom company.  I think she’d dig that.  Er, I’m Felicity, by the way.”

"Well, fuck them, right? We all have our own hobbies. It's not like you're hurting anyone. If anything, you probably brighten people's days more." For once since waking up, it felt nice to not have someone remind him of what he had done. "I'm sorry to hear about your mother.. I don't really look at the names. I kind of just - hang around. I'm Hamlet - which is kind of a shitty name now that I think of it."

Hamlet’s words were thorns in Ben’s heart. and all he could do was manage a slight watery smile before nodding. “Yeah… we- uh… We’re good friends.” Ben walked over slowly and sat gingerly at the foot of his bed. “Some might even say geat friends.” His fingers grazed the blanket and suddeny he couldn’t even meet Hamlet’s eyes. “Fairly certain that we’d do anything for each other.”

Something about this male - Hamlet tilted his head off to side in thought as he continued to watch his every move. He felt a certain warmth on the inside as a small smile came to. "That's great. I don't have many friends, I don't think. But I'd rather have a few good friends than none." Confusion hit him like a ton of bricks at the male's last comment. Anything? "W-What do you mean we'd do anything for each other? Isn't that what friends do.. Right?"

“You’re not a monster. Accidents happen. Awful accidents, yeah, but accidents.”

"Why are you sorry when I'm the one who hit a girl? I'll probably be saying those two words for the rest of my life.."

“Kinda?  It’s weird, I know.  I’m here for my dad, who is practically dead, and if they take someone into urgent care while I’m here I normally poke my head in.  I’d want visitors, if it was me.”

"I'm assuming most people would find you odd for that but - it's sweet in a way. I'm sure a lot of the older patients enjoy your company. I personally like spending time at cemeteries. We're opposites, I suppose. You like the living, I like the dead."

"I don't even know her! I didn't do it on purpose. I don't - I don't know her, I'm sorry."

"I know. I know, I know, I know, I know. A car accident. I hit a girl. No one else can tell me anything else and I can't remember anything else. Everything is a blur. The last thing I remember is - years ago, and my mom and dad." His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to remember whether or not his father had been in to visit him. He had only seen his mother and spoken to her. No mention of his dad coming by to see him. "I just woke up here and that's it."

“In the hospital. You kind of - you hit a girl with your car.”

"Everyone keeps saying that and they look at me like I'm some kind of monster. Like I meant to do it."

“That would just be today. She’s giving me a ride, but she needed half an hour here. Running errands for cute nurses is better than sitting around.”

"You should talk to your cute nurse friend about potentially giving me a good 'ole sponge bath because all the nurses I've ben getting are - well, old."

“Cool.  I’m glad you made it, man.  It’s always nice whenever they wheel someone in and they don’t die.”

"Is this like a hobby of yours? Going around to talk to those who didn't die."

“I…well… I suppose you could use that term.”

"Cool, we're friends! Guess my mom was wrong that I can't make friends on my own. Like - are we close friends who play video games or the kind of friends who just nod at each other but don't ever really say hey? Because there's a big difference between the two."