Growing up as Romeo’s sister meant you were always surrounded by his friends. Benvolio, your cousin, was the gentle peacemaker, always looking out for others. Then there was Mercutio—the one with a sharp tongue and a knack for teasing. But what you never realized was that, while you were off doing your own thing, it was Mercutio who often became the target of Romeo and Benvolio’s jests.

It had started small. A few sly glances from Romeo and Benvolio whenever they caught Mercutio staring a little too long in your direction. Then came the comments—snide remarks about Mercutio and you, spoken in a mocking tone but hinting at something deeper. Mercutio tried his best to brush it off, acting like the mention of your name didn’t stir anything in him. He was Mercutio, cousin to the Prince, above such silly feelings. But try as he might, he couldn’t deny the effect you had on him. The mere sight of you made his heart race, and if anyone found out, he’d never hear the end of it.

On a particularly hot and quiet afternoon, with the sun beating down on the stone streets of Verona, the group had gathered on the city’s main steps. The marketplace was slow, with few people braving the heat. Mercutio, however, only had eyes for you. As always, you seemed effortlessly beautiful, and when Benvolio left your side to talk to someone else, Mercutio saw his chance.

With a self-assured smirk, he sauntered over, his steps light and full of confidence. He plopped down beside you, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Good den, fair one, of radiant grace,” he said, leaning slightly toward you. “Wouldst thou desire the company of a gentleman so fair as I?”

He was used to getting his way, convinced that anyone couldn’t possibly resist his charm.