Tybalt Not So Much - Tumblr Posts

One word: oof.

(a very small tyvolio thing, filled with more angst than any 300 words can deserve.

Seriously, I want to write. And I need new ideas before making all the possible character I can ship tybalt with deal with the outcome of the duel.) (yes, yes, I'm working on the other chapters of the Fae au, and on the big thing, and the 5+1.i still want more ideas.)

It felt strange sometimes, benvolio remembered blaming Romeo for falling in love with juliet, when he first fell in love with someone he shouldn't have. But how can you stop your heart from beating so fast everytime you see an angel walking down the streets? He, who never really believed in God, he called him an angel just for his look. He said, many times, some painters must have had visions of him when painting those winged creatures, dreams on curly blond hair flying in the wind. He loved the reaction he always received back from those words. The way tybalt suddenly turned shy, the smile, the light blush on his cheeks.

How hypocrite to blame Romeo. Or maybe-- maybe now he could blame him for some other reasons, now he could really blame him.

The wound on mercutio wasn't as bad as they thought, he bled, sure, but he wasn't going to die, friar Lawrence made sure he knew that before running back to Romeo.

If only--if only he had run a little faster. He stopped short as soon as he entered the square. Romeo's dagger went in, slid deep in Tybalt's chest and benvolio froze. Other capulets divided the two, dragged romeo away while a man, long hair, dirty blond, someone benvolio saw many times by tybalt's side, gently laid him on the ground, holding him, a hand brushing on his face and hair. Tybalt's hand fell on the street and the man looked up briefly, despair, grief written in his eyes, he met benvolio's eyes and that was all he needed to know. He ran there to stop them, to tell them both that mercutio would be fine. He ran-- he wasn't fast enough and now...

"no..." his voice came out strangled, he took a few steps before falling on his knees, tears once again streaming down his face. He had time to save mercutio, why had he been so slow this time? He stretched a hand out, grabbed tybalt's, squeezed it lightly before dragging himself closer and putting his forehead on the still chest ignoring everyone around them. Ignoring romeo, capulets and Montagues alike.

He was dead. Tybalt was dead because he couldn't run faster. It was his fault.