It was like any other night in a small side street pub in Verona. Customers flowed in and out like the wind breeze, drunks lay on the shaggy wooden tables, jolly men clinked their shot glasses, the smell of heavy alcohol was drilled into the four surrounding walls. Everything portrayed the aspects of a regular pub. However, on the corner side of the bar sat a familiar face that splashed a black spot on the white wall. As the cheery pub rose with excitement and ear-splitting singing voices, the deafening silence of that one corner drove away any visitors looking for a place to enjoy. Tybalt raised his arm, signaling to the bartender to bring another round. He was long past his tenth round. The groans of the drunken men, the slamming of the half pint glasses, were all cacophonies that were drowned out by the misery of his burning heart. “Here’s your drink sir, is there something bothering you, you’ve been drinking an awful lot.” The bartender stood there waiting for a reply, but Tybalt had no intentions of giving him one.
As he began to recollect the atrocities that took place today, a thought that he had been suppressing for many years submerged. Deep down, Tybalt knew he possessed none of the characteristics of a straight male stereotype. Chasing young women, and trying to be coolheaded seemed to be rather perplexing for him. Tybalt would always stand from afar as boys his age squawked at pretty girls, pondering over what they all saw. Covered by his well-built figure, and tall physique, Tybalt hid his secret of his one sided love for Mercutio. Since he first set eyes upon Mercutio many years ago, he had known that not even the Sun and Moon could take his love for him. Unfortunately, being accused of having desires for another man was punishable by hanging, and he would stop at nothing to keep his secret guarded. No one could know, no one should know, and no one will know that Tybalt Capulet, was in fact a monster from an uncharted domain.
Lord Capulet trudged into the bar. Seeing Tybalt alone in the corner, he sat down a few isles beside Tybalt, and began to observe his actions. “I wonder what’s bothering him this time, he’s always been rather peculiar when left unwatched.” Lord Capulet beckoned the bartender over, “How long has that young man been residing there?” “A good three hours.” The bartender replied.
After a long session of frozen movement, Lord Capulet forced on a smile and approached Tybalt. “What are you pondering on, is everything in the norm? I have been here an eternity and you still remain a statue.” Tybalt looked up at him, thinking to himself, “Little do you know.” As Lord Capulet took a seat beside him, Tybalt’s mind began to flow back to the thoughts of Mercutio. He didn’t know what to do. How he wanted to just run up to Mercutio and confess his vibrant love for him, yet he couldn’t. It was suicide. Mercutio was from a rival family, any hint of injustice and the Montague’s would go straight to the prince. This would end not just Tybalt’s reputation, but the entire Legacy of the Capulet’s. There was no option for him, he was stuck in a catch22 that not even Jesus himself could solve.
“What are you thinking about?” Lord Capulet asked him again. Tybalt had completely forgotten that his Lord was sitting there beside him, and it caught him off guard. “Get rid of that melancholy expression and come join me to a drink.” Offered Lord Capulet. Tybalt gazed out one last time at the thick Verona fog and got up to follow him. As he walked the prospects of everything still haunted him, and would remain engraved in his darkest nightmares.