I told myself I wasn't going to start another fic until I'd finished my others first, but this one has been bouncing around my head so I just had to! :D It's basically the story of Romeo and Juliet but with the American Horror Story characters and my own twist on a lot of the events that happen. :P I hope you like the idea, and they'll be a list of what characters each person relates to at the bottom if you want to know :)
A blazing sun was beat down across all of LA, the early morning fog long burnt off and the refreshing breeze from the night before blown away. The streets were filled with life; people pushing and shoving to get to their destinations as quickly as possible, wanting to dive into the shade of a building in the mid-summer heat wave.
A loud should was heard echoing through the town as the Wolverines celebrated – the Langdon's baseball team. Their bats swung carelessly from their hands, knocking into passersby as they cursed under their breath but daren't look at the menaces in the eyes – they knew not to mess with the Wolverines when they were in post-win euphoria. They jeered and hollered as they good-naturedly slapped each other on the backs, jumping on each other's shoulders and stealing one another's baseball caps. Patrick looked at his feet bashfully as his team mates cheered for their captain. He squirmed under the attention and tried to apologies to the angry looking citizens for his team's behaviour.
The opposite end of the street was a lot quieter. The Grizzlies dragged their feet along the pavement as the mulled over their loss – the Harmon's baseball team. Fury was etched on Chad's face as he thought of the crap game his team played, smacking one of the members upside the head as he thought, letting his frustration out. The guy winced but didn't say anything. Chad had a tendency to be a drama queen.
The street audibly quietened as people began to notice the rival teams walking towards each other. People began to step, noticeably, off the sidewalk and cross the street, making room for the confrontation. Both teams glared at each other as they continued to walk, neither stopping. It felt like the entire street let out a breath of relief. There wasn't going to be a fight this time.
"Faggot," Jeremy coughed out cockily as Chad brushed past his shoulder. A beat passed before the slap of Chad's hand grasping Jeremy's arm was heard. Both teams halted immediately, each ready to defend their teams.
"Jeremy, you didn't have to do that," Patrick whispered quickly, angrily, in his ear while Chad worked up his look of fury. "It's our backer's fight, not ours," he said, referring to the ongoing feud between the investors in the teams – the Langdons and the Harmons.
"What did you just call me?" Chad said, his voice dangerously even. His bat pushed against Jeremy's chest tauntingly. "Did you call me a faggot?" Chad's eyes were ablaze. Jeremy's eyes widened considerably, sensing the danger he'd just put himself into.
"Yes. No. No, I…" he fumbled for his words, unsure whether there was any use in lying. In a flash, Chad's bat was raised and struck Jeremy on the collarbone. He fell to the sidewalk with a scream, clutching gently at his shoulder.
"I think it's your captain you should be calling a 'faggot'," Chad sneered pointedly, stepping forwards a couple of steps so he was toe to toe with Patrick. Images, memories, flashed through Patrick's head; Chad's hands on his body, taking off his clothes, travelling lower and lower…
Patrick tried to pass off his crimson blush as one of fury, not embarrassment. Chad had said he'd never tell! Before he knew what he was doing, Patrick had pulled his fist back and snapped it forwards, colliding with Chad's nose.
This fight broke out quicker than the others usually did. The street was a flurry of arms and bats and blood and crunches. Screams filled the air as innocents got caught up in the fight, sprawling across the sidewalk. Shouts and abuse were thrown at either team, depending on who supported who. Cars swerved as someone was thrown into the road, setting off alarms as they shattered the glass of shop windows and parked vehicles.
A moment passed before sirens grew louder and louder, police officers piling out, with weapons, to break up the fray. The fighters continued, brushing off the officers as if they were flecks of dust on their shoulders. No one noticed the two limos pulling up from opposite ends of the street, swerving to park awkwardly on the cluttered street. The two families left their cars and watched their war being played out by others, safely on the sidelines. Another police car drove into the road, an angry looking chief getting out with a megaphone.
Half of Chief Larry's face was twisted and morphed into a disgusting shape, his body slightly curled in on itself, but it didn't detract from his intimidating nature. He raised the megaphone to his lips and the brawl grew quiet and he shouted.
"Stop! Stop this now! Put down your weapons! I order you to put down your weapons!" There was a clatter as the bats hit the asphalt, only the sound of heavy breathing and sirens left in the air.
"Three times! That's three times now that your men have disturbed the peace in our streets," Chief Larry said from behind his desk, folding his fingers together awkwardly. The way his neck was permanently angled always made it seem as if he was looking down on you. The two families didn't meet his steady, accusing gaze. They sat stiffly in their chairs, in an unusual close proximity. Patrick and Chad slumped against the wall behind there respective benefactors, cheeks blazing and ears red. "Just one more time, and there will be dire consequences. Sort out your issues or something terrible is going to happen to both of your families one day."
There was a tension filled silence as Hugo and Constance Langdon stared at Patrick, sitting opposite them in the vehicle. Patrick was desperate to be anywhere but under their accusing gaze. He knew better than to start a fight with the Harmon's lot, but once he was in it, he couldn't find the will to stop. He stared down at his sneakers as the silence continued.
Constance eventually let out a sigh, gazing purposefully out of the window as she rubbed soothing circles at the base of her exposed neck.
"Where's my boy? Have you seen him today, Patrick?" she murmured wistfully, her eyes seeming sad as she thought about her child in a moment of sobriety. Patrick met her longing stare for the first time.
"No, Madame, I haven't. Not since last night. He was walking towards the beach as the sun was setting," Patrick replied, rueful that he could not be more helpful after being such a disgrace earlier. Hugo reached for a glass and the bottle of scotch next to him.
"That boy," he began as he sloshed the amber liquid into the tumbler and took a swig. "He's forever moping. An ounce of sunlight never crosses his face anymore. Not since he was a small child. I don't know what's wrong with him!" Hugo cried, frustrated, annoyed at the lack of happiness from his son.
Patrick let out a heavy breath through his nose and turned to look out of the window, a blonde haired figure catching his eye.
"There's Tate. He's still on the beach," Patrick sighed as he gestured half-heartedly to the window, knowing that Tate wouldn't want to be disturbed, especially by his parents, but also knowing he had to make up for the days earlier mishap.
"Right, I'll go talk some sense into him," Hugo said authoritatively, straightening his spine. He moved to get up, placing his empty glass on the seat beside him, ignoring it as it fell over and the dregs soaked into the leather. Constance looked at the toppled glass and rolled her eyes, making no move to clean it up or chastise her husband. She didn't feel the need to waste her breath on him anymore. Patrick held out his arm to stop Hugo, and he looked at it in surprise.
"No, I'll go. He'll respond better to a friend, rather than his parents," he said quickly, defending his action. Hugo stared at him unblinkingly for a second before huffing indignantly, but settling back in his seat anyway.
"Fine. See if you can put a smile back on his face," Hugo retorted challengingly. Patrick smiled timidly before opening the door and stepping back into the heat.
"Afternoon, Tate," he said cautiously as he approached the teenager's figure, hunched over, scribbling furiously in a notebook. Tate's head shot up at the voice and he instinctively closed the book, shielding his writing. He squinted up at the sun, as if he was only just realising that it was up.
"Is it afternoon already?" he asked to no one. Patrick laughed at his absentmindedness and moved to sit on the sand next to him. They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, staring out to sea and listening to the chatter and squeals of the people around them. Tate flicked his gaze to Patrick's face briefly, his eyes bulging as he saw the bruises and cuts that littered his face.
"What happened?" he asked, his voice laced with concerned. Patrick realised what he was looking at and ducked his head ashamedly.
"Err, a fight with the Grizzlies," he murmured quietly to the sand. Tate sighed and shook his head.
"Again? They really need to let this go," he ground out, referring to the battling families, shifting the sand around with his feet. Patrick stayed silent, knowing he was right, guilt settling permanently in his stomach. He changed the subject.
"So why have you been out here all night? What's been wrong with you lately?" Patrick asked, nudging Tate's shoulder with his own. Tate chuckled humourlessly.
"Just… contemplating things." He paused. "How do you go about getting something you can't have?" he asked, cryptically, vaguely.
"A girl?" Patrick smirked at his immediate guess. Tate's cheeks turned red. "Ah, so you're in love," Patrick chuckled at the adolescent dilemma of first love.
"Maybe. I'm more out of love than I am in it. She's not within my reach," he said, still embarrassed to be discussing his feelings out loud. He was a very private person. His blonde curls fell into his dark eyes but he made no move to brush them out of the way.
"Doesn't give you the time of day?" Patrick guessed again. Tate shrugged.
"She doesn't give anyone the time of day. She's taken some pledge of chastity or some shit. I don't know… I thought love was supposed to be full of joy and tenderness. But it's rough and unforgiving…" he trailed off awkwardly, digging at the sand with his fingers.
"Ah, I see. A bit of a problem you have there," Patrick sympathised. He didn't know what else to say. "What's her name?" Tate paused longer than necessary.
"Chloe Stapleton," he finally muttered unwillingly. "But she's a lost cause. I know that." He leant back against the sand and flung an arm across his eyes. "How do I get over her? I don't think I ever will," he sighed, almost too dramatically. Patrick laughed.
"You have to forget about her!" he laughed, shoving Tate's side playfully. Tate looked at him through narrowed eyes.
"Then I think you're going to have to teach me how to forget," he murmured without amusement.
"Look, Tate, you're young. There are plenty of other pretty girls out there for you to look at, or even fall in love with. You'll find one," Patrick said encouragingly.
Tate shook his head against the sand, all but dismissing Patrick's advice. He squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the thoughts, and the voices in his head.
He would never love another, he told himself with sadness. This was the end for him.
Hope you enjoyed it and reviews would be really helpful! :) Here's a list of the correlating characters...
Romeo – Tate
Juliet – Violet
Lady Capulet – Vivien
Lord Capulet – Ben
Lady Montague –Constance
Lord Montague – Hugo
Tybalt-Chad
Benvolio – Patrick
Mercutio – Charles
Nurse – Nora
Prince – Larry
Rosaline – Chloe
Paris – Kyle
