Quick author's note. This is a fanfic of Baz Luhurman's Romeo and Juliet, in which the play is set in modern times. Which is why they have cars and guns. Also, in the play Gregory and Sampson are Montague servants, but they don't really say what they are in the movie. They just hang out with Benvolio. So I made them his brothers. Sue me. Oh, one last thing-in the play, there's a guy called Abraham who's a Capulet servant, but in the movie they change his name to Abra and just call him a Capulet. Just in case anyone gets confused about who he is while reading this.

Edit:I recently turned in the first two chapters of this as an English assignment. Because of this, I removed some of the WAY more inappropriate stuff. And I stopped using the Old English. So, this chapter has been slightly revised, but not by much. Enjoy!

He had never been in a real love. All he had ever been in was a pretend relationship, the false love people are in when all they want to do is have sex. For him, it was a different girl every week, and then he never saw her again. It wasn't love, it was sex. To him, there was nothing else. Love was just sadness in disguise.

That's why he had picked on his cousin so. Made fun of his love poems. Urged him to forget about love. Zoned out every time he started complaining about his lost love. He hadn't understood why his cousin was so obsessed with love, when, for him, love was hard. His cousin had never been able to find a girl to love him back. So why bother? But now, he knew why his cousin bothered. Because his cousin knew that, once you found love, you were the happiest person on earth and that love was the greatest thing in the world.

But then again, look what happened to him.

Everyone who was not already married or in a relationship was now afraid of love. Not just in his family, but in the girl's family as well. So he cursed love. Love had taken his cousin away. Why should anyone fall in love, after seeing how his cousin had ended up? If love was so grand, why was his cousin on that funeral pyre? If love was supposed to withstand time, heal all wounds, be the greatest treasure you could possibly own, why was Romeo dead!

Benvolio was angrier at his family than at love. If Montagues and Capulets could just be peaceful and forgive whatever had made them start feuding in the first place, Romeo and Juliet would have been able to love without having to hide it. Then they, and Mercutio, would not be dead now. That arrogant Prince of Cats would still be alive as well, but Benvolio was actually glad he was dead. He had always been for peace with the Capulets, but Tybalt was different. Tybalt liked hate, and violence, and started shooting at Montagues every chance he got. Benvolio couldn't help but hate him.

He was buried already, as well as Mercutio. And today, Benvolio found himself at the funeral for Romeo and Juliet. The families at least had the decency to bury them together. The ceremonies hadn't started yet, so the church hall buzzed with talking. Benvolio noticed that the Montagues and Capulets were not speaking with each other. The air was thick with tension. It was the first time all of the Montagues and Capulets had been in the same room with each other. Since it was a church, they had to be relatively peaceful, but Benvolio could see that Gregory was biting his thumb left and right.

Lord Montague and Lord Capulet both stood. The room instantly silenced.

"Because of our quarrel ages ago, many innocent lives have been taken." Lord Montague began.

"It has taken the death of my beloved daughter and his dear son to show us that this cannot go on." Lord Capulet continued.

"Henceforth, there shall be peace between all Montagues and all Capulets. On the morrow, we shall sign a peace treaty." Lord Montague announced.

Even though Benvolio was glad that there would be no more gun fights, he was also annoyed that they hadn't realized they needed peace before the lovers died. If he ever became Lord Montague (which was possible, since the current Lord Montague's son was now dead), he wouldn't be so blind-eyed to problems.

"And should any Capulet cause the end of a Montague life-" Lord Capulet began.

"Or any Montague bullet be found in a Capulet heart-" Lord Montague warned.

"Then the murderer will be disowned, exiled, and a Capulet or Montague no more." Lord Capulet looked to his enemy to see if he had anything left to say.

He did. "Many may not like this idea of peace, but it is for the better of all Montagues, Capulets, and the rest of our fair Verona's citizens."

The lords shook hands, then sat back down, and the priest finally arrived.

The mass ended, and people began to line up in front of the pyre to pay their respects. It didn't surprise Benvolio that people ignored the corpse that was of the opposite house. He didn't think that was very fair. They were married, and so both were kin to everyone in the room. But he supposed people wanted to ignore that detail as well.

When it was his turn, he found that a Capulet girl, a few years older than Juliet, was standing beside him. She glanced at him shyly, before kneeling in front of the pyre. He knelt down as well, and crossed himself. He wasn't one for prayer, and merely asked God to watch over the young lovers, wherever they were. He then stood and studied the bodies.

He had not been to Juliet's first funeral, of course, being a Montague, but he was probably correct if he said that one was better. Her hair was matted with blood, and there was a cloth strip around her head to cover the hole where the bullet had ended her life. She didn't look particularly peaceful either, she looked grief-stricken. Romeo had the look of someone who has just made the biggest mistake of their life. Benvolio shuddered when he noticed that his cousin' s eyes were still open. If you ignored their faces though, they looked like lovers who have just finished their night's activities and were now asleep in each others arms. But the eyes…

Benvolio reached out to close Romeo's eyes, when another hand touched his. He had not noticed the girl beside him stand. She withdrew her hand, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, but bodies with open eyes frighten me." She apologized, blushing.

"It's alright. I don't like them either. It seems rude not to let them sleep." He told her.

"Very rude." She sighed. "It's also rude to respect one and not the other."

"Same here. They both deserve our respect." Benvolio reached out again to close his cousin's eyes. But he paused, suddenly frightened of the body. It looked alive. As if any second now, Romeo would sit up and start reciting his poetry. He looked away and quickly closed the eyes.

"She was my favorite cousin." The girl said suddenly.

"And he was mine." Benvolio gave a small nod.

"He must have been quite a man, for Juliet to die for his love." She mused.

"And she must have been quite a woman." He smiled grimly at her.

"Benvolio, you're holding up the line!" Sampson pushed him out of the way.

Benvolio shrugged at the girl and walked off to the Montague side of the room. That girl had seemed rather nice. He would have liked to keep talking to her, but Sampson was right, they had been holding up the line. He felt a tug on the back of his shirt. He looked over his shoulder. It was the girl.

"Benvolio, was it?" she asked.

"Yes. But you shouldn't be speaking with me." He pushed her hand off of him and continued walking.

She followed him. "We're at peace now, I can talk to any Montague I wish!"

"Your mother won't be happy if she sees thou with me." Why was he making excuses not to talk to her? He had wanted to, so why was he pushing her away? He didn't understand his actions.

"My mother doesn't care about me." She stood in front of him defiantly, head held high. "Juliet was her goddaughter, and she loved Juliet more than me. She told me, when she first heard Juliet was dead, that she wished it had been me instead." She swallowed, and Benvolio thought he saw tears in her eyes.

"I'm sorry to hear that, but I don't understand why you're telling me this. All you know about me is my name!" Benvolio said, exasperated.

"No, you're wrong. Tybalt talked much of you. True, what he said was not exactly pleasant, but I know you're peaceful towards Capulets, and don't fight unless there is no other way. And, by what you have said, you seem to be a compassionate person." She stared at him, waiting to see what he said.

"You still shouldn't be talking to me. Someone will see us, and someone will get upset." He ran his hand through his hair. "But I would like to speak with you."

"You wish for me to not get in trouble. You are a gentleman." She smirked, raising her eyebrow.

"No. I'm not a gentleman." Benvolio stared at his feet, thinking about how he had spent the entire mass thinking about something very sinful.

"Marietta!" Abra marched over and grabbed her arm. "Why are you talking to this piece of filth?"

"I was not talking with your lady. I was telling her to go back to her own side. And if I am a piece of filth, you are a whole sewer full." Benvolio spat before turning and walking away.

Some people couldn't change, no matter what rules you enforced. Benvolio suddenly realized that the whole time he had been talking to her, he had not acted like a jerk. That was a first. Why had he done that?

He told himself it was because he was too worried about her being on the Montague side to check her out. That he had been looking out for her, and that guardian angels don't screw with the people they're protecting. He told himself that, but he didn't believe it. Why suddenly change the way you are, for no reason? And while he was asking himself questions, why did his stomach feel funny? And why did he feel lonely all of a sudden?

Maybe Romeo's death was catching up with him. Maybe this was all the product of grief. Maybe he was just feeling sick, from sadness, worry, getting no sleep…He could not handle this overshadowing love and death. And he could not stand the glares the Capulet side of the room was giving him.

Was it so wrong to speak with a lady? So wrong to worry about a girl? Why must they glare? Why must they curse? He retreated to a corner of the church and stayed there until Sampson came and told him it was time to go.

"Gregory, pick a station!" Benvolio cried. His younger brother payed him no mind and continued pressing the buttons on the radio. "I can't drive if you keepschanging the station!"

"I'm looking for a good song!" Gregory insisted.

Benvolio sighed angrily and turned his focus back to the road. Sometimes he wondered if he was adopted, because his brothers, in his opinion, were nothing like him.

"So, Benvolio." Sampson leaned forward. "Who was that pretty thing you were talking to yesterday?"

"A Capulet." He grunted.

"Oooh…" the other two howled.

"He's going for richer women now!" Gregory laughed.

"Hey, we're at peace! Capulet ladies are now fair game!" Sampson crowed, and the two high-fived.

"When is you plannin' on screwin' her?" Gregory asked.

"Can I talk to a girl without having any intention of jumping her bones!" Benvolio cried, getting annoyed.

"You? No!" Gregory shook his head.

"Since when have you had a normal conversation with a girl?" Sampson wondered.

"Well, I did yesterday." Benvolio told them.

"I get it! It's disrespectful to talk about sex in church, right?" Gregory guessed.

"Maybe he's giving up sex for Lent!" Sampson joked.

"Oh! Maybe he's decided to be a priest!" Gregory teased.

They laughed. Benvolio narrowed his eyes. He loved his brothers, but sometimes he just wanted to kill them. This was one of those times. He swerved his car over to the side of the road. "Get out!"

"Hey, Benvolio, we were just playing around." Sampson said.

"Out!" Benvolio leaned over and opened the passenger door. "Get out of my car!"

They sulked and climbed out. "But how are we supposed to get home?" Gregory asked.

"Take the bus." Benvolio drove away. Not surprisingly, when he looked in his rearview mirror at them, both were biting their thumb. He usually would have laughed along with them, but for some reason it was different this time. So what if he had acted like a gentleman yesterday? Why did people have to get on his case like that? He felt mad all over again. What was wrong with him? Why was he taking this so seriously?

He pulled into an empty parking lot. He hated feeling confused. This last week had been Hell, and he had the feeling that, even with peace, things were going to get worse before they got better.

What he didn't know was that it would be his fault.

"Benvolio!"

God, didn't they get the idea that he didn't want to talk with them! He turned in his seat, ready to yell at them, but it wasn't his brothers. It was her.

She was walking towards him, a book in one hand. He suddenly realized he didn't know her name. But she spoke first.

"Hello." She greeted him.

"Hello." He replied, stunned. "Sorry, but I don't know the name of the lady I'm speaking with."

"Marietta." She told him.

"Are you following me?" he asked.

"No!" she laughed. "Can't a person say hello?"

"We are of different houses. We shouldn't be saying hello." Stupid, stupid, STUPID! Why did he keep making that excuse! Why couldn't he just talk to her! What was he so afraid of?

"You said you wanted to speak with me." Marietta reminded him. "I saw you, and thought we could talk now. There are not a thousand Capulet eyes watching you back."

"You are far too clever." He grinned at her.

"Not clever. Just observant." She tapped the side of her eye. "Come, there is a café up the street. Have a drink with me."

He hesitated. What was the harm in talking? He had a civilized conversation with her yesterday, he was having one with her now. He wasn't going to a nightclub to get drunk and find some whore to spend the night with. He was going to a café, in broad daylight, with a girl who wanted to talk with him. But it wasn't a date. No, definitely not a date.

Was it?

"Benvolio…" she begged, smiling. "Come on!"

And, not sure why, he felt he could not refuse her. So, he put his thoughts aside, got out of the car, and they headed off.

"I'm afraid I don't know much about the lady I'm talking with." He told her.

"You know my name, my house, my feelings towards my mother…" she ticked them off on her fingers. "What else do you wish to know?"

"I don't know. Favorite color?" he asked, shrugging.

"Blue. What about you?" she raised her eyebrows.

"Blue as well." He gave her a nod.

"Ah, we have something in common." They arrived at the café. "Here we are."

In a few moments, they seated outside the café. She was drinking a milkshake, while he sipped an Irish coffee.

"Um…doesn't that have alcohol in it?" she pointed at his drink.

"Yes." He wondered what she was getting at.

"Well…don't you have to drive home later?" she asked pointedly.

Oh. She didn't want him driving while intoxicated. Well, he'd gotten wasted at plenty of parties and made it home fine. Usually. "I won't have too many."

"Hmm." She fiddled with her straw. "Were your kinsmen the ones you threw out of your car?"

He covered his face and gave a good-natured groan. "You saw that?"

"It was how I knew it was you." She glanced at the street, then did a double take. "Oh no."

"What?" He followed her gaze.

An all-too-familiar black car was coming down the street. It slowed as it passed the café, the driver obviously scrutinizing them. Marietta sank in her seat. It seemed forever before the vehicle passed them by. She buried her face in her hands and sighed.

He didn't have to look at the license plate to know who it was. "Abra."

"He's going to confront me when he next sees me. I hate him." She shook her head, sighing again.

"He is your cousin's best friend. I have reason to hate him, but you don't." He pointed out.

"Godbrother." She murmured.

"Pardon?" he asked.

"Godbrother." She took her hands from her face and looked away. "Tybalt was my godbrother."

"Oh." He occupied himself with stirring his coffee.

Both were silent for a moment. "He was very protective of me." Marietta said suddenly, turning her gaze back to him. "We were inseparable as children. When he learned Abra fancied taking me for a wife, he told him that I would not wed Abra as long as he was alive. Not that Tybalt's gone…" she trailed off for a second. "Well, Abra thinks he has rights to me. As if I was his property."

He found it hard to believe that Tybalt could have been that protective of anyone but himself. But the waver in her voice as she spoke showed she was not lying. He waited to see if she had anything left to say.

She did. "I know you hated Tybalt, and I don't blame you. Tybalt was a different person when it came to Montagues." She smiled at him apologetically. "I'm sorry. Every time we talk I end up telling you about my troubles."

"It's alright. We've all had a rough week. We've both lost people who were important to us." He patted her hand. Was…was she blushing? He pulled him hand away, embarrassed.

"Enough sadness. Tell me about you." She sipped her drink, eyebrows raising.

"Do you always do that?" he wondered.

"Do what?" she asked, puzzled.

"Raise your eyebrows. You tend to do that quite a lot." He pointed out.

She felt her eyebrows. "I didn't notice. Force of habit, I suppose."

Smiling, he found himself saying, "You look cute when you do it." Shit! Why had he said that! "I mean…" he tried to think of someway to get off this topic. She was blushing furiously. Her whole face had turned red. She was as uncomfortable with this statement as he was. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"No, it's alright…" she looked down at her drink. "So…you were going to tell me about yourself?"

"Right. What do you want to know?" he asked.

And so they talked. Benvolio, though still embarrassed about his earlier statement, felt he had never enjoyed anyone's company this much. But by the time the sun was sinking behind the ocean and they had both had about four drinks (Marietta seemed to glare at him each time he got another one) he knew that something about this was wrong. He just couldn't place it, but something didn't feel right.

She glanced at her watch and gave a small shriek. "Ah! I should have been home an hour ago!" she stood, dug some money out of her pocket and laid it on the table. "Sorry, but I have to go."

"When can we talk again?" he blurted out. He seemed to be saying everything he shouldn't today. But what was wrong with asking that? He felt so confused.

She paused. "Tomorrow, here, three o'clock."

He grinned. "Alright."

"Good-bye!" she said, walking away.

"Good-bye!" he called after her. And there it was, that lonely feeling. And he still felt something had been wrong. What was wrong with him? Why did he feel this way?

And then he realized. This was exactly what Romeo had always talked about. Loneliness when his love was away. A fast-beating heart, a longing to be near them. All were signs. Why hadn't he noticed it before? That's why he had been taking everything so seriously. That's why he'd gone to talk with her, though he knew it was dangerous. That's why he felt so strange.

"Oh God." He whispered. "I'm falling in love."