[AUTHOR'S NOTE] Hey everyone! Look at me, finally posting my first fanfic here... here's hoping it's not my last! xD

This was written for an English class short story assignment. I'm going to change the character's names before handing it in, of course.

*The part of this that's in bold is part of the assignment; we had to choose one of ten quotes to include in our story... just ignore it; I did a terrible job of fitting it in there.*

Also, this is really short because I wasn't supposed to go over two pages double-spaced (I went half a page over, oops).

Anyway, I'll stop blabbing and let you read now. .u.

I watched Tybalt as he sat down across from me in the empty city square and busied himself with his sword. The thing probably wasn't even dirty, but the boy always polished it until every inch of it shined. He scrubbed at it furiously, and then stopped to inspect it, obsessively searching for any spot of dirt, any trace of imperfection. I continued to watch him, making sure to glance down at my book every so often so that I appeared to be reading.

I watched as Mercutio approached him, flanked by Romeo and walking with his usual bounce, Tybalt trying desperately to ignore them. I watched as the teasing began – I won't get involved, I told myself; I'll only stop them if it goes too far. Mercutio and Romeo could be awful bullies sometimes, but they were my only real friends. So I watched.

Thankfully, they left before anything truly bad could happen. Tybalt hastily packed his sword away and walked off in the opposite direction. I lingered for a minute before heading home.

I returned the next week. I sat in the square with a book, waiting for Tybalt to finish his fencing lesson. When he did, he settled himself a safe distance from where I was and got to work with his sword. We kept to ourselves, sitting in comfortable silence.

This became a sort of weekly schedule for us. Although we never spoke to each other, I came to enjoy Tybalt's quiet company. Occasionally, Mercutio and Romeo would come along and interrupt our peace, but their appearances were rare and they never caused any real fights. I prayed that they never would.

Months passed. I watched as Tybalt grew – the twelve-year-old was two years my junior, but he was beginning to catch up to me in size and strength. When we sat together in the square, he would sit closer and closer to me, and we even spoke to each other a few times. It was just small talk; I'd ask him about his fencing lesson or he'd ask me about my book, but it was a step forward in our friendship. It was strange to think of him as a friend when my other friends saw him as an enemy. I tried not to think about it too much.

One sunny afternoon, Tybalt came to the square and sat much further from me than he normally did. He probably just needs some space today, I reasoned. Everyone has bad days. I left him alone, and a tense silence hung over us. Heat beat down from the summer sky. I tried to focus on my book, but my head buzzed and I stared blankly at the pages.

Mercutio couldn't have chosen a worse time to show up.

"Hello, kitten," Mercutio sang as he skipped over to Tybalt. "Sharpening your claws again?"

He laughed. Tybalt growled. I watched.

Mercutio whistled. "Ooh, the kitty's angry! I wonder if he'll use his big shiny claw! Or is he too scared of getting it dirty?"

Tybalt's eyes narrowed. His hand closed around the hilt of his sword.

I watched.

I watched with horror as Tybalt rose and took a step toward his attacker. Mercutio froze. The toothy grin that he always wore had vanished. He was frightened, as well. There was always that knife-edge: had he gone too far? And if he had, what came next?

Tybalt stalked closer, until the tip of his sword was mere inches away from Mercutio's chest.

"Call me kittenone more time," he spat. "Go ahead. Or are you too scared, little puppy-dog?"

Time stood still. Were it not for the pounding of my own heart filling my ears, I swear I could have heard the sound of the sun's heat hissing around us.

When Mercutio finally spoke, I almost missed the painful stillness.

"Put that claw back in its pretty paw, kitten."

Tybalt's face widened in shock, and then it screwed up in an overwhelming mix of emotion. Anger, pain, humiliation – I couldn't imagine what he was feeling. He was sick of Mercutio's teasing and he was ready to end it. His grip tightened around his sword.

I screamed.

"Stop! Please, stop this!" I ran between my two friends and grabbed Mercutio's arm, pulling him away from the deadly sword. I turned to Tybalt. "Don't hurt him," I pleaded.

He stared at me with an odd, confused look. His eyes flicked over to Mercutio, then to the weapon in his hand. His breathing quickened and he blinked several times.

With one last mournful glance at me, Tybalt dropped his sword and ran.

I took the sword and returned to the square the next week. Tybalt never came. I kept coming back every week, as usual, but the square was always empty. I finally resolved to just leave the sword there. The next day, it was gone.

I never went back to the square again.