A/N: So this chapter has little to do with the plot, but I figured that Ben could use a little more venting. I'd be a wreck if my two best friends died. Just a little more developing of his character. I'll have the next chapter up soon, I promise. Until then, enjoy life!

Oh, yeah, and a HUGE thank you to my wonderful reviewers. Your comments mean a bunch to me. For next time - do you think Jake and Matt's bantering gets old after a while? I've started the next chapter already, and there's a bunch of it. Should I cut some out?

As always, life went on. It went on past October, November, and suddenly Benvolio had been living in a dream for 4 months. He woke up one morning to find a good five inches of snow on the ground. Suddenly his throat choked up. There rarely was anything more than a light dusting of snow in Verona. The worst thing was that he couldn't even express this thought to anyone, or else he would give away the fact that he wasn't from England.

He groaned and sat back down onto his bed heavily. England could go to Hades. He missed his homeland with such ferocity that it was revealing itself in the form of a headache. His stomach rumbled, so he sighed and started walking out of his bedroom to the kitchen in search of breakfast.

There was an awful amount of light outside for early morning, since he had woken up before his alarm went off. There also was a strange amount of noise coming out of the kitchen. No one else was supposed to be up at this hour, appart from Jake, and he had strange habits in the morning. Ben never really knew where to find him.

Considering how odd everything was going, he was not really surprised to find Jake and Matt talking at the table. Benvolio grabbed a bowl, a box of cereal, and the milk carton and joined them.

"What time is it?" he asked hoarsely. He wished he had sat on the other side of the table, so he wouldn't have to look out the window at the extreme amount of white.

Jake glanced at his watch. "Half past eleven. Mom suggested I turn off your alarm for you when I found out that it was a snow day. She said you needed the sleep."

"So he lets you sleep and calls me," Matt grumbled. "How unfair is that?"

"Yeah, but guess what this genius was doing?" Jake retorted. "He was getting ready for school anyways. The half foot of snow didn't clue him in to as school might be a little bit hard to get too. Since he was waiting outside for the bus anyways I figured he might as well come over here and entertain me."

"Entertain," Matt huffed. "That's all I am, entertainment? I could have gone back to sleep."

"Why would you want to? You were already up and dressed and everything."

Matt rolled his eyes and whispered to Ben, "Bloody morning people."

He took in the entire conversation, his mind wandering far from their words or the cereal he was mechanically spooning into his mouth. It was almost noon. He had never slept as late in his life. A servant had always woken him up, on his strict aunt's orders. His aunt who had died recently. Her son, who had also been a bloody morning person, when he wasn't up half the night pining for girls.

"Anyways, now that you're up we might as well do something productive with our day."

"Yeah. I was thinking we build several snowmen right outside Mr. Hebrews' window. And give them all angry faces."

"Sure. Let's also give him a signed note telling him to not be such a Katt-loving teacher."

"Jake, do you have to always shoot down all of my ideas?"

"Yes, Matt, I do, because they are always stupid. Every single -"

"Would you too just shut up already?" Benvolio snapped. "It's awful. Just shut up!" He jumped up from his chair, but the white snow seemed to have left an impression that he could see on the back of his eyelids. Angry he turned and started to clean up his breakfast dishes as fast as he could, angry shoving everything away.

He could feel Jake and Matt exchanging a glance behind his back. Nervously, Jake asked, "Um, Ben, do you want to talk about anything?"

"No," he shot out. "No, I'm fine. Just sick of you two bickering like-"

Like my friends used to do.

"-like the plague was upon you." A sick feeling arose in his mouth.

"Ben-"

"I'm going upstairs to change," he said, starting to head out of the kitchen.

"Ben, hold up." He felt a touch on the back of his arm, and he turned around to find the two hovering behind him, concerned looks on both of their faces. "Dude, what's wrong?"

"Yeah," Jake agreed, "What's bugging you?"

"Nothing," Benvolio hissed, tugging his arm out of their reach. ""Nothing in this whole stupid world." He turned to storm off again.

"Ben," Jake interrupted again. "Are you sure you're ok? I don't think you are."

"Or course I'm sure." He was walking away.

"Are you homesick?"

"Not really."

"Is this about your friends? You know, the ones who…died?"

Benvolio froze, his foot on the first step of the staircase. He slowly turned. "As opposed to the ones who didn't?" he asked, his voice flat. He gave a humorless laugh. "I never really had that many friends. And they're dead now. Both of them. Because of a stupid fight."

He pretended not to notice when they exchanged another look.

"Are you sure you… you don't want to….talk?"

"WHAT IS THERE TO TALK ABOUT?" he screamed. "So what if my two best friends of 16 years just died? So what if I still think about them as if they could wake up and converse with me tomorrow? So what if I be as mad as hell at them for leaving me alone, whence they hast been the only ones I ever really trusted after my mother died? So what if I be betraying them by replacing them with you in such haste? So what if I just abandoned my uncle after they died, mine only live family left, to come here? So what? Mine friends art agone and they art never coming back and I needeth-"

His voice shook inside his throat. He swallowed everything down and whispered, "I need to get over it already. Because if I can't stop the feelings now, than I never will."

"Ben-"

He ignored the voices. He turned and thudded up the stairs, slamming shut the door of his room.

As he sat back down heavily on the bed with his head in his hands, all he could see was the snow right outside his window. It was maybe the first time in his life he didn't hate the sight of it. The snow was cold and unfeeling and heartless. Maybe he had to be the same.