For the record, he does arrived on time. He glances to his surroundings; he doesn’t recognise any familiar faces. It seems like he is expected to wait for a minute or more. He finds an unoccupied bench, so he drags his feet there and sits with a long sigh. He has expected this to happen, of course it will be happening. He will wait, and he will be the one who always wait.
It is six in the evening, and the temperature is twelve Celsius degree. Mercutio huffs, it creates a puff of air in front of his face. It is lucky that he decides to wear a sweater underneath his coat. He just forgets the gloves, and it results in him burying his hand in his coat’s pocket. It will be so nice if Rosaline is here with him now, her power is so useful in days like these. The snow doesn’t fall yet, but it is cold enough to form a ghostly vapour whenever he takes a breath.
He taps his feet impatiently. Benvolio should arrive in any minutes now. He has waited too long; too long in this weather! He creates a mini song with his tapping and may or may not too excited with his tapping, few pigeons around him are running away, startled.
Not too long after his final taps, Mercutio hears a very rushed steps approaching him.
“Mer! I’m sorry I’m late!”
The said Mer turns his head and meets a tall, and currently panting, man. He, the newly arrived man, noisily bumps his butt to the seat beside Mercutio and lets out a loud breath.
“I don’t see why you are always late to our prior meetings,” Mercutio complains. “It is not like your residence is too far away from our meeting point.”
“Yeah, but, consider the kids, Mer. The kids!”
“You mean your cats.” Mercutio says bitterly. “Anyway, let’s go to the Hall. I bet everyone is already there.”
“As usual,” Benvolio smirks. “I heard Rosaline is not coming this month?”
Mercutio stands up, and the latter man follows his gesture. They are heading to the West Hall, it is not too far from the bench they have just sat on. Benvolio has to run a little to catch Mercutio’s long steps. His breath is still tight, but it is finer now.
“She has something else to do, apparently. Something with her potion class. I don’t know.” Mercutio shrugs. “She is not missing anything, I believe. This party is held every month, and she attends dozen of it already. It will not be considered as a rude thing, I guess.”
“Yeah, I know. The only thing that makes me going is the free wine. Like, a very good wine.”
Mercutio laughs before answering his friend’s saying. “Who knows that our Benvolio is fond of wines! Good wines! You should raid your uncle’s cupboard.”
“Now, that is considered as rude.”
They fall into a good silence. Mercutio is still leading; his confident steps are always fast, but Benvolio doesn’t mind. He prefers a slow walk, though, and he doesn’t hold back to notice his friend if he gets to fast sometimes.
Few fast steps after that, they arrive on the West Hall. As they have expected, the Hall is already jam-packed with people. On the front door, Mercutio catch a sight of Romeo and his wife, Juliet, talking with good Paris, laughing heartily at something they couldn’t hear.
“What are we waiting for?” Benvolio asks curiously. “Aren’t we getting in?”
Mercutio turns to him. “Let’s go to the wine table first?”
Benvolio grins. “I will be right on your back, Mer.”
They walk together towards the Hall, hands still secured on their pockets. No matter how cold it is on the outside, it will be so warm inside the Hall. There are too much people invited to this monthly party, Mercutio doesn’t really get how they arranged this perfectly every month. More importantly, how can they get the money for this big party? Perhaps it is donated by the big families, who knows. He doesn’t care.
“I see Hamlet,” Benvolio whispers behind him. “He looks somewhat weird?”
Mercutio laughs. “Don’t go near him. I heard he had a fight with Ophelia.”
Now Juliet spots them, and she tugs on her husband’s hand to tell him. They stop their conversation earlier and turn to wave to them. Benvolio waves his hand back to them, Mercutio only smiles.
“I miss my cats already,” Benvolio groans under his breath, but it is loud enough for Mercutio.
“Now, now, remember the wine.” he chuckles. “Let’s go greet them first, and then we jumped to the wine table. Sounds like a plan?”
“Sounds like a plan.”