Romeo
After the argument with Venecia, I had a feeling the whole town would be buzzing with rumors. With a town as small as ours, word of mouth was as swift as the morning breeze. By the time my mom called me down for breakfast, I already knew I'd be walking into trouble.
"Romeo! Get down here for breakfast!"
I glanced at myself in the mirror and frowned. Dark circles hung under my eyes from sleepless nights filled with strange dreams and the relentless burning of the mark on my shoulder. I splashed water on my face, trying to look presentable, then hurried downstairs before Mom's patience snapped.
"Took you long enough," she said with a slight glare as I slid into my seat at the enormous mahogany table.
"I'm here, aren't I?" I shot her a cheeky grin, attempting to ease the tension.
"Good morning, Dad. How was your trip?" I asked, turning to him. Dad, the epitome of power in this town, always radiated authority. While the rest of the town appeared modest, our estate was sprawling—a glaring reminder of the wealth that separated us from everyone else.
"The trip went well," he said, his voice clipped, though there was an edge to it that immediately put me on guard. "The deal was finalized. But now, let's talk about you, son. How's school?"
"School's fine," I said cautiously, cutting into my stack of pancakes.
"Is it?" His sharp gaze pinned me in place.
I shifted uncomfortably, mumbling, "Yes, it's fine."
His palm slammed against the table, making the silverware rattle. "Then explain to me why I'm hearing that my son—my heir—is associating with that Eryndor girl!"
The second the words left his mouth, fury ignited inside me, matching the searing pain of the mark. My fist clenched around my fork.
"Watch what you say about her, Dad," I said, my voice low but trembling with barely contained anger.
"What did you just say?" Mom's sharp voice cut in; her fork poised midair.
"I said, don't talk about Venecia like that." My tone rose despite the warning bells in my mind. "You act like she's nothing, like she's a curse, but you don't even tell me why!"
"Enough!" Dad barked, standing from his chair. "You will not raise your voice at me, Romeo. That girl and her family are off-limits. End of discussion."
I pushed back from the table, my chest heaving. "You don't understand. I've tried to stay away from her, but this—this mark—won't let me. You won't tell me anything about this feud going on, and I'm done pretending I can ignore it. I can't live without her!"
"Romeo, stop!" Mom said, her voice trembling with anger.
But I didn't stop. "Tell me the truth! Why do you hate the Eryndors? Why is Venecia off limits? Why does it feel like my entire soul is tethered to her?" My voice cracked, my frustration pouring out.
"You don't need to understand anything!" Dad thundered. "What you need to do is obey. Stay away from her, or—"
"I'm done listening to your rules." I stormed out, ignoring their shouts behind me.
By the time I mounted my bike, my blood was boiling. The sleek black frame gleamed in the sunlight—a stark contrast to the cracked roads and peeling paint of the buildings around me. People waved and called out, but I didn't stop or even look their way.
"Romeo!" someone shouted, their voice lost in the roar of my wheels as I sped past.
Lily and Fred stood in front of the bakery, gesturing wildly. "Hey, Romeo! What's up?"
I ignored them, riding faster. The air rushed past, cool against my heated face, but it did nothing to calm the storm brewing inside me.
When I reached the school, Damien was waiting by the gate, his arms crossed and a knowing look on his face. He knew me too well.
"Rough morning?" he asked, smirking.
"Not in the mood, Damien," I muttered, brushing past him.
But he grabbed my arm, pulling me back. "Not so fast. What's going on?"
"I said, not now!" His grip tightened. "Is this about the mark again?"
I froze, my anger faltering.
Damien lowered his voice, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. "Look, man, I know it's getting worse. You're not exactly subtle."
"They know about Venecia," I admitted, my voice barely audible.
"Your parents?" Damien winced. "Damn. What happened?"
"They told me to stay away from her, as if it's that easy. As if I can just rip her out of my life when everything in me is screaming to protect her!"
Damien sighed. "Romeo, you know I've got your back, but this isn't a fight you can win with emotions. You need a plan—before your parents or the Eryndors make their next move."
I nodded stiffly, though the fury still roiled inside me. I need to find the reason why my family and hers hate each other.
Venecia
The morning sun filtered through the grand windows of my family's estate, casting golden light over the marble floors and velvet furniture. Normally, the beauty of our home soothed me, but today, it felt suffocating.
Romeo's face had haunted me all night. The hurt in his eyes, the fire in his voice—it all replayed in my mind like a broken record.
The mark on my shoulder prickled faintly, a constant reminder of our connection. As I gathered my books for school, I couldn't shake the unease settling over me.
"Venecia, breakfast is ready!" my mother called, her tone bright as always.
"I'm not hungry!" I shouted back, grabbing my bag and heading out.
The ride to school was uneventful, though my heart raced with anticipation. Would he be there?
When I arrived, the first thing I noticed was the crowd whispering near the gates. And then I saw him. Romeo, striding through the courtyard, his jaw clenched and his shoulders rigid.
The moment our eyes met, the mark burned—not the faint prickling from earlier, but an intense, fiery pain that made me gasp. His emotions—anger, frustration, hurt—all poured into me like a tidal wave.
"Venecia, are you okay?" a classmate asked, placing a hand on my shoulder.
"I'm fine," I managed, though my vision blurred as I stumbled forward.
I felt his fury as though it were my own. He was angry at the world, at his parents, at himself. But beneath it all, I felt something else desperation.
Unable to take it anymore, I rushed after him.
"Romeo!"
He stopped, his back stiffening at the sound of my voice. Slowly, he turned, and the pain in his eyes nearly brought me to my knees.
"Venecia..." His voice was hoarse, as if saying my name cost him everything.
"What happened?" I asked, stepping closer. "What's wrong?"
For a moment, he hesitated. Then, with a sharp exhale, he said, "Everything. My parents—they want me to cut you out of my life. But I can't, Venecia. I can't do this without you."
Tears pricked my eyes as the intensity of his words sank in. "We'll figure it out," I whispered. "Together."
As the bell rang, I reached out, gently taking his hand. The fire of the mark dimmed slightly, replaced by a comforting warmth. For the first time that day, I felt hope.
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Damn, hmmmm...... like and comment, y'all