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 ^{(it's beta!)}

It's been six months now, give or take a few weeks. Months? Really, I had to check myself. I needed to make sure it hadn't been six years, give or take a few months. But I'm still here. Still only six months away from the point I learned what apathy really is. Looking back now, things get hazy. Some are easier to pick out than others.

The story you are about to read is not a love story. It's not a story with a happy ending. It's not something I want to revisit, but I feel I need to anyway.

How would the audience react if we rewrote Romeo and Juliet to tell the story of these six months? Instead of marrying, they saw each other in secret for months. Romeo becomes over-dramatic, paranoid, and controlling. What would they do when Juliet, finally freeing herself from his bullshit, left? When heartbroken Romeo tried, and failed, to take his own life? Would they laugh at his flaws? Would they cry with him? Bleed with him? Or would they also grow tired of Romeo and, like his beautiful Juliet, leave him to deal with his own problems?

Six months. Has that really been half a year? It feels like it was in a whole different lifetime, now. I wish I could say this story makes sense, that the emotions we felt were exaggerated, or under-emphasized. I wish I could say this whole ordeal was something that made us more empathetic, but apathy is all I can feel towards all of this,

What would the audience do, if Juliet swore off men, Romeo stalked her, and Mercutio prayed that Romeo would've succeeded in his flight from this world?

I don't remember much about the night that RJ disappeared the first time. Other than I was at my boyfriend's house watching a Law and Order episode dealing with S&M and diamonds.

October fourth. I remember that too. Just a date, no real importance. My phone went off and It was Beth, RJ's ex-girlfriend. She asked if I was home. I guess it hit me that something was wrong then. It was still pretty early, but I don't remember Beth ever calling me before. I told her I'd call her when I got home.

I was up in Jared's room within five minutes. I had quietly excused myself from the no-longer-captivating television.

"Beth? What happened?"

"Em.... Have you talked to RJ recently?"

I thought about it... It was Wednesday night now. He had called me sometime Tuesday afternoon, but I had ignored it. My last talk with RJ had gone badly. Even thinking about it now, I was growing irritated. "Not since Monday."

"No one has seen him since Monday." We would later find out this wasn't completely true, that he had stopped by Chris's house after school on Tuesday, but didn't stay for long. Either way, I slightly regretted not answering his calls.

Regret however, was quickly replaced by panic. Good old RJ. Never a dull moment with him. Unless, of course, you got bored of him begging you to try to guilt Beth into taking him back. Unless, you got tired of him telling you how he was just going to go find a spot on the traintracks. And unless you actually missed the fun-loving, light-hearted, seventeen year old that he always was. The boy I never knew, because I didn't meet him until after things beween Beth and him started to fall to pieces.

Jared came upstairs right as I hung up with her. I was already calling Jack. RF had been staying with Jack every now and then lately. I told them what had happened, and Jack's panic quickly met mine. Jared, at least, was sensible enough to get me a ride home.

That night, sleep didn't come easily. How do you sleep, when your boyfriend and a close friend are wandering the streets in the dead of the night? What do you do when you don't know if a friend is alive or dead?

How do you sleep, when every train whistle sounds like a death knoll?

This is where time starts to slip. I don't quite remember if this was before or after RJ disappeared the first time. I remember my mother coming upstairs and telling me I had a visitor. Someone she didn't know. She looked annoyed and worried all at the same time.

I wandered downstairs, casually and there was RJ. He was sitting on the front porch looking very pitiful. How much of your looks was self-pity, RJ? Will you ever even admit to that?

I talked with him for awhile. My mother and grandparents wandering in and out through the side door, looking worried. Thinking back, I understand why. RJ never really was one for looks, and at the current moment, he looked like one of the random homeless bums that wander the streets.

"Can you call Beth for me? Ask her to give me a week. Just one week, to prove that we should get back together. Please, Emma?" His pleading had won me over. Not without protest, but I'd never tell him that.

After some arguement, RJ had launched himself into this very poetic monologue, most of which I don't remember. "Emma, I could save the fucking world. I'm bright enough, you know that. I could make the people happy again. But even if I did, it'd mean nothing. I'd fucking care less about the world unless I had her by my side."

"Would you listen to yourself, RJ?" my outburst shocked him, but I could tell he hadn't been listening. "Fuck her, man. You can accomplish great things! You can do something with your fucking life that doesn't include wallowing in your own fucking misery!" I was shouting now, making a bit of a scene. "RJ, get a fucking grip, man. Honestly. You did fine without her in your life before. You're eighteen years old. You've been with her less than a year. There are other girls out there. She's just your Rosaline. Go find a Juliet."

"You're wrong, Emma. She is my Juliet, and without her I'm nothing."

"Go see Chris. I can't deal with this right now."

"But Emma--" he pleaded.

"No, RJ. Just go. I can't deal with you. You're impossible to talk to."

And he left. Chris lived only a block away, so he couldn't make me feel guilty about traintracks and the bloodstains on his hand and arm from when he punched the mirror at his house tonight.

When I went inside, I argued with my mother for awhile. Eventually, I managed to convince her that I did actually go to school with RJ, and that he wasn't just some bum off the street that followed me home one day. Then I talked to Beth. Somehow, I think I managed to convince her to give him another week. I knew I was making a mistake. I ignored my phone when the caller ID read "RJ" or "Jack". I couldn't deal with Jack right now either. He plays sides too much. I didn't need him to start flipping out about the way I handled today's situation. RJ left me about six voicemails.

I was starting to get fucking tired of his shit.