*Benvolio's PoV*

Benvolio had never been troubled by feelings. He always knew what he was feeling, and everything was neatly categorized in his head.

There were the good days, the ones that he associated with yellow and orange hues, the days that smelled like fall air, and like freshly printed books. These days felt like neatly packed away boxes, filled with happiness and sunshine whenever he wanted a pick-me-up.

He had categories for the negative emotions too, even if he never wanted to remember them. Benvolio placed his bad days and harsh emotions in lock boxes that smelled like dust and burnt ozone. These were the days that were surrounded by a dark red haze, the air tainted with an associated black smog.

Unfortunately, Benvolio was also familiar with his anxieties. The static-gray days that smelled like dumpsters and cigarettes and his own blood. These days felt like the shag carpet of his bedroom when he sat on the floor and desperately tried to steady his breathing and to even out his heartbeat before someone knew he might not be okay. These were the things that Benvolio had to file away the most often.

Benvolio knew his emotions. He knew where they went, how they looked, and what they felt like.

He knew that sometimes life would feel as if had been reduced to his student life. As if his self-worth depended on how high his GPA was, or how many A's dotted his report cards. After all, that's what people knew him as. The good student, the studious scholar who would go places, whose brain wouldn't be wasted. He owed it to society to use his brain, the price for being labeled as 'smart'. They didn't see the breakdowns, the panic attacks that these grades concealed. The marks were all that mattered to some, that was something Benvolio's knew.

What troubled Benvolio the most were the romantic inclinations. They definitely existed, that's for sure.

What confused him wasn't the feelings themselves, it was Mercutio.

Mercutio has waltzed into Ben's life unannounced, and had immediately built himself a home inside Ben's head.

Ben's carefully placed files had been disrupted, uprooted even. But it wasn't a negative thing, per say. Because Ben discovered something else when Mercutio walked into his life.

It was new. Unexpected, uncategorized, unplanned. Ben couldn't place this feeling. It was definitely not bad, but it sure was time-consuming.

Benvolio's days had been changed. Their colors suddenly more vibrant and their imagery just plain different. His metaphysical filing cabinets were discarded.

Yet, somehow, it all felt right.

He didn't mind procrastinating his homework so he could text Mercutio, or filling his notebook with Mercutio's name in the place of algebra problems.

He supposed that the time he spent thinking of Mercutio would look silver and piercing, like his eyes. But what he saw when he remembered it always surprised him. The green-blue hues that covered his memories of the boy that outweighed his waking (and sometimes restful) thoughts. The golden hues, the reds, the dazzling purples. Mercutio was unplaceable.

Benvolio realized that this was okay. He didn't need to categorize everyone and everything. Mercutio made him realize that he liked a little chaos.

It was incredibly freeing.