@fincherly said: Hey man… heard you were lacking on prompts so how's about Layton trying to calm Des down after he looked at a picture of his family :)

What is it with you guys and making the bread man suffer lol :p

Remembrance

Layton didn't know how to feel when he woke up to the sounds of breaking glass, his mind still foggy with the remnants of sleep. He waited a moment before rolling over. Maybe he was just hearing things.

The next thump of something heavy hitting the wall made Layton shoot up in his bed. Swinging his legs over his bed, he made it to his bedroom door in one hurried stride. He opened the door a crack.

"Hello?" He called out. That was when he heard sobbing. "...Desmond?" He called as something else shattered. He moved down the hallway, his footfalls silent as he approached Desmond's bedroom door.

They had met up again after a long while, Desmond wanting to reconnect with his brother (and Raymond had officially retired as Desmond's butler, serving instead as his father -- he was currently looking for a home, and had Desmond stay with the professor), and the younger man was more than happy to help Desmond.

He opened the door slowly, now knowing for certain that the noises were coming from his older brother's room.

"Desmond?" He ducked his head as something was thrown in his direction. The vase hit the wall behind him with a shatter. "Desmond, calm down!"

The red eyed man was standing in the middle of his room, his breathing heavy and labored as tears streamed down his face. His face was pinched into a pained expression of grief, his hands cut and bleeding sticky red blood. The liquid dropped to the floor into an already small puddle. The only thing undisturbed in the room was a picture frame that had fallen to the floor. Layton could see it was a family photo; it was Desmond's family photo. Layton's heart skipped a beat. Desmond's family had been killed by Targent. He had found them. The younger professor moved slowly into the room, minding the shattered glass that littered the floor.

Desmond shied away when Layton approached, his eyes snapping to the other's in fear.

"You've come to kill me too?" Layton's breath hitched. His brother sounded tired, shaky from fear.

"No, Desmond." The red-eyed man shook his head.

"You're lying…." His voice grew stronger. "You're lying!" The red-eyed man lunged at Layton, knocking them both onto the glass-littered floor. The professor could feel the shards digging into his back, could feel as they sliced open skin. Desmond's breathing had grown shaky again, and he curled his fists before pounding them on Layton's chest, the blood from his cut hands (presumably from glass) smearing onto Layton's nightshirt.

"Olivia and Violet --" Thump. "--are already --" Thump. "--gone, what --" Thump. "--more can you take?!" Thump.

The man above Layton was in hysterics now. The professor grabbed Desmond's shoulders gently as he sat up. Desmond started shaking violently under his touch.

"Desmond, look at me. It's your brother. It's Hershel Layton." Desmond seemed to freeze at the words, then shook his head.

"I would never let myself get close to him. He doesn't need my burden, my fears…." Desmond began to shrink away from Layton's touch, large, heavy tears rolling down his face. "I… I can't…."

"I'm right here, Desmond." Layton thought back to what Bronev had told him as he had been escorted to the police car. "Theodore is here." He never thought he'd call himself by that name, but the way Desmond looked at him, it appeared to have cut through the fog of terror in his mind. "You switched names with me. You couldn't bear to use my name, so you used Desmond instead. We went on a trip around the world two years ago. You wanted to reconnect with me, so you are in my home. We have been co-teaching my archaeology class for a month now." He kept his voice soft, calm. Desmond seemed intently focused on what Layton was saying. He continued. "You are in my guest room, but it can be yours as long as you want. Raymond is looking for a home you two can settle down in. You are safe." As he was saying this, he quickly snatched up the photo and tucked it in his nightshirt. Desmond didn't notice. "You had a panic attack, but now you're here, and you're safe, with your younger brother. Do you understand?" After a moment, Desmond nodded, his eyes still wide and misty as he tried to comprehend what he had just been told. Layton gave a small smile. "You are safe." Desmond stilled in his shaking, and blinked before throwing his arms around the younger professor. Layton stiffened before wrapping his arms around his brother's torso. Layton could feel warm tears soaking his nightshirt as Desmond's shoulders shook with heavy sobs.

"There we go. Nice and easy, Desmond." Layton could feel Desmond trying to speak, and he slowly moved a hand to rub circles into the man's back. "Don't push yourself. Just breathe. I understand."

After a long moment, Desmond pulled away, his eyes red and bloodshot. He didn't look at Layton as he muttered:

"Thanks." Layton smiled gently, and placed a hand on the man's shoulder.

"Let's get you cleaned up, and I'll make some tea." Desmond didn't respond, just looking down at his hands. As they made their way out of the room, the red-eyed man spoke.

"I'm sorry for the mess."

"Don't apologize, Desmond. That was out of your control." Desmond gave a humorless laugh.

"You sound like Raymond."

"If we both say it, it must be true."

"...I suppose." Layton guided Desmond to the bathroom, pulling out the first aid kit and unzipping it. He grabbed some wipes, gently wiping away the blood on his brother's hands. He inspected them, and deciding they didn't need stitches, began wrapping the hands in white gauze.

It was quiet while Layton did this. When he finished, he looked up and realized Desmond was falling asleep where he sat. He placed a hand on the man's shoulder again, and he jumped, his eyes shooting awake.

"Sorry."

"It's fine." Layton smiled reassuringly. "Let's get you to bed." He helped his brother stand up, then guided him to his bedroom. He helped Desmond into his bed, then lifted the covers over him. Desmond was already asleep, his shaky breathing a small remnant from the breakdown he had. Layton sighed, then moved to his living room, where he sat on the couch and pulled out the photo in his pocket. He stared at it for a long while before putting it back.

He needed to tell Raymond about this when he came back tomorrow. But for now, he sprawled out on the couch and fell asleep.