Upon waking, Henry felt dizzy. His sheets, cold with sweat, stuck to him, crumpled against his back. The nightmare that plagued him throughout the night still lingered in his mind and unsettled him deeply as he rose into consciousness. Something wasn't right. Then he remembered that everything wasn't right.
His eyes opened only to find himself staring at the ceiling of his very own bedroom. Nobody was in his room. Nobody was around. He could feel the pillow behind his head and the blankets over his body, the city birds trilling their distinct early morning song just outside. In the distance, he could hear a crowd of footsteps and voices sweep from the other side of the building. The lodgers were walking downstairs toward the dining hall for breakfast. It was morning.
Henry's mind raced for an explanation. Was last night nothing but a dream? Henry doubted it. If that were a dream, he knew he would've woken up in terror right away and had it fresh in his mind. The nightmare he'd just woken up from was very different from what had no doubt occurred last night. Thankfully Edward was absent from his mind, and for now, Henry was alone.
This feeling didn't last long, however, as he heard the sounds of drawers opening and closing where his kitchen resided just off his bedroom. The door was open, but from where Henry laid, the person inside wasn't visible.
Henry shot up and felt blood instantly rush from his head, causing a painful throbbing that simply refused to go away. The movement in the kitchen came to a halt, and the sound of footsteps soon followed. Henry dreaded the sight of the man he knew would soon peek his head out from the door frame. He refused to look as the figure's head came into view. Henry's skin went cold and his stomach dropped. Robert's voice was low.
"Henry… um…"
A long silence followed.
Henry knew Robert wasn't good with expressing his thoughts and feelings, and after what happened last night, he was glad for that. A sudden churn of nausea swam its way around his stomach and Henry found himself numbly stepping out of bed. Toward his bathroom, walking turned to speed walking, speed walking turned to running, and before he knew it, Henry was retching violently over his toilet. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and the painful contractions of his diaphragm purged what smelled like stale alcohol from his stomach. He could scarcely catch a breath between the forceful heaves that wracked his weak body. It would be a while before his stomach settled to a hardly bearable, but stable level.
Feeling the presence of the tall man behind him, Henry breathed in small, quiet breaths. Robert was staring at him, but Henry wouldn't look him in the eye if his life depended on it.
"We… were lucky nobody was awake last night. Nobody saw either of us."
So Robert had brought him home. Henry didn't know how to feel about that. He didn't know how to feel about anything. His mind was so thickly fogged over with dread that no more thoughts could fill it.
He couldn't take it anymore.
Within an instant, Henry burst past Robert and sped quickly out of his room. He could hear Robert's voice from behind yelling something after him, but Henry didn't want to know what it was.
After several turns down the hall, he leapt down the stairs and shot into the nearest bathroom, which was thankfully just behind the stairwell. He slammed the door shut and locked it, shaking as he gripped the handle. It was a moment before he let go and stumbled backward into the corner to his right, sliding down the wall, his mind buzzing with fear. Henry stared at nothing as his breaths came out rugged and shallow. His entire body felt cold.
Henry suddenly felt a presence before him and he slowly tilted his head up to look at it. Who but Edward would peer down at him, chin upward with a small, calm smile on his features.
"I told you to leave," Henry whispered, holding back the tears and soft crying that eventually cracked their way out of his head and rippled pathetically toward the apparition. "Why didn't you listen to me? Why... W-Why didn't you leave?"
There was a moment of quiet from the man towering above him as he soaked up the sounds of Henry's sorrowful whimpering with an ever-widening smile.
'Oh, Jekyll. You'd just love to pin this on me, wouldn't you?' Edward's voice then spoke. 'You'd love to pin this on anyone but yourself, but we both know you can't.' Henry buried his face into his knees and gripped his hair with both hands. He shook as Edward spoke clear as a bell in his head. It didn't matter how much he tried covering his ears. That would do nothing to stop the voice. That would do nothing to stop the laughter. 'I didn't make this mess. We both know you've done this to yourself. Surely you're not so surprised that this is all coming to an end. It was bound to happen sooner or later. How long did you really think you could keep this lie to yourself, hm? This facade? The moment I've been warning you about for years has finally come, Henry, and what better a person to find out than our dear Lanyon?' Henry was pulling his hair hard, hoping beyond hope to distract himself from the words in his head that he knew he couldn't hide from. It didn't work. Robert had done so much for him in the time he'd known him, and yet ever since the beginning of college where he'd met Robert, Henry was not much more than a burden on him. He would always take and take and take, and poor Robert never did anything to stop him. He always told Henry that he would be happy to help him with whatever he needed for however long he needed it, but there was no question that Robert's life worsened with him introduced to it. Robert would do so much for him. He even nearly failed his classes one year because of Henry's request for help with his work. After that, Henry did everything he could to keep Robert from giving him help, but Robert could often see through that. Even though Robert requested to join and fund the project of the society himself, Henry had no doubt in his mind that he had been the one to rope him into this mess. Henry would suffer for his sins, and Robert, an innocent bystander who didn't deserve any of the trouble he found himself in, would suffer for Henry's sins, too. 'I know what you're thinking now, Henry, and you'd be absolutely right.' Edward now hissed, 'Lanyon hates you now. And how could he not? After all he's done for you, this is what you've given him in return. All his time, money, and energy spent with a pathetic fraud. A disgusting liar that deserves nothing he has. I'd hate you too.'
Henry's cries now turned into sobs, loudly rippling through his body to the point where it rattled his small, curled form. "Stop it! Please!" he begged desperately. Remorseless laughter roared in return of his pleas. With no options left, Henry sat there, curled up in the corner, sobbing and pulling his hair hard, taking it, listening to the laughter that shot relentlessly from all directions.
A knock.
There was a knock at the door.
"Who's in there?" a lodger's voice sounded from behind the door. The voice was male, but Henry couldn't pin down exactly who it was. "Are you okay?"
With all the energy he had left in his shaking frame, Henry forced a normal voice upon himself. "Yes? This is Dr. Jekyll, who's there?"
"It's Archer," the voice stated, worriedly. "I thought I heard crying coming from over here. Are you okay?"
Not answering Archer's question, Henry responded, "Crying? Well if someone's crying, you'd better go find them! And report back to me when you do! I'll take care of it from there. Thank you very much for letting me know, Archer!"
"Ah, okay!" Archer replied, a little embarrassed. "Sorry to disturb you, sir!"
The sound of footsteps walking away toward the dining hall slowly faded with distance. Henry was alone again. He was seriously thankful that the dining hall was far away from where he was. Archer must've been on a walk around the building and faintly heard him crying through the thick walls of the bathroom. It was a miracle that Archer bought his lie. He sniffed loudly and wiped his face. He heard a slow river of calmly chatting voices flowing down a distant hall. The lodgers were going back to their work. A world existed outside of his crumpled mind, and for now, Henry knew that he should, too. He would need to sneak back to his room to change, as many questions would rise if any of the lodgers were to see him in Edward's clothing. As he carefully stood, the looming voice in his head had just one last thing to say.
'Go ahead, Henry. Enjoy your last days as a 'good man' with the life you have. I'll be waiting for you when you're done.'
Robert pushed past a group of lodgers and hurriedly apologized to them as he continued down the dining hall. He could've sworn Henry had turned into this room. He looked around and scanned as many faces as he possibly could. Nothing.
It had been days since Henry had woken up and fled his room in terror. Ever since then, he'd been avoiding Robert as much as he possibly could. The moment Robert would enter the same room as him, Henry would leave, and if Robert gave chase, he would quickly lose him. Henry knew the layout of the building more than Robert did. After all, Henry lived here, and Robert did not.
Robert had pieced together most of what was going on. Henry had worked on this project since the beginning of college. Robert never thought he'd be able to pull it off, but after the recent events, it was apparent that he'd been wrong. Henry must have succeeded in splitting the good and evil of his soul, and it was clear which half of his friend was which. Henry's original goal with his project was to split off, and then end the evil parts of one's soul so they could live a happier and more productive life afterward. It was clear that he had tried his experiments on himself, and completely lost control of his evil half. He couldn't pinpoint exactly when this split occurred or what triggered it, but that didn't matter now.
Robert sighed and sat down at the table behind him. He didn't know what he could do. This was going nowhere. Luckily for Robert, he was determined, and wasn't going to leave the society's grounds until he caught Henry. What he would do when he succeeded in this was still foggy, even to him, but that wasn't important in his mind. First things first, Robert would track down Henry. That was priority number one.
Henry's room. That was where he would find him. Robert stood up and went to the location that would view the staircase leading up to Henry's room from a distance, and waited.
He would wait there for hours until the sun set below the horizon. Not long before that, a storm began rolling in. Rain began tapping loudly against the windows, the sound of which tempted Robert to sleep, even though he resisted.
After waiting for so long, the silhouette of the man he'd been waiting for emerged quietly from the shadows. His figure was hunched well beyond his normal gentlemanly stature, and his head darted from side to side cautiously. By now, all the lodgers had gone to their rooms to sleep, despite the thunder that cracked outside the walls of the building. Henry had the luxury of having his room located far from any others, and that fact, Robert realized, would come in very handy for what he knew was about to happen.
As quietly as he could, Robert headed up the staircase behind him, hoping to cut off Henry as he entered his room. The society was dimly lit at this hour, and Robert was thankful for that, as it allowed him to hide with relative ease behind the protruding table next to Henry's door.
Robert waited with bated breath as he heard Henry walk down the hall and unlock his door. The sound of the lock clicking and being pushed forward while Henry stepped inside signaled to Robert and he stepped out silently, walked over, and stuck his shoe between the door and the doorframe just before it closed.
Henry noticeably paused. His door had never gotten stuck like that before.
"...Henry?" Robert prompted softly, yet firmly. The moment the sound left his mouth, Henry jumped and made some pitiful noise of fright as he let go of the handle, stumbling back. Robert couldn't help the sad expression that forced its way onto his features as he peered into the room. The whole place had been neglected. Clothes and various wretched smelling stains littered the floor, the bed was unkempt, a lot of stray candle wax drippings had not been cleaned up, and in the corner, Robert spotted a pile of empty wine bottles just large enough to make his skin crawl.
"Henry?" Robert repeated, this time more stern. "We need to talk." Robert stepped past the doorway and turned to the door to lock it, as he wasn't about to let Henry run from him this time. After doing so, Robert turned back to find Henry shaking where he stood.
Robert felt suppressed anxiousness bubble its way into his stomach before being pushed down once more. He studied Henry's features carefully, picking up every detail he could.
Henry's thin head pointed downward, each hand holding the other's arm, just above the elbow. His eyes were trained on the floor to the right of his shoes, and if it were not for his furrowed brows, his face would've worn the exact expression of an owl about to be shot. Robert lowered his voice.
"Henry, you've been avoiding me," Robert began, "...but we can't pretend like what happened a few nights ago didn't happen." A light flashed outside, slowly followed by a rumbling thunder that made Henry shift in place. There was no response. "Henry, please look at me," Robert begged as he approached the smaller man. Noticing his approach, Henry backed up further toward his bed. Robert stopped this advancement when he had Henry standing flush with the side of his bed with nowhere to go. "Henry, say something," Robert pleaded.
"...I…" Henry whispered. Robert's breath hitched at the timid and quiet first words Henry had spoken to him in weeks. "...I don't..."
No words followed, and Henry fell back to silence. The guilt on Henry's face was clear from the start, but now that he'd stepped closer, Robert found something else there. Something worse. He found fear. Not worry, but outright fear. Fear that had no business being there. Robert paused. There was no way, surely not, that he was what Henry was afraid of, right? After a moment of quiet worry and anxious thought, Robert tested his ridiculous concern and reached out his hand to the slightly shorter man before him.
Henry flinched twice. Once at the thunder that cracked viciously through the air, and once at Robert's very own hand. Henry snapped his eyes shut and whimpered, his mouth quivering in a stiff shape with his quiet breathing at a pace that rivaled that of a handcuffed prisoner about to be thrown into the open ocean. Robert tried his best to control the shock and overwhelming sadness that suddenly flooded him at the realization of just what Henry was so scared of.
"Henry! Do you- Do you think I'm going to hurt you?" Robert felt like he was drowning in the very words he spoke. The thought was simply inconceivable.
Henry looked up at him with great caution as if he were worried this was some trick to lure him into a false sense of security before Robert took the opening to strike him.
"Henry…" Robert's voice came out wispy and hardly audible against the pounding rain outside. Robert covered his mouth with his hand and tears slowly welled in his eyes. "Henry, no…" he whispered as he shook his head.
Henry now looked just as confused as he was cautious, but Robert paid no attention to this. His mind had turned into a blizzard of thought, and he could no longer control himself. The anxiety that he'd pushed down earlier game spurting back up, and Robert found himself no longer able to stop it.
With no thoughts left to think, Robert did the only thing left that he felt he could, and swiftly stepped forward and wrapped his arms tightly around his best friend. At this, Henry let out just the most pitiful cry Robert had ever heard.
Henry froze. He was shaking and curled into himself feebly in what he must've feared were his assailant's arms. After a moment of silence, Robert tilted his head downward so the bridge of his nose rested on Henry's shoulder and his mouth was free to speak.
"Why in all the world would you think I would ever hurt you?" Robert got no response. This was bad. Robert was not a violent person, and never has been. Henry knew this.
A realization then dawned on Robert with a painful sting. Robert was a logical man with incredible self-control. He would never hurt anybody on impulse; it was even rare for him to do it reflexively. He'd never done anything like that without reason. It dawned on him that somewhere in Henry's mind, he fully believed that it would be reasonable for him to be hurt. This realization cracked Robert to his very core. "No, no, no, Henry… Henry, No!" He whispered to the frightened man in his arms. "Please, Henry. You don't need to tell me what's going on right now, I just need you to know that I could never ever be mad enough... to hurt you. I will never in my life get to that point. It's impossible. The thought hasn't ever crossed my mind in all the time I've known you, and it never will. I'm not angry. I never was angry. Right now, please, Henry, this is all I want you to know." Finally, his ramblings came to an end.
There was silence for a very long time. Robert felt Henry shift a small bit before freezing again. More silence. Robert felt like he was going to be sick with worry. He wanted Henry to feel safe so badly. He would do or give anything if it made his dear Henry come back from this terror. Nothing mattered more to him now. Absolutely nothing.
In the middle of his thoughts, Robert felt the cloth on his back shift. His breath caught as he felt Henry's cold hands finally grip the back of his shirt, returning his embrace. Robert's head lifted as Henry's fell onto his shoulder, and just like that, Henry crumpled in his arms. He felt a shudder, and then a sob rupture from Henry's throat. He felt the frailty of the man in his arms as his cries wracked his entire frame with every breath he took.
Robert couldn't pin down any of the hundreds of thoughts and feelings spiraling in his head, but thankfully, his heart didn't seem to need permission from his head to react the way it felt it needed to. Robert's hand rose and started drawing slow, gentle circles on the crying man's back. Henry's unkempt shirt moved along with his hand in the soothing, repetitive motions. Henry shook more, only for a second, and then he shifted to hug Robert tighter, as if he would never get to hold him again.
Every once in a while, Robert would hear Henry hold his breath to say something, only for sobbing to follow, just barely louder than before. The thunder cracked outside, and Robert made sure his hand motions were slow and caring as Henry recoiled at the sound. Clearly being startled by the crackling noise, Henry went quiet for a moment. His crying then returned, and was noticeably softer than before. The volume decreased even further as Robert continued to draw his hand in slow circles for what seemed to be minutes. He felt like it was putting Henry into a trance seeing as how the grip on his shirt loosened and he leaned into Robert's hold. His breaths were slow now, and Robert finally felt like he could let himself breathe.
Henry was cold - very, very cold.
"Henry?" Robert softly spoke. He felt Henry's head just barely lift off his shoulder in response. "Would you mind if I sleep here in your room tonight? I don't want to go home right now." There was a moment of silence before he felt Henry nod. "Alright. Please sit down," Robert instructed. Henry followed orders, not having the energy to do much else. Robert walked into the kitchen, filled up a glass of water, and brought it back to Henry, who already looked like he was about to drop into unconsciousness right then and there.
Henry stared at the glass now in his hand for a long time. Robert had to outright tell him to drink it for Henry to finally oblige. Once the glass was empty, Robert took it from him and set it on his nightstand. He instructed Henry to lay down and get under his covers. Once he did, Robert pulled the blankets up to the top of his shoulders. Henry looked sad and almost ashamed at this, and stared into the sheets next to his eyes. Robert furrowed his brows.
"Should I sleep on the couch," he asked, pointing to said couch against the wall, "or should I sleep here?" He pointed to the bed. He was worried that the request would be a bit odd to Henry, but he couldn't stop himself from asking. Henry grabbed the pillow underneath the one he was resting on and hugged it, nodding.
"You can sleep here." Robert froze for a moment, shocked that Henry could speak at all. Henry's words were softer than Robert thought possible. It had been so long since he'd heard that voice, and it ran like silk through his head. He nodded and walked over to the foot of the bed so he could climb his way onto the side where he would be closest to the wall. He slipped under the sheets and blanket and inched toward Henry, who was only illuminated by the candle on his desk, still facing away from him.
The thunder stopped, and only pouring rain was left tapping as white noise against the window. After all the excitement of the night, Robert felt his eyes burn with drowsiness every time he blinked. The skittering of probably invisible mice could be heard in the ceiling above their heads, but the sound was dwarfed by the rain and wind that howled and hissed just outside. Robert knew that Henry had a lot of trouble sleeping, but he was probably just as drained of energy as Robert was after their confrontation.
Robert knew that he would fall asleep soon, but found himself staring at the back of Henry's head, thinking to himself. He felt an unusual pull toward this man. This was like nothing he'd felt for anyone before. When Henry was in trouble, Robert's mind would instantly rid itself of all complexity and become incapable of thinking about anything but Henry's safety and well-being. This happened in the alleyway, and it happened again during the confrontation. Robert liked to think himself a man of logic and reason. It made no sense for these traits to go away in the presence of any one man. How could this happen and why? Robert was not a very introspective man, as he didn't enjoy thinking about himself much, but the questions raised by his recent thoughts, feelings, and actions were just too much for him to let lie and forget about.
The first thought that came to mind as to why this happened was immediately shoved right back down and had a blind eye turned to it as Robert felt his face suddenly fill with a gentle warmth. He would think about that some other time. He sighed and pondered these questions more.
Mindlessly, Robert lifted his hand and gingerly ran his fingers through Henry's hair. He watched and listened as Henry's breath hitched at the feeling and his body stiffened a small bit. Robert felt his own chest flutter. Being this close to his dearest Henry felt nicer than any feeling he'd felt in a very long time. Robert continued his movements, and before he knew it, Henry's tensed muscles loosened greatly and his breathing slowed.
Robert didn't even realize that Henry had fallen asleep until he heard soft, quiet snoring bubbling from the man lying in front of him. He listened to Henry's breathing for a while, finding bliss in the peaceful sound.
Now that Henry had fallen asleep, an unknown and unwelcome switch flipped in Robert's brain. He began thinking more about his confrontation with Henry.
He began thinking about what Henry must've been thinking and feeling in the heat of the moment. Henry had actually been scared of him. This thought must've not sunk in properly in Robert's mind, because now, it hit him like he was being stoned to death. Robert had never been violent with anybody before in his entire life, not even when drunk. Henry had never heard him threaten anyone or even speak with too much mal-intent toward anybody. Robert could only come to the extremely saddening realization that it may have been self-loathing that fed Henry's fear of attack.
Henry had genuinely believed that Robert was going to hurt him. The thought was unfathomable and took a moment to truly process through his brain. Henry was the sweetest man Robert had ever known. He would never deserve such violence - never in his entire life. At this thought, extremely unwelcome mental images forced their way into Robert's mind, and as much as he tried, he couldn't stop them. He saw Henry being grabbed by his shirt collar, thrown to the ground, and struck over and over and over by someone's fist. He saw their shoe connect fast with Henry's stomach as he cried out in pain and sobbed helplessly at the furious and vicious attack. He saw blood leaking from Henry's mouth while, in between dreadful wails, coughs wracked his entire fragile body. He saw the person wait for Henry to catch his breath and get to his hands and knees, trembling beneath them, before winding up their leg and kicking him sharply in the ribs with a sickening crack. He saw Henry shriek in absolute agony.
Robert closed his eyes hard and opened them repeatedly, trying to get these images out of his head. This was exactly what Henry had been bracing for as he flinched and whimpered at Robert's every movement. He was preparing himself for what he just knew was to come. He was preparing himself for that.
Robert felt sick to his stomach. He would be willing and ready to mangle anyone who would dare do such things to his sweet and loving Henry. Robert grounded himself by focusing on the feeling of Henry's hair between his fingers. It was soft, but unkempt and clearly neglected. His hair was thinner than normal - an obvious sign of stress. Regardless, he gently felt it anyway. He had to do this for a few minutes before he finally managed to calm himself down.
By then, Robert's arm began to ache. He stopped petting Henry's hair and slowly draped his arm over Henry's sleeping form, careful not to wake him. Henry was out cold, however, and didn't even have a chance of waking up at something so small. Robert wanted to make sure Henry was there in the morning, and having his arm around him made sure of that.
One by one, Robert's thoughts and feelings vanished into the abyss of impending sleep. Worry, curiosity, gratefulness, relief, sorrow - they all fell away like leaves on an autumn tree. Before long, Robert felt a void engulf him in a potent nothing.
The hum of the rain spattering against the glass was the final sound Robert heard before he finally fell into a deep sleep.
