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Lanyon was already in a hellish mood because of the letter- he didn’t need some loon shouting his name in the library to make the day worse.
“LANYON?” a voice shouted. Lanyon ignored him and re-read the letter, the words marriage and Everly Solanki unwillingly catching his eye over and over again.
“I’M LOOKING FOR ROBERT LANYON?”
Well, that wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. Lanyon sighed and pocketed the letter in his waistcoat pocket (he swore he could feel a hole burn in the fabric). “Who’s looking for me?”
A man in the distance froze, then ran towards Robert. On closer inspection, it seemed to be one of the men Lanyon had “hung out” with a few months ago- what was his name again? Henri?
More importantly, it had been months. Most of his past flings got over the breakup after 7 weeks or so. Why the hell was he trying to talk to Lanyon?
“Lanyon, you need to listen to me.”
“What is so-” Lanyon slammed a book shut- “bloody important-” he yanked a new one off the shelves- “you’re shouting my name in the damn library.”
The other man glared. (his name was probably Herbert, or something). “I’m trying to help you, y’idiotic- god, if you’d just listen. Your friend needs your help.”
Lanyon snorted. A good 90% of Lanyon’s “friends” were people he’d feel fine throwing into a well to drown with hordes of venomous snakes. There was almost a 0% chance this encounter wouldn’t end with Lanyon telling h-name (Harley? Holt?) to piss off. “Who is so important that-”
“It’s Jekyll.”
Oh.
Lanyon grabbed his stuff and stood up. “Fine. Lead the way.”
Lanyon and Henry were lucky enough that their dorm was only a quick jaunt away from the library. Normally, Lanyon would arrive barely affected by his quick walk. But today, he was running. He couldn’t remember the last time he ran.
(in all honesty, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt such kindness, such untarnished emotions since Jekyll. But he didn’t- he couldn’t think about that.)
He collapsed against the door, panting as he searched his waistcoat pocket for the key.
Lanyon felt H-name’s eyes bore into him. “Didja feel this way for Jekyll when you fooled around with all the rest of us?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Lanyon tried to sound as unaffected as possible. It didn’t work.
H-name snorted, and a cigarette lighter flicked on. “Whatever, mate.”
Lanyon grit his teeth, ignoring the whispers of his fear. He tried to dismiss it. Thoughts like those seemed to latch onto him like goo, making him feel his skin rot from the inside.
The door finally opened, and the sight was worse than Lanyon had let himself imagine.
He whirled around to face H-name (Hepediah??). “WHY IS HE TIED TO THE DAMN CHAIR!”
H-name backed away, hands up in surrender. “He asked me, mate.”
“Jekyll.” Lanyon was done. He was going to move to some dreadful state in the colonies and live there forever to forget about all of this.
That was future Lanyon, however. Current Lanyon was far more set on figuring out what the hell was going on. He yanked the sock out of Jekyll’s mouth. “Explain.”
“I made a truth potion and now I have little to no control over what I say and I don’t know if I can control my actions.”
Fucking Jekyll. Goddammit. “You told me no more potions this month, Henry,” Lanyon said.
“Yes, but I found an incredibly interesting recipe at Blackfog two nights ago-” Henry’s eyes widened. This was certainly a truth potion- Henry wouldn’t admit going to Blackfog to Lanyon under pain of death.
(Lanyon knew this from experience, somehow. Henry was a menace).
“-and I needed to try it out. The recipe didn’t say that touch absorbed the effects as well, so I handled it without gloves and now it seems I'm affected.”
Lanyon pinched the bridge of his nose. “I believe you, you idiot.”
Jekyll relaxed (or, as much as he could, since he was tied to a chair). “Oh good. I was afraid I’d have to convince you through telling increasingly embarrassing secrets all while you gave me your disappointed face.”
“My what?” Lanyon said incredulously. He couldn’t find it in himself to not be offended.
“The one you do where your eyebrows furrow and your lips turn down the slightest. It makes a man very ashamed.”
“My god,” H-name snickered, “you described it perfectly.”
Speaking of which… Lanyon turned around to face the smoking man. “Why are you here?”
H-name (Hayden? possibly?) gave a shrug. “Jekyll asked me t’help him.”
“Jekyll, why him.”
“Oh! I haven’t told you yet!” Jekyll’s face brightened and god, those damned butterflies. They were Lanyon’s personal enemies. “Haycombe-” (so that was his name!) “-and I are partners in dissection class.”
Haycombe smirked, taking a whiff from his cigarette. “If I had my way, it’d be more,” he muttered.
Lanyon swallowed. He was not jealous. How could he be jealous? After all, he was the one currently sleeping with Jekyll. What could he be jealous of? The fact that Haycombe felt comfortable to announce his affections? The fact that Jekyll blushed and stammered and looked away? The fact that when he opened his mouth to say he was perfectly happy with Jekyll thank you very much something pulled on his throat and he couldn’t speak because he was disgusting and awful and Jekyll didn’t deserve to have him?
No, of course not. He couldn’t be jealous of that.
Lanyon rolled his eyes and said, “Oh, sod off Haycombe,” instead of properly responding. “Still, why not go to me?”
“Well, I still don’t know to what extent this truth potion works- whether it can affect my actions, or, uh, impulse control.” Jekyll started to blush more. “I, well, wanted to be on the safe side, so I told Haycombe to tie me up and get you before something regrettable happened. Since you two used to… well… he was sure to know your library hiding spot.”
Lanyon blinked. “You… knew about the others?” how in all seven hells could Henry want to be with him if he’d figured out how Lanyon treated his past conquests?
“Yes, of course,” Henry responded easily as if he hadn’t just rattled Lanyon considerably. “Was I not supposed to?”
“Back when we were together, you made out with me in a restaurant bathroom,” Haycombe drawled. Lanyon found his hand twitch to form a fist. “You were always incredibly obvious.”
Everyone knows. The letter in his pocket burned.
Lanyon slowly turned to face his ex. “Why, exactly, are you still here?”
Haycombe shrugged as he took another puff of his cigarette. “I’m also Jekyll’s friend. I have a right to be here.”
“Oh, sure you’re his friend,” Lanyon sneered, letting the anger rise. He was good at this- tearing people down with a viciousness that scared even him. Words, for him, were knives. They were only ever good for destruction. “Face it- Jekyll’s too good to turn you away. You’re a charity case to him.”
Haycombe’s jaw clenched, but he was otherwise still. “If i’m a charity case because of how standoffish I am, then so are you.”
“Well, I disagree. After all, I can afford to get him lunch.” The twist into the gut- Haycombe’s family was running out because of their son’s awful spending. He’d been cut from the funds when him and Lanyon were dating. “What can you do?”
Something snapped. Haycombe dropped his cigarette, and twisted it dry.
Lanyon smiled. It was sharp. “No rebuttal, hm?”
“Say that to my face,” Haycombe growled.
“Oh, with pleasure, you-”
“ Stop. Now.”
The two men turned toward Jekyll, who’s face was dark.
“Robert Hastie Lanyon, what the hell are you doing.”
Lanyon froze. Shame flooded over his chest, extinguishing the rage in one fell swoop. “I-”
“Save it.” Jekyll turned to Haycombe. “You’re not a charity case. I enjoy your company and your remarks are clever. However, I'm not interested in you… that way. Just, please don’t hurt Robert.”
Haycombe’s eyes flicked between Jekyll and Lanyon, before finally settling on the former. “Fine,” he spat out. “I won’t hurt your precious boyfriend.”
“He’s not my-” Jekyll tried to interject, but it wasn’t successful. Haycombe had already started towards the door.
Lanyon ignored the disappointment in his chest from Jekyll’s tried denial.
“Listen, Henry, if y’ever leave that ass, come to me. Until then, see you at dissection. And Lanyon…”
Lanyon turned to face Haycombe, face passive. He’d learned how to deal with men like Haycombe from a young age. “Yes?”
“I better never see your face again, y’hear?”
“Know that the feeling is requited,” Lanyon said smoothly. He delighted in the rage that flamed on Haycombe’s face before he shut the door.
The room was silent.
“You’re better than that, Robert.”
Lanyon turned to face Henry. The man’s face was painted with disappointment. “I… what?”
“You’re better than that,” Jekyll repeated simply. Rage flared up again in Lanyon’s chest. He had tried to be better than that for so long, for too long. He’d spent years in the parties trying to flatter, to charm, to be kind. But that had gotten him nowhere. His father was still gone, his mother was still absent. He had learned that life didn’t reward the good people- it rewarded those who accomplished things, no matter how. He knew the only way to survive was to stab in the back and cut your losses. He wasn’t going to be sorry for surviving, for thriving.
So why was his brain telling him to apologize?
“I’m really not better than that, Henry. You ought to know.” Lanyon sat down on the bed and sighed. He was suddenly exhausted- all his energy had evaporated. He just wanted it all to stop.
“But you are,” Jekyll insisted. “I’ve seen the way you look at others sometimes- the way you’ll find people and make them feel as if their feelings are worth everything. You just stop doing it because you’re afraid.”
“Oh, please,” Lanyon scoffed. “Who have I ever made feel valuable?”
“Me.”
Lanyon blinked. “I… what?”
“You sometimes look at me like I'm your whole world,” Jekyll said, completely honestly. “When you give someone your whole attention, it’s… intoxicating. You still allow me to be friends with you even with my emotions, and you were a wonderful friend when we first met with no motive behind it.”
“But- no motive?” Lanyon’s heart was accelerating far too quickly, his stomach too queasy. “Henry, I'm in a- I have an arrangement with you. Clearly I wanted you to-”
“But you didn’t expect anything.”
Fuck . “I have no idea what you’re saying,” Lanyon said after a moment.
“At least, not at first. If you had, you probably would’ve made a bigger show of it and tried to make me jealous.”
Lanyon was silent. He wasn’t a damn bleeding heart- he was Robert Lanyon , inheritor of his father’s company. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t let his defenses down for Henry Jekyll, a nameless nobody.
Not even if that nameless nobody had made him feel whole for the first time in a long, long time.
“Just…” Lanyon sighed. “Just because I treat you kindly doesn’t make me a good person.”
“True. But you’re not a bad person, Lanyon. You don’t go out of your way to hurt people for the fun of it.”
“Fine. I’m not a bad person. So what? What are you trying to achieve?”
“Apologize to Haycombe,” Jekyll said softly. “Later. Somehow.”
“I…” Lanyon bit his cheek. He wouldn’t let his defenses down for Henry Jekyll, a man who made him feel warm and loved and appreciated. He wouldn’t-
“Fine, I will. I promise.”
Henry smiled. It was blinding. “Thank you. Uh, can you, perhaps untie me? I think it’s safe.”
“Oh?” Lanyon had completely forgotten Henry was still technically attached to a goddamn chair. “Shit- yeah, give me a second.”
Henry laughed, and Lanyon felt a smile creep up on his face. Still, something was nagging at him. “By the way, Henry, what did you mean by ‘you still allow me to be friends with you even with my emotions?'”
“I mean, you know I’m in love with you but you still keep our arrangement, so that's quite nice.”
What.
No, what.
Lanyon’s brain (metaphorically) fell out onto the floor. He would not be surprised if, when he looked down, it was there physically as well.
“I… I did not know that,” Lanyon croaked out while his head started to spin. “You, are, uh...”
“You- you DIDN’T?” Henry squeaked.
“I had no idea, Henry.”
“Oh, hell. I thought it was obvious.”
“Not, really, no.” Lanyon.exe was dead. He was dying. Was this a dream? It had to be, because no bloody way was Henry in love with him. “You aren’t, uh, joking, right?”
“I’m not joking Lanyon, Christ.” Jekyll’s face was burning red, and he was tense. “I, I assume our… arrangement is off now that my affections are known.”
“What?” It was a miracle Lanyon’s mouth was working, at this point. He had no idea what words he was saying, or what words were. “Henry, you-” fuck. “How long have we been together?”
“7 months,” Henry said, staring at the ground.
“How long did I… fool around with the other men?”
“A week or so.”
He had to figure it out. He had to. “So, if i’m with you that long instead of a week, that means…”
“...you didn’t want to ruin our friendship?”
He was an idiot. Lanyon was in love with an idiot. Lanyon was in love. He was able to think that now, instead of suppressing it with the rest of his emotions. A giddy wave of happiness shot through him. “Henry, look at me.”
Henry finally looked up. God, he was beautiful. “Yes, Lanyon?”
Lanyon kissed him.
It was different this time- he wasn’t running on borrowed time, there wasn’t a looming threat. Jekyll loved him. Jekyll had seen the worst in him, and still found something worth it.
Jekyll loved Lanyon. Lanyon loved Jekyll.
When they broke apart, Jekyll’s face was dazed. “I… uh… I still don’t understand.”
This fool. Lanyon was grinning madly. “I love you too.”
Jekyll’s face was completely still. He blinked. “What.”
“I’m in love with you. Somehow.” Lanyon finished untying the ropes. “Quite a lot, actually. Enough that I was thinking of listening to my father and getting engaged so I wouldn’t have to deal with a rejection from you.”
“You- what??”
Fuck. “Nevermind that,” Lanyon said hastily. “What matters is- I'm not doing that.” Lanyon took Jekyll’s hand. He hadn’t allowed himself to do just that, before. Just hold Jekyll. He could do that now. “I want to be with you. If… you’re alright with that.”
“ Alright? Robert, i-” Jekyll stammered. “I feel- you make me- i can’t imagine being with any-” he paused.
Jekyll gazed up to Lanyon. Lanyon felt every nerve on his body alight, and heard his heart pounding in his ears.
“Can I kiss you?” Henry said, softly.
Lanyon smiled, softly. “Of course, Henry.”
fin.