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‘Hen!’ Edward exclaimed, appearing in the mirror beside Henry who pouted at the interruption, dropping the doll he held in his hands.
“Wha’? ‘M busy,” he slouched, looking toward the mirror on his left. He was currently sitting on the floor of his office with the few childhood toys he’d collected from the home he’d grown up in after his mother had passed.
‘’s m’,’ Edward slurred, before groaning in frustration and scowling, ‘’Anyon! ‘E’s comin!’ he pointed toward the door, causing Henry’s eyes to widen.
“Henry?” came that familiar voice, the locked handle wiggling, “Henry, why is your door locked?” Lanyon laughed kindly.
Henry froze, only finally moving when his other half started pressing him, ‘C’ean up! Hen, c’ean up!’ Henry complied, rushing to grab the dolls and other toys and shove them under his desk where they’d be hidden.
He was too small for this- Lanyon couldn’t see him like this!
“Henry, I may be the only one who doesn’t know how to pick a lock in this building but that doesn’t mean I don’t have your key,” Lanyon warned, shoot, shoot, shoot!
‘S’eep! Preten’ tah’ sleep!’ Edward insisted, flying across the reflective surfaces until he was on the hanging mirror above the couch Henry had specifically for taking naps on.
Henry lit up at the suggestion, clumsily standing from the floor and rushing over, laying on the couch. His too-long limbs curled up on the piece of furniture while he turned to face the wall, clenching his eyes shut just in time for Lanyon to gently push open the door.
“Henry?” there’s a pause filled with the sound of Lanyon’s boots clicking on the wood, “Oh, Henry…” he sighed, more footsteps entering the room. The office door clicked shut while Lanyon continued to walk around.
A moment later a hand wrapped around Henry’s wrist, startling him into opening his eyes and looking up at Lanyon hovering over him. He pulled his legs further up against his chest, burying a whine.
“Hi,” Lanyon chuckled.
“Hi,” Henry parroted, trying to keep his voice from the childish lilt.
‘Go ‘way!’ Edward whined, flying across the mirror in the room and causing Henry to flinch.
“Why aren’t you in your bed?” Lanyon questioned, crouching down while Henry rolled over on the couch to face him. The split character hummed, shrugging and refusing to look Lanyon in the face– afraid he’d see something wrong, “Henry?”
“I dunno,” Henry mumbled, eyes fixated on the mirror behind Lanyon where his other half had crossed his arms and fixed a pout onto his face.
Lanyon was quiet for a moment longer, before he sighed, “Were you pretending to sleep?” the co-founder asked, “Because you were doing something you weren’t supposed to be doing. Like working at three in the morning?”
Henry’s eyes widened, “‘s three?” he asked incredulously.
Lanyon frowned, “Yes, you have a watch for a reason, Henry.”
Henry pouted, “Sorry,” he looked away again, “Got dis-dis-trac-ted,” he stumbled over the word, watching Edward wince.
Lanyon analyzed him, “Are you sick?” he asked, reaching forward and placing a cool hand on Henry’s forehead, “You don’t feel warm…”
“‘M not sick,” Henry retorted, almost sounding offended.
“Then why are you talking like that, Henry?” Lanyon huffed. He watched Henry’s eyes widen and a bright blush spread across his cheeks, “You know you’re doing it, don’t you?” Henry nodded minutely, “Do you know why you’re doing it?” another nod, “Can you tell me?”
Henry shook his head, “I’ll go sleep, jus’ ged’out,” he gestured toward the door, yet Lanyon didn’t move.
“Is something wrong?” he insisted, watching Henry focus his attention on the space behind him again, “Henry.”
Henry’s gaze flicked back to him, “W’at?”
“Talk to me,”
Edward whined frustratedly, stomping his foot like an annoyed child, ‘Make ‘im go ‘way! Hen’y, make ‘him go ‘way!’ Henry flinched at the yelling, curling in on himself more.
“Don’ wanna,” he mumbled, trying to tune out the hissy fit Edward was pulling in the background- slipping between the reflective surfaces throughout the room and even occasionally pressing outward into a more 3D form.
“Why not?” Lanyon’s voice had taken on a softer tone– one that only made Henry sink further into his regression.
“‘S bad,”
“What’s bad?”
“...me,”
“Henry…” Lanyon sighed, adjusting so he was sitting on his bottom instead of crouching, “You’re not bad, you’re just sleep-deprived and overworked,” he chuckled, but it did nothing to cheer up Henry (Don’t think Robert was missing the way Henry kept flinching or looking around the room at something that wasn’t there)
When he didn’t get a response, just more of Henry trying to hide behind his own arms, he sighed.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Lanyon stood, watching Henry who watched him in return and made no moves to get up, “Fine, the hard way it is,” Lanyon grinned deviously, crouching down and scooping up the doctor who squawked.
“‘Obert!” Henry squirmed, “Puh’ me down!” he looked down at the ground before up at Robert who was laughing.
“Nope! If you aren’t going to walk, I’m going to carry you!” Lanyon decided, turning and heading for the office door. Henry continued squirming the entire way and boy were they lucky the only person they passed was Rachel who just giggled at the sight (and at Henry pouting at her and asking her to save him) because she’d seen it countless times before.
“Meanie!” Henry called after the housekeeper, before sinking into Lanyon’s arms and finally settling with a pout and crossed arms. Lanyon barked out a laugh.
“Goodness, where’d all this fight come from?” he grinned, watching Henry stick his tongue out at him, mimicking the action back. His grin softened at the giggling that came from his best friend, “Alright, can you stand on your own, or do I need to carry you like a sack of potatoes?”
Henry leaned over Robert's arm dramatically to see the ground, “Can stand,” he squirmed, signaling for the other man to let him down.
“Alright, alright!” he laughed, setting Henry on his feet so he could pull the keyring from his pocket, “Are you drunk?” he finally asked curiously, unlocking the bedroom door and reaching in to flick the light on.
Henry, who was leaning dangerously far over the railing, turned back to him, “No,” he replied simply, “Do I gotta sleep?” the childish lilt to his voice seemed to be waning but had yet to leave completely.
“When’s the last time you slept?” Lanyon asked, entering the bedroom which prompts Henry to follow begrudgingly, crossing his arms.
“...A week,” he muttered. Lanyon’s eyes widened and he turned around.
“A week?”
“‘S not like I havenae–n’t stayed up longer b’fore,” he countered which, weirdly enough, didn’t seem to calm Lanyon.
“Bed. Now.” Lanyon commanded, pointing to the bed. Henry slouched, grumbling to himself but complying anyways, “When was the last time you ate?”
Henry paused, a hand clasped around the bedding, “Dinner?” he replied hesitantly, “Two days ‘go?”
Lanyon sighed, “When you wake up you’re going straight to the kitchens. I’m telling Rachel and she’s going to make sure you eat. You don’t have anything to do tomorrow so you are to sleep in, if either of us sees you out of bed before you’ve slept long enough we’ll drag you by your ear back here, you here me?” he lectured while Henry got into bed (still in his day clothes- but, frankly, whatever was going on with Henry led Lanyon to believe he wasn’t exactly in the mind to change and Lanyon certainly wasn’t doing it).
“Mhm.” Henry hummed, hiding under the covers so only his eyes and his wild puff of hair peaked out, “Gots it,”
Lanyon sighed, “Goodnight, Henry,” he nodded.
“Night, ‘obert.”
…
Henry wished he could say he woke up the next morning feeling bigger. Feeling like he could handle what Lanyon had tasked him with and feeling embarrassed for the night before.
He very much could not say those things though, because he woke up feeling just as small as the night before.
Edward groaned the moment they woke up, likely feeling the same as Henry. Tired, small and irritated by both the previous feelings, ‘Hen?’ he grumbled, not manifesting anywhere visible for the little sitting up in bed.
“Mornin’ ‘yde,” Henry yawned, clumsily rubbing his eyes. He didn't know what time it was because Lanyon had closed the curtains the night before and his pocket watch was nowhere to be found, but the slip of light into the room suggested it was past morning, somewhere around noon if they had to guess.
Both halves were quiet for a moment longer before Edward gasped and manifested in the mirror to Henry’s left, ‘R’ch’l!’ he exclaimed excitedly, which Henry paralleled with a frown.
“Rachel,” he pouted, “M don’t wanna eat!” he flopped back into the bed, glaring up at the ceiling.
‘Go see her! See R’ch’l!’ Hyde insisted, bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly. Edward loved Rachel, especially when he was little. She let him cook with her and she didn't question anythin’ and she was great!
Henry, on the other hand, did not. He didn't hate her, he quite appreciated her when he was big! But all she did was pretty much force-feed him and lecture him for not taking care of himself, “She gonna be means!” Henry whined, turning his head to look at the other little who whined in response.
They both knew that, whether Henry wanted to or not, they had to get up and go see her. So he begrudgingly rolled out of bed, vaguely flattening their now wrinkled clothes (A simple dress shirt and some pants, they weren’t intending to be in their everyday clothes while little).
The trek to the kitchens was done with Henry yawning and trying to avoid anybody he spotted. Not only would it be bad for his reputation to be seen walking around in wrinkled lounge clothes, but it’d be so much worse if one of them tried to rope him into a conversation. The only reason he was willing to even try and see Rachel right now was because she hung out with a little Edward all the time, and would at most tease him.
“Henry!” greeted a far-too-cheerful Rachel as he entered the kitchen mid-yawn, waving a lazy hand at her, “I’ve made you breakfast, it’s over on the table for you! Did you sleep well?” she pointed to the table on the other side of the room.
“Yah,” Henry stuck his hands in his pants pockets to avoid fidgeting with them.
“‘Yah’? That’s it? You slept for the first time in a week and you have nothing to say other than ‘yah’?” she joked, “You still look dead on your feet.”
“Feel like it,” Henry mumbled, sliding into the chair and leaning over the plate of eggs (scrambled because he hated sunny side up with a burning passion) and ham, “‘anyon told you?”
“Told me?” Rachel barked out a laugh, “Came down here while I was cleaning up and ranted for twenty minutes, more like,” she grinned, “You need to take better care of yourself! I can’t be babysitting you and Master Hyde!” Henry scrunched his nose up.
“You bab-y-sit ‘yde?” he asked, though he had a feeling she meant something completely different than he thought she did. Edward, who was sprawled out on the metallic island counters reflection, gave her a dirty look.
“In a way. He’s down here a couple times a week and of stealing my cookies or asking to help me cook. I like doing it, of course! But it is kinda like babysitting when he’s acting like a little kid the entire time,” she turned away from Henry, back to whatever she was in the midst of cooking.
Henry smirked at the curling feeling of Edward’s happiness, scooping up some of his eggs. It was good food, he’d admit. Made him wonder why he didn’t just eat her cooking more often. Big Henry could be stupid sometimes.
“Have you ever babysat before?” Rachel pulled something steaming from the over, the smell wafting throughout the room.
“Mm… no, only kid ‘n too busy bein’ hidden ‘way for tryna dissect th’ birds,” he shrugged, poking at the remaining eggs on his plate.
Rachel made a face, “You– why am I still surprised?” she sighed, “Well, I grew up with a little brother. He was an awful lot like that assistant of yours, and while I didn’t babysit him much I did it a few times when he was really little,” she explained, kicking the oven shut, “It’s funny, usually Edward just makes me think of him when he got older but then he’s strutting around my kitchen following my every word helping me make dinner and eating cookies and he’s just like Eli as a little one. Before everything happened,” she smiled wistfully.
Henry blinked at her, having turned away from his food partway through her ramblings to watch curiously. He could feel Edward’s mix of happiness and offense at what she’d said, but was mostly ignoring it, “He a good kid?” the founder asked, tilting his head to the side.
Rachel laughed, “Not at all. Maybe back then, but after that he’d sneak out every night and get into any fights he could find,” she grabbed a large knife that ‘shing’-ed as it was pulled, “Keep eating!” she gestured toward him with said knife before stabbing it into the meat she’d finished cooking.
Henry pouted but turned back to his food nonetheless. He wondered where her lecture went.