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They say that mad scientists revel in thunderstorms. The single spark that, supposedly, once created life after death. It was most likely an embellishment added to the story, but the image of hiding away in some tower, pursuing the darker elements of science appealed to many a scholar of science.
That wasn’t the case for one such scientist. Or rather, one of the more gentlemanly varieties.
Dr. Henry Jekyll, whether he wanted to admit it out loud or not, was a flawed man. He had his insecurities, his doubts, his issues, but tried to hide them behind the image of a perfect gentleman. It was easier that way for him. (Whether it was healthy or not was debatable)
However, one of these flaws was harder to hide. Even though it only came out under specific occasions like today.
Jekyll had been peacefully working in his office, filling out documents, and in general being productive. Then there was a flash of light. Jekyll picked up his head and ran up to the window, peering out nervously. The sky was nearly pitch-black outside, despite only being around 4 o’clock in the afternoon, and dark clouds covered the sky. A low rumble came next, ever so slightly shaking the building. Jekyll gulped, a familiar sense of dread coursing through his body. His heartbeat picked up, and he struggled to push himself away from the window, almost frozen in place. How had he not noticed this before? Granted, he was (once again) distracted by his work, but still, he usually knew when a storm was about to hit London.
Another clap of thunder sounded, the scientist yelping in response before bolting off to his bed. In a panic, Jekyll tugged one of the longer blankets off of his bed, placed there for occasions such as this and wrapped himself in it. He curled his knees to his chest until he was covered head to toe. His breath quickened with each rumble and flash. Not now. Why of all times now?
Jekyll knew the fear was illogical, childish even, but he couldn’t help it. The fear had been there since he was a small child, and hadn’t gone away with age and the knowledge that storms were normal. No matter where he was, he would immediately startle when thunder sounded and lightning struck.
Of course, several of his classmates had enjoyed that little tidbit of information in university, and he received quite a bit of teasing as a result. Not from Lanyon, though…much. At least the older man was never malicious in his taunts. In fact, Jekyll rather missed them right now. They signaled that someone who cared for him was there, that he wasn’t alone during the storm. Someone who wouldn’t belittle him, or scold him for his fears.
The thunder grew louder, causing Jekyll to panic more. He started humming an old song from his childhood, trying to muffle the sound, even only for a small bit. For the first time in a long while, he wished he was home in Glasgow. Or at least in his childhood closet. Or even in his old laboratory. Anywhere but here, where he could drown out the sounds of the storm.
The wind picked up again, followed by a torrent of rain, the thunder was now deafening, the lightning brighter than before. A small whimper escaped Jekyll’s mouth. He wouldn’t cry. He grew out of that at least. Gentlemen didn’t cry over irrational fears. Nevermind the tears beginning to pour down his cheeks, salt on his tongue as he stifled a sob in the blanket. He knew he was being ridiculous, but his mind refused to think logically. The fear overtook him, until he found himself holding back a scream. He couldn’t have the Lodgers, or Frankenstein, or Rachel know of this childish fear. He already hated the fact that Lanyon knew about this. Another loud crash came from outside, and Jekyll curled up tighter than ever, covering his ears as he sobbed out loud.
“Oh, not the blanket. It’s not even that bad of a storm!”
Jekyll yelped, tumbling out of his bed. He blindly ran in the direction of the voice, throwing himself into Lanyon’s arms. Jekyll was shaking, tears flowing freely while he clung to his lover tightly, as if the older man was his lifeline, the only thing holding him steady. He would be safe now.
Lanyon pressed a kiss onto Jekyll’s forehead. “I left as soon as I saw the clouds darken. Did you really think I would leave you here alone during a storm?” He asked, gently rubbing Jekyll’s back. Lanyon found the fear of storms absurd, but knew that Jekyll needed comfort, that his brain could not process he was safe. So he simply held the younger man, letting him cry every time the thunder rumbled.
“Do you want to lay down?” A nod. “Alright, I need you to let go.” Jekyll shook his head and clung tighter to Lanyon, who sighed. “It’s only for a moment just to get you on the bed.” He explained as he slightly pulled away, which resulted in Jekyll whimpering for his lover. The younger man’s head lowered into his chest as he hugged himself for comfort, a regular coping mechanism for him. Suddenly, Jekyll felt himself being lifted off of the ground. He scrambled to wrap his arms around Lanyon’s neck, burying his face there.
“Still far too light…How many meals have you missed this week?” Lanyon gently asked, setting Jekyll on the latter’s bed. The younger man could only shrug in response. He missed far too many this week to count. A clap of thunder sounded, causing Jekyll to tuck himself into a ball. The blanket that had stayed on his shoulders fell over his head, which, under any other circumstances, would have made Lanyon chuckle.
“Darling.” Lanyon gently tapped his lover’s shoulder. Jekyll lifted his head to find Lanyon sitting on the bed, arms slightly opened. The brunet scientist fell into them immediately, finding himself in a warm embrace. Jekyll was held against Lanyon’s chest, still wrapped in the blanket. He shook with sobs. “Make it stop.” He begged as he buried himself deeper into Lanyon’s chest, focusing on the latter’s heartbeat, steady and calming. The older man did his best to shield Jekyll from the sounds outside, but Jekyll was hard to console in these moments.
As Jekyll continued to cry, Lanyon felt frustrated. Not at Henry, of course, but at himself. “Henry, I’m afraid I’m still not good at this.” Lanyon said forlornly. He wished he had the right words to comfort his lover, but they never came when he needed them the most.
“Just need you.” Jekyll whimpered, breaths short and stuttery. He would be safe as long as Lanyon didn’t let him go. As long as he felt his lover’s arms around him, the storm couldn’t hurt him.
A smile crossed the older man’s face. “That, I can do.” Layon whispered, kissing Jekyll’s temple. He began to ever so slightly rock the other man, remembering it used to comfort Jekyll during their time at university. Lanyon also started to hum something from one of the operas he was dragged to as a child, in hopes that it would soothe the younger man further.
His efforts worked, because when Lanyon looked down once more, he found Jekyll had fallen asleep, his hands tucked under his chin, grabbing his blanket. He looked far younger than thirty-five, closer in appearance to the young college boy he was when Lanyon first met him. Jekyll sleepily mumbled something in Lanyon’s shirt, a phrase which the other man recognized quickly.
“I love you dearest.”
Lanyon patted Jekyll’s back once more with a smile. “I love you as well, darling.” The storm continued on throughout the evening, but Jekyll slept on. And when he awoke, he found himself still situated in Lanyon’s lap, the other man playing with his curls affectionately.
He would never truly get over his fear of storms, but at least someone would always be there to wait them out with him.