Chapter Text
Nightmares were, unfortunately, a common experience for Henry Jekyll.
He didn’t know exactly when they began, only that he rarely went a night without his dreams turning dark. Most of the young man’s nights as a child were spent huddled up under blankets, waiting for the monster that lurked under his bed to vanish. Some nights, the little boy fell into an uneasy sleep that way, until he was dragged out from his refuge the next morning. By the time he was nineteen, they still hadn’t gone away, but Jekyll had gotten better at ignoring them. And at muffling any sounds he made that could give him away.
He had hoped that they would lessen coming to college, especially now that he had a roommate. Who was an older, wealthier student, for that matter! What would Robert say if he knew that Henry still had nightmares about monstrous beings that didn’t exist? He’d probably laugh in Jekyll’s face, calling him ridiculous for something so childish.
They had been roommates for a month at this point, and so far, Jekyll managed to keep the nightmares at bay, or just hid the rougher nights from Lanyon. This night, however, would change that.
The first big exam of the semester was tomorrow, and Jekyll was quite anxious about it. He had spent the entirety of the day studying, except for small, forced breaks that Lanyon made him take to eat and drink. He should be prepared for the exam. And yet, Jekyll had this lingering anxiety in the back of his mind. He didn’t want to do poorly on this exam. What if he failed? It would only show that he was incapable, and not worthy of being here among the other, wealthier students. The thought scared him more than he cared to admit.
“Oh come now, Henry! You have nothing to be nervous about! You’re rather smart, probably the most brilliant student we have here!” Lanyon grinned at the younger man, who fidgeted with his blankets nervously.
Jekyll turned red at the praise. “Still, I want to do well on the exam. Robert, what if I didn’t study enough?” He asked, laying down. He hugged his pillow to his chest, taking comfort in the feeling. “I don’t want to fail this.”
Lanyon sighed. “You worry too much, you know that? Get some rest, Henry.” And with that, he turned on his side and fell asleep. Jekyll blinked, but with a sigh, laid down himself. He didn’t immediately fall asleep, however, choosing instead to stare at the ceiling until his eyes drooped shut on their own.
He dreamed of nothing for a time. Something rather pleasant. Although, it most likely wouldn’t last long.
As if on cue, his dreams began to twist. He was in the class, receiving his grade back…a very low mark. There was a cacophony of voices swirling through his mind, classmates mocking him, the disappointment of his favorite professor, his mother…Everything he wanted fell apart in an instant, dreams slipping through his fingers like sand. He tossed in his sleep, whimpering and crying for everything to stop.
“Henry! Wake up, you’re dreaming!” Lanyon exclaimed, which caused Jekyll to scream, throwing off his blankets and panting madly. He stared at Lanyon, who stared at him with a mix of concern, yet relieved that the younger man was awake. A choked sob escaped Jekyll’s throat, startling Lanyon. His quiet, composed friend was breaking down in front of him, how was he supposed to handle this?
When trying to speak, Jekyll slipped back into Scots as he cried. He couldn’t care less, though. His dignity was already gone, Lanyon would never see him as a mature adult, or a sophisticated gentleman. He was still the same child from Glasgow, with too many fears and mistakes to fit into this new society.
Lanyon placed his hands on Jekyll’s shoulders, making the latter startle, but his features eased soon after, welcoming the gentle touch. After a moment’s pause, Lanyon reached one hand up slightly, which made Jekyll flinch. “Oh! I’m sorry, Henry.” He apologized, concerned at the sudden reaction from his friend. He should have asked first. “May…I help dry your eyes?” Lanyon asked, waiting as Jekyll’s face slowly shifted from fearful to curious. He nodded, a sudden craving for touch. Lanyon smiled, then, once more, lifted his hand, gently wiped a few tears away. Almost immediately, Jekyll leaned into Lanyon’s touch, the feeling almost making him cry more. When was the last time someone had touched him this gently?
“Can you breathe for me?” Lanyon asked, noting that Jekyll’s breathing had become rapid again. The former took an example breath, holding it, then exhaling, each motion in four seconds each. Jekyll took a shaky one after, modeling it the same way Lanyon did. Then he took another breath. And another. And another. Until he felt his breathing fall into a pattern. It would be alright now, he thought. Though, the fears from his dreams remained, and he stared at Lanyon with watery, tired eyes.
Lanyon frowned. He wasn’t mad at Jekyll in the slightest, but he needed to get the younger man to bed somehow. An idea formed in his head. He pulled Jekyll over to his bed, and sat them both down. “Come here, Henry.” Lanyon patted the other side of his bed. Jekyll eyed him cautiously, but climbed into the bed. He was about a foot away from Lanyon. “Closer, darling.” Now Lanyon eyed Jekyll, who blushed, but still crawled in closer, until he and the older man were mere inches apart. Lanyon wrapped his arms around the younger man and pulled him into a warm embrace. Jekyll was startled by this, but made no effort to move. In fact, he simply buried his face into Lanyon’s shoulder. Lanyon gently rubbed Jekyll’s back with each whimper that came from the younger man’s lips.
“That was a nasty dream, wasn’t it? It’s over now, though. You’re brave for getting through that, darling.” Jekyll flushed a deeper red. He didn’t feel brave, but the fact that Lanyon didn’t think he was childish soothed him. He relaxed a bit in Lanyon’s embrace, tucking his head into the older man’s neck. It was so warm, so safe. Jekyll hadn’t felt this safe in…quite some time.
Lanyon didn’t say anything after that, slowly rubbing Jekyll’s back while humming. He had little experience in giving, or receiving comfort, but he’d seen Gabriel do something similar when comforting someone. And it apparently worked, because Jekyll soon fell back asleep, small snores escaping him.
Once he heard the snoring, Lanyon pulled Jekyll in closer, the younger man hugging him tightly in his sleep as a response. He was precious like this, all cozy and sleepy. His rather handsome face relaxed into a smile, his hands gasping Lanyon’s pajamas, lips slightly parted as he breathed. The young man was charming, a bit shy, but so earnest, genuine. Seeing him rest after the hard experience he went through was a blessing.
And then it hit Lanyon. He was falling for Henry, wasn’t he?