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A strike of lightning shook the window pane of the cheap, lonely flat. Henry awoke with a sharp gasp.
He took a breath. He realized it was pouring buckets outside.
After regaining his bearings, Henry reached under his pillow and pulled out a small, blue robotic toy. The hinges on its arms and legs were squeaky if one tried to adjust them, but otherwise the bauble had been well-kept—Henry would have accepted nothing less for this robot in particular.
As another lightning flash illuminated the room in a haunting glow, Henry thought back to the last time he’d been woken up by such a heavy storm. He could even recall the way the thunder had sounded then through the thick walls of the mansion…
…
… This is ridiculous. Why am I loitering around out here? A much younger Henry asked himself this only after multiple minutes of pacing outside Randall’s bedroom door.
The question had occurred to the young boy multiple times as he wrung his hands and walked from one side of the corridor to the other. Whenever he’d half-convinced himself that he should return to his quarters and try to get what little sleep he could, a deep rumble of thunder like a growling beast would cow him into lingering in the hallway.
Henry was set on returning if he asked himself the question one more time—thunder and lightning be darned—when Randall’s door creaked open.
“Henry? It’s so late,” Randall murmured with a yawn. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as his friend turned back to him.
“Ah, Master Randall!” Henry, having been caught midpace, was suddenly keenly aware of his misdemeanor. “My apologies, did I wake you?”
Randall laughed sleepily. “It was kind of hard to ignore the sound of footsteps repeating over and over.” Taking in Henry’s anxious expression, the young lord wondered, “Did the storm spook you?”
Henry cast his eyes around the hallway—anywhere but at the young master—before replying, “Y-yes. I couldn’t go back to sleep.”
Randall thought for a moment before offering an inviting smile. “Why don’t you come sleep in my room?” he asked. “I can be your storm buddy ‘til it blows over!”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t—”
“Now, don’t start that again, Henry,” Randall interjected as he took the fearful boy’s hand. “If anyone asks, I’ll say I asked you to keep me company during the storm! It’s kinda right, anyway!”
Henry hesitated. He looked up and met the sincere shine in his master—his friend’s drowsy eyes. The young house servant smiled softly and relaxed his hand in Randall’s hold. “Okay.”
Randall flashed a charming, boyish smile then as he walked with Henry back into his room. “I’ve never had a sleepover before—this is exciting!” he whispered gleefully.
“Uhm,” Henry mumbled as his eyes darted around the dimly lit room. Thankfully the bedside table lamp offered some light, but the room was the same as it had always been: only one bed and littered with different toys and play-artifacts. “Where will I sleep?”
“In my bed, silly! It’s big enough to hold two of me, so it’ll hold us both no problem!” Randall laughed quietly.
Henry’s face flushed scarlet. “I-I couldn’t possibly—”
“Come onnnnnn, Henry,” Randall whined. “Friends can sleep in the same bed, can’t they?”
Henry took a breath. On the exhale, he muttered, “I guess you’re right.”
With that, Randall pulled the covers back and rolled under the blanket. He got comfy right next to the window, forming a makeshift barricade between the ongoing thunderstorm and where Henry would sleep. After a few moments of hesitation, filled only by Randall staring up expectantly at his friend, Henry carefully slid under the sheet. He reached back and turned off the light, casting the room into darkness once more.
“Goodnight, Randall,” Henry bade.
“Aw, you don’t wanna share deep, dark secrets or scary ghost stories?”
“What’s the point of a sleepover if you don’t actually sleep?” Henry mumbled. A yawn from him was cut off by a particularly loud burst of thunder.
“We can always sleep later, Henry!” Randall said as he curled up on his side and intently gazed at his friend. “I didn’t know you were scared of thunderstorms, though. How come?”
Henry shrugged slightly. “I usually sleep through them, if we get any. I’ve…” He yawned. “…I’ve never heard one this bad before.”
“Well, you’re right about that!” Randall chuckled softly. He thought for a moment, then posited, “I wonder if there’s some kind of weather king that decides how bad storms get around here?”
“A weather king?” Henry asked groggily. He struggled to keep his eyelids open as he listened to his friend talk about fantastical theories. “What makes you think there’s a weather king?”
“Glad you asked! I figure someone has to be in charge of keeping things so temperate around here, while also making sure we get enough rain. My thought it that there has to be some sort of hierarchy that we don’t know about that…”
Henry didn’t recall most of what Randall had said after that, as the young lord lost himself in his own hypotheses about how the weather works. All Henry remembered after was falling into an incredibly peaceful sleep. As his eyes slipped shut, a smile spread on his face as he felt a sense of security that was new, but completely welcome…
…
…When Henry’s mind caught back up to the present, he realized that he was crying. As the booming thunder grew distant, Henry wiped his eyes and clutched the toy robot closer to himself. He knew what he needed to do.
I know you’re out there somewhere, Master Randall, he thought. I’ll wait as long as it takes to find you again.
I swear it.