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The two of them were seated in the garden of the Frankenstein home. Henry reclined comfortably in the nook of a tree’s roots, the midafternoon sun dappling down on him from the canopy above. He was reading from his copy of Twelfth Night , the pages well worn from how he had run his fingers over the page edges time and time again. The leather-bound book had been a gift from Victor’s father only this last Christmas, but it must’ve been Henry’s favorite, for he seemed to constantly indulge in it.
Victor hadn’t brought a book out with him. Originally, Henry had come down from “his” — Henry visited so often that a guest room of the house was practically permanently converted — room that morning with the Shakespeare in hand and found Victor and Elizabeth conversing in the drawing room. Here, he declared he was to spend the day lounging in the sun to enjoy the last rays of the August sun before its warmth became the bitter cold of September, and made his way outside. Elizabeth giggled at this, placing a hand gently on Victor’s back and encouraging him to follow Henry outside.
He now regretted not taking the time to grab something from his room to focus on. A book, a quill and his journal, anything to occupy his idle hands. Instead, Victor found his mind wandering, sweeping across the serene patch of nature. He quickly found his mind occupied on Henry. He looked so peaceful, so calm where he was. He had foregone wearing his coat, dressed instead with just his waistcoat and shirt underneath, the white sleeves carefully rolled up just past his elbows. One hand propped himself up against the ground, lifting occasionally to turn the page. Victor was worried Henry would notice his staring, but he just couldn’t seem to part his eyes from his friend. Victor must have been in the garden longer than he realized, for the sun seemed to have shifted and spread a warmth across his face.
Henry’s countenance was held in one of jovial focus. His lips were slightly pursed, cheeks dimpled in a smile, with his eyelashes obscuring Victor’s sight of Henry’s downturned eyes. Victor traced the gentle curves of Henry’s face with his eyes, and with each feature he stopped to appreciate in time, the light of the sun seemed to become stronger on his cheeks. The freckles that dappled across the bridge of his nose, across his forehead, his cheekbones, down his neck, and surely lower. A lock of Henry’s hair disturbed by a slight breeze fell and brushed near his eyebrow. The small wrinkles formed at the corners of his eyes.
He wasn’t sure when it had begun, but a tense feeling was building within him. Victor’s hands were pushed onto the bench he was seated on and his heels were dug into the earth beneath him. When Henry finally glanced up in his direction, Victor felt something burst within him. Very suddenly, a family of sparrows seemed to have taken nest in his sternum. He could feel their feathers tickling him, sending a near chill down his back. There must have been twine tied around his heart which had now been cut, the way his heart swelled! Henry had become rosy in the sun, but Victor found himself utterly ablaze!
“Clerval, forgive me. It seems the sun may have gotten the better of me. Allow me a moment to refresh myself inside,” Victor gave as apologetic of a smile as he could muster as he stood and took quick strides back inside the home.
Elizabeth must have moved upstairs, for Victor now found the drawing room utterly empty. Distantly, he thought he could hear the voices of her and Justine, no doubt with little William and Ernest as well. Alphonse had gone off for the day, with Caroline likely on a walk off the estate, as she was wont to do. He hoped to distract himself for a moment so that his sun fatigue may fade, but it remained still. He filled a glass with the pitcher in the drawing room, and yet the heat was incessant! He threw himself down onto a sofa and buried his face into his hands.
What had come over him! Victor had to admit to himself, in the privacy and seclusion of his own mind, that he was near certain he had not become so flustered from the simple summer heat. He had always held a fondness for Henry, his dearest friend his whole life, but never had it been so intense! The thought of it all made his stomach churn in on itself. Whether with some sort of shame or anticipation, Victor knew not. He knew that he was not expected to hold such an admiration for a man, by his family nor by the whole of society at large. But, oh, he didn’t think he could help himself. He could feel the deep, nearly painful, tug in his chest that drew him towards Henry, even now as he tried to calm himself. Even the simple image of his friend in his mind made Victor nearly melt away on the spot.
Neither could he help but wonder if Henry felt the same towards him. He nearly doubted it; despite the romantic he portrayed himself as, Henry was not one to foolishly fall in love with whoever simply showed him interest, and Victor had not even done as much as that! And yet, some part of him begged to differ, no matter how much it might have been a simple wishful thought.
With a sigh, Victor admitted to himself he knew what he must do. He would not be finding rest until his mind was at ease.
Henry was still in the same spot under the tree upon Victor’s return. Hearing his steps, Henry glanced up from his reading with the warmest of smiles.
“Feeling any better?” Victor couldn’t be sure he was right, but it looked as though Henry hadn’t read any more of his play while Victor had been inside, his book seemingly open to the same page.
“Much,” Victor returned the kind look as he offered a hand to lift Henry to his feet. Henry regarded this offer with a curious grin, glancing between Victor’s face and his outstretched hand before gently laying his fingers in Victor’s palm. The touch sent sparks up his arm, but Victor tried his best to remain composed for the moment. “Care for a walk?” With a faint smile gracing his lips and his eyes still gleaming with interest, Henry tucked his book under his arm and kept pace as Victor traveled further into the garden.
For a short while, their walk was maintained in silence. Victor prayed that Henry could not sense when his eyes continuously flitted toward his companion, anxiously wringing his hands.
“Is there something particular on your mind, Frankenstein ?” Henry tended to address him in such a way as to tease him when he was overly serious about something with no apparent reason.
“There is, in fact,” Victor let out a small exhale and adjusted his spectacles, lifting his head towards the heavens for a moment. “I have, as of late, been appreciating our friendship. The closeness we have shared as two young men.” His face was growing warmer with every word.
Henry paused, tilting his head inquisitively. They now stood in the cool shadow of another tree in the garden, the ambiance of birds underlining their exchange. “We are quite the pair, aren’t we?” Victor wasn’t sure when it had happened, but the distance between them seemed to have lessened.
Victor straightened his back with a deep breath and separated his worried hands. “My dear Henry, there is something I must confess to you, if you will allow me to be so vulnerable.”
“Say whatever it is that is in your heart, Victor.” Henry looked so sweet as he spoke that it took everything in Victor not to collapse onto him and babble nonsense into his ear.
“There is, in my bond with you, a deep and certain affection!” In a moment of elation, Victor reached out and grabbed Henry’s hands in his own! The skin of his palms was rough, in the slight way that came from boyhood adventures and helping his father. He ran a gentle caress with his thumb along Henry’s knuckles, savoring the slight friction.
“You have always known me best, my dearest friend. When I look at you, I feel a sort of comfort in the fact that you, with your greatest of sympathies, will support me, and have supported me my whole life. I hope that you find the same thing in me.” Victor squeezed Henry’s hands gently, watching the expression on the man’s face morph from intrigue to something Victor could not quite decipher. He steeled his nerves. He must simply come right out and say it. “Oh, but all of this is so many words to say one simple thing. That is that I love you, Henry Clerval! I know not when this love first blossomed within me, but I do know that this love is true! I love you as a woman loves a man, hopelessly and without restraint.”
Henry’s expression became knowable again. It was one of shock, but if that shock inclined towards pleased or disgusted was yet uncertain still. And, for a moment, Victor’s stomach dropped. He had been a fool, surely, to think Henry held the same feelings towards him. Feelings so wrong for a man to hold.
Then, all at once, Henry became utterly gleeful, his smile wide and genuine, he pulled Victor’s hands close to him, and the gap between them fell to a hairsbreadth. Victor’s eyes were wide, he could feel Henry’s warm breath on his skin. Victor tried to stutter something out but, instead, Henry silenced him by pressing their lips together.
Henry’s lips were soft. Victor felt lost in the moment, slipping his hands out of Henry’s and lifting one to tangle in the soft curls of his hair, the other cupping Henry’s cheek. Henry smelled like the books he was always around, like the sweetness of summer flowers, like everything good in the world. Victor pulled away slightly, glancing around with a sudden feeling of self-awareness that they could be spotted if someone came walking the same path they took.
“Here, my darling, so that we are away from any prying eyes” Victor took Henry’s hand in his again and pulled his love behind him so that they could be hidden from sight behind the tree. Henry removed Twelfth Night from the nook of his arm and carefully placed it against one of the roots of the tree. His eyes mischievous, Henry pushed Victor so he was pressed against the bark. Victor let out a laugh at the sudden roughness at his back.
“It took you long enough to confess to me,” Henry cooed softly, running his hands lovingly down Victor’s harsh cheeks. “I thought I was the most obvious fool for you.”
“I had no clue,” Victor conceded, his cheeks stained a bright crimson.
“Possibly the smartest man in Geneva, but almost certainly the most oblivious.” Henry now took up the position of slotting his hands in his lover’s hair. Victor’s arms found purchase around Henry’s waist, shocked at how perfectly it all fell into place. “I love you too, Victor Frankenstein.”
“Hm?”
“I didn't return the admission before. So, just in case you hadn’t realized, I love you.”
“The kiss gave me a pretty good sense of your feelings,” Victor giggled slightly, which quickly spread to Henry as they gazed into each other’s eyes. Victor craned his neck forward so their lips could meet again, the two of them smiling into the gentle intimacy.