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Robert Walton pushes the cabin door closed against the bracing arctic winds. The only thought in his mind being the recovery of the noble creature currently in his bed and how any touch of ice would send him weeks backwards in recovery.
The noble creature had a name – Victor Frankenstein. He had stuttered through these words when Robert first asked him, as though he needed permission to say them. Robert had then repeated Victor's name with an intimate affection, brushing the black hair away from his face as he passed the warm cloth over his brow.
Victor had flusteredly looked away.
When Robert checks him now, he is asleep. Robert often feared one day he would touch his cheek, hold his fingers to his neck, place his ear to his chest, and he would be still. He set his jacket on the back of his chair and sat down to find his parchment and pen, the urge to write overtaking his thoughts. He began to draft his letter to Margaret, excited to recount the new discoveries of the month, yet he found his mind constantly wandering to Frankenstein, the man taking up more than the space in his bed.
‘I love him.’ Robert reads in his own handwriting. ‘I look at him each day and imagine the noble creature he must've been in his earlier days. His deep grief leaves a hole in my heart as I cannot do anything to help him’
He blushes upon revising what he had written. It sounded more like a Byronic love sonnet than what he intended. He was about to cross out these words when he heard stirring from across the room. Robert rushes to Victor's side as his eyelids flutter open, finally showing his beautiful brown eyes framed by dark circles.
“Captain?” he mutters
“Call me Walton. Or Robert.” the other corrects, “In return I shall call you Victor.”
The corners of Victor's lips twitch upwards. “Thank you, Robert Walton.” His body quivers as he tries, and fails to sit up. But Robert is there, wrapping his arms around the back of his waist and assisting him. He feels Victor's cold fingers cling to his coat. Once seated, he refuses to make eye contact with Robert, “I am incredibly sorry for being such a burden. You've attended to me with uttermost care yet I cannot seem to recover.”
“Nonsense. It will take months for you to return to health.” Robert examines his face. He was no longer deathly pale as he had been weeks prior. “May I touch you?”
Walton takes the silence for permission. When he cups Victor's cheek in his right hand, it is warm to touch. “Are you cold?”
“No,” Victor exhales. He places his own hand onto Robert's whose breath catches in his throat, “Why do you look at me in that way?”
“How?”
“As though you know me.”
Robert drops his hand down to Victor's shoulder, “I don't know you. Yet from our short time together, you have somehow managed to speak the language of my heart.” He laughs awkwardly, “I look at you because I cannot stop looking at you - both attractive in misery and health. It is some romantic love that I've grown, as if I could spend each day with you in my bed–” Their gazes meet and Victor's eyes are wild and unsettled.
Robert knows he's talked too honestly so he withdraws himself. “I apologise. I forget myself.”
Victor brings his hand to his mouth, trembling for a short moment before a tear falls past his dark eyelashes. Then a loud sob that echoes around the cabin, followed by a shaky wheeze as Victor struggles to contain his cry.
“Oh.” Walton whispers. He had never seen such a man cry and feared he would collapse as his breathing turned to coughing sobs. Had he done this? Robert moves in to place his hand on his chest. “Breathe.” He says, “I'm sorry.”
I'm sorry it has taken you so long to feel loved , he thinks.
This time, Victor leans into the touch; he rests his head on Robert's shoulder, sobbing and gasping as he tries to control himself. Robert Walton rubs his back, saying nothing to ruin the moment.
“I don't know what came over me,” Victor chokes out, he shivers uncontrollably. Robert stands to go and get another blanket but Victor grabs his coat tightly before he can leave: “Stay.”
Walton climbs carefully over Victor's legs to the other side of the cot. “Shall I help you?”
Frankenstein nods and Robert helps him lie back down. Space is scarce and Robert finds their legs flush. They are so close; Victor's breath touches Robert's cheek which makes his toes curl.
“I am sorry to have upset you…” Walton starts.
Victor screws his eyes closed. “Do not apologise. You have done no such thing.”
“Yet you cry so bitterly?” Walton queries. As if unconsciously, he tucks strands of hair behind Victor's ear and lets his hand fall to his jaw, the beginnings of a beard rough under his fingers. This time, Victor doesn't look away
“I am just terrified that he is going to come for you next,” he confesses
“Who is he?”
“That wretched creature whom I'm searching for.”
He couldn't risk Victor getting cold by going to the deck and incessantly searching for whatever made him so mad with grief and worry. If not that, Robert didn't want him to leave his side: tucked next to him in bed.
“I'm here. Do not worry yourself.”
Victor coughs and moves in closer so that his head rests in the space under Robert's chin.
“We must search for the daemon. When we awaken. Promise me?” he murmurs into Walton's skin, “Just rest here with me.”
The feeling of Victor's warm, very-much alive body makes him feel calm. Robert stifles a yawn as he responds, “I cannot promise to let you out on deck, but I'll try and start a search.”
There's a long silence as Victor's breathing remains heavy and Walton's eyes begin to close. Then Victor asks: “Did you mean what you said. Every single on of those…words?”
“Yes.”
Victor looks upwards, “Would you kiss me?”
Surely the man can feel his heart beat faster upon hearing those words. “I- well if you-” He traces Victor's bottom lip with his thumb, remembering all those moments when his friends spoke of their first kisses and he had no story to tell. Could he arguably be in-love when he didn't even know what the love of touch felt like? Yet why was the answer so easy?
“Yes I can.”
Robert props himself up onto his elbows as Victor weakly grasps at his hair and encourages him downwards until their lips meet. Robert has no idea of what to do; Victor smiles against mouth.
“It is just like kissing a woman,” he jokes, sensing Robert's flusteredness. Robert had never kissed a woman before either. He tries again, closing his eyes and relaxing his mouth; the kiss is soft and sweet but not enough for either of them. Victor pushes Walton back and coughs dryly.
“Regretfully, I cannot- well I cannot hold my breath,” Victor admits
“Then you must get better so I can kiss you properly,” Robert says, and he cannot believe his heart is still about to leap out of his chest. He touches where his lips had just been and can read the thoughts going through Victor's mind, “Because we will have all the time in the world together.”
Victor holds onto Robert's coat and closes his eyes, “Just stay here and I will believe you.”