Chapter Text
Robert held the paper closer to the candlelight.
Past Due.
He scowled at those rotten words. Those two big, bold, and ugly words, always grinning back in their threatening red ink. They were killers of reputations, the both of them, despised by every soul in decent society. He’d seen them sink their claws into many a man, dragging down perfectly respectable names to the humiliating depths of bankruptcy. And now, the vile things were after him and his dear Henry, determined to see them both in ruins.
He sneered and held the paper closer to the flame. The candlelight flickered, subtle smoke licking at the page as he teased it over the small, dancing fire. How easy it would have been to set the infernal thing alight, to watch those daunting words crumble to meaningless ash. Of course, that wouldn’t do a thing to free him of his debt. No, burning the lousy page would only leave another mess to sort. And he was growing properly sick of sorting messes.
He sighed and let the paper fall from his hand. It rustled as it drifted down to meet the table, rejoining a heap of documents all bearing those same cursed words. He spared them a final sneer of disgust before pulling his gaze away and squinting into the depths of Henry’s dim wooden office. A much better sight indeed.
The place was, objectively, a masterpiece. A beautiful, suffocating masterpiece. Dark, imposing cabinets lined the walls, their tinted glass fronts obscuring some bizarre collection of alchemical trinkets and potions. The desk, a monument to Henry’s neverending workload, stood at the room’s heart, framed by a grand red carpet with gold embellishments. It was a questionable choice of floor decor by his own standards, but somehow fit the theme of red that Jekyll was so fond of.
It all blended together in a look of class and elegance. Each detailed furnishing served a certain purpose, added a certain charm, save for one particular eyesore. For whatever reason, Henry had elected to add a full length mirror to the scene. It was a plain thing, with a gaudy gold frame, placed awkwardly next to the desk. A tacky, almost vulgar, addition, one that stuck out like a vile black stain on a canvas of painted daisies. Thankfully, the hideous blight was barely visible in this near-pitch black that the room had come to.
Indeed, the golden glow of afternoon light had long since faded, leaving them sat in a gloomy, dreary, shadowy cave. Robert gave a quiet grumble as he shifted in his seat. The office might as well have been a blasted cave, given how sore he felt sitting on that red rock of a couch. He rubbed at his lower back and glanced across the room, wondering if his friend was faring any better.
Jekyll was still planted at his desk, his eyes never straying from the page at hand. His focus was sharp, his posture still proper, even after so many terribly dull hours. It was no surprise, really. Henry had always been relentless when it came to his work. It was a level of dedication Robert could never quite match, much to his father’s eternal dismay. Even now, he could hear his old man’s voice grating at his brain, that stern tone chastising him for his lack of diligence, prattling on about how he needed to be “more like Henry.” Ugh. He’d never be enough no matter what he did.
Slumping back against the unforgiving cushions, Robert shut his eyes. Always finding ways to belittle me. That miserable, dreadful old— his inner grumblings halted as a rustling of papers echoed gently through the room, the pleasing scribble of a fountain pen dancing on the air. Ears perked, he began to notice the faintest mumblings of Henry, the busy man using a soft whisper to guide himself through some drab document or another.
Slowly, a faint smile touched Robert’s lips as he drank in the mundane melody. Every sound was so delicate, so soft. Every utterance was like a dream, a tender breath meant solely for his ears. He was almost tempted to call the moment peaceful.
Almost.
Footsteps tore him from his blissful state, and he jolted upright, coming face to face with those wretched bills again. All at once, he was forced back into their current situation, and his sour scowl returned.
“I didn’t expect this to be such a late night,” Henry apologized, joining him on the couch. “Care for a glass of wine?”
“Yes. Please.” He tossed a hand towards the miserable pile. “These papers have me damn near the point of going mad.”
Henry’s soft smile faded. “Is everything alright?”
“Perfectly fine. Marvellous, even,” he grumbled. Another look at the stack struck him with a fresh bout of stress, drawing out a groan as he covered his face with his hands. “I don’t know how we’re going to keep paying these bloody bills, Henry.” He waited for an answer, only to receive silence in return.
The couch creaked as Henry rose and stepped past him, wordlessly opening the nearest cabinet. Robert spared the man a glance. Even in the dim candlelight, he could see the countless bottles that glistened back, revealing a wine collection impressive enough to make any drunkard mad with envy.
“If all goes well with the exhibition,” Henry started, picking out a nice bottle of claret and some simple glasses, “Then we’ll surely gain enough funding to keep the Society afloat.”
Robert moved the papers into a neat pile as Henry set the glasses on the table. “Yes, but what if it doesn’t?” he challenged. “Then what do we do?” Looking up, he caught a glimmer in Henry’s eye. Something anxious, no doubt, though it disappeared as quick as it came.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Henry uncorked the bottle, the motion swift and unceremonious. With a steady hand, he poured the crimson liquid into each glass, filling them both halfway. “Now then, wine?”
“Gladly.” Robert moved to grab his glass, eyes locked on the heavenly elixir. His saving grace. “You don’t know how badly I’ve needed this. Certainly beats reading over dull paperwork, wouldn’t you say?” He went to take a sip, but paused, the glass an inch from his lips. Again the man had gone silent on him. “Henry?”
Jekyll appeared to be stuck in place, his gaze aimless, clearly lost in thought. He was mindlessly fidgeting with the cork in one hand, running his thumbnail along its porous texture. Again Robert frowned. The upcoming exhibition had been a heavy weight on Henry’s shoulders, and he could only assume it was giving him grief once more. “How long has it been since you’ve slept?”
“Hm?” Henry blinked. “Ah, don’t worry about that. I’m fine, honest.”
“Oh really?”
“Truly!” He started to flash a smile, but his body betrayed him with a yawn. He turned away and brought up a hand, failing to conceal the sleepy noise that escaped him.
Robert couldn’t help but raise a brow at the display. “Very convincing.”
“I…” Henry gave a weak sigh. “Alright, perhaps I am slightly tired.”
“Slightly? Henry, you look exhausted. You’ve looked exhausted for weeks. I’m trying to make sure this blasted exhibition doesn’t end up killing you.” His concerns were always being brushed aside and he was damn near sick of it. He opened his mouth to say something more, then thought better of it and went for his wine, taking an angry sip. Stubborn workhorse.
“We just need a few more weeks and then we’ll-”
“We don’t have a few more weeks. These bills are due imminently, and we hardly have the means to pay them! It’s come to the point where I may be forced to ask my father for more money.” Again the glass was to his lips, sipping longer this time. He’d be damned if he had to ask that man for another cent. It was best not to think about it, best to let the wine numb his ugly thoughts.
Henry cringed. “I didn’t realize things were so dire.”
“No, of course you didn’t. When would you have had the time in your overburdened state? You’re too spent to keep up with it all! And it certainly doesn’t help that you continue adding to your absurd workload.”
“I’ve already told you I can handle what’s needed for the exhibition-”
“No, not that,” Robert huffed, setting down his glass with a sharp clink. He cast a hard stare. “I’ve been told you recently took in another scientist.”
Henry gave a sheepish smile, like a guilty Cocker Spaniel caught digging at the tulips. “Right. I’m sorry, I haven’t had the chance to introduce you to Jasper, yet. He only just arrived this morning and has been settling into his new room. I planned to give him a tour where I could introduce him to everyone tomorrow, including you.”
“Why did you even take him in? You know we don’t have room.”
“I had to step in or the police would’ve had him arrested.”
“Arrested you say? Oh, how lovely! I wasn’t aware that we were housing criminals now. My, what an absolutely splendid idea!” His voice rose as he clasped his hands together in mock excitement. “The Society for Arcane Sciences, a place for every charlatan in the city of London! Sounds like quite the fetching slogan, wouldn’t you agree?”
“It’s not like that.” Henry’s hands went up in defence. “He’s been afflicted with a case of lycanthropy and had an unfortunate incident in London’s East End. A mob came after him with a thirst for violence.”
“Lycanthropy?” Robert had to scoff to stop his jaw from hanging open. “I’m sorry, did you bring in a bloody werewolf? Henry, are you mad?!”
“I promise you he wouldn’t hurt a soul. You’ll understand when you meet him.”
“You’d better hope so.” He shook his head. “I sometimes forget just how naive you can be. To handle a dangerous situation with such nonchalance is…well, it’s baffling.”
“Dangerous? I’d hardly call it that.” Henry gave a light chuckle as he sauntered back to the couch, setting the bottle of wine on the table. He seated himself and continued on, as if no jab towards him had ever been made. “Jasper is a crypto-biologist, and a rather brilliant one at that.” He smiled. “He’s shown me some of his work, and his findings on various cryptid specimens have been deeply fascinating. I truly believe he’d be a wonderful addition to our exhibition.”
“Right.” Robert put a hand to his forehead. All this drivel of science and newcomers was starting to bring a headache to his temples. “This is an awful lot to take in at such an hour. How about we save this conversation for tomorrow?”
“Keen on catching a wink of sleep, are you?” Henry chuckled, the sound irritatingly cheerful.
He rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless. “As someone who actually values their sleep, yes.”
“I suppose it is rather late, isn’t it?” Henry spared a glance towards the curtained windows, the heavy red drapes concealing the midnight sky beyond. “I assume you wouldn’t be all too eager to spend the night here?”
Robert snorted out a laugh. Overnight? Here? That was the best joke he’d heard all day. “Not a chance in hell I’d sleep in this place. I'd much rather wake to the sound of birdsong over the racket of your lodgers’ experiments.”
Henry’s smile briefly wavered, only to return just as swiftly. “Birdsong, you say? I never took you to be such a fantasist.”
“Rationalist, I think is the word you meant to use. I’d be a fool to stay here.”
“I beg to differ.”
“Really?”
“Truly.” Henry challenged with a nod. A properly foolish error on his part.
“Then I suppose you don’t recall the time I came in early one morning, right before Doddle’s pop-rock experiment took to exploding?” Robert remembered the experience quite well himself. The floor shook so violently he thought the whole blasted place had been about to collapse. He’d never dashed from a building so fast in all his life and wasn’t planning on repeating the feat, especially at the crack of dawn.
“I…” Henry’s slumped shoulders and subtle grimace made it clear he recalled the incident. “Fair point.” He straightened his posture and gave an appropriately humbled nod. “I’ll have someone fetch a cab for you.”
“Thank you.” Robert tossed him a smirk, having won their little back and forth as per usual. He planted an elbow smugly on the armrest, lazily waving a hand towards the door. “And make it swift.”
Henry raised a brow, slowing his pace. “Eager to leave, are you?”
“To escape the likes of you? Absolutely.”
“I’d better hurry, then.” Henry remained at a standstill.
Robert waited a few moments, and his grin faded as the man remained frozen. “That doesn’t look like moving.”
“Sure it is.” Henry took a single step towards the door. “See?”
A dry laugh escaped Robert’s lips. “Swift as a snail.”
“A particularly hasty snail?”
“Henry,” Robert warned.
“Fine, fine.” Henry began to move, finally relenting from the little game.
“Thank you.” Robert yawned as Henry walked past him to the door. As much as he would have loved to play along, he needed to get home. Another moment spent here and he’d risk his own exhaustion gluing him to the awful red boulder.
Henry’s voice carried from the entrance of his office, echoing across the grand foyer. “Good evening, Rachel! So sorry to interrupt. Would you be able to fetch a cab for Robert?”
“Sure thing, Dr. Jekyll,” came the reply of Henry’s day manager with her usual air of nonchalance. Robert had to wonder if the woman ever slept. She seemed to be awake at all hours, keeping the chaotic place in some semblance of order. She likely worked just as hard as Henry, if that were even possible.
“Thank you very much.” With that, the door was shut again, Henry now leaning against it as he tossed a teasing smile back to Robert. “You always were one to choose comfort over convenience.”
“Please,” Robert snorted, “I’m surprised you know what either of those words mean.”
Henry crossed his arms and tilted his head, the corner of his mouth still upturned, sly and playful. “And why’s that?”
“Because you don’t have the slightest clue how to relax. I’ve not seen you take a single day off work since we opened this place.”
“Nonsense. I take moments of repose, from time to time.”
Robert had to stifle another laugh at that blatant lie. “Oh, really? When’s the last time you gave yourself a break?”
“I managed to take a mid-afternoon nap just the other day,” Henry replied as he meandered back to the couch, as casual as ever.
“Ah, yes, your little nap. I recall that,” Robert mused, the memory still fresh. He had found Henry unconscious at his desk, having skipped out on sleep the night before. He frowned at his friend, studying those dark bags under his eyes. “I regret to inform you that a spontaneous nap brought on by exhaustion doesn’t count. When was the last time you had a true chance to relax? A chance to enjoy a proper rest?”
“I-”
“That didn’t involve any work,” he swiftly added.
Henry hesitated. “No work at all?”
“None whatsoever.”
“Well…”
Robert could see the gears turning, a slight furrow coming to the man’s brow as he tried to grasp at a single example. They’d be here all night if he didn’t move this along. “Well? I’m waiting.”
“…Hm.”
“Hm indeed,” Robert echoed disapprovingly. He watched Henry’s shoulders lower just a hair’s breadth, the corners of his mouth falling by mere millimetres. To most it would look like nothing had changed, but Robert saw the defeat in his friend’s eyes. He couldn’t bear that sad look. Foolishly, he let his stern expression soften to one of concern, his voice coming out a little more gentle than he would’ve liked. “Honestly, Henry, promise me you’ll get some sleep tonight. You and I both know you’re in desperate need of it.”
“But I-” Henry froze as he met Robert’s worried eyes.
“Please?” He sang the word as a gentle temptation. Come on, don’t fight me on this.
Henry opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out. The man seemed to be having some internal struggle, his defiance faltering, before he finally bowed his head in defeat, making Robert bite back another victorious grin.
“Yes. I’ll be sure to try,” Henry sighed.
“Try…” Robert pondered the word, his fingers drumming against the arm of the couch. He shook his head. He wasn’t quite done getting his point across yet. He could drag out this teasing, just a tad more. “No, ‘try’ won’t cut it.”
Henry looked up, brows furrowed. “I beg your pardon?”
“You can do better than that. Try again.”
“Robert, this is ridiculous.” Henry’s cheeks were gaining a tint of red that could just barely be seen in the dimness.
“Try. Again.” He repeated. He propped his leg up and leaned back in his seat, gesturing expectantly to his wonderfully disgruntled friend. “Go on.”
Henry huffed, but finally straightened his shoulders and looked Robert directly in the eye, delivering the words with an irritated confidence. “Yes, I assure you I will get some proper sleep tonight.”
“There we go. Was that so hard?”
“Gruelling,” he huffed, but there was no anger behind the word. “Satisfied?”
Robert smiled back from the couch like a king on his throne. He sat up a little taller, beamed a little brighter, and snickered a little louder, really making sure to rub some extra salt in the wound. “Very.”
“Good.” Henry crossed his arms, undoubtedly attempting to conceal the embarrassment that must’ve been dancing through his chest. “You really ought to stop doing that to me. It’s getting rather old.”
“Well maybe I would if you didn’t fluster so easily.” He grinned and leaned forward. “You’ve got a nice shade of red on your face right now.”
Henry winced, averting his gaze. “I blame the wine.”
“You mean the wine that you haven’t had a drop of?”
“Oh, have I not? Thank you for the reminder.” Henry picked up his glass and drank.
Robert laughed and raised his own glass, savouring the last of its crimson contents.
For a moment, a comfortable silence settled between them as they returned their empty glasses to the table and met each other’s gaze. Robert found a surprising gentleness in the air, an unexpected ease that seemed to envelop them in their shared exhaustion. He offered a relaxed smile, which Henry returned in kind, their peaceful faces faintly illuminated by the soft glow of candlelight. It was a fleeting moment of genuine connection, and Robert wished, with a pang of something akin to affection, that it could last a lifetime. A shame, a damn shame, that such a rare moment of near-peace couldn't last.
“Well, I'd better get going,” Robert announced, the tranquil atmosphere dissipating the moment he pushed himself up from that ghastly excuse for a couch. His legs protested with a dull ache as he stretched them, whining over the dreadful hours spent perched on that boulder.
Henry’s smile seemed to fade, watching as he rose. “You're sure now?”
“Unless you need me to stay here to make sure you actually do get some sleep,” Robert retorted with a playful grin. Honestly, the man needed a nursemaid.
For a fleeting instant, a shadow crossed Henry's features, a glimpse of something longing. But it vanished as quickly as it came, replaced as Henry reflected an equally playful grin.
“Of course not. I’m a grown man. You know full well I can take care of myself.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it. Get a decent night of sleep first, then maybe, and only maybe, I’ll consider that delusional claim.”
“If the word sleep comes out of your mouth one more time…” Henry warned, though it was a threat with no merit, more joking than anything.
“What about shuteye?” Robert offered, but was instantly assaulted by an agitated glare from his friend. He laughed and put up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. No more talk about that word.”
“There’d better not be.”
Sleepily, Robert meandered his way to the office door, and, with a hand on the doorknob, turned to his friend one last time. “Goodnight, Henry.”
“Take care, Robert. Get home safe.”
“I will. And you be sure to get some shuteye.”
Henry opened his mouth to retort, and that was the last thing Robert saw before he swiftly shut the door, escaping a potential scolding with an impish laugh. He stepped briskly down the office stairs, strode through the foyer, and darted out the main entrance where he was greeted by the inky midnight.
The residual thrill of his little victory faded as the cool night air forced him back to reality, its icy fingers raking across his face. He shivered, hunching deeper into his woolly frock coat, crossing his arms in a futile attempt to keep warm against the biting wind. Leaves danced their way along his path as he stepped onto the sidewalk, one stray oak getting caught under his shoe. He grunted and gave a flick of his foot, watching the dead thing flutter off with the rest of its brethren. They scraped along the walkway in a morbid, rustling symphony as they were swept into the night, carrying out the melody of fall’s dry whistling.
Robert frowned at the tumbling leaves. While pretty when perched on trees, they always made such filth on the ground. If you asked him, they were nothing but measly things of decay, scattering grey-brown rubbish across the cobbles and leaving yet another mess that no one cared to clean. Granted, dead leaves were the least of his problems, as he turned back to face his biggest mess of all.
The Society for Arcane Sciences stood before him, its pretentious white pillars and gaudy bronze emblem illuminated by the sickly yellow glow of gas lamps. He offered it a sad, almost pitying look. He could still vividly recall the day, barely two years ago, when Henry had come to him with a naive enthusiasm, rambling about creating a sanctuary for “scientific minds.” Together, they had founded the ridiculous institution. A monstrously large building where all manner of scientists could tinker away without facing public scrutiny. Jekyll had even dreamed of rebranding their pursuits as “rogue science” rather than “mad,” hoping to somehow garner respectability.
The idea had sounded rather intriguing at the start, and in his initial curiosity, Robert had been willing to indulge his friend’s whims. Over time, however, it had become a drain on both their finances and, frankly, their sanity. Secretly, Robert hoped that the upcoming exhibition would be a failure and the Society would crumble, if for no other reason than to finally free Henry from his self-imposed, suffocating stress. His friend hadn’t been the same since they'd first opened the place.
Two years. Two years we’ve been running this glorified madhouse, and what has it given us in return? Nothing but bloody headaches. Robert winced as the dull thumping at his temples intensified. He brought a hand to his head just as the rhythmic clip-clopping of hooves echoed up the macadam road. A growler cab, still coated in a fine layer of city grime, pulled up to the curb. Fighting back a sneer at the filthy thing, he gave his name to the driver, rattled off his address, and practically dove into the cab. The last thing he needed was some acquaintance spotting him entering such a disreputable vehicle.
He made himself comfortable, or at least as comfortable as he could, while the rickety thing began to move. The sound of the wheels was grating on his ears, and he cursed himself for having let someone else arrange his ride. Next time he’d specifically ask for his own carriage, or put up a fuss and make the arrangements himself.
He did his best to ignore the screeching wheels and jostling cart, trying to focus on the steady, rhythmic pace of the horse’s hooves. It took a great deal of effort but slowly, wilfully, the noises of the world around him began to fade out and, by some miracle, he slipped into a state of slumber.
—
The jolt of the cab startled him awake. He peeked out the dusty curtain to see elegant windows, meticulously maintained brickwork, and a ridiculously manicured garden. Finally, he was home.
He paid his thanks to the cabbie and stepped out, sauntering up the path to his lavish abode. “Everly, I’m back,” he called out, his voice echoing in the cavernous entrance hall. Silence, as expected, was his only reply. He closed the heavy door behind him, shedding his coat, the sounds swallowed by the vast emptiness.
As he suspected, Everly was tucked up in her room with the door closed, likely composing music. He passed by her room and went to his own, deciding it’d be best not to disturb her. Though she may have been his wife, their marriage was arranged, another dreadful circumstance he could thank his father for. Fortunately she proved a decent companion, someone who would offer an interesting conversation and was willing to put up with his dry sense of humour. If anything, they were merely friends living on opposite sides of a mansion, and that was just fine by him.
He stepped into his own room, proper posture finally relaxing. At long last he was free to unwind, relinquished from anymore pesky interactions with the outside world. He moved to his wardrobe where he swiftly changed into something more casual. Nothing worth fussing with, just a muted orange waistcoat and an old grey suit. Still a dashing look, though perhaps a tad… comfortable.
As he settled onto the edge of his bed, the events of the day replaying in his mind, something in his peripherals snagged his attention. To his left, on his antique vanity, sat a bottle of wine and a crisp white card. A tidy red bow adorned the bottle's neck, and the card bore red lettering in an annoyingly ornate cursive script. With a frown creasing his brow, he approached the unexpected gift and picked up the note.
To the founder of something great.
~ L. D.
The initials were unfamiliar. It was probably from one of his father’s aristocratic friends, if he had to guess. Those old fools were always trying to make a solid impression, hoping to get on his good side to get closer to his father. He should’ve dumped the thing right then and there, but it’d be a shame to let some potentially good wine go to waste.
He poured himself a generous glass, the liquid a surprisingly deep, almost lurid red. Not bothering to do the usual swirl and sniff that the upper class was so obsessed with, he drank it plainly. The taste was dry, though not unpleasant. It certainly wasn’t the finest vintage he’d ever come across, but it would do for the evening. He went to take another sip, then paused. There was a new taste now. Something bitter. Possibly salty.
“That’s not right.”
Robert hastily set the glass back down, feeling suddenly lightheaded. Watching the liquid move in the cup, he could’ve sworn he saw a green shimmer to its colour.
“What?” He stumbled back a step. Despite his worry, he let out a small laugh. Then another. He found himself suddenly giggling, swept up in an odd feeling of euphoria. The pleasant sensation was swiftly contrasted by a spark of pain and the giggling halted. A burning began creeping through his veins.
He looked at the bottle of wine, eyes wide. His quickening heartbeat thudded in his ears, breathing now ragged and shaky. He felt his legs start to give and he clutched the edge of the vanity to keep himself upright. “What is this?”
He didn’t have time to think. Robert collapsed to the ground, caught in a whirlwind of confusion and panic. The world was spinning and he couldn’t stop it. He shut his eyes, doubling over in pain. It all happened with terrifying speed, a storm of sensations violently flickering through him. Fear, sharp and primal! Agony, searing and relentless! And then, a bizarre, unexpected surge of something else entirely. Something… Alive.
An indescribable vitality coursed through his veins, a potent energy he had never before experienced. Everything felt new, vibrant, imbued with an unsettling sense of wonder and lurking mystery. It was as if, for the very first time, he felt truly, undeniably alive.
Using the sturdy vanity as leverage, he pushed himself back to his feet, wiping a viscous, distinctly green substance from his mouth. His reflection in the mirror caught his eye and he froze at the sight. Looking back at him was… him, yet undeniably more. A wild, almost feral grin stretched across his lips, revealing teeth that seemed subtly sharper. He leaned closer, studying the unnaturally vibrant colour of his eyes. A new face stared back. One more wild, more passionate. "Hello there," he murmured to the stranger in the mirror, placing a hesitant hand upon the cool glass. Beyond his own startling face, something else snagged his attention. His gaze flickered with a sudden curiosity as he took notice of the window.
An excitement ignited within him and he dashed towards the opening, hands gripping at the sill. He looked out at the world, lit by gas lamps in the night. The twinkling city glowed warmly beneath the smog soaked sky, its candlelit beauty beckoning to him, whispering promises of adventure from their flickering flames. The need to explore became overwhelming. He had to experience it all up close, right this very instant. Without giving it a second thought, he flung open the window and leapt out into the night.