Chapter Text
He was always something of a scientist to me, Victor was… Even as a young boy, he always displayed quite the feverish passion for knowledge. There were few who understood the inner workings of his mind; he limited himself to very few acquaintances. However, I was fortunate enough to be let in close. Perhaps he saw something in me, felt something that balanced the craze of his mind. I was never one for science; I much preferred literature, the beauty of romance, and the delicate nature of art. However, Victor never belittled my passions, no… he always appreciated our stark contrast. He was the dark to my light, the approaching storm in my calm, deep ocean.
As children, Victor often humored me and my interests, sometimes going as far as to recite my most favorite sonnets vivaciously. I always admired this side of him. I knew Victor had no true attraction to the subject, but it always amused him to make me laugh. A heartfelt and zealous actor, he was, you would have believed it was his favorite pastime. Victor’s favorite play to rehearse was Romeo and Juliet, only because he was attentive enough to know I, too, favored the play. It was to his preference that I played Juliet, his explanation being that I was softer, more well-spoken, and fit to play such a beautiful woman. However, I believe he preferred to hide the idea that he might like to play such a passionate and melodramatic character. He would become entranced in his characters (the many of them, as it was merely us two reciting all parts), even going as far as to embrace me, as if I really was his dying lover. I believe it was his way of tending to my interests, just as I attentively listened to his rambles on creation and nature’s wonders.
I frequented the Frankenstein estate; most would have assumed I was overstaying my welcome. However, the Frankensteins were quite a generous family, and they adored my relationship with their children. “We are so grateful for your presence, my dear Henry. If not for you, we should be afraid our son may never receive the approval of his own peers.”, His mother was always quite concerned for her son, “My husband, he isolates Victor with this strict education… I wish my boy were more like you, Henry. A kind, caring boy, well-rounded and emotional,” I ruminated on her remark, more emotional.
My father was not as encouraging of my behaviors as the Frankenstein’s. While Mrs. Frankenstein wished her son be like myself, my father wished me be anyone but myself. The only part of me my father truly enjoyed was Victor… “You ought to be like that friend of yours, he will accompany a noble profession one day. You mustn’t force him to indulge you in your theatrics anymore.”
“Do not dwell on his comments, my dear Henry,” Victor would comfort my poor boyish sorrow. Never was there a time when Victor allowed me to doubt my value. He was the only one quite sure it was there. “If not for the playwrights and artists like yourself, there would be nothing but science. I believe that would drive everyone mad, don’t you?” And I do quite agree. Although it was destined for me to become a merchant, Victor tended the flame that was my creative interests.
Victor had other companions as well; I could not remain the only one. When we were about five years of age, his mother was delighted to bring home the most darling girl, Elizabeth. Victor suddenly became absorbed in her. How could he not? I, too, was quite fond of the girl. She took similar interests as I, and we often discussed our most favorite poets and other “frivolous” things, as my father would say. As the three of us grew older together, a harmonious attachment began to form between us. I was allowed a spare room at the Frankenstein estate, with Victor and Elizabeth often sneaking up to me to entertain trivial midnight conversations.
My connection to Elizabeth became almost sister-like, but my complex relationship with Victor made it difficult for me to feel the same way about him. Although I admired both he and Elizabeth, I felt I was lacking something in his absence. It was more than a sense of want, but a continuous desire, intensified by our separation. I would experience it on those nights I remained in my own home. I wondered if Victor ever felt the same.