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Victor eagerly stared at the table where his creation lay, so nervous he felt nearly ill, his stomach churning with what could nearly be mistaken for nausea.
The hour was late, but the borderline mania he felt was keeping him awake. Two years he'd spent on this project, and it was finally completed; he could not sleep until he saw his work come to fruition. He could not even look away until his creature awoke, he dared not leave its side.
He took a moment to admire his creation, the body he had painstakingly built, part by part; yellow skin stretched over muscles, arteries, sinew and veins, every limb carefully selected to be in proportion with the rest. Long black hair, and the prettiest face Victor could find; he wanted his creation, his child, to be a beautiful thing. With long black hair and a mouth full of neat white teeth. Its lips were stiff and black, but Victor was confident that would change in time. Once his child was alive, once the heart inside of its chest beat and blood flowed once again, the stiffness in its limbs and the discoloration would fade into a more normal, living hue.
Victor approaches the table where his creation is lovingly laid out, bringing one of his hands up to cup its cold cheek. No sooner had he done so that he saw its eyelashes begin to flutter and it finally opened its eyes, which were an almost eerie yellow.
"Hello, my beautiful child." Victor says softly, his voice shaking with excitement, heart overflowing with love. On the table, the creature breathed hard, air filling formerly dead lungs slowly as a convulsive motion agitated its stiff limbs. After a moment, the creature closed its eyes again, and Victor smiled wider at every movement of the creature. “Take your time, my dear child. There is no rush.” His words are gentle, the soothing coo he got from his sweet mother and his darling Elizabeth. To his child he shows the same kindness he was taught to show any child.
The creature’s eyes flutter open again and its limbs jerk again as it slowly raises one large hand to Victor’s face. He stills, waiting with bated breath, and his creature holds his face as tenderly, as he is holding it, black lips stretching into a tentative grin. “You are perfect.” Victor breathes out, awe and more love than he had ever thought possible filling his chest. “Two years I have worked and hoped and prayed for you, my dear child, and you are finally here, finally home.” Every sleepless night, every failure and mistake and setback has proven to be worth it. He has created life, created something beautiful from what used to be nothing, and it is perfect.
He cannot help but laugh, needing the world to see his exuberance. His shoulders shake with it as he folds forward, his cheek resting on his child’s chest, right above its beating heart. “My perfect, beautiful son. In two years of waiting for you, a name has completely slipped my mind!” He shakes his head, straightening his spine. “We shall name you together, then. You will choose a name for yourself, one you feel encompasses you. The newest addition to the Frankenstein family, but that shall be under the morning light.” His laughter finally begins to die down, and he meets his son’s yellow eyes, watery and soft.
Even though Victor did not create any of the parts of his child’s body, he cannot help but see some of his own features in his son’s face, unintentional as it was. “You are perfect.” He repeats, breathless. The words beg to be uttered, and he finds himself needing to say it, needing to express all of the feelings in his chest lest he burst.
“Can you stand? I have a room prepared for you.” He asks, his voice a low coo. “Tomorrow you will be named, properly clothed, and fed. Tonight however, we must rest.” He murmurs, excitement beginning to calm down. As much as Victor lacks regret for all of his sleepless nights, he does feel them catching up to him now that his nerves have given way for giddiness. His son grunts, slowly pushing himself upright. Victor pulls away to give him room, unable to tame the grin on his face.
“I have waited for you so eagerly,” he murmurs quietly, eyes stinging with tears as his son sits up. The creature extends a hand, reaching for Victor, and there is nothing Victor could possibly do but reach back, intertwining his fingers with his son’s much larger ones. He steps closer again, pressing him against his son’s side. “Don’t be afraid to lean on me, dear child. I am your father, I am here to help you.” He chastises gently when his son attempts to slowly stand by himself. His son looks down at him, a worried glint in his eyes; when he opens his mouth, only inarticulate sounds spill out. “You will never be too heavy for me, dear child.” Victor shakes his head.
His son tentatively leans on Victor, and Victor straightens, taking on the weight without complaint. “Come along now, right this way.” He says, guiding his son patiently as they begin to walk out of the laboratory. “I’ve been waiting for you so eagerly, dear child.” Victor can’t help but say as he guides his son past his own bedroom to the room he had prepared.
He pushes the door open with his foot. “Duck your head, dear child.” He calls out in a light warning and his child obeys, bringing his head down. The room was partially inspired by Victor’s childhood bedroom; the wallpaper is a dark, pleasant blue that reminds him of the night sky, and along the south wall are three tall oak bookshelves that Victor has filled with classic literature, with math and science and chemistry, with poetry and novels. There is no lack of options. The cold wooden floor is covered by a soft rug, the same shade as the wallpaper.
The bed is large, the largest he could find and afford; he had to make sure his beloved child would fit comfortably on it, of course. He made sure the bed was covered in the softest blankets and thickest quilts he could find, as well as a couple of comfortable pillows. It will take a while for his son’s body to function properly, and until his blood is circulating as it should he has no doubt his son will feel cold.
He guides his child to the bed and helps him sit. Victor pulls the blankets and quilts back until his son slowly, tentatively lays down, and he pulls the covers over his large body. “There we go, dear child.” He smiles, brushing a few long, black hairs out of his son’s face before leaning down to press a light kiss to his son’s forehead. “Rest easy, my beautiful boy.” He whispers as he sees his son’s eyes begin to flutter shut again.
Victor steps back, light on his feet, and turns to leave the bedroom, closing the door behind him before walking down the hall to his own bedroom to finally sleep, his lips still stretched upwards into a bright, awed grin.