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The roof was particularly cold that night, but Edward couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it. He shivered as the wind rolled over him, turning his cheeks and nose red. To be honest, he couldn’t tell you why he was lying on the roof of a random building, maybe it was in the romance of the night, maybe he just wanted time alone to think. The stars were beautiful that night, each one twinkling in the sky, their light kissing his cheeks and making his hair glow as if he himself was the moon.
He pulled his cloak further around himself as a shiver overtook him and the day replayed in his head. He had spent most of it poking Jekyll, snide remarks until he had pushed him over the edge, as usual. What wasn’t usual was when Jekyll had shouted, fully shouted. Not all of it his usual brand of reprimands. A few comedic lines making an appearance within his beration (“I should have made a sandwich instead of making you”). After a while, he had taken a new approach, carefully unravelling each crack that remained in Edwards head, pulling apart the fragments of his identity to reveal the true Edward Hyde - a husk built upon the visage of evil from other people, no true human being beneath the skin. He was nothing, just a husk pretending to be human, pretending to be real.
All he was, all he is, he’s just everything that Jekyll hated about himself rolled up into one being. A mistake. Something running around pretending to be competent, pretending to be alive. Who even was he? He remembered his time at Lucy’s house, the one question it had taken to unravel his entire psyche.
“Who even are you, Mr. Hyde?”
He was a child. A mask. All the undesirable qualities wrapped up neatly in one, disgusting, writhing, little package. Unruly bright yellow hair, overly impulsive, rude, arrogant, completely wild. It’s a wonder he hadn’t already been sent to Bedlam already, especially when everything was his fault anyway. If Jekyll had never separated them, if Edward had never existed, how much easier would Jekyll’s life be? It’d make his relationship with Lanyon so much easier, a lot less complicated to date a whole person rather than just a man with a little blonde imp attached to him. He would get so much more done without being constantly distracted. He also wouldn’t have so much mess to deal with all the time.
Jekyll had sounded so angry earlier, a fit of rage before abandoning the body so that Edward was forced to take over. Much as Hyde had been trying so hard all night, nothing had made him forget. Not his alcohol, not his roof hopping, not even making out with a random man in some booth in a pub. He just felt… useless… worthless.
How many people in the society actually liked him? They tolerated him, sure, but it always felt fake. Artificial. How many people only put up with him because he was part of Jekyll? Part of something good, despite being so bad himself. And even when people did genuinely like him for being himself, it meant he was babied and belittled. He was a grown man for fucks sake, why do people treat him like glass? He was either looked at as a child, treated like an inconvenience, or just something to keep someone’s bed warm occasionally. Did he mean anything to anyone? Anyone at all?
He thought back to the times he had watched Jekyll with Lanyon late at night, how after their activities, they held each other so carefully, so gently. Like the other person was something to be loved and cherished. Like it mattered how each other felt, if the other was comfortable, if the other was warm enough. The type of touch that meant love rather than lust. That meant belonging, safety. A home. Somewhere to belong.
He scrubbed at his eyes, stubbornly refusing to let anything show through. He was The Spirit of London at Night, he didn’t need soft love, or to be told it was all ok.
But oh…
How much he craved it.
How much he craved anyone to look at him like he was more than just a monster, more than an inconvenience, more than a waste of space, or a source of chaos. He wanted someone to see past the facade he kept up, to look into his eyes and see the tired soul waiting behind it. He wanted to fall into someone’s arms, have them hold him gently and stroke his hair, telling him everything was going to be okay. Someone who would just let him be for a bit.
He wanted Jekyll to forgive him.
As much as that statement made his stomach twist, he had to admit it to himself. He wanted Jekyll to forgive him. Even more than that, he wanted Jekyll to accept him rather than making him the scapegoat all the time. To have one thing not be all Hyde’s fault. He wanted Henry to be the one to hold him, the one to comfort him, and tell him he wasn’t such a bad person. Tell him he deserves forgiveness, and then take him to his bed and tuck him in. He wanted soft words and a hand in his hair while he drifted off into a calm sleep for once. He wanted peace, some form of benevolent serendipity.
Logistically, it would never happen. They couldn’t sleep with Hyde in control of the body. More than that, they shared the body to begin with, Jekyll could never be out at the same time as Hyde. Besides, he was pretty sure that Henry hated him now, if his anger earlier was anything to go off of. God, he shouted so loud. It almost hurt Edward’s ears, hearing the echoes of it repeating his head, attacking his ears while his vision clouded over.
He stopped fighting, rolling onto his side as warm tears started sliding down his face. Slowly at first, before speeding up. He didn’t let a sound escape though, just hugging himself on that freezing rooftop. He shook from the cold, droplets of rain starting to kiss his tears away and weigh down his hair. His chest hurt, and with each ragged inhale the tears came faster.
Fucking hell, he was pathetic.