Chapter Text
Ever since his mother had passed from scarlet fever, Victor Frankenstein felt that same desire to share the love his mother had for him. Caroline Frankenstein had passed when Victor was seventeen, right on the cusp of a manhood that did not feel authentic. Whatever feminine side of Victor that he tried to suppress cracked open with full force when caring for his grieving younger brothers, Ernest and William.
Ambition and grief drove him to his studies on the secret of life and the urge to mother a creation made from his own hands. Many would call him mad, even his dear friends Henry and Elizabeth, if they saw the sketches and loving letters to a babe that does not yet exist. He remembers how Caroline would always act, levelheaded and endlessly patient. She was never timid, not from what he can recall. But then fever had to claim her, the one woman he deeply cared about besides Elizabeth and Justine. Ever since that horrible night, something deep in Victor’s chest split open and never fully healed. Part of him began acting as the de facto parent whenever his father sank deep into his own work in grief.
Frankenstein has always been on the shorter side with a lithe frame and pale complexion. He had inherited his dark hair from his mother, but deep grey eyes from his father Alphonse. Victor would never admit it out loud, but he is happy that Ernest and William inherited Caroline’s ink black hair as well.
Now at the age of nineteen and a week away from heading to the University of Ingolstadt, Victor cannot sleep. He sits at the oak desk in his room well past midnight, the only source of light being from a lone candle.
Eyes bloodshot behind his spectacles, Frankenstein looks down at the third letter laid out in front of him. He had brainstormed names for the babe he imagines having the same dark hair.
‘I shall call him Adam,’ Victor decides on a whim, writing the name in cursive on the paper and feeling a wave of giddiness at the sight.
‘Dear Adam,’ he begins, the familiar sound of pen scratching paper a comfort.
‘You’ve been in my dreams for two nights in a row now, despite your features being blurred. But you have my dark hair, I recall that much clearly. You occupy the cradle that my brothers and I have used, reaching out for me with a timid cry. Then I wake up in a cold sweat while clutching my abdomen. But even then, I wake up with tears clinging on my eyelashes and laughter nearly slipping from my lips. But fret not, my darling, we will be together once I have everything I need. You will be waking up in my arms soon.
Your affectionate parent,
Victor Frankenstein’
He finishes the letter and blows out the lone candle, filling the room in comforting darkness.
****
Henry Clerval has been best friends with Victor and Elizabeth ever since they were all children. He knows that Victor himself had sunk into melancholy when Caroline had passed. Frankenstein has always been a quiet young man, quite the contrast to Henry always looking on the brighter side of life.
The garden in the Frankenstein estate has always been one of Henry’s favorite places, especially on sunnier days like today. He sits on a stone bench under the shade of a tree, listening to the birds chirping.
Humming under his breath, Clerval glances down at the charcoal sketch of a cluster of flowers he has been drawing for the past few minutes. He draws the final petal of the forget me not flowers and gently blows away the leftover charcoal dust, the tips of his fingers now black as ink. Henry listens to Ernest and William chasing one another and laughing closer to the estate and cannot help but smile to himself.
Seeing the cheerful faces of children always puts Clerval in a good mood. Hearing muffled footsteps on the grass, he turns his head to see Victor walking over, squinting at the sunlight. He smiles and sets the sketchbook and charcoal stick down, wiping his fingers with a cloth.
“There you are, dear Frankenstein. Still nervous about leaving for Ingolstadt these next few days?” he asks kindly, taking in the bags under his friend’s grey eyes.
Victor lets out a hollow laugh devoid of humor, accepting Henry’s warmer hands and squeezing back gently. “When am I not nervous, Henry?” he whispers. It has only been a few months since Caroline had passed. Both Frankenstein and Clerval are nineteen, still youthful in appearance. Henry smiles at him sadly and kisses his knuckles. Victor smiles back, his pale skin making the blush stand out more.
Henry and Victor could not be more opposite if they tried. Frankenstein almost always dresses in darker colors, deep greens and blues. Clerval favors warmer colors like orange and red so similar to the flowers surrounding them both. Victor’s grey eyes remind Henry of the ice on the Swiss Alps, Henry’s brown eyes flecked with gold reminds Victor of precious stones.
And yet despite being so close, Victor hesitates to tell Henry about his dreams of the babe.
He has not admitted it to anyone, always mentally clutching the memory of that cry to his chest as if he could cradle the precious sound alone. Victor is startled out of his thoughts when Henry pulls him into a gentle hug. Frankenstein exhales and hugs him back.
“You will do great,” Clerval promises, tucking a purple handkerchief that smells of lavender into Frankenstein’s breast pocket.
“Now come,” Henry grins, gathering his sketchbook and practically dragging Victor back to the estate. “I heard Justine and Elizabeth are making cranberry scones.”
****
The week passes faster than Victor expects. He had hugged his younger brothers tightly, promising to bring back gifts from Ingolstadt once the semester ends. He hugged Elizabeth, Justine, Henry, and his father last, saying that he would write back to them at the end of every week.
Now he sits alone in the carriage, twisting Henry’s handkerchief between pale fingers, listening to rain starting to fall and thunder rumbling in the clouds.
“I am almost there, Adam,” he whispers to himself, eyes hardening with resolve. Victor grips the handkerchief to his chest, hearing Adam’s cry echoing in his head and Caroline’s final words to take care of his younger brothers.