#Hershel/Henry

[101flavoursofweird]

How about 14 or 15 from the little moments prompt list for Laydore?

((Thank you for the prompt! I went with…

14. Person A just holding onto Person B while Person B is having a bad mental health day.

I did enjoy writing this but had to get Hershel and Henry to a point where the ‘holding on’ felt in character for me while they’re still teens and not on the closest of terms yet. I wanted to write this set before the Stansbury Gang flashbacks because my last fic about them had them as adults. Hope this is ok!))

Title: Sanding down your silence

Spoilers: Very slight spoilers for Miracle Mask

Set: Before the Stansbury flashbacks. Hershel and the gang are 16.

Warnings: Reference to minor character death… and Henry being treated like a second class servant to the Ascot family.

It was six AM on Sunday when something flew into Hershel’s window, startling him awake.

Hershel stumbled out of bed, shoved his desk chair aside, and squinted out of his window. He groaned.

Two figures were standing outside his house, on a Sunday morning, at six AM.

Angela gave him a nervous wave. Randall made a beckoning motion.

Grumbling about his block-headed ‘best friend’, Hershel threw on a coat and snuck downstairs— even though he felt like stomping.

Hershel stepped out of the house, quietly shut the front door behind him, and went to meet Randall and Angela, who were waiting beyond the fence.

“Randall!” Hershel hissed. “Do you want to give my Ma a heart attack…?” 

He trailed off when he caught sight of their fancy outfits, like the pair of them were ready to start waltzing right in front of him. 

“…Why are you dressed like that?”

Randall fiddled with the collar of his white shirt. “My father’s dragging me to a family get-together—“

“In my front garden?”

“No— in London!” Randall retorted.

Both Hershel and Angela shushed him.

“Sorry, Hershel…” Angela smoothed out the ends of her yellow dress. “I told him this wasn’t a good idea, but he insisted—“

“Can I ask you a huge favour?” Randall pleaded. He didn’t wait for Hershel’d reply. “I have to leave soon, and Angela is my date, but Henry can’t come with us— he’s not feeling well enough—“

“Forgive me, but I am not going in Henry’s place as your… assistant,” Hershel said dryly. (He had never completely understood how the Ascots were able to hire Henry as a ‘servant’ like the rest of their household staff, despite Henry only being sixteen.)

“As if,” Randall said, in a tone that suggested Hershel would make a terrible assistant. “All I’m asking is for you to check on Henry while we’re gone. I absolutely forbade him from doing any chores today, but knowing him, he’ll still try to help!”

Hershel didn’t really know Henry, outside of him being Randall’s childhood friend… What right did Hershel have to tell Henry what he could and couldn’t do?

Whenever Hershel felt rough, he usually preferred to be left alone with a book and a cup of tea. He could imagine Henry would respond similarly, as he was a solitary person too.

“I’m… not sure…”

“Please, Hershel?” Angela clasped her hands in front of her, bracelets clinking around her wrists. “Please… It wouldn’t have to be for long, but if you could just pop over to see if Henry’s resting, you would save us so much worry…”

(Were those real tears in her eyes?)

Hershel sighed. “Oh, alright!”

-

Surely Henry would not appreciate being disturbed at the crack of dawn, especially if he was unwell… 

So, Hershel waited until nine AM to leave the house, after assuring his mother than no one had tried to break in earlier that morning.

(“Hershel, did you hear a banging noise at around about six o’clock?”

“Nothing to worry about, Ma. That was just Randall trying to get my attention.”

“Oh— that’s alright then! Did you invite him inside?”

“No, Ma…”)

The trek to Ascot Manor felt different at this time of day; the sky was a pale blue, barely anyone Hershel’s age was out and about, and the birds seemed to be more active.

Hershel was so used to climbing through Randall’s bedroom window at night, that he’d almost forgotten the Ascots had a front door, concealed by a large stone porch.

His nervous knocks were met by Margot, the family’s maid. Glaring down at Hershel from behind her huge glasses, she informed him, rather dismissively, that Randall had gone away with his parents and they wouldn’t return until tomorrow. Hershel explained (where, evidently, Randall had not) that he had come to visit Henry.

Hearing this, Margot looked very surprised, but she let Hershel in and led him to the staircase.

“If Henry has recovered, please tell him there is still work to be done in the kitchen,” Margot said sternly. “You are welcome to help too, if you’re not busy…”

“R-right!” Hershel stammered, before he shot upstairs.

He went straight to Randall’s room, where he saw a hastily-written ‘Do Not Disturb!’ sign had been taped to the door.

Hershel cleared his throat. He tapped on the door and tentatively called, “Hello… Henry?”

Silence. (Hershel should have expected this…)

Still, Hershel persisted, “It’s Hershel… Randall sent me to—“

Slowly, with great effort, the door opened. Henry peered out at Hershel. His eyes were red, his jaw was tense and his nose was streaming

“P-please excuse me…” Henry sniffed. He turned away to wipe his face with his arm. “I’m… I’m not…”

“Not well?”

Looking back at Hershel, Henry nodded.

“Can I, er, get you anything?” Hershel offered. “A tissue…?”

Another nod.

“And a… cold drink, maybe?”

“Thank you,” Henry mumbled, before he closed the door once more.

“Okay…” Hershel sighed and dashed down to the kitchen.

The Ascots’ chef, Abilio, was far more accommodating than Margot. They gave Hershel a tray, some soft tissues, a jug of orange juice, two glasses, and some red velvet cupcakes.

Hoping he wouldn’t run in to Margot, Hershel carried the full tray back up to Randall’s room.

This time, Henry let him in immediately, and tried to take the tray from Hershel.

“It’s fine,” Hershel said, setting the tray on one of the wooden steps leading up to Randall’s loft. (Or whatever he called that chaotic excuse for a shelf above his bookshelf!)

“Thank you,” Henry sighed as he shut the door. He faced Hershel, fidgeting with his hands. “I’m sorry to… burden you with all this. I’m sure you have much better things you could be doing with your weekend…”

“Not really,” Hershel said nonchalantly.

As much as he’d complained to Randall, he really didn’t have much planned for today, aside from studying and reading. “Any adventures I might have had were cancelled…”

“…In Master’s Randall’s absence, yes,” Henry said, smiling slightly. He came to pour them each a glass of orange juice.

“My favourite!” Hershel remarked, in a pitiful attempt at small talk.

He was relieved when Henry replied, “Mine, too.”

Yet again, the silence reared its head between them.

Hershel sipped his glass of orange juice, straining to think of a discussion topic… 

Randall (chatterbox that he was) never had this problem…

Of course— Randall!

“Why were Randall and his family called to London so suddenly?” Hershel exclaimed.

Henry’s eyes lit up; he was more than happy to discuss Randall.

“Master Randall’s cousin— Lady Ascot’s nephew— has secured a place at Gressenheller University, after…” Henry hesitated, as if he was about to reveal a dark family secret. “…After being overlookedpreviously… Lady Ascot’s sister arranged a party at their estate to celebrate his achievement.”

Hershel hummed. (It certainly paid to be rich!) “I’m sure Randall— and Angela— would have preferred to stay here, with you.”

Henry shrugged. “Perhaps… but Master Ascot insisted they should all go. There is nothing more important to him than family…” Henry paused.

Hershel placed his empty glass on the step. The conversation seemed to have dried up there, but he could sense something was wrong with Henry.

It didn’t appear to be an illness, like a cold (as far as Hershel could see), but whatever it was still had a physical effect on Henry; furrowed brows, slumped shoulders and lacking his usual energy… 

When Henry had answered the door to Hershel, Hershel could have sworn he’d been crying.

“Erm, these are for you—“ Hershel pointed to the cupcakes. “—from the chef!”

“That’s very kind of Abilio,” Henry murmured. “I’ll make sure to thank them later.” He gestured for Hershel to take a cupcake.

Hershel removed the cake’s wrapper, making sure he didn’t drop any crumbs. “You won’t have to… to do any chores later, will you?“

“Master Randall made me promise not to,” Henry huffed, shaking his head. “And he sent you to keep an eye on me, no doubt…”

To save himself for answering, Hershel stuffed the whole cake inside his mouth. 

“But you can’t possibly stay here all day,” Henry said.

The silence returned with a vengeance. 

Hershel slowly ate the cake. (Not only was it delicious but he gave him more time to devise a response!)

When he had finished, Hershel ventured, “I could stay, if you nee— if you want company.”

“I don’t.”

Hershel tried not to take that personally. His parents had told him about a time when he was a young child— when he wouldn’t talk to anyone. It was only through patience, perseverance and care that they had gotten little Hershel to open up.

“Well…” Hershel waved his hands around the room. “Is there anything Randall needs help with?”

Henry started, “Nothing that I can’t—“

“What about up there?” Hershel pointed up to Randall’s loft, stacked with grubby overflowing boxes. “When was the last time Randall had a clear out?”

“Tha—that’s where Master Randall keeps his tools—“ Henry barred the way up the steps with his long arms. “—and some treasures. He wouldn’t want us to—“

“I want to make sure he’s organised, for the next time he drags me out on an adventure.” Hershel ducked under Henry’s arms and marched up the steps. “You can help me, if you choose to.”

Hershel had said that very deliberately; he wasn’t giving Henry an order, and Henry was under no obligation to obey. 

To his surprise, Henry sighed with defeat… and maybe some relief. “Alright, then… If you could bring down those boxes— carefully— I’ll have a look through them…”

-

Several hours had passed by the time they finished cleaning out Randall’s loft, organised everything worth keeping, and chucked out anything Henry deemed ‘for the bin’.

Hershel hoped Randall wouldn’t mind; not that they had moved all of his belongings (Randall was constantly hiding puzzles in Hershel’s room), but the fact that Hershel had gotten Henry to assist him.

Yes, it had been a hard job, but it wasn’t technically one of Henry’s chores…

Besides, Henry had chosen to help, and he seemed… not happier, but more content when he was kept busy.

That was, until Hershel found a small red brooch at the back of the loft. It was shaped like a ladybug, studded with rubies and no bigger than a walnut.

Assuming it was another one of Randall’s treasures, Hershel brought it down to show Henry. 

When he caught sight of the brooch, however, Henry blanched. 

“What is it?” Hershel asked worriedly, holding the brooch out to him.

Henry swallowed. He accepted the brooch and cradled it in his hands as if it were a real ladybug. “This is… This was given to me… as a gift. I thought I’d lost it…”

“Maybe Randall found it?”

“No,” Henry said firmly. “Master Randall knows what this— this means to me.” He frowned up at the loft. “One of the staff might have picked it up, assumed it belonged to Randall, and put it amongst his things… but I swear, this is mine.” 

“I believe you,” Hershel murmured. He could never imagine Henry stealing from the Ascot family, especially not from Randall.

Henry slipped the brooch into his pocket, but immediately removed it again. 

“I need to put this somewhere safe,” he muttered, “without anyone seeing…” Warily, Henry glanced from the bedroom door to Hershel. “Hershel— please can you accompany me for just a few moments?” 

“Of course.”

Following Henry out of the room and down the hall, Hershel kept an eye out for Margot or any other servants who might question them.

On the other side of the house, they reached a narrow stairwell. 

“Does this lead to the tower with the turret?” Hershel whispered as they made their way up the spiralling steps. It was dizzying— and rather dark. 

He almost bumped into Henry, who had stopped at the top of the stairs.

“Yes,” Henry said, pushing open a door, “and my room.”

“Oh…!” Hershel exclaimed as they entered the small circular space.

Hershel had, ignorantly, imagined Henry slept in a room with the other servants, but Henry had his own bed— slender though it was.

Squashed in beside the bed was a plain set of drawers, with a stack of books on top. 

There was a window, slimmer than those in Randall’s room…. Honestly, it reminded Hershel of a prison. 

How many hours had Henry spent in here, feeling like he was trapped in a tower? No wonder he always pottering around the rest of the house… 

“It’s… cosy,” Hershel supplied.

Humming, Henry went to place the ladybug brooch under his pillow. As he moved the pillow, a piece of card— a photograph— fluttered  to the floor. 

Hershel blinked at the figure in the grainy picture—

Henry snatched the photo back up and returned it to its hiding place. He glared at Hershel.

Hershel lifted his hands. “I didn’t see…”

His glare softening, Henry sighed. “My mother, Alice… She gave me this brooch before she… passed on. Ten years ago today.”

“I’m sorry,” Hershel intoned— because what else could he say? 

Hershel was fortunate enough to have two loving, wonderful parents in his life. Yes, his Ma could be a worrywart, and his Pa was prone to wandering off, but that was the worst of it.

At least Hershel’s parents weren’t as strict as Mr. Ascot. Ma might fret occasionally, but not like Angela’s parents…

Even then, none of them had lost a parent, like Henry. 

“It was a long time ago,” Henry dismissed.

They left the room and descended the stairwell in silence… until Henry let out a gasp. Hershel turned. Henry crashed into him headfirst.

Luckily, they were near the bottom of the stairwell. Hershel caught Henry by the shoulders as they stumbled down the last few steps.

“Are you— alright?”

“Yes, I—“ Henry grunted with pain and embarrassment. “—Just missed a step back there… Sorry.”

They emerged into the hallway. Henry straightened up. Reluctantly, Hershel removed his hands from Henry’s shoulders.

“Can you walk?” Hershel breathed.

“O-of course…” Henry strode down the hallway, though Hershel noticed a slight limp in his step.

When they were back in Randall’s room, away from prying ears, Hershel checked, “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Henry lowered himself onto Randall’s red couch. “Believe it or not, I’m actually feeling better than… than I was earlier.” He titled his head back and closed his eyes. 

“That’s— good,” Hershel said, hovering by the door. “I’m glad to hear it.” 

Silence.

“Guess I’ll be off then…?” Hershel reached for the door handle, but he held on a moment longer. He gazed at Henry. “Henry, you know if you ever… want to get out, you’re welcome to visit my house— with or without Randall.”

Hershel didn’t think he would receive a response, until Henry murmured, “Thank you, Hershel. I’ll bear that in mind.”

Hershel smiled. When the silence resumed,  he felt it was a companionable kind of silence. 

He hoped Henry felt the same way.

[dandeleon]

but what if they were pokémon

[toy-pigeon]

thanks to @theriveroflight for sending this post i cracked up at it for like ten minutes straight

[puzzlefaggot]

miracle mask spoilers

[futurebritishgentleman]

[layton-opinions]

this is the most autistic conversation i've ever seen

[sacriou]

Feeling hashtag normal!

[tiya-minuscule]

Another commission for @multiversal-madness and her Au Pandora's Call !

It's a much more nostalgic and sad atmosphere than the other one...

It's also the first time I ever drew Henry and I forgot how much I love his design (and deserved so much more than the canon, don't get me started)

If you want to commission me you can find all the info here

[wololo-01]

We are all so strong/hj 🫡

And Yeah them are all my favorite characters even though I never draw or talk about them, BUT STILL 😭

Original:

[sun-flower-mad]

[mangledscrimp]

[dandeleon]

can you tell who my favorite layton character is

[i-post-random-layton-screenshots]

[futurebritishgentleman]

*does a gay little dance that pisses you off*

some drawings that were originally gonna be for an animation but i never made it so i condensed them all into one img lol

[alto-tenure]

(hershel is not recovered from the incident either but angela and henry think he's saying that about them)

[probablygayattorneys]

keep cool down in the quiet of the morning sweat blood when the sun comes through thick mist on the pond before the temple headed down for the final rendezvous

(training montage, the mountain goats)