Dr Henry Jekyll | Edward Hyde
@satanbymyside.bsky.social
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3:58. I have injected 5cl of the formula. Salty, bitter taste. No noticeable behavioural differences.(RP|21+| PARODY)
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In each of us there are two natures. If this primitive duality of man - good and evil - could be housed in separate identities, life would be relieved of all that is unbearable.

•#RP
•#21+
•#Descriptive
•#AU/Crossovers welcome
•#MVRP
Adam with a faint, forgiving smile. “Remarkable craftsmanship. Even after being cast like a stone, it survives.”

Straightening, Jekyll’s expression softened. “Perhaps it is not only fear that teaches us, Yeshua,” he said thoughtfully. “Perhaps mercy does too—when we are forgiven for-
“You’ve performed a most dramatic experiment, my friend.”

He bent to examine the toaster’s battered side, fingers brushing the dent with an almost tender precision. “It appears resilient enough,” he murmured, glancing toward-
Jekyll was the first to move, stepping forward from where he had been frozen mid-thought. His face was a mixture of alarm and awe, as though he had just witnessed both science and chaos at once.

“My word,” he breathed, surveying the scorched wall and the trembling creature.-
Then his eyes flicked to Erik, amusement touching his tone. “Though, I confess, the hum is rather ominous. One might almost believe it does possess a soul.”
“Fascinating,” he murmured, crouching slightly to inspect the mechanism. “Some form of electrical heating, I should think—filaments converting current into radiant energy.”

He glanced toward Yeshua with a faint, almost boyish smile. “Not alive, I assure you. Merely efficient.”
Henry dragged a ragged breath, his eyes red-rimmed, glistening. “God forgive me, I cannot see him as myself. I cannot. But…” His jaw clenched hard as though forcing the words out hurt. “I will speak to him. I will face him.”
“I have lived in silence because I thought it safer for you. Because I thought if I kept myself hidden, you would never have to touch the darkness in me. And now—now you tell me you love it. Him. Me.”
“Margo…” The name cracked in his throat, pained, reverent, desperate all at once. He turned away from her, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes as though he could blot out the sting of her tears or his own.
That you’d rather have my shadow than the man standing in front of you?”

It wasn’t an accusation so much as a wound laid bare.
His fingers tightened around the bench until they trembled. He looked at her fully now, eyes glassy with hurt.

“Do you understand what you’re saying to me?” he asked quietly. “That the part of me I loathe, the part I’ve tried to bury, is the one you’ve chosen?-
“He never hesitated…” Henry repeated her words under his breath, a bitter, stunned sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. “And yet I—” He stopped himself, swallowing hard. “I have loved you all this time, Margo. God help me, even in my silence I thought you knew. And you give that word to him.”
-
“You…” His voice cracked before he steadied it. “You love him.”

It wasn’t a question. It was an echo of the thing already written across her face. He drew a ragged breath, eyes flicking from the floor to her and back, like he couldn’t decide which was safer to look at.
-
Henry went very still, as though her words had struck him physically. The room seemed to shrink around them, every sound — the hiss of the lamps, the faint tick of a clock — suddenly louder.

His lips parted once, closed again. He pressed his palm flat to the edge of the workbench, knuckles white.
-
When you look at him… when you see him smile at you with my face, do you not fear what he is beneath it?”
As though he were some misunderstood soul who only needs kindness. You speak of him like he is—” Henry stopped, chest rising sharply, as though the words themselves were too bitter to finish.

Finally, he looked at her, his eyes wide with something almost childlike. “Tell me, Margo.
You call him not a monster, but I know what he is better than anyone. He came from me. He is everything I cannot be, everything I cannot allow myself to become.”

He paced a short distance, raking a trembling hand through his hair. “And yet you… you defend him.
Henry’s brows drew together, lines etching deeper across his tired face. He turned toward her, almost sharply, though his voice carried more ache than anger.

“Margo, how can you say that? You’ve seen him—you’ve seen what he does, what he’s capable of.
Henry’s jaw tightened.

“He’s dangerous.”
“If you are beside me, then yes… perhaps I might remember how to enjoy such things again.”He offered her a faint smile, fragile but real. “Sleep first, then the park. A promise.”
“I cannot recall the last time I strolled simply for the pleasure of it,” he admitted. “No errands, no experiments weighing on my mind—only the world as it is.”He let out a quiet breath, almost a sigh, but one touched with relief rather than strain.
Jekyll’s eyes softened, the faintest trace of wonder glinting through the exhaustion. “A walk,” he echoed, as though the idea itself were something foreign, half-forgotten. His thumb brushed against the back of her hand, slow and thoughtful.
“You really like him, don’t you?” he asked at last, voice low, like he was afraid of the answer.
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