Utterson's POV

In all 25 years of friendship, Henry had never secluded himself like this.

I never saw him at Hastie's dinner parties anymore, nor did we meet regularly like we used to. He had his dark moments, no doubt, but nothing like this. I hoped he would let me in like he did all those times before. But I tried, to no prevail. He simply brushed me off and said it was nothing. And I had to respect that. If he wished to be left alone, left alone he shall be.

Though, there was this voice, quiet yet persistent, that I might lose Jekyll over this. I had years of proof to back up his loyalty, but everything changed. He had become a person I hadn't recognized. He was quiet, significantly lonelier, and started to involve himself with the wrong people. Namely Edward Hyde. I had no idea why he was so fixated on this young man, but I feared that he might be behind Henry's sudden exclusion.

It was no secret I was scared for him. I had discussed this with Lanyon many times, though I was more talking at him. Every time I brought it up he sighed, almost preparing himself for the spoken essay I was about to provide. I just rattled off every thought I had to him, subtle hums of agreeance every now and again.

"Gabriel, instead of telling all of this to me, why don't you tell him? You are his closest and oldest friend, he will surely hear you out and give you some sort of closure at least," He said after draining his glass of wine. I nodded, an idea forming in my head. At the same rate, fear grew in my heart.

"Do you think he's going to leave?" I asked. He sighed, setting his cup down and facing me. My hands were in my lap, fiddling with one another, while my lower lip was caught in my teeth.

"John, whatever I tell you, it won't help, will it? You have a tendency, my friend, to come to conclusions without the help of others. Though personally, I think Henry is just going through something. You are far too close for anything to come between you."

"But things have changed, Hastie, and they will continue to change. What if he's changing too," I said softly, swallowing my nerves.

"He might be, considering the people he's involving himself with now. He's always been a curious soul, a social butterfly if you will. He is naturally unpredictable, who knows what he'll do? Not many things in his life have been permanent, but you have." I looked up, surprised by all the people pointing that out, it was him. "You have been by his side for over 20 years. I highly doubt any change or declaration could waver his loyalty for you," He told me, patting my shoulder. My gaze was glued to the floor, the gears in my brain turning, trying to decide if this would entirely ruin my life or not.

"Thank you, Lanyon, I have to go," I rushed, shooting out of my chair, grabbing my jacket, and stepping out into the cool breeze of the night. I slid my jacket on as I walked home, hugging myself as I trekked across the cobblestone. As I walked, I saw Henry's street. I continued as a small tear fell down my cheek. The knowledge I will likely never be there again struck me like a knife. Yet I journeyed on.

Once inside my own home, I lit the fire, letting it spread from log to log, destroying all in its path. The fire was not affected by pain or mercy, it ripped the life from all that was good. People created it, curious about its abilities, oblivious to their underestimation of it. It hurt, it stole, and it killed.

I watched for a moment as it licked into the cool air before making my way to my desk. Dipping my quill into the ink, I spilled my heart and soul onto those pieces of parchment. Pages were quickly filled up with a confession I had never uttered to a soul. A declaration that could have me killed. Secrets that I have never been able to shake. Something that had been there for years and will continue for years to come. Unless this gets into the wrong hands.

Tears pour down my face as I fold the pages tightly, slipping them into an envelope and scribbling my best friend's name on it.

'My dear Henry Jekyll'. A man who I have loved every day of my life since I first laid eyes on him. A man who will soon loathe the day I was born.