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The atmosphere during the drive was similar to the calm before a storm. The air crackled with tension, stretched thin between two darkening clouds, until one grew too heavy to hold itself together, the armistice was broken, and a torrent of rain and thunder was unleashed upon the sleeping world.
These twin clouds were Luke and Hershel, sitting side by side in silent stalemate as the car jostled and rumbled down the winding road. Luke's party attire had been signifigantly downgraded over the course of the evening- his hair was ruffled, his suspenders had slipped halfway down his shoulders as if he couldn't be bothered to hitch them up, his bowtie drooping like a wilted flower battered by rock-hard raindrops. Both his eyes and nose were reddened from crying, his cheeks still stinging from the salt of his tears. He stared at nothing out the window, one cheek resting on a hand, his furrowed brow betraying the troubled swirl of thoughts within.
Hershel, for someone that had been declared dead just a few short hours (hours? had it truly only been hours?) ago, looked significantly less frazzled than his apprentice. He kept his eyes steadily on the road, driving with minute twitches of his hand on the steering wheel to keep the car on course. However serene he may have seemed, the professor was keenly aware of the boy in the seat next to him, of the storm clouds brewing behind his eyes. It was extremely rare for Luke to be this utterly silent when they were together, even if he was just humming absently or muttering aloud to himself while working through a puzzle. Luke had always hated silence as long as Hershel had known him. It felt too uncomfortable, too lonely. He was nearly always chattering away about something or another to fill the blank space between himself and feeling alone.
Now, however, the silence was more than empty, even though no one was speaking. It was both hurt and sharp, like a bruised and bloodied hand curling into a defensive fist, unwilling to allow itself to be injured anymore. Hershel couldn't tell whether Luke was giving him the cold shoulder on purpose or if he was simply lost in thought. He fervently hoped it was the latter; Hershel hated it when Luke was angry with him and (perhaps more to the point) did not have the energy to smooth over a dispute tonight.
Hershel drove on in silence. Raindrops spattered the windows, and the rhythmic squeak of the windshield wipers combined with the sounds of the storm outside was almost soothing. Hershel half hoped it would put Luke to sleep- Lord only knew the boy needed the rest after all he'd been through in the past 24 hours- but Luke's eyes remained open and Hershel drove on.
After maybe thirty minutes of this, the silence had grown unbearable. He had to say something, anything, to alleviate the tension. Hershel cleared his throat.
"You look exhausted. You should try and get some sleep while you can, my boy, it's a school night."
Luke groaned, squeezing his eyes shut in distress. "Oh, no, you're right. Ughhhh, why do I have to go to school? I'm probably going to fall asleep in class at this rate.
"Now, Luke, one must always remain awake and attentive in class," Hershel lectured automatically. "It's important to-"
"-show your teachers the proper respect by paying attention, blah blah blah, I know, I know." Luke interrupted. Hershel was surprised at his sudden rudeness, although he really couldn't blame Luke for his foul mood. "I don't even know why I went to this stupid party anyway."
"I would like to remind you that you were the one who wanted to tag along with me to this 'stupid party' in the first place," Hershel responded. Luke made no reply to this.
"Well, at any rate, we have about an hour left until we're home. Do try and get some rest," Hershel implored. He attempted to rest a hand on Luke's shoulder, but he twisted away. "You've had a long day."
"Oh, have I?!" Luke snapped, crossing his arms and turning his whole body away from the professor. Hershel suspected that this was to hide the tears indubitably welling up in his eyes- Luke always cried when he was frustrated, or scared, or just when he felt any strong emotion at all. Hershel sighed, feeling equal parts sympathetic, guilty, and irritated. He understood exactly why Luke was acting so crabby.
That very same night, Hershel Layton has faked his death as part of a ploy to solve a mystery. There was a murderer at large at the party that Hershel and Luke were attending, and to throw the killer off his game, Hershel had framed him. Unfortunately, this move would have only worked if everyone involved believed that Hershel had truly been killed… including Luke. Sweet Luke, who had upon discovering the body has held the professor's hand as he begged his mentor to stay strong. Stubborn Luke, who had refused to believe at first that Hershel had died. Poor, dear Luke, whose screams and sobs of grief and rage Hershel had been forced to listen to but could do nothing to soothe. Luke had lived for six hours and twenty-seven minutes that night fully believing that his best friend had died, that he was completely alone in the world.
So, really, Hershel couldn't blame Luke for being a bit snappish.
Of course, Hershel was alive, and he could still see in his mind's eye how Luke's entire face had lit up, like fireflies taking wing, when Hershel revealed himself. He could still feel Luke's tiny arms wrapping around him as hard as the boy physically could. Luke had not seemed angry at Hershel then, but perhaps he had been so overwhelmed with gratitude and happiness that his friend was alive that he hadn't thought to be furious with the professor for breaking his heart like that for the sake of solving a mystery. That anger seemed to be bubbling to the surface presently, now that the immediate danger was out of the way.
"Luke, are you angry with me?" Hershel asked quietly, quietly enough that Luke could reasonably pretend not to hear if he didn't want to answer. Hershel heard a tiny tear-choked intake of breath from the passenger seat.
"Am… I… angry? With you?" Luke repeated slowly. He let out a little mirthless chuckle that seemed more like a hiccup through his tears. "Am I angry with you?! Professor, of COURSE I'm angry with you!"
The words stung, but Hershel made no attempt to cut Luke off. This could only be resolved if they were both fully transparent with their feelings.
"Let's see, you faked your death- convincingly, I might add. You let me be the one to discover your body." Luke glared down at his fingers as he ticked off Hershel's offenses. "You heard me crying for you but you didn't do anything. You let me believe you were dead for SEVEN HOURS, PROFESSOR-"
"Well, okay, six and a half-" Hershel defended weakly.
"WHATEVER!" Luke yelled. He was really in it now; his face was bright red, tears and mucus dampening his scowling face. He might have been almost cute, like a little red ladybug, if it hadn't been for his furious expression and words. "I thought you were dead, Professor! I thought I had lost you forever! You of all people should know how that feels." He jabbed a finger accusingly at Hershel.
"Hey," Hershel warned, feeling anger begin to well beneath his calm facade. The anger was mostly a response to the jolt of guilt that shot through him. That was right, he did know how it felt to lose a friend. He had experienced it more than he'd ever wish on any person, especially not his dear apprentice, not someone so young and full of love. How could he? What has happened to you, he wondered to himself.
Based on his facial expression, Luke knew he had gone too far, but he didn't care, he couldn't care. In his fury and grief the only thing on his mind was making the professor feel as bad as possible.
"I know you said you did it to protect me, but you left me all alone. I could have gotten murdered, and you wouldn't have been there to save me. I could have died. What, did you just not care? Is that it? All you cared about was solving the mystery. You didn't actually care about protecting me."
There it was.
The ultimate accusation. Hershel had had it leveled against him multiple times, by the police, by bystanders, even by his friends from time to time- the accusation that he didn't care about anything but solving mysteries, that he'd toss aside anyone in an instant if it benefited the pursuit of an answer. Hershel was accustomed to this accusation, and he rarely found the need to deny it, as Luke would always seize the opportunity to aggressively and loudly assert that the professor was the kindest and most caring person he'd ever met, and would never sacrifice someone else for the sake of his own curiosity.
He always said it with all the confidence in his little twelve-year-old heart, so confidently that the Professor almost believed him.
But now Luke was the one leveling the accusation, and there was no one to defend the professor. No one to convince the professor of his own innocence.
Guilt and anger boiled over in a tsunami of emotion. He pounded a fist on the steering wheel.
"Lucas James Triton, do not talk to me like that! You know very well that you would have been in more danger if not for my plan. Everything I've ever done is to protect you. If not for me, you might be dead right now, and how do you think I'd feel then?!"
"I know! I'm sorry!" Luke snapped, a sob forcing its way out of his throat. He covered his face, shoulders shaking. Hershel fixed his eyes on the road, feeling tears of his own prick his eyes. He quickly blinked them away before he could fall. He shouldn't have let his temper get away from him. Luke was only a child- a scared one at that, one that had spent the evening in a terrible state of emotion. His emotional response wasn't his fault. What was it that the Professor had told Luke all those years ago, when they'd first met? A gentleman always keeps a level head.
What a fool Hershel seemed now. A fool and a hypocrite.
Silence settled over the pair again for a few moments, until Luke recovered his composure enough to speak again, much more quietly this time.
"…I'm sorry for shouting at you, Professor. I guess I was just upset that you didn't tell me what you were planning. Could have spared me a lot of heartache."
Hershel sighed. "I understand, Luke, but I couldn't have told you. My deception only would have worked if everyone had truly believed that I had died, and unfortunately that included you. You understand that, right?"
Luke swiped at his tears irritably. "Oh, don't give me that. I could have faked it, you know."
"Not convincingly enough for my purposes, though. If anyone had guessed that you were faking your grief, it could have been disastrous."
"So you were using me?" Luke interrupted.
"No, my boy, no," Hershel assured him, his heart squeezing at the sadness in Luke's voice. "I promise, if I had any choice, I wouldn't have-"
Luke let out a harsh ha! sound that was less a laugh and more a cry of disbelief. "Please. I don't believe that for a moment. You knew what you were doing. You just didn't want to tell me because you thought I would blab to the police, is that it?"
"What? No! That's not it at all!" Hershel felt his cheeks flushing as his voice raised in volume involuntarily. He fought to control his emotions. "I just-"
"You didn't trust me." Luke cut in.
Hershel kept his eyes on the road, unable to reply.
"There it is. I knew that. You just don't trust me," Luke went on, his tone growing angrier. "You think I'm just a useless little kid who can't handle the truth, eh? Don't be shy, now, admit it. You don't trust me enough to-"
"Luke-"
"See, that's your problem. You never trust anyone but yourself. You never let anybody in, even when they could help you. We're supposed to be a team. I'm supposed to be your friend."
"Luke, of course I trust you!" Hershel shouted. "I trust you with my life!"
"THEN WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?!" Luke screamed back.
Hershel slammed on the brakes (luckily they were alone on the road) and turned to stare at Luke. The boy was glaring at him with teary ferocity, his lower lip trembling. He seemed so very small but so filled with righteous anger that he met Hershel's eyes with unwavering emotion. Hershel realized that this was the first time they'd ever had such an intense row over anything. They tended to agree on most fronts, and they both hated conflict enough to put aside whatever small differences there were. But this issue was too important, too personal to both of them to leave on the shelf. Luke met his eyes without a hint of deference, just heartbreak, anger, and desperate fear- not fear of Hershel himself, but of losing him. Luke had always had a habit of going along happily with whatever the Professor said, either out of love or blind trust, but not now. Luke wasn't blindly agreeing with what Hershel's choices as he so often had before, but instead challenging him, calling him out for hurting his feelings.
And it felt good.
Hershel was still upset, but a little hint of pride in Luke was beginning to shine through the storm clouds. Hershel had always been a mentor figure to Luke, but he considered himself a confidant first and foremost- a friend before a mentor. It was oddly refreshing to have Luke also take the same stance, to argue with Hershel and not let the Professor's flaws go unchecked. For the best thing a friend can do is help you grow by calling you out on your mistakes, and Luke was certainly doing that.
Hershel let his posture relax. "You're right, my boy. It was insensitive of me to not tell you, and I should have taken your feelings into account." He nearly always felt uncomfortable admitting his flaws, but now he just felt tired of fighting. "Furthermore, as your mentor, I should have set a better precedent of transparency between us by informing you of my plan. After all, you're right. We're supposed to be a team, and friendship like ours is meant to be built on trust. We could have figured out a better way to solve the mystery together, but I was so caught up in my- my fear of losing you, that I- well, I- I didn't think to tell you. You deserved better. I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?"
Luke had been staring at Hershel for this entire speech with wide, teary eyes. Now, he sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "Good heavens, you couldn't sound any stiffer if you tried."
Hershel tensed. Anxiety struck his stomach. "Is… is that a- a no?"
Luke did a double take, squinting at the professor in confusion. "What? Of course I forgive you! Why wouldn't I"
Hershel felt tears of relief fill his eyes, which he instantly blinked away. "Oh, goodness, you scared me for a moment." A chuckle rose from his throat. "You… Oh dear."
Luke burst into tear-choked laughter. "Wh-what, you seriously thought I wouldn't forgive you?!"
Hershel giggled- actually giggled, like a schoolchild- tears burning his eyes as he squeezed them shut. "You seemed quite upset there for a moment. I thought perhaps you were going to bite my fingers off."
Luke let out a snort. He gasped and covered his nose, alarmed at the sound. The friends regarded one another for a silent moment before the rainclouds opened up and they burst into hysterical laughter, the sort of relieved laughter that can only be experienced by those who have spent a very long period in a state of high emotional distress. They both knew it was probably situationally inappropriate, but it felt so good to smile and laugh again after so much crying, shouting, and overall unpleasantness. Hershel opened his arms as Luke unbelted his seatbelt and clambered onto him, laughing all the way.
"Oh, Professor, you have no idea how scared I was!" Luke gasped, wiping away tears or mirth and sadness. "I thought you were gone forever, and I- I-"
He broke into sobs, his small body torn between hiccups and hysterical giggles. Hershel wrapped his arms around Luke, pulling him tight into a hug as he hushed his friend."
"Shhhhhh, it's okay. Don't cry, now," Hershel whispered, his speech punctuated with Snickers. "I'm here, my boy. I'm here."
"I thought you were dead and it was all my fault and-"
"No, no, hush. Oh, you sweet, silly young thing, I'm so sorry. I've caused you so much worry." Tears rolled down Hershel's cheeks, plipping softly onto Luke's hat. He quickly wiped his face with his sleeve before the boy could see. "Shhhh. It's alright. I'm not going anywhere, my boy."
Luke went on blubbering like this for some time, alternating between unintelligible sobbing and muffled whimpering as Hershel hushed him, running his hands along the boy's back in hopes of soothing him. Hershel had never been exemplary in physical affection, especially not when tears were involved, but he gave it his best shot. He found himself gently rocking the boy back and forth in his lap almost instinctively. Luke needed him.
"I'm sorry for shouting at you, Professor," Luke mumbled softly against Hershel's chest after his sobs had petered out. "I was really mean, wasn't I?"
Hershel chuckled. "Oh, my dear boy, that's perfectly understandable. I likely would have done the same in your place. It needed to be said."
"I could have been a lot nicer about it, though," Luke argued.
"That's true as well," Hershel admitted. "but given what you've been through just tonight, I don't think politeness is my largest priority. Besides. I was rather unkind to you as well. I'm terribly sorry for shouting at you. A gentleman never raised his voice, especially not to those he cares about."
Luke hummed in agreement, pulling back to look at Hershel, a shrewd expression crossing his tearstained face. "It's okay, Professor, really. But-" he lifted a pinky finger. "-I'll only forgive you if you promise to never, ever break my heart like that again. And if you must, promise that you'll at least talk it through with me beforehand. Okay? We're a team. You can trust me."
Hershel smiled, crooking his pinky around Luke's. "Of course, my boy. I promise."
"You promise?" Luke insisted. "Cross your heart?"
"Cross my heart." Hershel confirmed. "A gentleman never breaks his word."
"Then I forgive you," Luke said matter-of-factly. He let go of Hershel's pinky and wrapped his arms around his mentor's torso instead. Hershel sighed as Luke's weight sunk into him, a comforting pressure similar to being laid on by a dog. Luke was honestly getting too big for this sort of affection, seeing as he was nearly thirteen and just hit a growth spurt just a few months prior, but Hershel didn't much care and he got the feeling Luke didn't either.
After a few minutes of warm silence- a much more pleasant silence than the tension they had endured just minutes before- Hershel sighed and patted Luke's shoulders. "This is lovely, and I'm relieved to see you in a good mood again, but I do need to get you home at a semi-reasonable hour so your parents don't hunt me for sport. Do you mind hopping up?"
Luke didn't reply, and Hershel only realized when he heard a faint snore that the boy had fallen asleep. Apparently all the excitement and horror of the evening had gotten to him.
Hershel went completely still, heartbeat skipping. He didn't want to move at all for fear of waking him up. Luke mumbled sleepily and turned his face towards Hershel's warmth. The professor felt tears welling in his eyes. Somehow, this simple coincidence was too much for his heart to handle- after all the distress, misery, and grief of the past 24 hours, Luke still trusted him enough to fall asleep on him. Luke truly did love and trust him, even after everything. The tears rolled down his cheeks, and for once the professor didn't try to stop them. He wrapped his arms loosely around the boy, allowing himself to smile.
He knew that he should put Luke back into his seat and start driving home, but he found it hard to peel himself away from this brief respite. Luke seemed so peaceful like this, far away from the misery and uncertainty he had gone through that night, and honestly Hershel couldn't bring himself to go home just yet. He'd have to face Luke's parents, who would likely be furious at Hershel for the stunt he pulled at the party. He'd have to go to work in the morning. This little bubble of peace and warmth with his best friend was too inviting.
Just a little longer, Hershel promised himself. Just a few more minutes.
*The pair ended up making their way home at five A.M. Luke was almost late for school and Hershel recieved quite the earful from the boy's parents for keeping their son out so late.