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"Where are we?" A soft, gentle question that filled the otherwise silent room. Jekyll looked towards the only other person in the room for an answer, a slightly shorter man with white hair, a few black spots in the back, and wrinkled skin, just like his own. To his surprise, he found he was holding the man's hand, although he didn't know why. Despite its markings of age, it was soft to hold, and pretty warm. He squeezed it gently, as if to prove to himself that it was there before he raised his gaze up to meet the man's eyes. Although he didn't recognize him, just like he didn't recognize the room they were in, he smiled at him as merely looking at those features caused a strange warm feeling to rise in his chest.
".. In our house." It took a while, but the other man replied silently, his eyes refusing to raise and meet the other's. Instead he stared down at a book in his lap, sighing as he returned the squeeze in their joined palms. "We're in our house, Henry."
Jekyll nodded wordlessly, taking the time to look around and note the details in said house. It did seem familiar, after a while, and even if he couldn't note specific memories from this place, he knew he had been there before. Still, the room was of less interest compared to the man he was sitting next to. He turned his head to stare again, shamelessly drinking in the beautiful face next to him with a soft smile. He rubbed the other's hand again, finding the worn knuckles fitting perfectly against his fingers. Some time passed, and the shorter man seemed to frown more as the minutes trickled by. Eventually, he turned to look at Jekyll, his eyes bright with a faded blue that still held some spark. They were enchanting to look at, even when they begun filling with tears as their gazes met.
"Do you remember me? At all?" He asked, his voice trembling with lost hope.
"No," Jekyll replied truthfully, thinking about it for a few seconds before raising their hands, placing a kiss on the other man's own, "but I remember that I love you."