[ That's all he needs, really. To know the extent Hannibal would go, to know just what's waiting on the other side of that. He expects it to be him because Hannibal is a beast of his own making, nearly infallible with his ability to slip out of harm's way. So, it must be Will who dies first, isn't it? And he will watch from wherever he ends up as Hannibal takes and takes and takes until he's returned to Will. They can't be apart, can they?

So, instead there is the kiss and the hold they have on each other. The physical part of this is such an interesting progression of their relationship -- it feels nothing like kissing Molly, like kissing Alana so long ago. It feels like an extension of everything else he craves from Hannibal -- love, acceptance, knowing. Hannibal speaks and Will savors the ghost of the touch of Hannibal's mouth, feels his eyes close as his forehead presses to Hannibal's. ]

It was less of a struggle to know and more of a fight to let myself see. There was so much about you I didn't want to accept. I -- I didn't think you were capable of it. For a long time, I thought there was no way you could have felt...

[ Felt love, for Will. Affection. Anything soft and true that isn't allowed for monsters, for people like Hannibal. The possibility was unfathomable, even to someone like Will. ]