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[ week six ➝ hannibal ]
[ Will dies by Percy's sword and there is nothing more fitting when it comes to his entire experience here. There is nothing else Will could have wanted more than that.
But then he wakes in a room on a train, jerking upwards and scrambling back to grab the sheets on top of him. He is -- he is clean. He is blood free and his hair is shorter and his beard is lighter. He is in a white shirt and black slacks and his heart is pounding because he smells the ocean again.
Then, the memories come flooding back and he feels himself choke, a hand moving up to cover his mouth as his eyes dart around wildly and his knees slowly pull to his chest. Hannibal, he thinks, must be out there but all he can do is listen to the screaming static in his brain as his eyes cloud over and overflow with heavy tears. He moves his arms to curl around his legs and his fingers dig into his own knees through the fabric and oh -- oh, he begins to sob.
It's been so long since he cried, he nearly forgot what a relief it was to do so. ]
But then he wakes in a room on a train, jerking upwards and scrambling back to grab the sheets on top of him. He is -- he is clean. He is blood free and his hair is shorter and his beard is lighter. He is in a white shirt and black slacks and his heart is pounding because he smells the ocean again.
Then, the memories come flooding back and he feels himself choke, a hand moving up to cover his mouth as his eyes dart around wildly and his knees slowly pull to his chest. Hannibal, he thinks, must be out there but all he can do is listen to the screaming static in his brain as his eyes cloud over and overflow with heavy tears. He moves his arms to curl around his legs and his fingers dig into his own knees through the fabric and oh -- oh, he begins to sob.
It's been so long since he cried, he nearly forgot what a relief it was to do so. ]
no subject
Will-
[ There's firmness in Hannibal's voice that's familiar. It's the sort of calm, rational professionalism that made Hannibal an excellent psychiatrist and doctor. His voice is steady and calm, a pillar meant to ground people in distress. Will has heard it before, though in contexts where it was more sinister. Yet now, there is a note that's different. There's concern there that's genuine, as well as just a tiny bit of relief that Will is here. As he expected, he hadn't needed to wait long, yet still... He couldn't help that lingering worry that perhaps Will wouldn't join him here.
He sits on the bed close to Will, because there's no need to wonder about whatever space is appropriate, not anymore. He immediately reaches out to Will's head and brushes his fingers against his temple until they push into his hair soothingly and gently. He doesn't try to pull his face up, but the gesture is only meant to say one thing: ]
I am here.
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He is filled with such relief, such potent, overwhelming relief that he acts on instinct -- he is jerking forward to grab at Hannibal, to pull him forward in a rough hold as he presses his face to Hannibal's shoulder and holds him with such feverish desperation that he can barely think. It's an animal panic, really, his brain rewritten so heavily that he needs to cling to his predator for stability now instead of fleeing underfoot.
His breath was caught and his hands shaky when he tugged Hannibal close but now with the other man in his grasp, the sobs return again and he shakes with it. The potent grief that he hadn't allowed himself to feel, not when he had to survive just -- just long enough to be here again. To have Hannibal whole and feel his heartbeat under his hands.
It's then that he speaks, through the overwhelming emotion, the grief and rage and aching loneliness that consumed him these past few days. It's raw and hoarse and he doesn't even need to say much, does it? Not really, when all he gets out is -- ]
Please. K-Keep talking.
[ He needs it so much, he needs the reaffirmation of Hannibal's whole and living body. Three days, three days since he woke up alone in their bed and feeling an aching confusion because it was just so odd compared to what their routine was. Three days since he read Hannibal's letter and knew what he had to do and also knew so desperately, so firmly in that moment that no, he could not live a life without Hannibal. Three days since he stared down at Hannibal's cold corpse and looked, and watched his last moments with a terrifying clarity that Will never thought he would need for Hannibal.
Oh god, he loves him so much. ]
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He found it fitting that it was in fact both.
Hannibal holds Will close, not as tightly as Will grips him, but comfortingly. His hands rest on Will's head and back, holding him as he sobs, and his own head finds the crook of Will's shoulder. He's always the calm in the comparison to the swell of Will's overwhelming emotions (which are not always his own), and he thinks that he'll be patient and let Will push out all he feels in this moment, because he knows that what Will did, what he had to do— It was not easy for him. If Hannibal were a man instead of a monster, he might feel guilt over pushing Will to that, but he doesn't. Personally, he only feels great, warm relief to be reunited with Will again.
But he expects it to take a while before Will actually speaks coherently. When Will makes his request, Hannibal's head moves slightly, the small, curious sort of cant of his head, but there's no hesitation at all. When Hannibal speaks, his voice is low, since they're words only meant for Will to hear, but they're clear. ]
I have missed you.
[ That comes first, of course, simple and sincere, because even if he's had his fun taunting people and reuniting with others in equal parts, his gaze still often fell upon the window impatiently. ]
I meant all that I said in my letter. I know I do not need to tell you, since you know me as no one else can, but this is only a passing fancy. A forgotten chapter in our story, one to be edited out for not fitting with who we are or what we are meant to be. If the story had just been my own, this chapter would be fitting, but now, we exist together. We always will.
So, I have been dreaming awake. Wandering through my palace, seeing the rooms we share, and looking at the locked doors wondering what will come. What we will fill them with. I have been dreaming of our future and where we will go. I have said Cuba, since it is convenient for our purposes, but we can go anywhere. But "where" does not matter. Only that when we come to rest, we will be together. It will be quiet, since that is at least how I would view these affairs. It is an overindulgence before we settle quietly, at least until we grow bored. But that is later. In my dream for us, we will both live as we have wanted.
[ Even in Hannibal's calm, there's a moment where he breathes in, his own breath just barely stuttering from how emotion comes to him too. It's still softer, more shallow than Will's, but his hands tighten as he embraces him. They are two souls united into one, and speaking so candidly of what Hannibal had always hoped for them, of what he had offered once and seen Will be unable to take, it's everything he could want. He speaks again, and there's love, open and easy in his voice. ]
We will live. We will have our sweet, easy peace. No one will look for us and no one will seek to understand what they should not.
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He will calm, of course, the loud sobs turning into hiccuping breaths and a shivering body. He sniffs and his eyes squeeze shut so tightly as he holds onto Hannibal, tries to find his footing again. He knew it the moment he opened that letter all the way back in the house he kept with Molly, he knew it the moment he saw Jack Crawford in his driveway -- he will never live a life without Hannibal. He cannot. It's truly impossible for him.
There's relief too when Hannibal doesn't immediately talk about his kill. It was necessary for Will, less of an indulgence and more just pure need. They asked him, again and again, why eat her -- but wasn't it obvious? Hannibal said to Will if Will died, he would kill everyone and eat them whole. Will had to do the same in return. He couldn't consume Hannibal so he had to eat Natalie. It was only right, the only way he could deal with the crippling loss in a way that honored them both -- both Hannibal for dying and Natalie for killing him.
When he speaks, it's hoarse and weary and all Will wants to do is crawl deep inside of Hannibal's love and never come out. It's where he feels safe and whole and it's only now that he's accepted it that he wants it, eternally. ]
I feel a staggering amount of guilt. Misplaced yet potent as it eats away at my insides. It makes me ache for you -- the clarity you bring, the reassurance in what we are. What we've become. What... I've become. These connections we've forged here in this short amount of time, I --
[ He breathes out slow, still shaking as his arms tighten and he blinks against Hannibal's shirt. He thinks of Percy then, of the experience he feels as if he's just forced upon him. It wasn't his intention, he never wanted to be malicious with his friendship. ]
I want them broken. I want a reset into what I know, what I can handle. Just you and I and the quiet of our intimacy.
[ And then he falls silent again and he finally feels himself calm, hold loosening into something less brutal. He does not untangle himself from Hannibal though, just continues to breathe him in and savor his presence. ]
... I just want to disappear.
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It's one of those moments that fools people, had fooled people, because outwardly, this looks like nothing short of love and fondness. And it is, because Hannibal comforts and consoles Will with nothing but love in his heart. The mistake is simply thinking that Hannibal's love is anything like someone else's. Because as Will holds him back, almost breaking from what Hannibal has made him do, he feels nothing for that despair. Where another couple would lament the suffering of the other, the two of them hardly do. It may not be delight, but it's certainly some kind of enjoyment they both feel at the other's pain.
When Will's grip finally loosens, Hannibal shifts only slightly. He presses a kiss to his temple, another comforting gesture, but also appreciative. ]
We will disappear, Will.
[ There's certainty in that, because he had warned at least Xion of such. If Hannibal ever saw any of the people here once they left this train... He would have to kill them. It wasn't even necessarily a want, but they know far, far too much. So, they have to disappear. There's little other option. ]
If you were able to forget all of this, to truly reset to who you were before we awoke on the train... Would you?
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Will has loved killing in the past, has reveled in the destruction, has felt a great mighty feeling at letting blood spill. It's a dangerous thing, feeling your fingers slick with it. The real problem with it here, the reason Will feels as he does -- is that Hannibal was not there with him. There was always a way back to him after it all, either with Randall Tier's body on Hannibal's dining room table or in a loving embrace after the Dragon was slain.
There was no embrace here, no one to wrap his knuckles and pull him back from where he went. There was also no certainty he'd find his way back to Hannibal. If they'd vote for him even if he asked. So, there was only Natalie. It was a cold, terrifying thing, being alone with his actions again. He couldn't bear it.
And now, he is so, so very tired. He ends up sinking downwards, pulling Hannibal along with him onto the bed. Still wrapped with him, taking comfort from Hannibal as he can get it, and with the kiss, it finally has Will closing his eyes as the last bit of tension eases out of him.
Hannibal's question has him wondering. Would he forget? Would he forget what he's learned of Hannibal and himself here? Would he forget Chane, so loyal and so interesting in her silence? Would he forget Percy, the hero who slayed him, the monster? He's not sure he wants to but oh, it hurts. The experience hurts. ]
I don't know. I feel too tired to think, slow like molasses and numb from existing. I don't know if I can safely make that decision right now, even with the want for it.
[ And then he pauses before giving a huff of laughter, wry. ]
And I'm not sure I trust you to either.
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Then do not. Let your mind wade into the waters of your conciousness and drift away with the current. I will watch and wait on the shore, as I always do. As I always have.
[ Hannibal sighs, and it's a soft sound as he relaxes too. It's perhaps the first time he's relaxed fully in a few weeks, he thinks, because there is something quite freeing about death. There is no more need to be anything but who—what—he is, because even in their moments of privacy, there was always that idea in the back of his head about what he might do next. It didn't matter at all now. All that was left was Percy. Like Dante, he had been lead to see the Devil, so all that remained was to cross the final river and emerge to finally see the stars again, enlightened and triumphant.
...Though he can't let that wry comment go without one of his own. He smiles, and close as they are, Will would probably even feel it. It says a lot about the two of them and how far they've come that this event was a joke now, as if it were a normal part of courtship. It was certainly "normal" for theirs. ]
It is not unfair. So I will not make the decision for you this time. I promise.
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Hannibal's words soothe him in a way no one else can and he lifts his head then from where he was resting to look at Hannibal again, properly now that they're reunited. The last time he saw him, there was blood and he was unnaturally still, cold to touch. Now, he's warm and soft under Will and his eyes shine with amusement, with love. Will smiles back, the smile stretching at Hannibal's promise, and this is what he ached for -- this reunion.
He lifts a hand then to wipe the wetness from his eyes with a sleeve and leans forward a moment later to press his mouth to Hannibal's in a firm kiss. He would prefer to stay like this, he thinks, to stay here in their quiet moment together. The rest of the train has regrets and betrayal seeped into the walls of it and he does not quite want to face them yet. Instead, he savors Hannibal, the reunion of the two of them and the marvel that he could not stand three days after three years.
When he pulls away, he keeps his forehead to Hannibal's and his eyes take in his face, every tiny expression or emotion in his eyes. After a moment, Will gives a small sigh, a tired acceptance. ]
I love you. [ A pause after and he continues, quiet and soft. ] I've said it to others and with company, but I haven't yet said it to you. I guess it was easier to state plainly rather than face the acknowledgement of it between us.
But we've both died now, haven't we? So, there's no benefit in not voicing it and I want you to know. I love you back.
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The kiss is just as pleasantly unexpected as it has been before, because even after a few weeks of deciding that what they have is something romantic, it feels like it'll be a surprise for a while. Having his love reciprocated is just such a warm, pleasant feeling that he doesn't even mind if it continued to be a surprise. The hesitation is only momentary, a beat more than anything else, but he kisses Will back briefly before he pulls back. Even for that moment, the appreciation and affection he feels is clear in his kiss.
But that's hardly anything compared to that incredibly straightforward declaration. It's not quite a confession, since Will is right. It's already been said, and they've already understood it. It almost hadn't needed to be said, because the love was always clear between the lines of their conversations, of their gestures, of everything they had finally accepted themselves to be. There was never any doubt of this for Hannibal once Will had helped him escape, but still—
His vision blurs, because the swell of emotion that comes with it is immediate. He was admittedly always more emotional when it came to Will, as he was one of the few to be able to pull this kind of reaction from him, and even though his soul is laid bare in all in front of Will, he still finds himself closing his eyes as if to hide it. Bashful isn't exactly a word you could use to describe Hannibal, but he feels the intensity of how Will is looking at him all the same. Even so, he's not bothered. He smiles, and it's easy and happy. ]
Is it too much to say "I know"?
[ Though even that comment is teasing, and Hannibal reaches up to cup Will's face in his hands as he opens his eyes again. Truly, he's here only in this moment, and he would be perfectly happy if this were it. He doesn't kiss Will again, not yet, since he's happy with the two of them like this for now. ]
You've killed for me, and we've died for each other. What more could I want than that?
[ With that said, he kisses Will himself. It's not as firm as Will's kiss had been, but it's deep and romantic. Again, appreciation and fondness rolls off him like something almost physical, but between a breath, he does say one more thing: ]
And I love you— It is why we will always find our way back to each other.
ok calm down gone girl
Unlike in town, where the ability to feel hung in the air to a point where Will could barely breathe with it -- here it's settled, back to normal. He sees the emotion on Hannibal's face rather than feels it, has to reach out a bit more to feel it himself and the warmth soothes him, makes him feel pleasant all over. As Hannibal cups his face, Will lifts his own hands to curl around his wrists, tilts his face to press a kiss to his palm. It's almost too easy to express the affection he has, almost absurd how he can just relieve it through soft kisses and light touches.
Once again, Chiyoh's voice rings out in his head. There are other means of influence than violence. He feels the urge to thank her for this every day and he is sure that when the return to the land of the living, he will have that choice. She is truly Cerberus in how she waits at the gates for Hannibal to return.
He isn't sure what to say in response, isn't sure what type of response would match Hannibal's declaration as much as he wants to. All he can think is -- of course, of course he would because the need for Hannibal is always going to be lurking in his subconscious. He knew it, even if he didn't want to acknowledge it, when he accepted Jack's offer to chase after the Dragon.
So, he says nothing and instead sinks into Hannibal's kiss. He feels the love down to his marrow and slides his hands away from Hannibal's wrists to clutch at his shoulders as he kisses. And kisses. And kisses. And keeps kissing. Of course, the kisses will grow more amorous as they go and there's no want in Will to stop it -- to put a pause on them -- because well, they're dead, aren't they? There's no pressure to do anything else here than indulge and after all of this, indulging in Hannibal seems like a good enough reward to him. ]