Aquamarine

7. Hunger.

 Content Warning : Short mention of suicide.

"The house's so big... He softly stated. How can one live in this place by themself and not feel lonesome? " To this question, the host answered "It indeed feels lonesome sometimes but one has to live that way, have you ever heard of that saying, Will ? 'Better alone than in bad company'. fortunately you are good company to me. " Gently smiling, The Lamb looked once again in Hannibal hazel eyes and opened his mouth. He didn't break the tender eye contact with his new friend but his legs were failing him and he had to sit, the Carnophage quickly understood as the gap of his guest's lips slowly closed and sat him on a tall bar chair.

"You're becoming more talkative now, Will, this is good. Affirmed Hannibal. Maybe you have started feeling at ease by now? " His interlocutor question seemed rhetorical yet Will felt like answering:

"Maybe I have, you're fixing me, feeding me. You're even giving me a bed. It still feels awkward to me but I cannot give you the silent treatment forever now, can I ?

- Well maybe I developed some kind of attachment to you. Allowed the tall figure,

- Attachment?

- Yes. Attachment. he reiterated.

- Are we really just strangers? I know I don't know you but I feel like you do know me. Will's ability to perceive people's thoughts was playing tricks on his mind, clever tricks.

- It is right, Will. I do know you, I-

- Wait n-no ... not you too, the Lamb felt sick and surrounded with familiar and unpleasant thoughts. He gathered all his strength to try and run away but as he tried to get down the chair his legs failed him and he fell down, he couldn't get back up.

- Will ! Exclaimed the Carnophage, There's been a misunderstanding, let me help y-

- Don't ! Don't touch me, ordained the Fallen one cutting his saviour mid-sentence another time, I thought I could trust you... at least I started to..."

As his emotions escalated stronger and stronger, tears began to stream from his pale blue eyes to his purple wounded neck. The knot Will felt in his throat hurt more than his ex lover's hands pressing his neck : he ached everywhere. Almost like a reflex, he put his arms over himself as a protection.

"Will..." Hannibal's voice echoed in Will's mind like a scream at the edge of a cliff. "Will... he restated, Look at me, Will." Emphasising the confused one's name to assure their new bond, the standing man seemed like he was begging which somehow touched the Lamb. Will, still on the ground with his arm above his face, dared a sight over his biceps which was highlighted by the kitchen's magnificent chandelier. The cast shadows of his own half naked body, his crying red eyes and his messy hair : all of this reminded the Carnophage of a beautiful tableau. "Cabanel... he thought to himself. Cabanel's 'Fallen Angel' scenery was happening in front of him as if his whole existence was made for him to see this very moment. The light contrasting over the muscular body of his guest was like a nimbe offering Will the true angelic sight he hid.

"Yes, Will Graham, I know you, I do. I know you in the sense that I feel our brains are connected. With these words, Lecter carefully approached the younger one. Will you let me help you now?" Hannibal was not actually looking for a direct answer, somehow he knew his guest wouldn't speak up.

After an umpteenth intense eye contact, almost like an embrace, The host decided it was finally time to pick his younger friend up from the floor and help him sit back on the kitchen chair with his consent, "With all these sentiments, Will, I'll get us something to eat. Well fed, a body heals faster. " Once assured his words were understood, the Carnophage turned his back and walked to the fridge, inspecting his surroundings, looking for an idea, something to feed the Lamb.

Will felt abashed, ashamed even. Not only as he yelled in a house where he was invited but he also assumed his host had ill intentions when he was the one to rescue him from a tough situation. Slowly coming out of his trance, Graham sent short glances all around him, analysing whatever was happening in front of him. The man he barely knew was cooking for him, his muscular back peaking through his thin linen white shirt.

Promptly, a brief and soft growl came from Will's guts, the poor man felt already so guilty of his earlier actions he silently cursed himself. "S-sorry." Wounded, pale, unfed and homeless, he blamed himself for being a burden... again. These thoughts were taught to him since childhood as he was diagnosed as part of the autistic spectrum. His imagination and his vision of the world were so different from the common kids.

After the suicide of his father and only parent, to escape reality, nine years old Will would explore the woods surrounding his adoptive parents house and try finding dead animals, wether it was small hedgehogs, or snails, the child would elaborate an entire reasoning for the cause of their death. At the beginning, nothing too alarming : just a child learning about the world by playing forensics-detectives, other times he would simply imagine macabre scenarios where he vividly pictured the animal getting torn apart by ravens or various other scavengers. When he'd have those extremely detailed visions, young Will would nicely depict the process of his thoughts with colour pencils and a pen to explain and make a tutorial on how to get to the final product : the deceased torn being. Obviously, none of his artworks had stayed unnoticed which caused Will to change families several times during his whole childhood.

With these souvenirs on his mind, Will quivered slightly. He knew something wasn't right in his head, still, he couldn't change it. He had seen so many mental health professionals already, only, he was not ready to make a change in his life yet. The man didn't have any idea on how to move on from all these toxic humans in his life, if he actually did, he'd be alone.

Maybe Will only needed a friend ? The Lamb knew one thing, he was craving Stability; a steadiness isle in his inconsistent life. He was craving it but as distrustful as he also knew it would be hard to find.

Sat on that high unknown kitchen chair, a saline solution was accumulating in Will's inferior eyelid and in a sudden blink, the water pearled down his cheeks creating two tidy wet lines meeting at the bottom of his stubble chin. Will's voice trembled in a soft sob which caused Hannibal, focused, who was already invested in his cuisine to turn around and face his guest.

"Will, are you alright ?" The host hesitated.