Monster [malexmale]

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

I woke up around two in the morning when Abel showed up with a couple of bottles of friendly looking wine.

Hannibal was still asleep on the sofa. He had curled up into a very tight little ball, the blankets completely encasing him and tucked beneath him so yanking it off would be difficult, and he still clutched the pillow tightly to his chest. I wondered when he'd developed that style of sleeping, but then I realized I didn't really want to know.

I joined Abel in the kitchen where he was screwing the cork off one of the bottles. His navy hair was a wild mess and he was wearing a skintight black turtleneck to match his jeans. He poured the wine into a goblet and slid it across the bar to me. I took it and sipped, savoring the rich flavor of it before I drank a little more, watching Abel pour his own goblet and pop open the pizza box to take a slice.

"How's he doing?" Abel asked me, keeping his voice quiet so as not to wake Hannibal. I glanced over at Hannibal sleeping on the sofa, then sighed heavily and just went back to drinking. Abel grimaced, drumming his fingernails on the bar for a moment before taking a gulp of wine from the goblet, then a bite of pizza.

"It's gonna take a while, Akin."

"I know."

"The fact that he can sleep without nightmares is beyond me," Abel said quietly, making me wince, as he swirled his wine about in his goblet thoughtfully, "I just hope he doesn't do anything... dangerous. Keep an eye on him." I only nodded, taking another sip of wine and picking up a slice of pizza. Abel and I were silent for a while, neither of quite sure of what to say now. Part of me wanted to go back to swimming in Hannibal's dreams. But that gave me pause.

Those weren't Hannibal's dreams. They were his memories. Granted, some people did dream of past memories, but most people had dreams. Dreams where they could do or become anything, run into situations that briefly flitted through their mind, but not Hannibal.

Because Hannibal had no dreams.

That succeeded in making me tear up. Why had everyone been so cruel to him? What had he done to deserve that sort of mistreatment and hatred?

"Akin, are you all right?" Abel asked me gently, reaching across the bar to touch my hand. I sniffed, reaching up to wipe at my eye, looking away from him. I hated crying. I hadn't cried this much in a very long time.

"I just don't know what to do," I said with a sniffle, "I want to hold him again, but he won't even look at me and he said he doesn't hate me, but I don't believe it for a minute. He treats me like the plague." Abel tilted his head, looking at me sympathetically.

"If he says he doesn't hate you, then he doesn't," He assured me, but I still felt doubt over it, "And, Akin, you have to take a minute to think about what happened to him. I know you don't want to, but... Look, after that kind of thing, the last thing you want is to feel more hands on you, okay? He probably feels... Well, to be blunt, he probably feels disgusted and miniscule." My heart clenched as I lifted my eyes to meet Abel's. There was a haunted look in his pretty blue eyes that tore through my heart like a sword.

"That's how he made you feel." I said softly. Abel withdrew his hand to cup his goblet of wine, studying the liquid inside.

"That's how anyone would feel. And he probably already felt awful to begin with. Hannibal needs time. It might take days, weeks, if not years, for all of it to fully come to terms with it and to try and move on. But he can't do any of that on his own. He needs someone to be there for him, like Cain was there for me, and I can't think of anyone better than you, Akin." He said, making me smile faintly at him, relieved by his words.