obsession || hannigram

Bittersweet

"I'm sorry. I didn't know who else to call." Will mumbles against his sweaty palms.

He's situated on his doorstep in his sleeping attire, alone in the cold with his blankets sprawled uselessly on the floor behind him. Hannibal had pulled into the driveway only minutes after the phone call, and is standing to his side, staring down at him with large, knowing eyes. Hannibal's body is tight, and his hands are clenched at his side; it's clear to Will that he pushed speed limits to get to him promptly.

"It's alright, dear Will. Never apologise for calling me." He loosens himself and drapes the blanket over Will. Then, he wraps his arm around the boy and crouches on the icy concrete floor beside him. "You're freezing, what happened?" He asks, though the answer is already known to him.

"He's dead, Hannibal. My dads dead."

And with that, a stream of tears trail down Wills face, slipping through the spaces between each of his fingers. He sobs quietly as Hannibal angles his head up, guides his torso, and pulls him into a firm embrace. Hannibal softly hushes the boy while rubbing slow, circular patterns on his back, feeling Wills rapidly beating heart pound against his own chest. Will remains enveloped in his warm embrace, the faint fragrance of Hannibal's cologne flooding his senses and soothing his mind, reminding him of the only true comfort he's had in his life. Hannibal cradles the crying smaller for seemingly an endless amount of time, until, through Wills quietening whimpers, they hear the crunch of the gravel behind them.

Hannibal shifts his eyes up from Wills shoulder, frowning to himself when he recognises the figure which is progressing towards them with a quickening pace.

"Will Graham?" The man asks, after acknowledging Hannibal with a nod of his head. Hannibal withdraws his touch, separating them, and reveals the red eyed, flushed boy who was formerly cloaked beneath his arms.

"Jack Crawford, I'm with the FBI. I'm sorry, but I'd like to ask you a few questions about your father. If you can excuse us?" Jack shakes hands with Will and watches as Hannibal stands, smiles briefly and then departs behind them into Wills home.

While in there, Hannibal studies the rooms in depth, his eyes instantly darting to the one thing that stands out the most. A grand piano resides in the corner of the living room; its keys are worn, and its overall appearance shows it was formerly well-used. Now, however, dust has collected across its entirety. Hannibal presses a few keys, testing the sounds, before he catches a brief glimpse of something in the corner of his eye. A framed photo of Will and his father tucked within a nearby shelf. Hannibal finds that the picture is in almost perfect condition, and he holds it up against a beam of moonlight for a better observation. A young, messy-haired Will is standing proudly beside his father, and a large fish is held tightly within his grasp. His dad is stood smiling, which must've been rare, with his thumbs up.

Smirking to himself, Hannibal slides the photo into his jacket pocket, before continuing to scan the rooms. Deciding not to breach Scott Graham's room due to the strong stench of alcohol which wafts up his nostrils when he passes, he continues down the hallway and into Will's bedroom.

He shuts the door smoothly behind him and inhales deeply, taking in the familiar scent of his friend. He takes a moment to study Wills personal belongings, handling each item with surgeon-like precision and carefulness. Finding a worn out rucksack, he begins to pack it with clothes and other essentials, filling it tidily.

Once finished, he flings the bag over his shoulder and exits the house to, thankfully, find Jack gone. Will is perched on the same spot on the floor with his tears now dry, though his eyes are still tinted red, a hue matching his cheeks.

"Come, Will. I'm not leaving you alone tonight." Hannibal extends his hand to pull Will up, allowing the smaller to lean his entire weight on him. Nevertheless, Wills breathing is constantly staggered, and he remains silent. He seatbelts Will into his car, and situates himself.