Hannibal preferences

How they are without you

Will Graham 

It had been almost a week and Will dreaded going to sleep. All he dreamed of was you and him. It made him jealous that his subconscious still had a 'you' when he was all alone. His bed felt so much colder without you in it and he realized that no amount of firewood or blankets were going to change that.

The last time he had talked to you was when you came with Beverly to collect the rest of your possessions. He wanted to say something to show you how inlove with you he was but he couldn't find the words.

He could never find the words to tell you how much he loved you or how much he wanted to marry you. He couldn't put into words something that had no existing way to express it. He felt achingly numb inside but every time he thought of you, he couldn't help but sob. All he could think about was how happy he was with you and how utterly miserable he was alone. 

That was the second time you'd walked out the door with your things and just like the first, he fell to the floor, feeling alone and melancholy. He didn't feel at home in his home.

And he realised he never would...

If you weren't there

Hannibal Lecter 

He missed you voice. All he could hear was your laugh. He missed the way you'd wake him up by singing in his ear. Now that you weren't here to sing to him or to read him Shakespeare. That's what upset him a lot. No longer would he hear you recite love sonnets and poetry to him as if he were a creature worthy of seranading.

He had never had a problem sleeping alone before he met you but now, his bed felt far to large for just him. He felt cold and alone. He was lonely. He was never lonely

In fact, he hardly ever slept upstairs anymore, for he couldn't bare stepping foot on the floor of which you had landed that night. It made his eyes sting and his stomach churn. 

He never really slept at all anymore. It was useless when you weren't in his arms and the scent of you on his pillows was fading far to fast for his comfort. It was like his home was forgetting you but he knew he never could. It was increasingly hard for him to sleep when instead of having you in his arms, he was clutching a pillow in a desperate attempt to cling to some sort of semblance of human contact but it was useless... 

He felt desperate but he couldn't find it inside of himself to try and pull himself out of  the rut he was in. What was the point when the only person who brought even a sliver of humanity out in him was scared and broken all because of him.

Even his clothing had changed. Ofcourse he was still very polished, but all he wore was dark blues, greys and blacks. For some reason all colour had melted away and even though he saw it, it just felt... blue.

He would draw with the idea of having no sole destination, only to come back down to earth and set his eyes on your charcoal face as if his very body and skill was mocking him for what he had lost.

He felt lost.

He always though that he could move mountains with one hand for you, as long as you were holding the other...

But all he had was the day dream of you holding it...

He would give up anything just to see you smile at him again like you used to do. He wondered if you'd ever even look at him the same way at all. As much as he hates to admit it, he knew that you were the only one for him.