And you no longer have to carry me
We are exactly where I wanted us to be
No more hesitation
Nothing will ever divide us again
No more energy wasted
On the temper of our time
Just the truth and the sublime
We threw our past in the Atlantic
And those eleven days remain in our tool kit
We took our chances with the desert life
Even though we got lost along the way in our own minds
We took all the blows
Searching for purity
We put an end to all
The beating up ourselves
And the walking on eggshells
It was a rainy day as Will found out when he eventually got out of the shower. Hannibal had already vanished, the warmth of his skin lost when the brunet touched the sheets. He sighed softly, looking around the room. His eyes caught a silver tray on his bedside table. There was breakfast left: fresh bread, a few slices of ham, eggs, a glass of sparkling water and a hot cup of coffee which smelled hauntingly. It was all Will could wish for at the moment, considering his current hangover mood, so he dragged his sluggish feet towards the small table, and his lips curved in a brief smile. It was quite impressive that the other had made it in those few minutes. Hannibal always recognized Will's needs way faster than Will could ever come to understand them himself. Not only was Hannibal quite unique as a psychiatrist, but he was also gifted with exceptionally sharp senses and great intuition. Now Will was very much convinced that Hannibal possessed more than just cognitive empathy. Though, it was unusual and entirely different from Will's too emotional, too corrupting one, since the other didn't let the empathy be a guide for either his behaviour or culinary choices. Hannibal didn't discard the concept, no, he'd merely decided to use it as a tool whenever it was convenient. Empathy wasn't a curse like it had always been for Will, quite the contrary: it was a controlled quality to pride himself on if a favouring opportunity came up. A powerful weapon in the hands of a very dangerous and volatile creature. Hannibal's empathy concerning Will, however... Well, that had gone one step further, and with time it'd matured into compassion. Became inconvenient. That knowledge made Will the happiest soul of the unfortunate ones.
Having drunk the coffee and the water, Will felt a bit more energetic. His brain wrestled, seeking some sort of control over the aching muscles and the headache. The soreness didn't leave, though. The pain was a sole reminder of what had happened. All the alcohol and talking, the angst... violence. And the sex. New images of their intimacy. Will closed his eyes for a minute and lay down to consider what the recent events made him feel, what they could make him change into. A lover? Will was conscious of the consequences. He sighed, annoyed at the hot wave sinking deep into his chest, and even more at the following contraction in his guts. A pleasant one. His world narrowed to the head of a pin—one fearful emotion, and a question he still hadn't been able to answer with coherent words and vision cleared.
But do you ache for him?
Will couldn't get any more sleep when there were that many hazardous thoughts running through his troubled head. He bit his lips to the point where they'd become swollen. There was no rest for the wicked.
Will stood up, got rid of a towel he'd covered himself with, and then he looked for clothes in his wardrobe. He needed to get dressed; the sensation of stiff material against his skin unnatural and uncomfortable, but at least giving him some sort of a cover—concealer for the nakedness of a different kind.
Will was about to take the least fancy clothes he owned, including a flannel shirt and blue shabby jeans, but then it clicked in his mind that Hannibal had planned for them to go out somewhere today. He'd been rather mysterious about it, telling Will it was a surprise. Will didn't like surprises but said nothing, silently agreeing to the idea. How could he even begin to reject Hannibal's offer if his eyes had been glowing with the most vibrant light? Thus now, facing the big fashion dilemma, Will felt lost again. He didn't enjoy picking and buying fancy outfits. It mostly seemed to be an expensive facade for the ones who wished to store all the primitiveness in their pockets. On the other hand, Will enjoyed immensely the way Hannibal stared at him whenever he wore them. It caused his heart to flutter ever so slightly as if invisible wings came down to sit on his ribcage. In the end, Will chose a white dress shirt, a dark blue vest to draw attention to the contrast, and blue dress pants with a leather belt. Shoes black, elegant but simple. Will had once heard somewhere that footwear could tell a man's life story. Where he'd been and come from, or where he was heading. The complexity of old and new days questioned with a piece of material on your feet. Will had doubts. His life story was neither elegant nor simple. Actually, it was the furthest from being just that, which was why he thought fashion was nothing but a theatrical act of pretending. Normally, he would be wearing his old comfy boots, muddy and heavy, and that version sounded much more true to his ears.
Will eventually left the cumbersome thoughts lingering onto him to spread a dose of self-hatred and pity. He looked in the mirror and combed his tousled hair with fingers. It was still wet from the shower but still, he had to admit—he looked good. Handsome even, less worried; the scar on his cheek not vulgar anymore, softer to the touch when he pressed his thumb to it. Having lost himself in his idle thoughts, he got startled when, out of nowhere, he heard a mumbling voice, coming from behind the veil of silence.
You have survived being swallowed by the Beast itself.
You've got to know the bittersweet taste of forgiveness.
You've been curious, eager to see the man standing behind the veneer.
You've been mesmerised, and you've fallen into the bliss of the unknown.
You are his equal now.
Return the favour. Swallow the Beast whole.
*
The clock said 4 pm. Will took one of the pills from a small package. He didn't carry the painkillers in his pocket anymore, which he considered a success. Today was an exception. Will had already taken a few, and as a healthy addition to that, he'd also drunk one glass of whisky before the quiet footsteps began to grow louder, then stopped behind him. "I didn't hear you."
"I didn't make much noise. Didn't want to interrupt." A placid melody answered. Will slowly turned around to see Hannibal standing still, composed, with groceries in a paper bag.
"Didn't you?" Will tilted his head a bit, leaning his back against the kitchen counter. Hannibal regarded him carefully, eyes running up and down, his expression unreadable.
"Navy blue is certainly your colour," Hannibal complimented the outfit as his gaze kept lingering over the other's appearance. "It looks like the late spring sky before night catches it and clouds it with darkness. And white brings out the light in your eyes flawlessly." Having declared that, the man hesitated for a second before he decided to take a step forward toward his companion. "You look stunning, Will." His husky voice betrayed the profound contentment, and some wild creature rising inside Will's chest fluttered in reaction to that.
He looked Hannibal straight in the eyes, despite the sudden distraction of warmth spilling through his body. "Well, I tried my best," he replied and almost blurted out the second thing that came to his mind—to please you.
"I see," Hannibal said with a smile, eyes lightened up. It was such a rare sight to witness that it took Will's breath away, but then the brunet frowned, thinking about the proper way to start the conversation. The other man waited, no words between his lips—he just put the bag away, graceful as always, peering at Will a few times while doing so.
The air became heavier, the tension much thicker. Will sucked it in, finding himself incapable of saying anything sophisticated. So, instead of useless words and elaborate phrases, he closed the space between them, pulling Hannibal forward by his silky tie. Without giving it a thought, Will kissed him, roughly at first, to ease the unbearable throbbing under his skin; to cover up the longing, the awkwardness, the lack of articulation. It wasn't lost on him that kissing Hannibal had become a bad habit. It seemed he was doing it each time he lacked the strength to confront a challenging situation or difficult feelings, and to make matters worse, he was also the first to initiate it. Almost every time. Yet Will didn't care much about that little self-observation now that he indulged himself, lips burning and needy, the kiss deepened, changing into gentle and sloppy caresses. Soon he heard Hannibal's soft moan, barely detectable but so vibrant inside his mouth, and then strong hands embraced Will's back. He could swear he felt them shaking just a bit.
"Will." A tender murmur slid between the hungry touches of lips entwined in sweet bliss. Will lifted his gaze to meet Hannibal's eyes, the dark mystery behind them surprisingly comforting. They held each other's light and couldn't stop. The brunet's feverish brushes against Hannibal's mouth were full of curiosity and kindness. He'd never kissed anyone that way before. Hannibal was the first to break their lips and tongues' embrace. He leaned his forehead against Will's shoulder, mouth numb and swollen. Before the other could react, Hannibal pressed his body against him, hugging as tight as it was possible.
Will didn't dare to move, only exhaled the air violently, trying to stay upright and not give in to the weakness in his knees as he managed to whisper, "Hannibal?"
"Yes?" A faint voice answered after a long second. Hannibal shut his eyes, fingers occupying Will's lower back, petting softly.
"Are we... Are we insane enough to be doing this?"
Hannibal searched for a piece of naked skin to sniff and taste. When he pecked Will's neck, the other let out a long groan, breath speeding up. Will allowed himself to be treasured with tiny, delightful deaths each time the mouth brushed against his sensitive spots, and he gasped when a sudden shiver came along due to the prying tongue in his earlobe.
"Are we insane enough to try and prevent the storm meant to strike our bones and never leave our souls?"
Ah, the poetry of promises.
Hannibal lifted his head, and Will looked at him. His gaze was intense, soaked in desire; he found himself defeated by the need for intimacy once again. It was such an impeccable feeling. Complete, terrific and terrifying at once, just overpowering. And it was becoming his drug now.
"I thought this storm would separate me from myself, wash me away, that I would never find peace within the quiet of the stream again..." Will's eyes became foggy when he spilt the words. "...But I continue to find that the closeness between us may be one of the only things to keep me at bay. I'm not sure anymore if it'll break me or make me whole again. I'm not sure if I care," Will confessed, then sighed. "Maybe I've mistaken my doubts and concerns for something else."
Hannibal's lips trembled noticeably. Will caught the motion; the vulnerability of that little grimace made him think of so many ways in which he could abuse that pretty mouth. It was tempting, and he hardly held back from doing so.
"Mistaken for what, Will?" Hannibal requested, leaving out the refinement of speech.
Will smiled. "I was so certain it must've been the destructive chaos of potential shadows of the future, and I thought I'd get lost in the impossible prospects of happiness I didn't think I deserved. And I defended myself against the undeniable charm of that feeling because I didn't wish upon myself to fall into delusions," Will let out anxiously, watching the other's reaction. He realised at that moment that he held the power over the life of whatever was growing between them, especially when he was using language in such a distinctive way; he could either build their compassion up or reject it all along. Today, his words were meant to tantalise, to seduce with the exquisite truth. Will put his steady hand on Hannibal's flushed cheek and pressed himself roughly against the man. "I've understood only recently that the fantasy became real. I needn't hide from anything. I am here, you're here with me, and it makes me stable. Within the confines of the freedom to choose what I want." A little caress against the flesh forced Hannibal's eyes to flutter, his brows furrowed as if he couldn't handle much more. "And I want this, god, I really do. You've become my serenity, Hannibal."
You brought me home, and I didn't even know that I had one.
Will's mind was being flooded with lots of different memories, various proof of affection. Even the bloody ones brought a steady sensation, cool acceptance.
"I'm anything but serenity, William. Your presence alone brings out the worst impulses in me. I'm losing my temper, I'm losing control. You must know, these things do not happen to me. I let them happen, at best." A hot whisper hit Will's ear, dry lips pressed to it tightly. "Yet when it comes to you... Well, when you are in my reach, I can't bring myself to seal my want for you away. All I'm left with is a craving to have you, to cage you. I've made suffering your reality for the sake of my selfishness, and I'd probably do it again and again."
Will cursed his weak legs when chills came down his back at the words and their dark implication. Good, I want you out of control. "I've always felt safe with you. Even if I was hurting, and you were the reason, it felt safe," the brunet muttered carelessly. "Your control is the constant pressure of quiet patience that I do sometimes need on my shoulders to stay... awake. Don't take it away."
Will sighed heavily and let his head fall in the crook of Hannibal's neck, immediately kissing the exposed flesh. He gasped into it, searching for calmness as he was vibrating with so many emotions. He could feel how Hannibal radiated with them as well. It was intense and uplifting. They were both holding on, trying to breathe some truth into one another, and it couldn't be anything but beautiful.
"If you'll have me, I won't," Hannibal ensured in a low voice, fondness reaching his lips, spreading across them in a warm smile.
"Is that a promise?" Will inquired breathlessly as he put his hands around Hannibal's neck, pulling into a crushing embrace.
"Yes, Will."
Having heard that, Will smiled back because, as far as he was concerned, Hannibal always kept his promises.