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Consciousness came to Will before he realized it, still lost as he was in the space between sleep and wakefulness. It was the silence that finally tipped the scales and dragged him groggily from sleep’s grasp. He blinked past aching eyelids and sticky sleep clumped in the corners of his eyes feeling disoriented. The ceiling above him stared back at Will’s confused expression offering no answer to the puzzle before him.
Groaning, Will wiped his face as his brain sluggishly came online.
Fuck, when was the last time he had slept so deeply and heavily? Not since he was a child at least. He shifted under blankets and stretched, wincing when a previously passive ache was irritated by the movement. Rubbing the pained area, Will frowned, puzzling over his situation.
The lazy silence didn’t suffocate him half as much as the pressing weight of multiple who-knew-how-many-thread-count sheets. Pushing them off weakly, feeling more and more of his body wake with the movement, Will looked around.
He took in the large room, done in soothing beige and warm tones. The carpet looked to be as plush at the one downstairs and the furniture looked like solid mahogany pieces; expensive, but tastefully so. It matched the living room aesthetic in the same manner. That is to say, Will would have picked these out himself.
It was this reminder that had Will straightening and tensing in recollection.
The prick in his neck the night before. Drugs. Kidnapping?
Hannibal.
“Stay with me Will. Let me make you happy. Please.”
“Okay.”
Adrenaline coursed through him rapidly as he reached a trembling hand to his face and withheld a scream. Had he really just said, ‘Okay’?
‘Satan temps with words from a silver tongue,’ he thought incredulously.
Sitting up in the luxurious bed was almost a chore between his throbbing ribs and the sheer softness of the mattress beneath his form. Fighting to not collapse back down, he stubbornly turned to dangled his legs above the floor.
Socks peeking out from familiar pants had Will trembling in relief. Hannibal hadn’t undressed him while he was knocked out then. He was grateful for small mercies. Staunchly ignoring the small bit of curiosity that knocked around his mind, Will intentionally didn’t acknowledge the husky voice in his memory.
“I assure you, I am holding back very much in my desire to know you in every possible way.”
Heart up-ticking at the reminder, Will’s eyes sought out a distraction and landed on thick curtains that hung floor to ceiling and kept out any outside sun from disturbing the room directly.
It took only a moment for the fear of the monster to push his thoughts to paranoia. In a breath, Will was throwing himself across the room at the windows, hands rushing to tear the curtains aside.
‘Outside, outside, let me outside, oh God, I’m trapped!’ He saw himself a specimen in a room watched from all angles with cameras, the feel of metal from a chain secured around his ankles. His heart slammed against his chest as his fingers fumbled, clammy and uncooperative as the image worsened and twisted in his mind. At last Will threw them aside, the metal rings clanging against each other.
Between one heartbeat and the next, the bright morning light blinded him and silenced his mind. For a still moment in time, nothing registered to Will outside his thudding heart. Slowly, the heat from the sun warmed his aching body through the clear glass. Neighboring houses at a distance stood brightly in antithesis to his fear of being kept locked away.
Throat tight, Will grabbed the window frame and pulled up.
With no resistance, the window slid open cleanly. A burst of wind rushed into the room reminding Will of the chilled autumn season as it cleared his mind. Glancing out into the daytime, Will felt an acute difference between his mindset last night and this morning.
Remembering his desperation under the cover of darkness almost had him panicking once more, disbelieving the strength he showed in his journey to ask Hannibal what he had.
In the blinding daylight, he felt seen. Worse, he felt watched, like Matthew’s eyes were on him, waiting for him to come out and be punished.
“I can climb out now!’ he realized, hands tightening on the windowsill. Not with ease, and certainly not without pain as his ankle twinged more now than it has last night after being off it for so long, but he could. The window more than large enough to slip through.
And that was what had him pausing.
Hannibal hadn’t locked him in a room he couldn’t leave from. He hadn’t undressed Will or taken advantage of his unconscious state.
‘Still a crazy stalker. Still a murderer!’
But Will had agreed to stay knowing those things, hadn’t he?
Slowly releasing the windowsill one tense finger grip at a time, he turned toward the door he had seen Hannibal leave from last night.
A killer.
The rug supported his movement forward.
A stalker.
He reached the doorhandle and gripped it tight.
A kidnapper.
The handle twisted soundlessly beneath his palm and the door opened out into a hallway.
But maybe not a monster.
Heart in his throat, Will limped out into the hall and saw several doors to his right, a bathroom door partially open straight ahead of him, and a couple more doors to his left. The hall itself opened down to stairs in the same direction classical music seemed to be coming from.
Will bit his lip but pulled his courage over himself and stood as straight as his ribs would let him. He trudged forward at a slow pace and used decorated tables as helping hands when he could. He would have leaned heavily on the walls too if they weren’t also covered in even more photos. He glanced enough to see they were of him as well before deciding to ignore them entirely.
‘The guy is crazy. Don’t need the reminder.’ As if it was possible to forget for even a second. Every glance at open doors that revealed architecture and designs gave him the same nauseous déjà vu feeling of knowing a house he had never seen before. Being in his perfect house that he had no hand in creating gave him the shivers and his body erupted in bumps as he began to feel sick.
The stairs were both the best and worst obstacle to the ground floor. While they hurt to walk and took a long time to descend, the handrail saved him by holding his weight and supporting his weakened side.
Sweating from his little trek and foot throbbing in spasmatic pain, Will tried to catch his breath.
He glanced left and felt his breath leave him. Farther down was the familiar entry way. The door. To the right, the sound of music had grown louder; now joined by the smell of cooking. The scent of bacon and pancakes wafted towards him.
Will’s eyes shot towards the door blocking him from what he assumed was the kitchen. It was a swinging door with no latch in sight. Could he make it to the front if Hannibal heard him? What if Hannibal finished cooking and came looking, what then?
Will’s mind screamed at him to run, run, run yet he didn’t move. His mind constructed a clear image of Hannibal, working and watching superimposed over the right door. And when he looked left, the image of an impatient and infuriated Matthew looked back.
His stomach rolled with nausea and anxiety. Was there really no where to go to be free? Were both options all that he had? Probably. And all of his own design. “Run, run!” his mind screamed louder, not bothered by his current struggle. It wanted out and already he saw plans being made in the background. Run, make it to a bus station. Get a greyhound back to Louisiana. Get lost in the familiar area and change his name. Just disappear like he didn’t exist.
But wasn’t that basically how he was living now? Just existing and reacting to fear with a triggered flee response.
It was pathetic.
It was exhausting.
For the first time in years, Will decided not to listen to the same mind that got him into this position in the first place – bruised and beaten, friendless, practically suicidal – and instead, he pulled on long ignored instincts.
Searching inwards for the nagging feelings he had all but suffocated in an attempt to live a normal life, Will pulled on withered and neglected strings, bringing them to attention. Notions long trained to be ignored slowly hummed to life behind his eyes, starting like an old car as it sputtered to life.
Long since labeled the weird kid for seeing things he shouldn’t and being made fun of, it was little more than child’s play to bury them when they made his dad angry, when they made others talk bad about him. Sure, they kept appearing, but the more he pretended they didn’t, the easier they were to ignore and the less power they had to show him things.
Things, he reluctantly admitted to himself, that would have saved him from Matthew in the beginning. After all, what was the last thing his instincts whispered to him before they languished from lack of nourishment? BLANK EYES. Right as Mathew had smiled at him and accepted his confession, they had whispered how hollow his eyes had been.
Feeling empty and guilty, Will called on those instincts now.
What should he do? Where should he go?
The strings hung lose and knotted as they were poked and prodded.
Tell me he pleaded silently against the waiting atmosphere, shaking his head with pinched brows, closed eyes and a mouth twisted in a frown. The silence was long as his strings and connections puttered about, the killer in the kitchen to his right becoming background noise.
He signed softly but deeply, acknowledging his strange ability. I’m listening he finally relented as his shoulders dropped.
Feeling throbbing behind his eyes that would no doubt become a headache in the future, Will slowly opened his eyes with no better answers than he had before. But as his gaze brushed the hundreds of photos, the furniture, the very air in the house, the strings in his mind pulled taut with a snap.
Grabbing the side of his head is his skull practically exploded with pain, Will took in the house with new eyes, mind quickly picking apart pieces and connecting it with others. Faster and faster, little more than ideas processed in an instant, and with new eyes he saw.
Everything culminated in one simple word, deep and baritone, echoing deep into roots that dug deep into his brain.
SAFE. He was safe here.
‘Fuck, I’m crazy too,’ his mind whispered before ceasing to complain.
Well, he had his answer. As impossible as it would be to explain to another person, Will decided it was time to trust a different side of himself. Worse case, he ends up dead. And really, hadn’t that been the worst-case scenario for years now? Might as well try something different.
‘True insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.’
Hiding the nervous tremor of his hands in his pockets and ignoring the lingering pain in his head, Will went right and slowly pushed open the swinging door. A large and brightly lit kitchen greeted him, meticulously kept and well used. At the stove stood the back of the very man who he has every reason to fear.
At the near silent entrance, Hannibal glanced over his shoulder and his eyes widened and warmed as they took in Will’s presence. “Will. Good morning.”
His accent was heavily lilted towards Louisiana and while it still made him uncomfortable, Will purposefully leaned into the pulsing behind his eyes. “Morning,” he mumbled, still tense with pain and unsure.
Hannibal turned, at once giving Will his entire focus. “I was intending to bring you breakfast in bed, Cher. I worry about your ankle.”
Will coughed once and limped hesitantly to an island chair. He relaxed as soon as his weight was off it. “I’m fine to walk.”
Hannibal watched him in silence for a moment, head tilting ever so slightly. “Of course you are, Will. I seek to simply remove the need for you to ever strain yourself again.”
Why did Will get the impression that Hannibal would happily carry him everywhere?
He would.
Shivering sharply at the knowledge, Will shot Hannibal a disbelieving look – one that Hannibal returned with a quirk of an eyebrow in question without shame. Was it a dare to ask?
Only when Will looked away did Hannibal turn off the stove and begin to serve them at the island. A large stack of pancakes, golden and perfectly circular, was placed between them along with a large platter of bacon.
As Will grabbed a fork, Hannibal served him from the stack. “Allow me,” he murmured, eyes alight with delight. Every bite Will took appeared to nourish Hannibal’s very existence and fill him with a sense of contentment that left Will reeling.
Surely this kind of worship was unhealthy. Worshiping itself wasn’t something one person should ever do for another, yet Will clearly saw Hannibal as a dutiful and faithful devout man as his alter.
“Will you tell me now?” he blurts out, unsettled from Hannibal’s constant gaze.
“Tell you what?” Hannibal smiles at him softly, steadfast.
Throat clogging, he set down his utensils, food sitting heavy in his stomach. “Tell me why you are… like this,” he motioned between them, “with me.”
Hannibal gave a thoughtful sound, lips tugging with nostalgic amusement. “Would you believe me?”
Will arched an eyebrow in return. “Would you lie to me?” The ‘now’ was silent, clearly underlining how he had Will in his home, eating his prepared breakfast. He was as caught as caught could be without actually chaining Will to the bed.
“Never,” came the reverent whisper, eyes gleaming with promise. Hannibal smiled then, sharp and crowded teeth glinting.
Another connection.
Bacon.
Oh.
Will felt his stomach tighten in protest and clamped his fists along the edge to keep him upright.
SAFE his instincts purred, at odds with common sense.
Deliberately putting that revelation to the back, Will watched Hannibal watch him back. Not completely predator and prey, but only because the predator chose so.
He shifted in his seat, fighting to keep his eyes on the man. “Well?” It was forced out sounding choked.
Lidded and pleased eyes devoured him in another manner. “In truth,” he finally admitted, “you reminded me of my sister at first.”
Taken off guard as he was, Will blinked rapidly, his mind working for the first time in years on different thoughts and realizations. He hadn’t felt this challenged mentally in decades. “Your sister?” he softly questioned, wavering against the onslaught of both the answer and all lanes of thought that pressed into him.
He nodded. “My younger sister. She was… taken from me. Far too innocent for this world.” For the first time since Will had entered the room, Hannibal looked away with something else occupying his mind. “In the end, this cruel world could not handle her light and smothered it.” His far away gaze hovered for only a moment. Within a split second, it sharpened and Hannibal faced him once more, attention heavy and consuming. “You shared much with her. Not the least of which was your round cheeks and curls.” He grinned.
Will unbelievably felt his cheeks flush.
“At first, seeing someone so like my Mischa was startling yet comforting. I watched because it made me happy to see you. Then I watched you to protect you, fearing what would come for you like it had her.”
Maybe seeing Will’s expression now was too much as Hannibal collected their plates and took them to the sink. They clinked delicately as Hannibal set them down, but he didn’t do more than turn around, incapable it seemed of letting Will out of sight for long.
“It was easily to fall for you, Will. Long past the time your cheeks lost their roundness and your curls elongated to waves, I was already smitten with you. While I no longer saw her, I saw something equally as precious. Arguable more so, knowing I could lose you in a moment of inattention. And yet,” his voice went from adoring to wrathful, “I find now I could have lost you still.” His shirt creaked as muscles tensed under skin, the material pulled taut over a monster’s build.
Silence weighed between them, suffocating and oppressive.
“I will have his heart and feed it to you,” he declared solemnly – a vow.
Hannibal’s lethal body took long, graceful steps to him. Before Will could wonder or even fear, Hannibal dropped to his knees before him. He reached to touch Will’s pants with the barest brush of his fingertips. Encompassing eyes watched him ravenously. “Anything you want, Will, you will have. Every happiness I know you deserve will be yours. You will want for nothing. Should the last breath I have make you smile, I would cut my chest open for you. Simply say it, and it will be yours.”
Overwhelmed, Will caught his breath and admitted weakly, “I’d like a dog.”
Despite the absurd request after such an intense declaration, Hannibal did not seem at all upset. Instead, he grinned. “Then a dog you shall have.”
Will’s body tingled, filled with an array of emotions he couldn’t express or understand. In the time he struggled, Hannibal watched him with open endearment.
A sudden pounding coming from the front door caused Will to jump and snap his head towards the hallway.
“Ah.” Hannibal rose smoothly, smile turning darkly pleased. “It seems we have a guest.”
“Guest?” Will asked, attempting to pull himself from their shared moment.
Hannibal’s dark look softened at Will’s confused tone. “Think of it as a fish,” he ran a hand tenderly through Will’s hair, “snapping at the bait.” He stepped back and offered his hand to assist Will in standing.
Taking the offer, he was unsurprised when the grip shifted to be around his waist. He was pulled closer and found his weight supported against Hannibal’s muscled frame as he was directed towards the stairs. “What are you talking about?”
Instead of answering, Hannibal smirked at him. “Tell me, Will. Where is your phone?”
“My phone?” he asked, thrown. “In my jacket pocket?”
“Oh?” he asked, amused.
Will furrowed his brow, looking between Hannibal and the pounding. Hannibal stopped and settled Will against the railing of the stairway. Only then did he step away towards the door. “Did you know that phones can tracked even when off?”
Will’s whole body locked up. His eyes widened as his breath left him.
Hannibal walked towards the door as a familiar voice called, “Will, I know you’re in there!”
Will wished he had the strength to run. He wished he could have begged Hannibal to leave the door alone. For all of a moment, Will felt his life shrinking down to a pin-sized moment in time with no future in sight.
The feeling shattered when he blinked and saw Hannibal’s hand on the lock.
Between one breathless moment and the next, Matthew was standing in the doorway, heated and ready for a fight. Will’s vantage point meant Matthew wouldn’t see him until he entered the house.
“Can I help you?” Hannibal asked, face smoothed out and professional.
Matthew straightened up, his voice dark with anger. “Where is Will? I know he is here, you fucker. What did you do? I’ll have my father throw you in prison!”
“Whatever for?” Hannibal mused, posture a direct contrast to Matthew’s wound up form.
“Don’t play games. I know Will’s here. Let me in and maybe I won’t beat your face in.”
Hannibal’s calm only infuriated the man more. “All you had to do was ask.” He stepped aside and gestured Matthew in. “Will?” he called, mocking. “We have a guest.”
Will felt a single moment where his heart stopped. It happened as Matthew’s searching gaze locked on his, just as the door clicked shut behind him.
As it started again, Will’s eyes unwillingly flicked to Hannibal’s. The man’s smile grew.
Will would say the step Matthew took forward filled him with electrifying fear, except he didn’t have the chance. As soon as Matthew made to take a step closer, Hannibal already had his head in his hands.
Snap
The thump of the body dropping to the ground at Hannibal’s feet was secondary to his brain cataloguing dexterous fingers wrapping around Matthew’s jaw and skull. Will felt as if he was still watching the efficient way Hannibal applied enough force to cause Matthew’s head to simply break from his spine.
What came next was the suddenness of relief that flooded Will. As the two moments met and reordered in time, Will was left breathless.
He couldn’t believe it.
SAFE his instincts repeated.
Will stared. He didn’t know how long he stared at the still body cooling by the door. It could have been a second, it could have been an hour. Nothing and no one moved in that time.
Eyes eventually moved to meet Hannibal’s own attentive and anticipatory set.
“I’m free.” Did it come out like a question? What was freedom? When had he last defined freedom as being anything but escaping out from Matthew’s controlling and bruising grip? When had it last been possible?
“At last,” Hannibal agreed, infatuated smile shining with a new kind of future. An invitation.
Will grabbed it with both hands.