![]() Perhaps Will has always known that answer, ever since they saw each other in Florence. “I have the answer now,” he whispered, bending over Hannibal. Hannibal was already part of him, with roots so deep that trying to pull them out would have only been suicide. Will was only able to love fully by engrossment, by absorbing the other’s thoughts and feelings as his own, and he could only know himself through the eyes of the other. He stopped at Hannibal’s lips, his fingers barely brushing over them, and Hannibal allowed his exploration to continue, almost child-like in curiosity himself. Hannibal has made him step in and out of his comfort zone for a long time, persuading him into a distorted waltz – one step forward, two steps backward. Intimacy – especially physical intimacy – has always been difficult for Will. Will traced the contour of Hannibal’s face with his fingers, perusing every wrinkle of skin, trying to understand, trying to see behind the façade. Hannibal answered with a smile, his facial features softening. Will dragged his hand out of Hannibal’s grip gently, but the movement – even though so smooth – made Hannibal jolt awake instantly, and Will thought that he had never seen anyone wake up so swiftly before. A spin at the center of the universe was twirling around for them to coexist in a twisted version of reality. It was already decided, and the plan set in motion. If fate was real, then perhaps it has always been meant to happen that way. No escape and no running away from Hannibal could do him any more good than running towards him. Strangely enough, the idea of fighting the whole world had never seemed more appealing that when he understood he had Hannibal as his partner. It was only then when he realized that the path he and Hannibal started walking on was full of menace and risks and bumps. It was only then when Will became fully aware that there was no going back, no turning around, no changing direction. The very same Hannibal Lecter who had killed dozens of people before, but not him, not Will – “ Just not yet.” The man sleeping next to him, the man who spent the night on an armchair because he had asked him to, the man who dragged him out of water and saved his life was no other than Hannibal Lecter. But for once, at last, he felt the dream unfolding in front of him take physical shape and become reality. It might have been the medicine, or the pain, or the after-shock trauma that made him go thought the last hours as if he was dreaming and waiting to wake up any moment. When he finally opened his and looked at him, Will felt a sudden wave of heat pumping through his body. Hannibal’s distinctive perfume was wrapping around the humid and damp smell of the surrounding. Then, he heard the dimmed and continuous buzzing of ceiling lights and the steady breathing of the man sleeping next to him. Firstly, he felt the warmth of Hannibal’s hand in his own and his slender fingers pressing against his palm, the other’s warm flesh on his own. His senses started perceiving the world around him one by one, uncovering its disguised mysteries. After a deep and dreamless night, the first to wake up in the morning was Will.
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