Hannigram -Short stories -

My sympathy for you is inconvenient

#Hannigram #short story

Hannibal had left his fate in Will's hands from the moment he met him. He knew, beforehand, that feelings would eventually rule his integrity and that it would break.

- My sympathy for you is inconvenient, Will.

His blue eyes, less blue now inside the cliff hut, watching Hannibal's every move, waiting for an attack. A move. One thing.
Will has escaped along with him and though to the ears of the world he screams it is to get Francis Dolarhyde, to Hannibal he cannot lie, not anymore. That is a half-truth, a lie.

- Your compassion for me didn't stop you from sticking that knife in me, Hannibal.

He lifts his shirt briefly, revealing the shadow of a scar he will carry forever. Hannibal's mark closed well physically, mentally it's something else.

- Empty words. I did what I had to. A fair exchange. You betrayed me, Will. You betrayed us both.

Will takes a sip from the glass of wine that minutes before they both poured for themselves. He looks past Hannibal to the table.

- It's my bottle. The one I gave you years ago," he says.

- As I was saying, my sympathy for you is inconvenient - Hannibal nods.

The two men study each other. Time has taken its toll on them, just a little. Hannibal, imposing, doesn't take his eyes off Will as he drains his drink. Will, closer than he has ever been to him, walks to the window, waiting.

- We're waiting for you, Will. Abigail and I. I would have waited for you longer than necessary," Will hears behind him, footsteps approaching. We met, we saw each other, we had a future.

Will is silent. It's true. He feels Hannibal behind him like a whisper, the skin on the back of his neck crawls. He doesn't want to turn around and let him know how he feels. Nor does he need to.
Hannibal already knows.

- I did it for us. Everything I've done has been for us. You were lost, you said so yourself. Your home was drifting away from you and you saw it from afar as if you were a ship adrift.

- You remember," says Will.

- As for you, I never forget anything. My mind palace is marked with our moments - Hannibal closes his eyes -. Our dialogues are written on the walls. When I walk through it, I walk through it, reading every sentence, every word.

Hannibal moves a little closer, his breath brushing Will in the most intimate way he knows.

- Your mind palace can lie, Hannibal. Perspective. My experiences and yours are different, truth depends on the subjective experiences of each of us," Will says, his gaze fixed on the darkness of the night.

- Not this. I stuck a knife in you, that's the truth. The addition that each of us makes is subjective. I felt...

- Broken - Will answers for him.

- I certainly did. Broken. Alone again. And you were still fighting your feelings for me. Tell me, Will, have you stopped fighting?

His right hand moves up to Will's neck. He runs two of his fingers down the back, notices Will shudder.

- Still haven't made up your mind? - he repeats. I can decide for you - his face, resting on Will's shoulder, which doesn't stop him. I can... I keep waiting for you, Will Graham. It seems I'll always wait for you.

Still not turning away, Will brings his free hand back, cupping it to Hannibal's face. The psychiatrist closes his eyes, all this time imprisoned has brought him to this moment, with Will opening up to him, the butterfly flapping its wings as it emerges from the chrysalis.
A déjà vu.
He's already lived this.