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🔥 The lament of Achilles 🔥.
The intensity of the love that Hannibal projects towards Will, hits him as hard as dozens of stones thrown straight at his heart.
At first he didn't notice, self-absorbed as he was in his dissociations, and with hundreds of problems in real life. Hannibal was always there, in the shadows, patiently waiting for Will to realise one day. What started out as a great curiosity - a spark - grew over the days into something greater. A bonfire whose flames looked beyond the sky.
Hannibal accepted it, Will still did not.
The moments they exchanged, the words they exchanged, made the heart of a Hannibal who had been alone for too long even wider. In Will he saw an equal, in Will he longed for a companion. Talking to him was almost like talking to himself, as simple as the blood coursing through his veins and as comfortable as breathing. Hannibal has the feeling that he could tell Will anything, and he would respect him. He would even support him.
Isn't that love?
- Achilles wished all the Greeks were dead, so he and Patroclus could conquer Troy alone," Hannibal says, Will's gaze on him.
Everlasting fame, a requirement Achilles had been pursuing since his mother foretold his early death.
"Go to Troy and you will die young, stay and you will have a lifetime ahead of you." "If I go my name will be remembered forever. If I don't, nothing but bones will be left of me when I die".
Hannibal's love, again striking Will, feeling for a few moments the fire of Achilles in his beloved Patroclus. Why is it so hard for him? To reciprocate Hannibal is something he hides behind his smiles, those that spring wryly to his lips but mean stay by my side, I am here for you.
- Patroclus died in battle impersonating Achilles, carrying his armour," Will adds.
He had read the book as a teenager and always thought he would have done the same, had he known such a love.
- That's right. The eternal reminder of what love is capable of. Aristotle, who was Alexander the Great's teacher, was a strong advocate of love between two men. For him, love between two good men elevated the best in each to the heavens.
Will's blue, dark now, trembling in Hannibal's amber, still waiting. Hannibal will always wait for him, he knows it, he feels it.
- I've never known love like this," Will confesses. I don't even know if I believe in such a love.
Hannibal's right hand holds the pencil with which he drew "Achilles' Lament". He puts it down on the table and caresses the face of a dead Patroclus on the paper. Eternal, forever young, beloved.
- Patroclus is remembered in the Greek epics as an empathetic man. Like you, Will.
- How many times have you drawn me, Hannibal?
- Too few. The best sketches are here," he says, pointing to his head, "images of possible desires, of longings. Moments that haven't happened yet and that I recall again and again as if they really happened.
Will kneels beside her, equals in a life that pushes them to face it together.
- I'm not your Patroclus, Hannibal. You overestimate me.
- It's ironic that those people who have something special are unaware, and those who are nothing but smoke elevate themselves more than they should. You are my inspiration, Will. But you already knew that.
Will rests his hand on the table and stretches out one of his fingers, brushing against Hannibal's. He closes his eyes because he doesn't want to see. He closes his eyes because he doesn't want to meet his gaze, doesn't want to know what he'll find in it, let alone have Hannibal read into it how he feels.
- You don't know yet that you are my Patroclus, my Hephaistion to Alexander. I have as much patience as two stones put together, Will, I'll get you to see you through my eyes.
- And if that never happens? - Will feels like crying, he doesn't want to hurt Hannibal, he doesn't want to disappoint him.
- Trust me, I would never hurt you - he covers Will's hand with his own -. There are connections that don't happen too often, and we have the stupid illusion that it will happen often. No, Will, there are very few times we connect with someone.
Will opens his eyes and for a few seconds allows himself to forget. His little experience, his fears, his low expectations of human relationships. For a few seconds, he flows. He enters the world that Hannibal draws for the two of them, the one that is also embodied in his compositions on the harpsichord and that, in words, he has been trying to convey to him for too long.
- Hannibal, my life... I don't have an easy life.
- Name one person who does. Neither do I, Will.
- You don't understand me. Sometimes I feel unstable, sometimes I lose my way. ....
- Haven't I brought all of them back to you? You're not going anywhere. Not without me.
Will's smile is so sad that Hannibal has to fight with all his might not to hug him.
- I'd lose myself a thousand times in that ocean of yours, Will. That's the power you have over me. I would gladly lose myself, and well you know how little given I am to not being the one to steer the oars.
- I'll be gone before that happens. Hurt you...
- Not without me. Not without me.
Hannibal rests his hand on Will's face, and leans forward to kiss him. Will wants to pull back but Hannibal's grip won't let him.
Is this the Chaos he wants to be a part of?
His kiss is like finding moonlight after a long night's walk. Like salt on a journey, like a small fire on cold days. Will flows with Hannibal and takes them both to the ground without knowing how he has done it, with Hannibal underneath him letting himself be done.
- My wonderful work of art," Will hears him whisper. You're the most interesting thing that's come across my life in a long time, my unaware beauty. Do you know how much I want you?
- Do you know how much I want you? -Will gasps, he really does.
- Stay with me.
Will wants to stay. He wants to be able to reciprocate, to fully feel the love that Hannibal openly offers him. He wants to forget his worst days and welcome new ones.
- Hannibal... I... - In Will all the fears in the world. Of not being able to give himself in the same way, of not being capable of more than pain. Because that's what Will understands too much, and walking away is his signature when it all gets too much for him.
- Stay. You just.. - Hannibal holds Will with his hand on his hip, squeezing him - give me the chance.
And Will hugs him. And he cries as he does so, Hannibal's hand stroking his curls as he's so often dreamed of. The chance to try, to feel accompanied and to be accompanied in turn. For Hannibal is as alone as he is, and maybe together they can find the way.
- It's all right, Hannibal.
Never was there a happier smile, or a kiss that dispelled so many doubts.
