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Peace in knowing that mine is in the best of places next to yours."
🫀 Hannibal's heart 🫀 Hannibal's heart 🫀 Hannibal knows he has a heart because it's alive.
Hannibal knows he has a heart because it's alive and he hears it beating in his chest when Will Graham is near.
Words in his ear and poetry in his hands. New melodies on the harpsichord that will never be heard and sketches where Will is the protagonist. Always Will, all by and for Will.
Hannibal knows he has a heart because although inside it, it doesn't belong to him, he gave it away too long ago and its new owner throws it away. He probably doesn't even know it exists. Quite a statement of intent. But Hannibal doesn't give up, doing so is not in his Being.
Exhibitions of his crimes just for him to see. I am here, I am, look at me and be visible with me. You may not know who you are but I know who I am since you showed up, Will. And I'm not afraid. Maybe you don't know the essence that dwells in you like a flame, still a spark, that will soon become a whole bonfire unleashed.
Hannibal knows he has a heart because when Will is not there, something inside him breaks, and then snaps back together as soon as he is present. Loneliness, once again, trying to make its way into an already lonely life. Hannibal knows he has a heart because that same loneliness that has always been his companion, invisible, is now an enemy to be beaten in the wake of Will Graham's existence. His vulnerability within the reach of a single person, such is the power Hannibal grants Will, his heart, of course, among those gifts.
His crimes, works of art dedicated to Will. Because Hannibal creates stories through Chaos, giving prominence to beings who don't deserve it at all. Do you see what I'm capable of for you, Will? Do you see what you make me do just so you can see me? If you let me, I could teach you how to create your own stories, we could create them together, and the protagonists would be those you want. We.
Hannibal knows he has a heart because he holds it in his hands at every encounter with the profiler, hoping that he will accept it. The heartbeat between his fingers reminding him that he is alive, its ethereal presence etching into the now that he must forget was ever his. Hannibal knows he has a heart because the blood emanating from it falls to the ground and in the puddle it forms he sees his reflection, longing for Will to appear at his side.
And Will looks at him with those blue eyes that seem to know everything. And Will smiles through them, looking for a long-held accomplice in Hannibal. And Will steps closer to move away again, fearful of what might happen if he does too much. Will senses that there is poetry behind Hannibal and that, in him, the psychiatrist has found a kind of magic he didn't know existed.
Hannibal knows he has a heart because his dreams are full of Will, as is the Mental Palace where he treasures all the moments. Those that have passed and, above all, those that may never pass. Each room bears his name and in all of them they make love as if it were the last time they were going to do it, the only time. Hannibal knows he has a heart because in Will's body - which he only senses - he has created an altar on which to worship him and, on it, he places every part of his being to show Will that he is willing to do anything to be by his side.
And Will tilts his face to one side, listening, knowing in advance that what the psychiatrist is thinking of is stripping him naked right there and then. Every day, every minute, seizing the seconds of a life that is running too fast and for which no one is waiting. Will looks beyond Hannibal and in his ears he hears perfectly that heart yearning for dreams and which he is afraid to take in his hands. To accept it would be too much.
And Hannibal falls and gets up, because that's what fighting for what you want is all about. And Hannibal continues to show his heart because he doesn't consider doing anything else. With him, the disguise of a person is gone. There are no more barriers because Hannibal considers that long enough they have been standing, being Will is the only one who deserves to enter to find out what lies beyond his amber eyes.
- Will...
His heart is too heavy.
- Are you all right? - Will, knowing what is about to happen, moves in the chair in front of him.
On the tray filled with blood, the heart continues to pound. Stronger now, full of life.
- Accept it," he says, staring at him.
And Will looks at that heart that has borne his name for too long. And he feels in his soul that he didn't accept it before, or maybe he still can't accept it now.
- I can't, Hannibal. Not yet.
Hannibal knows he has a heart because in these moments it hurts, reminding him that he is alive. A smile on his face and a hope in what could well be his soul is what keeps him going.
- You are afraid - he stands up, his heart in his hands now -. Let me show you who you are, and let us be together.
Will looks up at the heart that belongs to him, and reaches out to touch it. Hannibal feels the human warmth of the profiler as he does so, and he closes his eyes, holding that feeling that he longs to be the first of many.
- It calls to me," Will says. I hear my name on it.
- It's yours, it's been waiting for you for a long time, it's only natural that your name is the one he wants. Are you going to let it go to waste, Will? A love like that?
Will takes it in his hands and Hannibal collapses to the ground, kneeling. The altar that is Will and the prayers that have been said so many times, now heard. Will's fingers running all over him and Hannibal feeling each of those caresses on what is arguably his soul.
- Hannibal... - Will brings his heart to his ear, hearing not only his name but all the phrases they once said to each other.
- Do you realise how long it's been yours? - the psychiatrist asks, hopeful.
- Jack's office. You, me, and a world that separated us.
- And that has bound us together across time and space. That thin layer has blurred, and now it's just you, me, and this heart.
Will looks at Hannibal, kneeling at his feet, and rests his bloody hand on the psychiatrist's face. He watches as he closes those eyes that have so often read in him and now submit to whatever Will decides to do.
- Not yet," he says, stroking his cheek, "Keep it, Hannibal, because as you say, it belongs to me.
- I will, mylimasis. Because in you are my greatest desires and fears, because in you is fire and ice, love and fear, the urge to live and the desire to hide from the world. I was dead before you, beloved. Now I live, I dream, I believe, I fly and I desire. And all these things bear your name.
Will gently rests Hannibal's heart on the tray. Whispers that repeat his name and a stay by my side. Whispers that call out to him and ask him to move forward without fear, a whole world to discover within their reach. Whispers that Hannibal transmits with his smile and those lips that right now kiss him, longing for much more.
Hannibal knows he has a heart because Will has taken it in his hands, making it beat louder by constantly repeating his name. He knows he has it because he no longer wishes to have it, because the heart he longs to possess is Will's heart taking the place of his own. Hannibal knows he has a heart because it cries out with joy in the shared kiss, crying out for more, and he knows he has it because in that fleeting happiness he has glimpsed a possible future together.
One day, maybe, it will be Will's all the way, and not just because his name is written on it. One day maybe it will be Will's and Hannibal will get his instead, which he will protect and care for above all else.
