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#Hannigram #WillGraham #Hannibal #short story
🔥 Nothing's the way it used to be 🔥
Will had known where he was going for a long time. It was clear to him. Gone was that boat without oars whose fate was at the mercy of the wind, always capricious, fickle, wild. Azaroso. Even if that wind was called Hannibal, even if it had his face and his hands were that gust that carried him from one side to the other, impassive as one can only be in the face of a gale.
Will had made his choice months ago. Gone were the hallucinations, the dreams turned into nightmares, that being chasing through the trees. Waking up without knowing how he had got there. Not knowing who he was and not knowing who he was with Hannibal.
At last the two had come together and, in doing so, Will had accepted so much more of what his heart was hiding.
- Nothing is the way it used to be. I don't forget who I am anymore," he says to Hannibal, who looks at him curiously as he sits across from him.
- Tell me about it, Will. Please.
- There isn't a moment that goes by that I don't think about you, Hannibal. Nothing is the way it used to be, I know who I am. I know what I want.
Hannibal can't help but grip the armrest of the chair lightly, excited. He had dreamt of this moment with such emphasis that he could say that on many occasions it really happened. Now it was happening, it was not an illusion of his mind palace.
- I'm tired of waiting, even if everything that has to come is a disaster. I don't know what you've done to me, Hannibal, I'm losing my mind.
- Maybe it's the other way around and, in that swing of emotions, you've found it.
- It's up to you. I have no more use for your signs, I've knocked them all down. I need more.
- You're dreaming loudly now, dear Will. Do you want to dream with me?
Will stands up, no longer afraid. The distance between the two of them has long been too great. He stands in front of the psychiatrist and crouches low enough to bring his lips to his ear.
- I've been dreaming about you longer than you think. No complexes, no senses, just instinct. What have you done to me, Hannibal, tell me.
Hannibal rises to his feet and Will rises in turn. Almost at the same height, his amber eyes fix on Will's blue, and what he sees overwhelms him. For the first time he sees Will, without fear, without doubt, without that sad acceptance that his life was meant to be the way it was.
- Loving you. Ever since I saw you. And that love has brought you here. It's been weeks since I stopped whispering in a chrysalis that had already been opened. What's come out of it is yours as much as mine.
Will rests his hand on Hannibal's face and closes his eyes. He swears he hears his heartbeat in the psychiatrist's heart, and it probably is, beating together.
- I don't know if I can respond to so much. I feel like hitting you so hard...you've changed the world I knew and felt safe in. I had control in it, you know?
- Did you? - Hannibal turns his face and kisses Will's hand. Let me doubt it.
He takes the younger man's hand and kisses it, now he does, with Will looking at him with surprise, desire, admiration.
- What do you want to do with what you feel?
- I've already jumped. Long ago you became one more in me. It's not too late, I hope, for this.
He grabs the psychiatrist's tie and leans his forehead against it, basing him afterwards. He trembles and Hannibal trembles with him, his security shattered on Will's lips. There has never been a barrier so easily broken down, nor one built so quickly around the two men.
- I waited for you and I'm still waiting for you. It's never too long, Will. Nor too late.
