"Because with the right person every day is Christmas, New Year's, birthdays and any socially modified time of the year to be happy. That's the magic of loving, and most of all, it's the magic of feeling loved."
🔥 Merry Christmas, Will🔥
When Will walks into Hannibal's office he can't help but look away from the Christmas tree which, at least two days ago, was missing.
Christmas. A consumerist season disguised as good intentions and warm hearts. The last Christmas Will celebrated would have been no more than ten years old, a non-existent mother and an absent father who did his best.
- Don't you like it, Will?
Hannibal's voice brings him back to the present. Is there a right answer?
- Do you like it, Dr. Lecter?
- Funny habit you have of answering questions - Hannibal smiles, knowing he does the same. I thought you liked these dates.
Will, who hasn't even taken off his jacket, walks towards the perfectly assembled Christmas tree. It's like the typical tree in a catalogue, impeccable, Hannibal never left any detail to chance. With his fingertips he touches one of the bright red balls and his reflection gives him a sad look.
- No time of the year is more hypocritical than this. Except, perhaps, Valentine's Day.
Hannibal walks towards him, choosing the right words in his mind.
- Hypocrisy is part of life. Without it we would not have survived as a species.
In Will Graham's world there was no room for anything but the truth. Crude, cruel, transparent and immovable. In truth Will found the certainty, or rather the lack of uncertainty, that threatened to take him away.
- The human is... - he was silent - sometimes I don't understand him.
Hannibal, behind him, rests his hand on his shoulder. The few times he had been able to approach Will, he had done so as slowly as a hunter stalking his prey.
- He doesn't need to. But flowing with the crowd is a beautiful way to hide who we are. If we don't stand out, we're not singled out. Watched. To be one with the rest is to create a safe place should you need it one day.
Will tenses a little. Hannibal doesn't know if it's because of the physical contact or because of his words.
- What is your safe place, Will? - he continues.
- My pack.
- The family you've chosen, created out of nothing. What about Alana?
Will turns. Alana? Why does he mention her?
- Dr. Bloom? We are friends.
- I'm fully aware, as you are, that she would want to be so much more. I thought maybe I'd spend this time of year with her.
Will strides away and sits down in the armchair that bears her name.
- Did I disturb you? My apologies. I don't want you to spend these days alone, Will. That's just it.
Will finds it hard to look you in the eye. It unsettles him to do so. And now he's wishing he could read in Hannibal's that truth he desperately seeks.
- What do you want from me, Hannibal?
- To look at me. I know what you're looking for. I know where you're going. Look at me, Will.
Will does so, submissive, compelled by that command that hides a plea.
- Hannibal...
- I can no more bring back a lost childhood than I can bring back my own. But I can, if you let me, make it so that during these days neither of us feels so lonely.
Will opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.
- I don't promise you'll love Christmas. I'm not that bold. But you will love company like no other, hearty meals and the best whisky you've ever tasted.
Will nods. Why not?
- And this. I can promise you this too.
What Will will wonder days later is why he doesn't pull away when Hannibal leans in for a kiss. What he'll still be wondering weeks later is how his body reacts by opening his mouth and responding wildly, his tongue wanting more. How he ends up under the Christmas tree, with Hannibal on top of him and the reflection of them both in those glittering balls is something his mind obviates, letting the control be his heart's this time.
- Merry Christmas, Will.
- It's tomorrow, Dr. Lecter.
Hannibal strokes the curls he loved so much.
- It's whenever we want it to be. Today, tomorrow, what does it matter. The essential thing is that you're in it, Will. Now and, if you'll grant me, always.
