Following after the figurative: 'Cliff Hanger', on Hannibal NBC; the story evolves to express the turmoil, suspense and romance between Will and Hannibal and lastly- what we, as Fannibals, feel might just happen!
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Will had sunk to the floor in front of the door, resting his forehead against his raised knees as he tried to calm his inner turmoil.
'Why was everything in life so fucked up?'
He had been happy for five minutes, that was all God had allowed him. He was forever being punished for his sins, and the sins of others. Will pulled at the curls on his head for a moment, harsh breaths hissing from his lungs as his eyes squinted shut. The pain of his fingernails ripping against his scalp was grounding him in the now. He made a loud, pained and frustrated noise and kicked the chest of draws next to him; the noise was loud enough to be carried downstairs but he didn't care.
Getting to his feet, Will walks around the room, pacing, thinking, trying not to have a panic attack but it appeared he already has in the process of not trying to lose himself. Had he upset Hannibal? He kept thinking, but then brushing it aside. It was the cannibals fault even if he hadn't organized the death of his wife. "Oh god..." Will says, stopping at the thought of Molly. His beautiful, crazy Molly. Would she had died if he hadn't left? Would he have died in her place?
Feeling his eyes burn with tears, Will finds a corner to sit in, dark and between furniture. It reminded him of the cupboard he hid in as a kid when his pa had drunk far too much.
Safe.
....
The mop was convenient, Hannibal took into consideration as he had grabbed the one closest to him and set off for soaking the sink water up that had spilled over onto the floor and flooded most of the kitchen. Pausing briefly, he'd wring the sponge dry into the sink and after squeezing it a few times, went back to soak up any remaining. On the second go round, there had been a noise above that caught his attention, breaking free of the mop after setting it across the twin sinks he'd walk to the stairs.
Hannibal listened intensely, gradually making his way up as his shoes scraped the carpet along the way. His right hand slithered along the railing as he'd lean his focus on the noise, attempting not to be heard or taken acknowledge of for the sake of Will possibly locking the door.
Once on the top floor, he had made his way to the extra bedroom and placed his left hand under the doorknob as his right turned it swiftly to budge the door open in one quick gesture. There Will sat across the room, hunkered down in an ominous blanket, Hannibal did not even bother telling him of his appearance. Instead, he would walk in and close the door behind him, leaning casually against the facing as he surveyed Will pulling himself into the corner tighter upon his entering the room, he looked as though he didn't want to be near this man right now. Hannibal did not blame him one bit.
"I know that you are very upset and you have every right to be, Will." Hannibal began gradually, his back still to the door, "But you must not let this hurt you; death is but merely the beginning. When Death comes sounding his bell, he makes sure to leave something beautiful in it's' absence; be it freedom, flowers, mere understanding?" Pulling away from the facing then, Hannibal slowly inched forward before crouching down at Will's' level, "In Molly's' absence, you shall soon see brand new things come into play, Will. Often sad or simply astounding. Beauty comes in many forms as does life with it's' many layers."
