obsession || hannigram

Observation

A rhythm of clopping hooves drum harshly into the snow in front of Will Graham, sourced from a large Ravenstag which circles the teen. Its eyes are cold and clouded over as if it were a corpse. The animal is entirely black, except the orbs within the skull. Releasing a huff, it charges; its unnaturally sharp antlers aimed directly towards Wills heaving chest. Surprisingly, before the Stag could penetrate his skin, Wills head becomes the victim of an unseen swift blow.

**

With a heightened gasp, Will jerks himself up from the cold surface of his desk, sweat pouring down his face as he comes to his senses. His eyes dart around erratically, before finally resting on the cause of the pain. His teacher glares down at the teen with piercing eyes, and in her grasp remains multiple pieces of paper rolled into a thick cylinder.

"Mr. Graham. This is your first lesson in my class and you choose to sleep?" She frowns, causing snickers to arise from multiple students across the fairly large classroom.

Will focuses his gaze onto the space beneath him. "I'm sorry." He apologises. This isn't the first time the teen had been caught sleeping during a lesson, but as he only recently joined this class, he wished to have a good first impression. That was short lasting.

Unfortunately, the brown haired male was commonly plagued by nightmares alongside occasional visions, and often found himself dreading the awaiting unconsciousness which is bound to happen every night, or at least the day after.

As the teacher leaves his side, Will becomes aware of a single lingering stare. It's tense, and unnerving, like someone's trying to study his behaviour. He may be in Psychology Class, but he wasn't expecting to be the one being psychoanalysed. As an effort to distract himself, he combs a few sweat-drenched strands of his hair behind his ears, and attempts to pay attention for the remainder of the time. Thankfully, it's Wills last class of the day, and the instant the bell rings, a wave of relief washes over him.

The eighteen year old purposely gathers his items slower than the majority; hoping to avoid the chaotic crowd which flows through the school like a poisonous gas. After a few minutes, Will observes only a few other students in the classroom. He reaches down towards his backpack and stands immediately, only to look up and see another male standing just a few feet before him.

"You look as if you may need this." A gentle voice speaks up, in a thick, yet smooth accent. Will can tell it's European. He knows he should recognise the other, but he doesn't— then again, he does have the tendency to keep his head lowered in the halls.

A taller boy holds out a delicately folded periwinkle handkerchief towards Will, causing the teen to hesitate. For a brief moment, Wills bright blue gaze peeks into the others contrasting dark brown eyes. To his dismay, he is unable to read his emotions. Will instantly retains focus on the fabric which is extended towards him, and It takes him a few moments to process the gesture.

"Ah- No, i really don't need it-" Still averting his eyes, Will instinctively gathers the fabric from his own sleeves and pulls them over his palms, before swiping at his moistened cheeks and forehead. Despite this, stringy strands of his hair still stick to his face. His cheeks grow red from embarrassment.

A gentle sigh escapes the strangers mouth.

Before he can react, his right hand is opened softly and the handkerchief is placed into his palm. He exhales a defeat before using the fabric to dab at his sweat; eliminating the remaining evidence of his dream.

"Thanks." Will holds the dampened fabric in his hand, uncertain what to do with it.

"Keep it." The accented voice suggests, as if he can read his mind. He continues. "We haven't been introduced. I'm Hannibal Lecter."