obsession || hannigram

Confrontation

The coppery scent of blood fills the air, and sirens soon after.

*

Hannibal's whereabouts have been unknown for several days, and while Will attempts to gather answers, he comes up with nothing but an overwhelming amount of trepidation.

The ringing of his phone is what wakes Graham up one night, and regardless of the unknown caller ID, he recognises the voice to be Chiyoh's. They had been making attempts to search together, and despite the female's unceasingly cold manner, her anxiety was distinct, and against the odds, they were bonding.

Blinding lights scrunch Wills eyes into slits as he rushes into the hospital, and whilst he doesn't pause to catch the time, he knows he should be tired. Thankfully for the boy, it's the adrenaline which keeps him attentive, and the fact Hannibal is in the hospital rather than a morgue helps in the process of heightening his hopes.

It's all a blur as he erratically searches, his voice coming out sharp and distressed as he desperately questions the passerby nurses and other workers. The typical visiting hours are long gone, though he remains persistent, presenting his urgency through both tone and demeanour. Typically, he'd try his best to avoid hospitals; the few times he had visited, the high emotions throughout the place made his skin crawl, and the ugly tears on others managed to end up swelling within his own eyes.

This time is no exception. Wet eyes and red cheeks stain his skin, but unlike the former trips, he's fairly certain that the tears running down his face are his own.

Eventually, he's guided to a block of rooms, where Chiyohs distinctive raven locks capture his attention from across the hall. She remains stationary outside a door, her arms crossed, much like a bodyguard. Rushing over, the female dips her head at him and vaguely gestures inside. He doesn't hesitate to barge through the door. Graham's gaze fixes upon the conscious male within milliseconds of his entry, and within those moments, his anxiety seems to fade.

"God, Hannibal." He manages to choke out, stumbling inelegantly to Lecter's side. He lowers himself, his head now inline with the height of the body on the bed.

"My dearest Will." A faint, relieved smile quavers, and Hannibal lazily drags a hand through the brunet's hair, his limbs weak as he brings his palm to a standstill near the boy's cheek, using his thumb to brush away his tears.

Will realises he can sob at the mere touch. The relief is hardly bearable, however, he attempts to hold back his own emotions in favour of the man before him. Wiping his eyes briskly, he makes sure he's as stable as possible before opening his mouth.

"What happened?"

Hannibal's forearms are wrapped tightly in bandages, along with multiple other parts of his body. His bottom lip is split and an eye is black, though his knuckles are a familiar tan. It was a one-sided confrontation.

"I was attacked. Rendered unconscious, and restrained. After killing me, his goal was to kill you, although I wouldn't tell him where you live. He seemed to be having a psychotic episode." Hannibal shifts his stare onto Will's cheek, briefly avoiding his eyes.

"..Matthew?" Will already suspected the answer, but Hannibal's solemn expression confirms it. "..Why would— where is he?"

"I don't know. It was a passerby who called the police, and he escaped soon after." Hannibal returns, and they're met with a heavy silence. Will's empathy finally hits him, and he feels both his and Hannibal's tiredness ache on his limbs.

He pulls a nearby chair close to the bedside and settles into it, his eyes not leaving Hannibal for even a second.
"I was so worried about you. I can't.."