Hannibal preferences

He sees you with someone else

Will Graham 

He was dreading going down to the lab. He was afraid that if he looked at you, he'd break in two. Would you even look at him? Would you show him even a small percent of the love you once had.

Beverly gave him a fleeting glare when he walked through the doors and went back to examining the corpse in front of her. He felt the lump in his throat grow at the hostility in the room.

He looked around, noticing that only she and Price were there. "W-where's  (y/n). Is she not in?" Beverly looked up at him and rolled her eyes. ""No. She's here. She just went to get coffee with Zeller".

He felt his heart constrict from her words. "They seem to get along like a house on fire" he fought away the urge to gasp in sadness and nods at her, eyes fixed on the body.

"Hey bev-!" His head jerked up at the sound of your voice and he felt a small smile return before dropping when he saw Zeller at your side. You looked at him and blinked away the tears before handing a coffee cup to Price and Beverly.

Will, for the first time, maintained eye contact with someone other than you. He felt his heart break a little to see you so close to another male, especially now  that you were single. Sure he had no right to voice his opinion on the matter but that didn't stop him from feeling jealous.

It was an awkward few seconds before you both spoke. ""Yeaaahhh... imma go... over there," you strained your voice, trying to excuse yourself from the awkwardness. Brian looked at you and then back at Will, who was still staring into his soul. "You know, me too. Let's umm... let's go talk to Jimmy." You both awkwardly and slowly back away and share a look.

Will could feel his blue eyes cloud up with anguish and he felt a sob fight its way up his throat.

Hannibal Lecter 

Since you were still in the hospital, recovering from your broken leg and arm, he would always come to bring you presents to appease you. Sometimes he would bring roses, other times he would bring books just to make sure you weren't bored. He couldn't stand the smell of antiseptic spray and he didn't think you could either so he wanted to fill your room with flowers so you knew how much he really cared.

You kinda knew that he didn't mean to make you fall down the stairs. In all fairness, you were getting in his face and raising your voice at him. Ofcourse that is no excuse for the fact that he pushed you away but from how much he panicked, you could tell that he really hadn't anticipated the part where you plummet down the stairs and broke your bones on the way down.

Right at this moment, you were sitting with Will in your flower filled hospital room playing a game of poker that he'd brought. "How are you doing, (y/n)?" He asked setting his cards down on the plastic lap table that resided over your legs.

"Ummm... not good to be completely honest, Will. I... I miss him," tears sprang from your eyes as a sob racked your body

 "he looked so disappointed in himself. He cried over me. He held me like he thought i was going to die" the tears rolled down your cheeks in rivers and he grabbed your unbroken arm's hand, rubbing his thumb lightly over it to calm your rapid breathing. 

You rested your head on his chest, still sobbing and he ran a hand through your hair, doing his best to comfort you.

Hannibal looked on at the scene through the glass panel of the hospital room. Part of him knew that he was the reason you were crying and that made him want to hide away from everyone and sleep away the years he had left. When he saw your head connect to Will's chest, he felt his stoney facade crumble like the walls of Jericho. 

He'd tried for so hard to keep you for so long and I the end, he was the one to force you into another's arms. The very premise of that made him want to scream to the heavens in denial. That this is all a dream and he'll wake up beside you like he had done so many weeks prior. The only hiccup with that plan though, was the very reinforced fact that this was in fact reality and not some horrible dream he had conjured up through the insecurities he harboured.

He could feel a long streak of moisture fall from his left eye. He stood idly, watching he scene and letting the droplet treacle down his jawbone and promptly drop into the bouquet of roses he'd brought for you. After witnessing such a disheartening display, he could no longer find the strength to walk in and see you face to face.

Right about this time- five o'clock- you both would've been seated on the carpet, enjoying the pleasant warmth of the fire and basking in the radiance of each other's voices as he lay his head in you lap, genuinely smiling as you raked your hand softly through his brown hair. Your other hand would be suspended above him, allowing him to follow your words.

That's how it was every Saturday, just like clockwork. But now he felt as if the cogs had clashed too hard and shattered. He couldn't bare to be in his living room without you. He couldn't brave the bleak world without you.