She was so thin, he’d noticed before as he’d followed her, the
way the clothing had clung as her movements had shifted the
fabric to showcase it. Even more so when she’d curled in the
chair across from him, but in the holding her had been what had
truly made his chest tighten, feeling hard bone just beneath the
protective layer against the cold. Lips pressing into a thin line,
he shifted his focus away from the train of thought that brought
to light, allowing it to rumble down the tracks and out of sight to
be caught at a later time, one when he wasn’t holding
something precious in his hands that might suffer beneath the
reflexive action.
Gaze shifting slightly, not quite lifting fully to meet hers, afraid
to drown in that blue that dredged up so many memories,
Hannibal held himself still, or at least made the attempt, his
head angling slightly as though unable to resist, a flower starved
for sunlight, the young boy he’d been who’d lost everything
craving the contact and comfort she had to offer. Carefully
bandaging the scrape, half tempted to wrap it as well to ensure the
bandage stayed in place, he finally lifted his gaze to hers,
amusement swimming in the carmine hued eyes.
“Geriau pilka negu plikas.”
The words almost caught in his throat, though he managed to let
them lightly dance off his tongue, a small smile offered, leaning
down to press his lips gently against the bandage, unable to stop
himself. Even if he were allowed years to attempt making up for
those he’d lost, he was sure that he’d not be able to fully suppress
the urge to care for her like the child she’d been. Pulling away,
mentally even before he’d moved, Hannibal cleaned up the minor
mess made, a small puddle of wax papers and bloody gauze
crumpled in his hand as the other closed the first aid kit.
“Aš vis dar skolingas jums vakarienė, mažai žvaigždė. Aš
paprastą vakarienė galėčiau parengti už jus?”
Trying to suppress the hint of pleading he could taste like cold
metal on his tongue, he pushed himself to his feet, returning the
first aid kit only to stand there with his back to her. Every time he
took his eyes off of her he expected her to be gone when he
turned, that his mind had cruelly taken a chance encounter, and
built a scenario to mock him for his weakness brought to light by
a face that seemed only slightly familiar. Was he going to wake
soon? Come to himself still sitting in his car parked against a
curb, fingers throbbing with how tightly they’d gripped the steering
wheel, his throat aching by the expulsion of a name that had
became synonymous with terrible experience, with failure, with
self loathing.
“Prašome neblunka atokiau." The words tumbled over his lips
like a fervent prayer, repeatedly in a hushed tone, fingers curled
around the cabinet door, feeling the edge of the wood bite into the
flesh of his fingers, eyes closed as he slowly breathed in through
his nose. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d imagined his sister
alive, but those were adolescent daydreams, fueled by the
incorrect knowledge that the world despite its cruelties could on
occasion be kind. But there was still the aggressively sweet and
sour scent of an unwashed body, his mind slowly dissecting each
flavor of the scent as though that alone would be enough to assure
him she was there, was still there, that when he turned and his
eyes opened, she would still be there. A small part of him hated
her for this unbalance, this sudden shift in accepted realities,
but it was easily dismissed, drowned out by the victorious howl
that rebounded against the inner curvings of his skull.
