I want to know the headcanon of the self concept!!
In the grand chambers of his mind, past the splendid halls and adorned rooms, lies a quiet, dimly lit corner. It's often neglected, save for the faint footprints on the floor, like the untouched spot on a dusty shelf where a book has been moved. It seems a place one ventures into sparingly, compelled not by desire, but by the necessity to gently close the door that persistently opens.
Sometimes he whispers, "Gotta fix that door," knowing deep down it can't be fixed. Sensing the chilling breath seeping through the door's crevice, engulfed in its darkness, he shuts it behind him, turning away. Even in distance, echoes persist, like a laboring devil, birthing a newborn lying bloodied, seemingly lifeless, yet gasping for breath—a lament not of hunger, but of separation.
"What do you need to hide from me? I've seen the worst of you," Will's voice echoes through the corridor.
"That which you deem my worst is, to me, the bravest, most audacious, and inventive aspect of my being."
"I'm not talking about that. That, I do not perceive as your worst. I'm talking about Mischa. Your parents. Your haunting visions, your uncertainties."
Hannibal is caught off guard by this revelation, though in truth, he shouldn't be. Of course, Will does not regard death as his worst. He is his reflection, his imago. Either way, Will wouldn't understand that. Not even he understands that himself. Or does he?
"Tell me then, if you're so afraid to show me. But if you showed me, I would not ask for you to talk."
"I fear you'll run from me. Or worse still, I fear you'll stay...for the wrong reasons."
"With us, no reason finds its righteous place. Not a facet of our existence aligns in virtue."
"To me, you are the only thing that is right."
"Why won't you say that to me, outside of here?"
"My physical body is my fort. But within my thoughts, you roam free."
"I fear the monster lurking within will devour your love for me."
"My heart was relinquished to that monster. It has devoured it. And I still love you."
He ponders. Should he grant access? Or is Will manipulating him again? Using his feelings as currency for desires... again? He's certain regret will follow once the door reveals its contents. He dreads witnessing it. Although acquainted with its presence, he tries ardently to shun it, to regard it as fleeting as a passing cloud within his thoughts.
Should he open it? Should he let Will in? Should I keep writing? 🙃
titsay
snowghoul
theartofmadeline
izzy806
turnnoffyourmind
