losing dog. . .‧˚꒰🐾꒱༘‧
pairing: Hannibal x Will x chronically depressed!gn!reader genre: hurt comfort • coping • caring notes: based on this ask! hi no pressure to ofc but could i please ask for a drabble of hannibal (or hannigram) x gender neutral reader with chronic depression? no worries if you don’t want to write it. have a nice day!! ^_^ MINORS DNI!! masterlist join my taglist ─── ꒰ 🩹 ꒱ ───
good and bad days
Some days are easier than others.
Not good, necessarily. But manageable.
Your lovers always contently notice when you are better. The days you get out of bed before noon. The mornings you sit with Will on the porch while he drinks his coffee, wrapped in one of Hannibal's sweaters. The nights you actually eat dinner at the table instead of picking at it in bed.
For a while, things had felt… lighter.
You had been doing more. Speaking more. Existing outside the bedroom more often. Some evenings, Hannibal would find you in the kitchen while he cooked, leaning against the counter and just talking about what was on your mind. Other evenings you were in the garage with Will, asking him for the 15th time what fishing 'thing' that was, just to hear him explain it with excitement.
It wasn't like you just shook off your depression.
But it was something closer to living again.
Which is why Will notices immediately when the bedroom door never opened today.
Morning passed quietly.
Then afternoon.
The dogs paced more than usual, lingering outside the bedroom every now and then before wandering back downstairs. Even Winston looked uncertain, ears flicking toward the hall every time the floor creaked.
Will tried not to hover.
He knew what it feels like to drown under concern that sounded too much like obligation.
But by the time Hannibal texted to say he was stopping to pick up a few things before coming home, Will finally made his way upstairs.
The bedroom was dim.
You were buried almost completely beneath the sheets, turned toward the wall, so still he wondered briefly if you were even awake.
He leaned lightly against the doorway.
"Hey," he said softly.
No response.
Will glanced toward the window, toward the cloudy afternoon outside.
"I was gonna walk the dogs before Hannibal gets back."
Still nothing.
He stepped inside anyway. The bed dipped slightly as he sat near your legs, not touching you yet.
"You don't have to talk," he said after a moment. "Just thought I'd ask if you wanted to come."
His hand rested loosely against the blanket near your ankle.
"You've been in here all day."
Your shoulders tensed faintly beneath the covers, and immediately he regretted the phrasing.
The sound of claws against hardwood interrupted the moment.
Will barely had time to turn before Max barrelled into the room first, followed by two others crowding curiously behind him.
"Jesus Christ," Will muttered under his breath.
Max leaped onto the bed before Will could stop him.
The mattress jolted with the impact.
A second later, a cold nose was shoved insistently against your ear.
Then another sniff.
Then an enthusiastic lick against your hand.
You made the smallest sound, and instinctively pulled your hand away.
Max only took that as encouragement.
His tail thumped violently against the comforter while he nudged closer, whining softly.
Will watched the blanket-covered shape of you shifting slightly.
Then slightly more.
Your shoulders shook once.
Not crying.
A laugh.
Tiny. Barely there. But enough that Will felt something unclench in his chest.
Eventually, very slowly, you pushed the blanket down.
"Hey there..." Will murmured.
You looked exhausted.
Will reached over absentmindedly to scratch behind Max’s ears.
"We probably can't let Hannibal know he jumped on the bed."
You let a small smile linger on your lips at that..
"You know he will find out..." you mumble.
"Yeah," Will admitted.
Max sneezed directly onto the sheets.
Another tiny smile pulled at your mouth despite yourself.
And Will didn't push any further than that.
Eventually, you do get out of bed.
Will didn't rush you. He just stood when you finally sat up properly, gathering one of the dog toys from the floor and tossing it absentmindedly down the hallway for Winston.
The house felt less heavy downstairs.
You settled onto the couch beside Will with two dogs immediately begging for pets and cuddles. Max wedged himself shamelessly across both your laps while another curled against your legs.
For a little while, things feel easier.
Will tossed one of the worn rope toys lazily across the living room, watching the dogs scramble after it.
You found yourself petting Max absentmindedly, fingers sinking into warm fur while your breathing slowly evened out.
Will glanced at you occasionally, subtle enough that he probably thought you didn't notice.
You leaned toward him first. Your lips brushed his cheek once.
Then again.
Then the corner of his mouth.
Will huffed a quiet laugh through his nose, one hand settling automatically against your knee.
"You feeling a little better?" he asked softly.
"A little."
His thumb rubbed slowly against your leg.
"We could take the dogs out before it rains."
The words were gentle.
But the second he said it, something inside you sunk again.
Because walking the dogs meant showering first.
Changing clothes.
Brushing your teeth.
Finding clean socks.
Finding your shoes.
And then suddenly your brain was pulling everything else back in too.
The cups of cold coffee still sitting abandoned on your nightstand.
The laundry you wanted to do three days ago.
The promise you made Hannibal this morning that you'd at least tidy the bedroom today.
The bit of fragile warmth in your chest caved inward all at once beneath the weight of everything you hadn't done.
Your hands stilled against Max's fur.
"You don't have to." Will interrupted your spiralling thoughts.
You stared down at the dog curled across your lap instead.
"I thought I wanted to," you admitted quietly. "But now it just feels like…" You exhaled shakily. "Too much."
Will was silent for a moment. He wasn't disappointed in you, not at all.
Then he nodded once, "Okay."
He picked up one of the tennis balls from beside the couch and rolled it between his palms thoughtfully.
"We can stay here."
You glanced at him uncertainly. "But the dogs..."
"I'll let them into the backyard. You can watch from here." he suggested.
His eyes flicked briefly toward the massive glass sliding doors.
"And if you decide you want to come out later," he added, "you can."
The simplicity of it nearly made your chest ache.
Will stood slowly, the dogs immediately sprung to attention around him in chaotic excitement.
Max hesitated, though.
He looked between you and Will like he was conflicted about abandoning his post beside you.
Max stayed on the couch beside you.
You couldn't help smiling faintly as Will slid the backyard door open, instantly the dogs jumped outside excitedly.
Will lingered near the doorway instead of joining them immediately.
Like he didn't want you to feel left behind.
You give him a small wordless nod, he should go outside and play with the pack.
And so he did step outside, the dogs running wildly around the backyard.
You watched Will through the glass doors for a long while after that.
The dogs raced through the grass, muddy paws kicking up dirt while Will stood in the middle of them with the tennis ball, occasionally throwing it or tugging at a rope with another dog.
He looked… easy out there.
Not happy exactly. Will rarely looked happy in obvious ways.
But capable, functional, alive.
Alive in a way you suddenly didn't feel.
One of the dogs crashed into his legs at full speed and he stumbled slightly with a startled laugh, while another stole the ball from his hand.
You stared at the scene too long.
Will understood your feelings. Better than almost anyone.
You knew that.
You knew about the sleepless nights. The dissociation. The darkness he still carried around like something stitched into his ribs. You knew there were days he struggled to crawl out from underneath it too.
But somehow he still managed this.
He still got up.
Still walked the dogs. Still remembered things. Still functioned.
And you...
You spent all day in bed beside cups of cold coffee and promises you couldn't keep.
Your chest tightened painfully.
Maybe some people survived this.
Maybe you wouldn't.
Maybe you were losing.
Your gaze drifted toward Will again as he bent down to wipe mud from one of the dogs with the bottom of his sleeve, completely unconcerned with the mess.
And you felt like something left behind by it.
The losing dog.
The one that never quite caught up no matter how hard it tried.
Your throat burned suddenly.
Before the thought could spiral further, the sound of the front door opening cut through it.
The dogs outside immediately lost their minds.
You heard Hannibal's voice faintly from the entryway, calm and warm despite the pack of dogs suddenly rushing back in as they bounced towards the door, barking and jumping in joy to see him.
"Please, calm down," he said dryly, speaking to the dogs like they'd understand him, "You behave as though I've returned from war."
A moment later he appeared in the living room carrying several grocery bags in both hands.
Hannibal paused the second he saw you on the couch with Max.
And immediately, genuinely, his entire expression softened.
"There you are," he said quietly.
He set the bags carefully onto the counter before crossing the room toward you without hesitation.
He leaned down, one hand settling lightly against your jaw while he kissed you slowly, like he wanted you fully present for it.
"You're out of bed," he said fondly against your forehead afterward.
You nodded faintly.
Hannibal brushes his thumb against your jaw absentmindedly before glancing toward the backyard where Will was still occupied with the rest of the dogs.
"How was your day so far, dear?"
The question was gentle, trying to be casual and encouraging.
But suddenly it felt unbearable.
Because the truthful answer was nothing. You hadn't done anything and your day had been... empty.
Because the cups were still upstairs.
Because you said you would try today.
Your eyes drifted back toward the yard instead of answering.
Will was laughing quietly now as Harley refuses to give back the ball, darting away every time he got close enough to grab it.
You stared at him silently.
And beside you, Hannibal went still.
His gaze lingered on your face for a moment longer than usual, reading the absence in your expression.
"…Ah," he said softly.
His hand moved from your jaw into your hair instead, fingertips smoothing gently through it.
"You're comparing yourself to him."
You swallowed hard.
The sliding door rattled close a moment later, after Will and the rest of the pack returned inside.
Will pushed his slightly damp hair back from his forehead with the back of his wrist. There was dirt smudged faintly across his hands and along the sleeve of his henley where one of the dogs must have jumped on him.
He paused slightly when he noticed the atmosphere in the room.
His eyes flicked toward you first, then Hannibal beside you.
Hannibal sighed softly as one of them shook water off dangerously close to his trousers.
Will hummed before stepping closer to the couch. His fingers brush briefly against your shoulder as he passed.
Then he leaned in toward Hannibal.
Hannibal caught sight of the dirt still smeared across Will's hand at the last second and tilted his head back slightly with elegant disapproval.
"Please refrain from dirtying my suit."
Will kissed him anyway.
"You're impossible," Will murmured against his mouth.
"And yet you persist."
There was the faintest twitch at the corner of Will's lips as he pulled away.
Then he glanced down at himself, finally noticing the state of his clothes properly.
"Might have to shower before dinner," he said, rubbing at a muddy pawprint near his ribs.
"You absolutely will." Hannibal replied immediately.
Will rolled his eyes faintly, but there was no real annoyance behind it.
Hannibal's gaze shifted back toward you then.
You tried not to tense under the attention.
"You should go with him."
The suggestion caught you off guard enough that you actually looked at him.
Hannibal's voice remained calm, "It may feel less insurmountable with someone beside you."
The words settled heavily in your chest because that’s exactly what it felt like sometimes:
Insurmountable.
Will looked at you quietly, like he would accept whatever answer you give.
Which somehow made agreeing easier for you.
You swallowed once.
"…Okay," you said softly.
"Okay." Will repeated gently.
Hannibal's hand brushed once against the back of your neck, subtle praise hidden in the gesture.
─── ꒰ 🥀 ꒱ ───
hannibal nbc taglist . . .‧˚꒰🔦꒱༘‧ @ilovehorror-18 @kashimeowr @afw5 @andyinthemiddleofsixx
a/n: maybe I should write the will shower scene what who said that...
