Will goes mute post-fall. Part of it is because of his wounded cheek. A larger part is because he has to reconcile with what he has lost, or rather left behind, and what he has gained in exchange. The drugs help.
Even when his skin knits back together, he doesn't speak. But he doesn't have to for Hannibal to hear the raging thunder of the storm brewing in Will's head. As someone who once lost his own voice, Hannibal empathizes even as he frets. Almost compulsively, he cards his fingers through Will's hair and checks his wounds. He would neglect his own if not for the fact that Will needs him, and Hannibal would be useless if he succumbed to his injuries.
No, the most he can do is be patient and weather the storm with Will. And if Hannibal takes the opportunity to indulge in physical touch, who can blame him? Nothing untoward, of course, but his hands are often on Will's shoulders, his face, his neck, the small of his back. Will never pulls away. If anything, he leans into it. At this point, they don't need words to communicate.
