31 Days of The Silence of the Lambs: Day 18
↳ Snippets of Hannibal Lecter's evolving & growing interest in Clarice Starling.
a: Thomas Harris (1988) | d: Johnathan Demme (1991)
"I can just repeat what he told me-he could see what she was becoming, she was charming the way a cub is charming, a small cub that will grow up to be-like one of the big cats. One you can't play with later."
Since I’m in Spooky month obsessed time. I drew this drawing of us when we were younger and would always dress as Princess Zelda or a witch! (Shoves the one shitty costume of Purple Guy away) a-and I wanted it to be in the style of the photos you see in the series!
Mike sighed, his breath warm and tickling your neck. You were currently entangled with him, both blissed out and in a state of contentment.
It was a warm summer night, the windows up by the ceiling in the Wheeler’s basement cracked open, letting in a little bit of night air. But it barely put a dent in the stifling heat. You didn’t mind too much, because most of it was coming from Mike’s body being so close to yours, and how could you complain about that?
The overhead lights were on, unlike the lamps that were scattered around the room, but you could hardly tell because all the lightbulbs were out except for one. And even that was flickering in and out every minute or so.
The fluorescent light, designed to be neon and bright, similar to what you might see in a school or public building, was on the other side of the room, so that shadows were cast over you and Mike.
After what felt like an unusually needy and desperate love filled time you just shared, you were both very quiet, you laying on your back with your boyfriend tucked on top of you, head in the crook of your neck. You traced a small circle on the back of his shoulder with one finger, his bare skin as hot as if he had a fever. Just touching it made you shiver, even though you had had your hands all over him the entire night.
It was times like these when you wished summer would never end. When you could just -ahem- make love to Mike forever and talk to him about anything and everything and play with his mop top of dark curly hair. When you could watch old creature features from the 50s and listen to his mom’s Beatles records. When you could tease him about everything and get teased right back. When you could kiss him on the corner of his lips, waiting for the smile that would always cross his face when you did that. When you could go outside and lay on the freshly mowed lawn at two a.m, holding hands. When he could make you peanut butter toast and you would sit at the kitchen table, pretending to be married and grown. When you would never have to deal with the real world.
“Mike,” you said, in a whisper, carefully cutting through the blissful silence.
“Mhm,” he murmured, moving his head down to rest more near your collarbones, lips leaving little vibrations on your skin as he went.
You shivered under his touch and continued with what you were trying to say, “I- can we-,“ you stopped talking, and the only thing you could hear was the hum of the kitchen appliances running on the floor above you, along with Mike’s slow breathing and your own shallow breaths.
His nose brushed against your warm skin as he lifted his head up, dark eyes meeting yours. He looked so beautiful in the shadows, so perfect that it just made you want to cry more than you already wanted to.
“What is it?” He asked softly, keeping one hand glued to your waist while the other reached up to caress your jawline.
“Mike?” You asked, and you could hear the shake in your voice. “Can we never grow up?”
His eyes studied yours for a moment, before he dropped back down to press a kiss to your collarbone. He then laid his head back on your body with a sigh.
“I sometimes wish the same thing,” he said.
You smiled, slightly reassured, and stroked his hair. “That’s good. I sometimes think that I’m going crazy.”
“You’re not,” he said firmly, tightening his grip around your middle before admitting, “I sometimes feel like I’m losing it too.”
“It’s like…” you started saying in a whisper. “Life moves so fast...and I want to grow up and experience new things, but I also, I also want to stay like this forever…”
Mike smirked, and although you didn’t have a super clear view of his face, you knew him well enough to picture what his face would look like in good lighting.
“You mean like this? Right now, here with me...naked in my basement? Or just as a teenager.”
You silently laughed for a moment, and finally said “Uh, both.”
You closed your eyes, and couldn’t keep the grin forming on your face away. Mike always had a way of making you feel better.
“I want to buy a cat.”
“Sorry?” You asked, lifting your head up to see him better. You thought to yourself, did he seriously just say that? Well...okay then…
“I want to buy a cat…” he repeated, and he shifted, nuzzling into your chest.
“Um..?”
“Jeez sorry I thought we were confessing. You think you're going crazy, I want a cat,” you felt his shoulders move up in a shrugging motion.
You laughed, but then said, “Mike, you should get a cat.”
“I know, but my dad’s allergic,” he muttered.
“Screw him,” you giggled. “Or it can just live at my house. It would give you an excuse to come over more often.”
“That works,” Mike admitted.
“If It lives at my house, we’re naming it Fluffy.”
“Like in the Brady bunch? Hell no.”
“More like hell yes. My house, my cat.”
“Then what’s the point?” Mike chuckled. “It’s supposed to be my cat, and I’m naming Yoda. That’s final.”
You were quiet for a moment, and then you nonchalantly whispered into his ear, “Fluffy.”
“Yoda,” he whispered back.
You, meaning to kiss the top of his head, but instead accidentally pecking his ear, couldn’t help but giggling as you insisted, “Fluffy.”
“Noo,” Mike said, holding his face up close to yours, “Yoda.”
“Let’s not get a cat,” you said.
He shrugged, “Okay,” and laid his head back down, adjusting himself to get comfortable.
“You goin’ to sleep on me?” You teased, noticing his change in positioning.
“Mayyybe,” he said, and you could tell he was tired, his voice getting huskier and his eyes dropping.
“I love you…” you whispered, shutting your eyes.
He mumbled something back but you couldn’t really understand.
“I love you, Mike,” You said again, and started to drift off yourself.
