Kupo of Fortune is kicking my ass, millions of gil and no kupo crown. I feel like a chud. Why must the moogles hold my joy in their tiny little shitty hands.
Months after their dive into the ocean, Will and Hannibal are finally secure in their relationship. At least, until Hannibal accidentally triggers traumatic memories for Will.
(Also on my AO3)
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The night was still in the Cuban summer. Crickets set the pace of the peaceful air, a gentle breeze coming in through the open window. Hannibal would need to get up and close it before it could let the morning heat in, but for now he was content to study his sleeping lover under the moonlight, his art history novel laying open on his lap.
Months had passed since their dive off the rocky cliff, but there was still his persistent unease that his dear Will’s lungs could give out during the night. The ribs that once shattered against the concrete waves were healed, but nothing would erase Hannibal's memory of dragging his last hope out of the brutal sea, pleading with a God he did not believe would help him, just for the chance that Will would survive.
It's odd to think that just a few years ago, he did everything he could just to watch the man’s brain cook him alive, then learn the taste of encephalitis.
His sweet Will shifted in his sleep, his lips parting softly with a small grunt. The thin sheet covering him fell down past his hips as he turned onto his side, facing towards Hannibal even in slumber. When he said that he could not imagine that they would survive separation that day in the gallery, Hannibal was pondering a world without the chains of Will Graham holding him from his true monstrous potential. Now he sees that if his harvesting of Will’s brain was not interrupted by Mason Verger’s men, he would have swiftly brought himself to the grave alongside his other half.
Hannibal reached one hand out to readjust the sheet, while the other went to stroke the stubble on Will’s face.
He let his thumb slide across the deep scar on his lover’s abdomen, a crooked smile he had carved into Will’s skin and muscle that red night.
Then - he felt the sting of teeth on his forearm, and saw how Will’s eye shone with fury and fear, lips curled back as blood dripped from Hannibal’s broken skin. They stayed frozen like that, Hannibal still holding Will’s face with the same arm that his beloved had dug his teeth into, his other hand hovering above Will’s hips.
It was his lover that moved first, releasing Hannibal's forearm as sense came back to his eyes. Will searched for Hannibal’s face, clearly breathing fast and heavy.
“Hannibal…?” His voice came out hoarse and tired. “I…” His eyes went back to the blood still flowing from Hannibal, staining the silk pillowcase below.
“You're alright. I will not harm you.” Hannibal spoke low and softly. Will was in a true state of panic, and years of psychiatric training did not prepare one to see their beloved like this.
Will licked the blood off his teeth, pupils wide, staring at no place in particular now. Hannibal noted how Will’s awareness had drifted off. Another absence seizure, and he had been the trigger.
Hannibal waited, watching Will’s rapid eye movements that matched the rhythm of the crickets still singing in search of love outside their Cuban safe-house.
When his beloved’s mind finally returned to the present, he blinked a few times before making eye contact with Hannibal again, waiting for him to break the silence. Will had come to know the sensation of his seizures, as rare as they were.
“This is all my fault, my beloved. My grave injustices have scarred even your sleeping mind. I shall devote the rest of my days to healing the damage I have inflicted upon you. There will come a time when you no longer feel the need to bare your teeth when you feel threatened.”
Will adverted his eyes, “Hannibal, that's not what I need to hear.” He took a deep breath in, trying to level out his breathing, “Who I am is not solely defined by your actions. I’ve always been a biter.”
“In what way?”
“I bit my fifth grade teacher, twice.” Will looked to have a slight smirk at the thought.
“I suspect that you wish there had been a third.”
“She was a bitch. I got expelled, informally, and since we were in the bum-fuck of nowhere at the time, I spent the next four months working at the shipyards with my dad. Probably was the best place for me at the time.” He stared at the ceiling, remembering how he learned to embrace the calming nature of water, creating coping mechanisms for himself when no-one else would help him.
That time, he gained the first calluses on his hands, and a real understanding of how the world operated outside the carefully constructed timetable of school. It was the first time where he could really step into another person’s shoes, not drown in a sea of other people's thoughts.
“We all end up where we belong.” He concluded.
“I am sorry, for everything.” Hannibal told him. ‘Sorry’ was a new word added to his vocabulary since the fall. Perhaps he was reminded that he was as human as the rest of them.
“You don't regret that it happened though.”
“Perhaps we could be living a more peaceful life back in Baltimore, but no, I do not regret my actions which led us here, together.”
Hannibal rose from the bed, taking the blood stained pillow from under Will’s head and replacing it with his own. If he didn't clean it soon, the stain would set, and it was a pain to buy luxury goods as a wanted criminal. His beloved settled back down on his back, bringing the sheet up to his chest again.
Hannibal rinsed off his forearm in the kitchen sink, before applying some antiseptic. He grimaced as he used dish soap to scrub at the apple sized stain on the pillowcase until it was finally good enough to just be left to soak. He rinsed off his arm again, then applied more antiseptic gel and topped it off with a bandage.
Cephy made her way in, nosing at Hannibal’s calf looking for scraps, assuming he was preparing breakfast. Her free-reign of most of the house was a compromise for not having her in the bedroom, but now, it wasn't Hannibal’s company that Will needed. Hannibal would just wash the sheets in the morning, or whenever Will decided that Cephy could go back to sleeping on the couch (ignoring her own high quality dog bed that Hannibal had embroidered with her full name of ‘Encephalitis’ in swirling script).
Hannibal grabbed some homemade jerky from Cephy’s treat jar and gave it to her while they went back to the bedroom.
Will sat up, hearing the pattering of paws against the tiles until Cephy appeared illuminated in the doorway, with Hannibal behind her.
“I figured that she would make for better company, all things considered.” Hannibal conceded.
Will tapped the mattress twice and Cephy came barrelling in, getting on her hind legs until Will leaned over and pulled her up on top of the bed and into his arms. He was still quiet, softly whispering sweet words to his dog while brushing her long fur with his fingers.
“Shall I go sleep on the couch?” While they slept together most nights, it slowly becoming more frequent than not, there were still occasions where Will needed to be alone with his thoughts, or solely accompanied by a mutt that Will claimed ‘must be some sort of Havanese’.
“Yeah…”
“Cephy, keep him safe while I’m gone.”
Hannibal neglected to close the window shades, knowing that the coming light would help Will’s mind to heal again. Instead, he stayed in the hallway and shut the door, and focused on the faint sounds of shifting in the bed.
Saw someone say that Hannibal would drink unpasteurised milk, and it brought about the most disgusted reaction I have ever had to a seemingly innocent headcanon. That man would never risk one of the many diseases that comes from not properly sanitising your milk.
My sister hadn't seen Daredevil or anything else in the MCU with the Punisher in it, nor did she remember what the Punisher's real name was, therefore had no clue that he was even in the MCU. So she went the entire movie thinking Peter and some random guy named Frank had beef over killing people.
It quite literally took until the last moments where Frank got out of his car in his vest with the skull on the front that she figured it out. Must've been some experience.
Now the toxic old man yaoi must live on in our hearts, or we may allow that burden to fall from us, as we slowly forget the plot, the actors, the faces. Until all that is left is a vague notion of Hannibal the Cannibal.
I was told to stop shitposting in the FFXIV Novice Network so now I have a Tumblr account. This spares about ten people per shitpost, as I don't know how Tumblr works therefore nobody sees this shit other than the bots. Blessed be the sprouts that no longer need to hear my bullshit.
(I will still advocate for a SpongeBob collab though)
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