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“You were alone, more often than not. Despite his long working hours your father was still the person you saw the most often. He was the only person you saw during critical ages of sexual and emotional development.”
“He was there with a hand to my cheek when I had bad dreams.”
Hannibal nods. Each piece falls into place like strokes of paint from a brush; they shape and shade the picture of Will’s childhood, the lonely teenage boy with no outlet for his burgeoning hormones. He shifts, linking his fingers tidily in his lap, and bluntly requests, “Tell me when you first felt a sexual pull towards your father.”
Bookmarked by miraleo
16 Jan 2021
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“Believe me, you’ll be grateful for this carefully curated aesthetic when we’re done,” Klaus sniffs. He waves Lila inside his room.
Today is, after all, his turn up to bat. Her chance to play at being Number Four.
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Bookmarked by miraleo
15 Jan 2021
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This is easiest if he thinks of himself as the bait, so that’s what he does. He has to maintain that air of strange, inexplicable intimacy between himself and Hannibal, so he does. It’s personal, and it’s the most impersonal thing in the world.
Will lifts his chin, and their eyes connect. When he crosses his arms, his fingers drum against his own shirtsleeves.
He asks, “Have you ever slept with any of your patients?”
Bookmarked by miraleo
12 Jan 2021
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They met by happenstance- he smelled like a muted sweetness that drove a fire into Hannibal's blood. Or perhaps it was the way the boy didn't flinch, despite the body Hannibal had his hands on. Perhaps even it was something in those stormy eyes, that told a story of forced silence.
Whatever it was, Hannibal was intrigued by this boy, but he could not foresee just how quickly Will would get under his skin, sink into his pores and cling like a tattoo. He couldn't know the trauma that clung to him like an ashen shadow.
Bookmarked by miraleo
10 Jan 2021
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“You offer your time and your home at ungodly hours and I learn to take it as intended.” Will draws his bottom lip between his teeth and releases it with a swallow. “Conditioned to.” There is a nervousness now, not tension, and an anger that is entirely directed inwards. “What more would you offer, that is intended, Hannibal?”
“What more would you ask?”
“Comfort,” Will whispers.
Series
- Part 8 of Winter Mornings - HeAteUs Survival Plan
Bookmarked by miraleo
08 Jan 2021