Chapter Text
Hannibal had been a psychiatrist for a very long time, but never in his many years had he experienced romantic tension between himself and an unofficial patient. He, on multiple occasions, had been aware of the desires of his patients. However, this was drastically different. While previous patients would make extreme attempts to connect to him he would quickly unravel them and deflect them. With Will Graham he allowed the rope of romance to be forged and wrapped around his neck.
It was awful and very unlike him.
Will Graham was an experiment and nothing more. He kept the deformed clock drawing at his desk as proof it was nothing more than professional interest. Yet with each new clock or each flash of light he inflicted upon him he felt an unfamiliar sense of regret. He continued on each session in an attempt to push the newfound feeling aside, yet it only made the lasso of love even more tight around his neck. The cord was choking him.
The kiss they had shared did not help to sever this line that held him.
Just thinking about the kiss made the foundations that kept him from hanging more and more unstable.
The intimate conversation about the beauty of death as they looked over photos from a crime scene he created had woken something in them both.
The attention he held as he watched Will’s mind working to uncover him with no success.
The desperation Will held in his eyes as he stared across the desk at him.
The hands and the way they moved into his neatly styled hair as they both leaned forward.
The forbidden feeling of belonging on the other’s lips.
The regret that followed.
The verbal agreement to never do it again despite the urge to repeat their mistake until they both were gasping for air.
It was torture. It was torment too violent for the Chesapeake Ripper.
Even now, almost a week after the ‘mistake’ he could still smell Will’s aftershave mixed with his cologne. He could still taste Will’s lips like someone could still taste their favorite meal. He could feel the pressure of longing and desperation against him. Oh, how the longing tasted on his lips like ambrosia. It was maddening. He needed to end his torture.
“Are you even listening Doctor?” Will asked accusingly, forcing Hannibal back to reality.
“I apologize, I seem to be slightly distracted this evening.” He replied, trying to keep his focus on Will’s words and not his lips.
“Aren’t we all,” Will commented sarcastically, “I was saying I was confused.”
“How so?” Asked as he took note.
“I know we discussed my pursuit of romantic relationships is an attempt to gain control over something within my life. That feels only half true. With Alana I can’t help but agree with you. The spark was non existent. However, with you—….. that’s where things get tricky.” Will explained as his eyes locked with the ground. He could not bear to face Hannibal as he opened his mind to him.
Hannibal let out a light sigh and set down his notebook. “Will, am I your psychiatrist or are we merely having conversation?”
“The correct answer is…. Yes.” Will replied.
“In that case, would you prefer my answer as a psychiatrist or as your friend?” Hannibal asked.
“Whichever is best.” He answered.
“My hypothesis is this: I am a source of stability in an otherwise unstable world. The kiss we shared was an attempt to regain that stability your mind has robbed you of. The only difference between Doctor Bloom and myself is the thrill of that kiss being shared with a man who is also your psychiatrist.” Hannibal explained, his heart aching as he spoke, “However, that does not mean I am opposed to being that stability.”
“With all due respect, Doctor, speak plainly. Don’t dance around me with your fancy words and no metaphors.”
“Allow me to be that stability you desire.” Was all Hannibal offered as he slightly leaned forward in his chair.
Will, shocked by his words, abruptly stood from the chair he was sitting in. For the first time in their session Will’s eyes locked with Hannibal’s in an attempt to read him. Nothing could be uncovered by the silent interrogation, which scared Will. He could read anyone, he could understand anyone’s design, but Hannibal was that exception. His design was unknown to Will, and that was terrifying.
“I-…… I need time to consider.” Will answered as he sped for the door, “Goodnight Doctor Lecter.”
And then Will made his way through the door, shutting it behind him.
And just like that Hannibal was alone once more. Though it was relieving to be back in the comfort of solitude, the uncertainty of Will Graham remained. The noose was still firmly wrapped around him and Will refused to ease it with acceptance of him. It was an infuriating and suffocating feeling to know that another man was beginning to influence him. Something would have to be done. He would have to consume Will if he were to ever be free. Either he consumed Will’s being, turning the man into an extension of himself, or he consumed Will’s body. Whichever way he did decide upon would not be an easy one. Will Graham was the most intelligent and intriguing man he ever met. He would have to be quick and careful. If he was not, the rope would hang him. It was best to burn the rope and accept the burns that came with it than to risk death by hanging. This would become Hannibal’s design, and it was one sealed by a kiss.