@deathfools // a closed starter for will graham.
You are obsessed with Will Graham.
Bedelia's words rang true, as much as doctor Hannibal Lecter had wanted to fight them to keep appearances as someone who did not concern himself with the opinions of others. Yet here he was, standing in the shadowed back corner of a college study hall; his pulse performed a quiet, traitorous flutter as if to remind him of just how deeply that obsession still lived. The room was almost comically familiar — rows of seats, the soft hum of an old projector, the faint scent of dry-erase markers. He had witnessed this very scene once before in another world, another life, when everything between them was still unfurling, delicate and dangerous.
A comforting sense of déjà vu wrapped around him like a well-tailored suit he so favoured.
It would have been far too easy to pretend he had simply strolled in, drawn my idle curiosity. A cultivated, civilized sort that suited a man of his reputation. Hannibal had learned to indulge a far more intimate curiosity where Will Graham was concerned. Emberfalls had only intensified that instinct. Ever since discovering this place's peculiar roster of residents, he waited with a quiet hope — the worst of all evils.
When he finally spotted Will's name nestled among the faculty announcements of the local college, his course became inevitable. He rehearsed nothing. He planned nothing overt. He simply allowed desire to steer him here, to the back of this study hall, taking exquisite care to look as though he'd arrived by chance, as though fate (and not intention) had placed him in a perfect view of the man he had once considered his partner, in every sense of the word.
Beneath the still-waters of civility, there stirred that old, familiar itch: wicked curiosity. What would happen when Will finally registered him? What would ripple through the lecture hall and inside the mind behind those clear, haunted eyes? Would recognition come as relief, confusion, fear — or something darker, something closer to longing? Hannibal savoured the question. If love and violence both lie in waiting, then, perhaps, some things are meant to be unearthed... simply to see what happens next.
2087
yousharknotpass
pixelskylines
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jacobvanloon
