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Will pulled into Hannibal’s driveway with a fury that he hadn’t anticipated. His gaze landed on the time just as he pulled the key from the ignition. He was right on time according to the clock, but to him, on time was far too close to being late for his liking.
He quickly lowered his sunshade and looked at himself in the mirror, fingers swiping through his hair in an effort to tame his unruly hair. Logic dictated that he wasn’t nearly as disheveled as he believed that he was, but when left alone, his mind ran wild and all he saw was a haunted man staring back at him.
‘No, no,’ Will nearly screamed in his head. ‘It’s 27 steps to Hannibal’s house. Open the door, step out, and walk. That’s all you have to do.’
Will felt his body go rigid, the calm control he had managed to summon on the drive over completely extinguished. 27 steps was all it was and then he would be in the space that was readily becoming the safest place he had been in in a while. How could he clam up with worry now?
Forcefully, Will grasped the car door handle and pushed the door open with his knee.
Mind on autopilot, Will stepped out of the car and tucked his hands into his coat pockets before briskly jogging over to the side entrance where all of Hannibal’s patients entered. He halted on the porch and stood for several seconds as he waited for his thoughts to calm. With his fist raised, Will was about to knock only for the door to swing open to reveal Hannibal, suit pristine as ever and a calmness in his eyes that Will would forever envy.
“Good evening,” Hannibal greeted, motioning for Will to come in.
“Sorry I’m late.”
“You are merely on time. That fact does not make you late.”
Will shrugged, feet shuffling from under him. “Yeah....but I know how you are about late policies and stuff. I meant to be here early but....” Will trailed off, unsure of exactly where he wanted this conversation to go. Time passed between them with Will showing no sign of continuing his thought.
Hannibal waited expectantly, though there was no impatience in his steadfast gaze. He merely reached out his hand to Will, waiting for the younger man to respond.
Will shrugged himself out of his coat and handed it over to Hannibal, who hung it up on his coatrack. “Do take a seat, please,” Hannibal encouraged as he walked into his office and took his usual seat, legs crossed over his lap.
Will did as Hannibal asked and took his usual seat, shifting uncomfortably. His eyes drifted around the room, locked on every corner momentarily before turning to the next. The four walls felt as though they were closing in around him, the breath being choked from his lungs as though a chain was wrapped around him. He could feel himself dissociating, body growing heavy as his consciousness rose from him until he was suspended in midair, looking down on his body and feeling nothing.
“Will?” At the first sign of trouble, Hannibal inched forward, head tipped a half inch to the side. “Will, can you hear me?”
Will gave no answer, not even so much of a blink of his eyes or a twitch of his brow.
This wasn’t the first time this had happened in Hannibal’s office, though it usually didn’t happen so early. Luckily, he was becoming well acquainted with dealing with Will when he was in this state, and how to bring him out of it whenever possible.
Hannibal rose to his feet and walked across his office to the patient bathroom. To the side of it was a small linen closet, and once he moved some hand towels aside, he found with he was looking for.
Soft fibers brushed against Hannibal’s fingers as he scooped his arm under the item and pulled it free. The heaviness of it wasn’t unexpected, and Hannibal was able to hold the folded blanket easily as he brought it back over to Will, who’s eyes were still locked on the wall in front of him with no recognition on his face.
Hannibal crouched beside Will and lifted the blue blank to the corner of Will’s vision. He wasn’t expecting Will to reach for it—which he did not—though Hannibal was quite stern on letting his patients know what was happening and what he was doing, even when they were in a more catatonic state. There was no doubt in his mind that Will could still see and hear him somewhere deep down, and if he wanted to bring Will back to the surface, he needed to tread carefully.
After a few moments of showing the blanket to Will, Hannibal rose to his full height and lifted the blanket around Will’s shoulders and tucked it around him. Hannibal folded it around his chest and tucked it under his legs, making sure that his hands were still free if he felt so inclined to need them.
Next, Hannibal turned off the overhead light and left on the lamp in the corner. The room wasn’t quite pitch black, but the aggressiveness of the overhead lights was no longer there.
Suddenly, Will let out a low whine in the back of his throat. It was so quiet, in fact, that Hannibal almost missed it when he was walking over. Being so attuned to his patients’ needs was something Hannibal was often thankful for, and it served him well, certainly in this situation that he found himself in.
“Will,” Hannibal repeated as he drew closer to the side of Will’s chair. He started on the corner of Will’s vision before slowly growing closer, ready to jump back at a moments notice if that was what Will’s body requested.
Will didn’t speak, though thanks to the way that his lips pressed together and his Adam’s apple bobbed, Hannibal could tell that he desperately wanted to.
Once Hannibal was in touching distance of Will, the younger man stiffened.
“Alright, I’ll step back.”
Will let out another whine once Hannibal drew away. This may be an instance that Hannibal would’ve considered enlightening if it wasn’t so difficult to realize what Will mentally wanted wasn’t matching up to what he physically needed.
Slowly, Hannibal crouched again, this time a few feet away from Will. “I know mentally you want me closer. However, your body is saying the opposite. Until the two arrive in sync once more, I believe it will be best if I keep my distance.”
It wasn’t the answer that Will wanted to hear, that much was clear. He didn’t whine, though his left hand came up dig his nails into the back of his right hand, tears welling in his eyes.
“Will, I cannot have you harming yourself.” Hannibal drifted to the other side until he was out of Will’s peripheral vision. There he was able to reach out a strong hand and clasp it over Will’s left hand. His refined strength allowed him to easily lift Will’s hand free of his other, despite how Will tried to fight him. “You must calm down before I can release you.”
Calm wasn’t in Will’s dictionary at the best of times, let alone when he was as overwhelmed as he was. A ripple of agitation passed over his features, teeth gritted together and eyes squeezing shut.
Although wary of doing anything that would send Will’s body into anymore of a fight or flight response, Hannibal found himself clasping Will’s left hand protectively in his own hands. The pressure that he applied was deliberate, yet delicate. Each pressure point in his hand was touched in a deliberate fashion, Hannibal’s warm fingers enclosed around Will’s cold ones. Blunt nails trailed on the base of his palm, careful not to give in too much to the discomfort Will wanted to cause himself.
Hannibal was so focused on what Will’s hands were doing, he nearly missed the way that Will’s feet were now tucked under the chair, craned to the side at an awkward angle. The force he exhumed on them had to be painful, if the tightness of his calves and ankles was anything to go by.
“Will,” Hannibal began softly, yet firmly.
Will’s head gave a violent shake as he painstakingly lifted his right hand slightly, fingers curled into a fist. His pointer finger straightened momentarily only to curl as though Will was making it appear to be a hook. His wrist snapped down harshly, the signal repeated numerous times until a low rumble rolled in Hannibal’s throat, which slowed the intensity of Will’s movements.
“You need too,” Hannibal assessed. “You need to feel that discomfort in order to process the emotions that you’re feeling?”
Relief shone in Will’s face even though he wouldn’t dare look in Hannibal’s direction. His hand went back to doing the same sign only to pause halfway through and take his enclosed fist and rub it in a circular motion over his chest.
“There is no need to apologize. Your needs and desires in this room are my responsibility to you and that is something you need not fret over.” Hannibal began to release Will’s hands only for Will to grasp Hannibal’s wrist desperately with his left hand, bottom lip quivering as he looked ahead.
Although Hannibal wasn’t one to try and get emotionally involved with his patients, and he doubted he ever fully could, there was something about seeing Will’s internal struggle that struck a cord in him. The desperation in which he moved, combined with the uncomfortableness that practically radiated off of him in waves was impossible not to feel something for. Fear scent clung to Will like a second coat, one that he may never be able to fully shed.
Hannibal reached out his hands closer to Will, allowing the traumatized man to do what he wanted with them. The touch hadn’t seemed to make anything worse, despite Hannibal’s reservations with how Will’s body was reacting. There was a fine line that he had to walk, and Hannibal worried if perhaps he may cross it.
At first, Will simply passed Hannibal’s hand from one hand to the other, enjoying the weight of it as Hannibal allowed it to go limp.
However, seemingly out of nowhere, Will suddenly gasped and ducked forward, his own hands coming to hit the back of his neck before doing the same over his ears.
Although Hannibal had neither seen nor heard any trigger that could’ve prompted this reaction, he also knew that there were certainly circumstance Hannibal himself may not notice, but Will in his heightened agitation could.
“Will,” Hannibal murmured as he reached out to stop Will’s hands before they could slam against his neck once more.
While Hannibal reached forward, Will yanked Hannibal’s hands forward and pressed them against his ears. Tension began to leave his body as he forced Hannibal’s hands over his ears, fingers splaying outwards against his jaw and head. No matter how Hannibal tried to pull away or adjust, Will was adamant that he kept his hands where they were.
It was an awkward angle for Hannibal to keep, arms wrapped around behind Will’s head so that he could keep both hands over his ears. He was now standing, slightly inclined over the chair in an effort to reach. Part of him wanted to request that Will move to the couch to give themselves both more room if this is what he required from Hannibal, though he was almost positive that Will would not be receptive to that idea, and it could possibly make things worse.
“I’m here with you,” Hannibal reassured. “You’re in my office and you are safe.”
Will twisted his feet inwards in a position that Hannibal knew was painful. The conflict that was etched in every wrinkle on Will’s face was proof enough that he didn’t mean what he was doing; it was the only way that he knew how to react.
Instead of responding verbally, to which Hannibal was certain would only complicate the situation further, he reached out his own foot and forced it between Will’s, able to use his strength to force Will’s feet into pointing forwards. He kept his hands over Will’s ears, as it seemed that moving would be most unwise and jarring for Will.
Hannibal leaned partially forward, taking in Will’s scent. The fear was unmistakable, drenching Will from head to toe. It completely saturated anything else that Hannibal may be able to detect normally, and he withdrew rather abruptly.
Will reacted quicker than Hannibal anticipated and peeled Hannibal’s hands from his ears, only to force them back over. The motion became repetitive, and so long as Will wasn’t too rough, Hannibal saw no need to stop him. Just when Hannibal feared it may be excessive, Will relented and allowed Hannibal to keep his hands in place over his ears. If anything, Will leaned into Hannibal’s touch, small grunts huffing in the back of his throat to tell Hannibal just how much he needed that connection.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Hannibal told him, fingers braced and pressing on Will’s skull to give him that pressure he craved.
Will let out what Hannibal could only muse was the first deep breath he had taken since he arrived. He was far from relaxed, that much was clear, however his body was growing heavy in Hannibal’s grasp. Will kept his feet rooted on the ground and no longer fought to twist them, a fact which Hannibal was elated about.
Despite his slowly improving mental state, Hannibal didn’t dare move. His presence was the anchor that Will rarely had, and jeopardizing that in anyway may just make things that much worse.
So, Hannibal took Will’s lead until Will finally lifted his head from Hannibal grasp gingerly, taking Hannibal’s hands back by the wrist and almost pushing them back in Hannibal’s direction. Will turned instead back to the weighted blanket and rapidly wrapped it around himself, body starting to rock forward rhythmically, the heels of his feet keeping him anchored to the floor.
Hannibal took a step back from Will, and once he was sure that Will would not fall back into a cycle of self injurious behavior, he slipped from the room as silent as a shadow.
When he returned, he held a cup of water and a small bowl of grapes. He had recalled seeing Will eat them once in class, and Hannibal had taken it upon himself to keep some at his house for occasions such as this. The list of foods that Will regularly indulged in was few, to which Hannibal wanted to make sure that he always had something that Will could enjoy on hand.
“Eat. Drink.”
Will opened one eye and regarded Hannibal warily. Just when Hannibal was about to try to be a little more persuasive, Will reached out a shaky hand and took the water. He downed the entire glass in a few seconds before reaching out for the bowl. His fingers snagged the edge of the handcrafted wooden bowl and brought it to his lap. He picked up each grape individually and inspected each one in turn before placing one in his mouth, only to resume his rocking a minute later.
Content that now Will at least had some nourishment in his system, Hannibal drew back and motioned to his desk with a nod of his head. “I have some files to mull over. You may stay here as long as you require, and if you wish to talk, you know where I’ll be.”
Will didn’t humor Hannibal with a look or even a nod, though Hannibal knew that he had heard him. He didn’t waste anytime in limbo as he walked over to his desk and took a seat. He flipped open the file on top and began to read it over, attention halfway split between his work at hand and Will still on the chair across from his desk.
Time crept forward, comfortably so. Hannibal hadn’t even glanced at the clock once when he heard an awkward throat clearing. His gaze lifted steadily to see that Will was sitting upright, blanket still around his shoulders, though he no longer rocked. Brief satisfaction flashed through Hannibal as he saw that the bowl of grapes was gone, the bowl delicately set on the floor beside the chair.
“Good evening,” Hannibal offered as he set his mahogany pen beside the piles.
Will gave a harsh swallow, eyes squeezed shut. It was clear the words were on the tip of his tongue, and that the frustration that Will felt for them only complicating the situation.
“Take your time,” Hannibal instructed. “We are in no rush.”
Will shot Hannibal a pointed look and twitched his head to the side and up, knowingly pointing to the clock that hung behind him that normally only Hannibal could see.
“Ah, time has indeed gone on, though considering we were not able to continue in our allotted time due to extenuating circumstance, I believe we are entitled to more time.”
Will wrinkled his nose in clear distain. “Sorry.”
Hannibal stood up and pushed the leather chair back slowly. “If it brings you too much struggle to speak, we may communicate in other ways,” he offered as he walked around his desk and took his spot in his usual chair across from Will. “You can sign, or perhaps write things down.”
An adamant head shake was the response that Hannibal received, quite desperately if he was being honest.
“Alright, then. Whichever form of communication is sufficient for you, I will respect.”
Will had never had anyone be so calm and courteous before when he found trouble speaking. No, most had forced him on and refused anything that wasn’t speaking. Never before had he been given the option, which made him want to verbally speak all the more, now that he was given that option.
“Sorry,” Will repeated.
“There is no need to apologize to me, Will. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
Will snorted at that. Had Hannibal even met him?
“Do you believe that you have?”
Will shot Hannibal a pained look, gaze instinctively lowered to avoid looking the poise man in the eyes. Tension traveled through his extremities, bringing with it a harsh tingling. Energy fizzled around him until he could hear the blood roaring in his ears, followed swiftly by a high pitched ringing. Will’s breath came in small gasps until he felt as though he was floating without a tether to keep him from drifting away once again.
Hannibal saw the first signs of it and was on his feet a moment later. It was unlike Hannibal to throw caution to the wind, though the abruptness and vacantness that covered Will like a blanket was enough to cause enough worry to momentarily override his logical thinking.
He took his spot in front of Will and risked a firm hand on Will’s shoulder. “Will, can you hear me? Focus on my voice and only my voice.”
Will twitched in Hannibal’s grasp, but Hannibal remained firm. “It’s my hand you are feeling. No harm will come to you so long as you are here.”
Suddenly, Will shot up a hand and latched onto the front of Hannibal’s vest, tugging him almost downward.
Hannibal was briefly shocked by Will’s display of strength. While he never once saw Will as a physically inept man, he wouldn’t have quite anticipated the power at which he possessed.
“Alright, alright,” Hannibal chided softly, his left hand coming to rest on Will’s chest, feeling his rapidly beating heart against his open palm even though Will’s shirt. “For a man so opposed to physical touch in your everyday life, I see that does not extend to us in this room.”
While it had been meant as a slight jeer, Will reacted fiercely, grip growing stronger to pull Hannibal near.
“Will....Will.” Hannibal ever so calmly took Will’s hands in his own once more, meditating the sheer panic he saw in his eyes. “If you still desire closeness I have no problem with that. Perhaps it would be better if we moved this somewhere more spacious?”
Panic shown in Will’s eyes until he turned his head to follow Hannibal’s pointed look to the dreaded chaise lounge. It was somewhere that Will often tried to avoid like the plague, much perturbed when Hannibal even made notice of it. Something about it just seemed too cliche and Will never wanted himself to be tied down to it during sessions. Hannibal never insisted, and he still wasn’t now, though the unease wasn’t something that Will could easily shake off.
Luckily, Hannibal made that choice for him and drew back, adjusting his vest as he crept over to the chaise, expression never wavering from Will. He sat down on it, allowing Will to make his own decision whether he wanted to join him or not.
It took a few minutes for Will to ponder the offer in his mind to make a decision. He stood cautiously with the blanket still around his shoulders. His hands momentarily left their hold on the edges of the blanket near his shoulders, a few firm flaps taking care of the excessive energy he still felt building and traveling through his muscles until it was expelled. Will turned sharply and walked over to the chaise, sitting down heavily while reaching out his hands toward Hannibal.
Hannibal took them as before, the sudden squeeze that he felt reminding him, once more, of Will’s strength.
“I should not have pushed you before you were ready for this conversation,” Hannibal continued as Will shifted to get comfortable before Will took both hands and one of Hannibal’s arms, grip tightening as he wrapped his arms around Hannibal’s, both hands cupped over Hannibal’s to keep him close. “I will not leave you, Will. Merely express what you need and I will do my best to comply.”
Never before had Will heard some submission from Hannibal, and it was a little jarring. Fortunately, his mind was so jumbled that he was instead focused on the touch alone instead of what the greater meaning may be.
With a shaky inhale, Will slumped sideways until his head was rested on Hannibal’s shoulder, curls rubbing against the sensitive skin under Hannibal’s chin, down to his partly exposed throat. Hannibal froze despite himself, reluctant to move and risk Will shying away.
To Hannibal’s relief, Will continued to rest against him, body limp. Hannibal’s arm and hand were still clutched in Will’s grasp, while his head rested naturally in the curve of Hannibal’s shoulder. Will sighed heavily in content, eyes closing as he stayed where he was.
“Are you comfortable,” Hannibal asked, body still rigid as though unwilling to give into the feeling that being this close to Will brought him.
Instead of nodding, Will lifted his right hand—the one that wasn’t grasping Hannibal’s arm—and spread out his thumb and pinkie outwards to make a Y with his hand. He drew it down slowly, repeated it a couple times to make sure that Hannibal got the message.
A smile tugged at the edges of Hannibal’s mouth as he ducked his head to the side, unable to stop himself from taking in Will’s scent, close to his left brow. When his head lifted, a dazed expression momentarily flashed through him, only to be chased away when logic dictated, stronger than ever.
“If that is what you wish, then yes, I will stay with you as long as you desire.” Hannibal managed to keep his heart rate from spiking, unwilling for Will to pick up exactly how he made him feel. “Just give me the word—or sign if that is more satisfactory.”
Hannibal wasn’t expecting response, and he didn’t receive one. However, from the way that Will relaxed, hands calm and mind seeming to be at ease, that was all that Hannibal could ask for, considering the volatile nature of the last hour or so.
Hannibal sighed once more, breath stirring the hair on the top of Will’s head. “I’ll always be here for you, Will, and if a day ever arrives where we are no longer able to see one another, know that you will always be on my mind, from now until eternity’s end.”