Yearn | Hannigram

part the seas

Only so much bleach and perfume could cover the smell of rot that clung to Hannibal and Will's skin. One day, maybe years from now, their masks would slip completely. Their faces would become iconic and they'd soar above the heights of horror the world thought they knew. Forgotten will be the 70's serial killers, the cannibals and rippers of the past. The world would remember them as something else completely. Monsters, lovers, and their very own gods. Hannibal longingly wished to be recognized as an artist of the most taboo. And that he was, in the way the Beast of Gevaudan became a folkloric icon, so would they. Once they'd torn apart the countryside, he hoped they'd be a scary bedside story people told their kids so they'd not be rude.

It was pure coincidence that afternoon that Hannibal noticed their grocer across the street while he was picking up lunch for Will, himself and their gardener. The young man was at a phone booth, holding a crumpled piece of paper- Hannibal barely paid it attention until the wind picked up, flipping it towards his line of vision and he noticed his face on the flier.

Fuck.

He immediately grabbed his burner phone from his pocket, and called Will.  Hannibal tried to keep his head down as he headed back towards the car their gardener let him drive into town. He heard the line pick up as he got into the front seat. "William?"

"Hannibal? What's wrong?" Always so intuitive, Will was able to pick up on the slightest change in tone, Hannibal wondered how he'd ever convinced himself he could hide his true self from Will's sight.

"Begin packing our things, dear. We need to leave. I'm on my way back. Can you do that?"

"Fuck, Hannibal, what's going-

"Can you do that?!," He demanded.

"Sorry, yes. Please, just hurry."

"I'm on my way." Hannibal started the car, and sped off away from the city.

-

Will had gotten all their clothes and most of their things into their suitcases, and collected Winston's toys and bed. The dog seemed to notice Will's stress, following Will at his heels, nudging his leg with his nose as Will stripped the house of anything they owned. He was trying not to stress out, Hannibal always had a plan, at least that's what Will keeps telling himself.

Hannibal sounded like he was off guard on the phone, just a small hint of panic in his usual calming tone. Before he barked back at Will, he was worried he'd been hurt, but Will was guessing someone recognized him. He was still on edge, worrying that his lover was being followed and soon their futures would be...lonely.

Will had known loneliness his whole life, it was one of the only constant things. Becoming thicker and thicker like a blanket of caution, allowing him to stay hidden and uninvolved in others lives. He was still human though, maybe not so much these days, but he had been once. He'd let a few people know him in college, gotten close, but that only got him rejected. Even in those early relationships he always held his tongue, feeling like he'd mess up or say something off-putting or annoying. His father had drilled it into his head that he should not be seen or heard, and he still felt uncomfortable when anyone's eyes rested on him. Like they were burning holes into him with their gaze. Leaving Will an abrasive, crude, hermit with an appetite for self destruction and escapism. Rejection was something that seemed to rip open this birth-given scar of isolation he'd been branded with. He'd stitched it back up himself, with unskilled hands and rusty wire.  Never paying it much attention until... him.

Hannibal was many things, most of them ruthless, dark, and delicious, but he was tender. His pouty kisses on the baby soft skin of Will's wrist were heaven-sent. His fingernails scraping against Will's scalp gave him goosebumps, and turned his cheeks to warm cherries. Hannibal's hands wrapped around Will's waist made him feel safe, and protected for the first time in his life. Like there was something holding him to this world, stopping him from drowning in that black stream. He would trace the muscle's on Hannibal's back, cool and smooth like they'd been carved from marble, spreading over his spine into black wings. A fallen angel, pre-human beast, whatever Hannibal was, he was forever Will's.