Losing You Terrifies Me

Chapter 29

The alarm went off on Will's phone and he jumped at the sudden sound that filled the quiet house. He had been pacing the bedroom for hours, unable to keep still even if his eyes were burning and begging for sleep. Hannibal's condition had deteriorated during the night, and Will watched numbly as Hannibal continued to sweat and shiver, praying to every deity he could name.

Will turned off the alarm that Hannibal had slept through and sighed, rubbing at his eyes. He went to the bathroom and picked up everything he was going to need to tend to Hannibal and returned to the bedroom, setting it all on the bedside table. He sat down and gently shook Hannibal's shoulder before he went to work, mixing things and using the rest of other bottles. He got the first syringe filled and glanced back down at Hannibal as he muttered something in his fevered sleep, face once more covered in a sweat sheen.

Will couldn't exactly make out what Hannibal said, it was far too soft. Will reached out and took Hannibal's shoulder again.

"Wake up," Will said in a soft voice that felt too loud for the room.

"Mischa."

Will's eyes flickered over Hannibal's face, that was scrunched up with whatever delirium his mind was sending him through. His sister's name fell from his lips several more times, and Will frowned, a sense of jealousness filling his body. Not because it was her name he was saying and not his own, but because if he was calling out to her, then Will was losing him. And she did not get to take him.

"Hannibal," Will said, stronger now. "Wake up."

Hannibal didn't budge, just continued to speak incoherently. Will inhaled deeply, a burning in his tired eyes at tears. He took Hannibal's arm and began his doses. At least Hannibal didn't have to be awake to take his medicine.

"I hate you," Will hissed through his teeth as he grabbed another needle and ripped the package open with his teeth. "I fucking hate you and you better not fucking leave me. Not now. Not like this." Will got the next dose ready and pushed the needle into Hannibal's skin. Will let a sob leave his mouth and his head fell forward as the tears poured down his cheeks. "Mischa, you better not take him. You better let him go. He's not done here. I need him. Do you hear me, Mischa? He's mine, not yours. You can have him after he's older and greyer and wrinkled and can't walk. Until then, you keep your hands off of him."

Will wiped at the hot tears on his cheeks and reached for the next bottle and needle. Once finished, Will threw everything away and set the next alarm, before he sat on the edge of the bed again, using the wet cloth to dab at Hannibal's skin again. Hannibal shivered and his face screwed up at the cold, but Will didn't care. He cleaned Hannibal down and found himself back at Hannibal's side, leaning his head onto Hannibal's chest, listening to Hannibal's heart and feeling the rise and fall of his chest.

"Mischa." Hannibal's body tremored through a violent shiver and Will closed his eyes tightly as more tears lined them, a lump in his throat. "Mischa." And a slew of Lithuanian that Will couldn't follow.

"You don't get to fucking go to her, Hannibal," Will choked out, hands clutching at the fabric of Hannibal's shirt. "You're mine. No one else can have you." Will sat up and leaned over, kissing Hannibal's forehead, skin salty and hot. "You tell her to wait for you, damn it. You do not get to leave if I have a say in it." He placed a kiss to Hannibal's lips, a sob tearing from his throat. "Please, wake up Hannibal. Please."

Tears fell to Hannibal's flushed skin as Will continued to lean over him, foreheads together. Hannibal didn't stir. Nothing other than his breathing was a sign to Will that he was still alive, but it did nothing to comfort the panic in Will's chest.