"Is it fate, or it just infamy?" A Hannigram fanfic

Chapter 1. "A slow meeting"

It was only a week. A week passed since the death of Garret Jacobs Hobbs, and his wife Louise. Will Graham still hadn't gotten over the whole ordeal. It was the kind of situation where it would just warp his mind in a way that he could only convince himself that it was has fault. The mere thought of him and Dr Lecter getting there just in time,, almost eased the thought just enough to where he could manage. It wasn't as bad as the other shit he thought about though. At least for now, Will would prefer sitting out on a frozen lake for hours, not getting anything on his fishing line. That didn't really compare from the sight of Hobbs corpse watching over him as he slept. He felt watched. He knew he wasn't, but it always felt like it. It must of been the medication that Dr Hannibal Lecter had put him on. Will was sure that without it, he'd be struggling much more. At that time Will had only seen Hannibal three times, not including the 'out of office' session at the Hobbs estate. The most Will could assume about his Dr was his persona. He seemed to not convey much emotion, to none at all. Even when Will tried, he couldn't picture Hannibal any way else. Only in his formal outfits, sitting cross legged across from him. That same somber yet serious expression on his face. He had only barely met Hannibal, though sometimes it felt like he knew everything and nothing at the same time. He remembered upon when he first met the other, he had this overwhelming sense of ease, yet dread to him. First impressions aside, Will was unsure what to think about his now psychiatrist.

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Will Graham stood beside a tall wooden door. The nameplate above it reading, 'Dr.Lecter' in a large font, carved into the door. Will shifted his weight from side to side, onto both of his feet as he stood in the waiting room in utter silence. He had forced himself to come early, in an effort to leave before he lost all motivation to do so entirely. One of his new dogs, that now made seven of them, named Winston had clawed at his pants as he tried to leave. He usually tried to stay at home as much as he could just so he had an excuse to be with his dogs. He didn't prefer it over his job, but it most definitely was much more enjoyable than having to think about people dying for hours on end. And you could quote him on that. Will would keep the thought of his dogs waiting for him in his mind as he waited. It helped him clear his thoughts in a way. Will's meeting was at 6:30, and he had arrived at 6:20 He had wasted only 5 minutes standing there now. Sweating profusely under his jacket.
Beyond the door, Dr Hannibal Lecter was speaking to his second to last patient of the night, a man in his early 30s named Franklin. Hannibal couldn't care less for the man. He had quickly recognized that Franklin had a very explicit interest in him, and Franklin had made it very clear though he had denied it several times in question. Hannibal had stated to him about the unprofessionalism of a patient and doctor type of relationship, and he had said this to many of his former patients. It seemed this didn't process in Franklin's head at all though.
And that was understandable. Franklin was merely a dumbass, Hannibal didn't expect the other to process it well. He just nodded at the man's comments, listening to his pitiful venting, as he did in every one of their sessions. In what felt like an eternity of Lecter glancing back up at the clock above his desk repeatedly, their meeting time was over. With a very slight smile, Hannibal would get up from his arm chair. He approached the misty eyed Franklin, taking the tissue box from off of his lap. He offered him one more tissue before placing them down on the glass side table. Franklin had placed several crumpled up tissues onto the table throughout their session, Hannibal did not express any kind of anger out of it though. Any kind of form of dis cleanliness was not something Hannibal tolerated, he'd usually spend hours overtime just re cleaning his office after certain patients came in, as he hated it when some of them touched certain books, or statues that were in his office space. "I'm truly sorry about your,, situation Franklin. But it appears our time tonight is up." Hannibal spoke. He was not sorry, that was for sure. Without hesitation he started walking to his door to open it for the other. "I would like to resume our sessions as normal, as long as we start making some progress. If not, I may have to decline our sessions." It was almost pitiful to Hannibal, everytime he had to force himself to say something. "Your the tenth physiatrist I've been to now, you can't- you can't just bail up on me.." I can see why I'm your tenth. If this how you act. "I understand that, but you need to get that sorted out." Lecter replied, opening the door. "Now please, get going. I have one more Patient I'm expecting tonight and I don't wanna lose any more time." Franklin adjusted the collar of his white button down with a huff. "Yes. I understand. I'll,, try." Franklin would pivot his foot, and walk out of Lecter's office. Will stood close beside the door, watching the disgruntled younger man walk out. He trailed his eyes back to the doorway, to look up at Dr Lecter. As soon as both of their eyes met, Will quickly shifted his gaze to his feet. That wasn't out of character for him. In a shaky, awkward breath, Will spoke just before his physiatrist. "Hello Doctor Lecter." Will was able to muster out. A small smile spread on Hannibal's face. "Hello Will. Please, come on in." Hannibal got out of the doorway to let the other in.