Behind the Mask: A Hannigram Fanfiction

14- Mižasis

     He didn't want to believe it at first.
     A thousand possibilities ran through William's head, each one worse than the other. He'd sleepwalked and hurt someone, Hannibal was killing someone, Hannibal himself was being killed, he had died and gone to Hell— but then the screaming took the form of words, some foreign language that he'd never heard before. He turned his head.
     Hannibal was screaming. Not a whimper, a little cry here and there-- screaming. He thrashed under the covers, brow knitted and tears on his cheeks. He gripped the blanket with white knuckles. His cries were desperate and almost inhuman in their sheer ferocity.
     "Mischa," he called out over and over again between other words. "Mischa, Mischa!"
     William knew that he needed to help, but he was stunned. Hannibal had never even shed a tear before, and now he was losing it.
     "Hannibal?" He nudged Hannibal's shoulder. "Hannibal, you're dreaming. Wake up." He shook Hannibal and placed a hand on his forehead, which was enough to jolt him awake. His final scream echoed throughout the wooden room as his eyes popped open.
     "Are you alright?" William asked, looking into his wide eyes. There was a fear in them that he didn't even know Hannibal was capable of. Hannibal trembled where he lay.
     "..What?" He asked, groggy and half-lidded. He wiped his eyes.
     "You kept saying 'Mischa.' You were screaming." William touched his arm. "Is there something you need to talk about, Hannibal?"
     Hannibal didn't respond. He sat up and buried his face in his hands, sighing loudly.
     "Hannibal?"
     He mumbled something in another language.
     "..Caro. Speak to me."
     It was the first time William had called him that. Hannibal began to cry. His shoulders hunched forward, stray tears dripping from between his fingers. It was a silent cry, only discernible through his sniffling and gasping for air.
     "Oh. Wait..I'm sorry. I'm sorry." William didn't know what to do. "Hannibal, I'm sorry."
     Hannibal shook his head. "Please don't say that," he whimpered.
     The only thing that William knew was that when he needed comfort, Hannibal provided it physically. He wondered if that was what Hannibal needed, as well. It was the only thing he knew how to reliably provide, anyway-- he had never been a master of words. Comforts would get jumbled in his mouth.
     He shifted closer to Hannibal and pulled him into his arms.
     "It's going to be alright," he promised.
     Hannibal hugged him in return, squeezing him tightly and burying his face in William's shoulder. William kissed his head and ran his fingers through his silvery blond hair. It was damp with sweat.
     "You do not have to speak to me. It's going to be alright." He rubbed circles on Hannibal's back. "Whatever happened to you, you're not there anymore. You are here, and you are with me. I'm right here. I'm right here, mio caro."
     "Mischa.."
     "Mischa is not here. But I am."
     More unintelligible words. William held him while he sobbed.
     "It's William. It's just me."
     "William."
     "Yes."
     "William." He nuzzled his head into William's neck, kissing it tenderly. He cradled one of William's cheeks with his palm and kissed his face. Normally, Hannibal's kisses were fiery and exciting, a preparation for something more or a breath of exhilaration after a long day. But these kisses..these were tender. They were delivered with real care. They were deep and careful and passionate, like William was something he truly treasured with all of his heart.
     "Mylimasis," Hannibal breathed between deep kisses on the lips. "Mylimasis.."
     "I don't understand what you're saying, caro."
     "Numylėtinis. Gražusis." He kissed William's cheeks, his knuckles, his face wet with cold tears. "Mylimasis. Ačiu. Ačiu."
     William didn't understand any of it, but Hannibal's tone made the words sound so beautiful. Like they were words that really mattered. He pressed his forehead to Hannibal's.
     I'm so sorry that this is happening to you. I'm so sorry. Should I leave you alone?"
"Ne. Ne." He choked out a sob.
     William held him for a long time, his body rising and falling as he gasped throughout his tears. It was the first time he'd seen Hannibal truly crack, let alone have a screaming breakdown and revert to his native language. William wondered if he was speaking this language because it felt more intimate, or because Hannibal didn't want him to know what he was saying.
     The cries finally became subdued, and Hannibal was still. He slumped in William's arms, wrung out and defeated. He was quiet and motionless for so long that William thought he'd fallen back asleep. When he spoke, William startled.
     "May I lay myself bare for you, William?" He asked, just as calm as if he'd never been crying.
     "Have you not already?"
     "Not even close."
     William pulled back. Hannibal's eyes were dead, exhausted, and his face was red. William reached for the side table and handed him his kerchief.
     "Thank you, dear." He wiped his face. "You always know what to do."
     "I've had enough fits in my life to know how to handle someone else's." He shrugged. "I know how you feel. Or perhaps I don't. But at least I am here."
     Hannibal looked smitten. "Do you realize how perfect you are?"
     He flushed. "I don't think so. You might need to remind me a couple times a day, just so I really understand."
     Hannibal chuckled, which was exactly what William wanted. It was fleeting, though. "I..If I tell you what happened, then you certainly will not want to be with me anymore. That is my greatest fear."
     "No. Never. Not after all of this." William squeezed his hand. "You are the only person who could accept me for who I am. I..I have lied to myself for my entire life, and you've shown me the truth." He kissed his wrist. "I feel like a monster when I'm alone, but with you..I know myself. I've never known myself as well as I know myself when I'm with you.
     "I have given you so much information about myself, and you still have not left. That is astounding to me. It is only fair that I give you the same treatment." William hugged him again. It felt much more normal now than being apart. "I often think about what Margot said. How Alana touches her like she is prized, and she has never been prized. That is how I feel with you. Please know that. Please realize that this isn't going to end. I don't want it to end." He reveled in the comfort of Hannibal's touch. "I would kill millions if it meant I could be with you."
     It was an admission that he didn't even know was true until now, but it was. Hannibal was all that mattered to him. The killings were unimportant. The facade they crafted was unimportant. What mattered was what lay behind the mask, the farthest layer down, their fragile core. The man that cradled his face and called him caro. 
     He was so prized.
     "I can't lose you, William," Hannibal sighed. "You are the only person I think I've ever loved."
     William's eyes widened. "Love."
     "Betrayal and forgiveness are best seen as something akin to falling in love." Hannibal was slowly gaining the color back in his eyes. "You fell for me, and I betrayed your trust. You forgave me. You betrayed all the trust I had in you by sneaking out that night, but I forgave you. We forgave each other.  We trust each other more than anyone else."
"..It's because we understand each other. We understand why."
"Killing keeps us sane. It makes us feel good. No one else can understand that."
"I've never met anyone like me."
"Neither of us have. It's refreshing, isn't it?"
"It is...as if I'm playing chess, and the entire world does not know how to play. I've spent my entire life playing chess against no one. I've grown bored. I've grown scared and lonely and I've seen myself as a monstrous freak. But then..you walked into the room with a chess board."
"So eloquent, darling."
"I trust you." William leaned against him. "I trust you to lay yourself bare."
"I will cry again."
"That's alright. I will be right here. Always."
Hannibal took a deep breath before speaking.
     "When I was a boy," he said, "my country was under oppressive Russian rule. I believe we still are, but I'm not entirely sure. I don't know as much about my home as I should."
     "That's okay."
     "There were revolts. Battles. It was a horrendous time to be a child." He blinked rapidly. "They took my father. My mother went out to get more food for us and never came back. It was me and my sister alone in that house with no one to take care of us.
"I loved my sister with all of my heart, William. I would spend my days distracting her. We'd play with her toys, I'd give her baths and let her have as much of the food as possible. I would subsist on mere bread crusts if it meant she had the best parts. I considered going out to get more food, but the night before I planned on going..it began to snow."
William inhaled sharply.
"Mischa was only four years old. The snow was heavy and long, and soon the pile of snow by the front door was even taller than her. It was..it was horrendous."
"You were trapped."
"I decided that if one of us were to starve, it was going to be me. I gave her all of my portions. I ate the tiny bites she left behind. We gathered snow inside and melted it, and we drank that. I suppose she caught something— ate or drank something harmful— because she got very, very sick." He shuddered. "I can't stand to think of her like that to this day. She was as pale as the snow, and she'd lost all of her weight. She kept me up at night vomiting."
"Oh, Hannibal.."
"One night, I woke up to her crying out in pain. I went to her, and," he paused for a long while, tears streaming down his face, "she died in my arms that night. I wept for hours."
     "Hannibal, I'm so sorry." William felt sick to his stomach. He couldn't bear to think of what Hannibal had gone through-- and here he'd been, whining about his silly little problems this whole time. He had been through nothing compared to what Hannibal had. He felt so, so guilty.
     "Do you see why I couldn't stand to see you like that? Emaciated and full of need? I know how hunger feels. How your stomach begins to gnaw away at itself, and it leaves you in so much pain. I had to help you, caro."
     "You have no idea how much that meant to me." William buried his face in Hannibal's shoulder.
     Hannibal squeezed him tightly. "William, you must not peg me as a monster. Please, you must understand. I was so weak, and all of the food that we had was rotten and covered in maggots. A few months before, my father let me watch him skin a deer, harvest the very meat that we were going to have for dinner. I don't know what my child's brain was thinking, but..I was so, so hungry." His voice rose, becoming hysterical. "You understand. You understand what it's like to be so, so hungry."
     William was glad that they were hugging each other; he didn't want Hannibal to see his face. He couldn't stop the way that the color drained from it, the way his mouth dropped open.
     "You ate her," he breathed. "Hannibal, oh my God.."
     "I loved her so much! I made good use of her, I swear! She meant so much to me!" He was physically shaking, rocking them on the bed.
     "How much, Hannibal? How much?"
     "As much as I could before she began to rot." Hannibal retched, and he suddenly broke free from William's grasp and rushed from the room. William caught up to him in the bathroom, where he was vomiting into the chamber pot.
     "Atsiprašau, Mischa. Atsiprašau!" He cried out to the darkness. "Mažasis!"
     "William grabbed him by the shoulders and looked into his watery eyes. He had never seen a man so broken before. This, he realized, was Hannibal's true self. This was behind the mask, behind the person suit: all of this trauma, this guilt, coiled inside of him until it could not handle the pressure anymore.
     "Get away," Hannibal told him. "I do not know why you are still here."
     "You were a child. You were a child." William gripped him firmly. "There is no way that you could have understood."
     "I understood, and that is the worst part of it. I cooked part of her by the fire and ate it like my father did with deer. Because I was so starving, it was the best thing I had ever tasted. I've never truly had anything like it since." He swallowed. "I acquired a taste for it. It was only during my first autopsy that I looked inside and realized what the experience had done to me."
     "It became second nature to you. Just like we eat chicken or pork."
     " Yes."
     William thought of the cabinet full of meat. To Hannibal, humans were no different than chicken or pork. Humans had murdered his family, they had hurt him and offended him. They were worthless, nothing but a burden on his life-- eating them was no problem to him. It was a way to always come out on top, to be the victor when someone decides they wish to hurt him.
     In the end, hadn't William done the same thing? Hadn't he gone out into the night in search of a victim, knowing deep down that this wasn't the only option? Knowing that someone didn't have to die tonight, but choosing to enter the city streets because of the way killing made him feel? Because it gave him power over the human species that he resented so much?
     He had mutilated the bodies beyond recognition. At least Hannibal had been putting them to use.
     "Since then, i cannot handle being in small spaces. I begin to panic. I get crows of my own. I cannot.." He gnawed on the inside of his cheek. "I cannot even have a fucking pantry, William," he whispered.
     Hannibal hadn't wanted to be backed into the alley that day. His house was spacious, with more than enough room for hundreds of people. It made much more sense now.
     "Please do not cry anymore." William massaged his shoulders, slowly moving up to his neck and playing with the back of his hair. He kissed Hannibal on the cheek. "This is a lot to take in, caro."
     "I know. You do not have to stay here tonight, if you don't wish to. Or I can move you into the guest room--"
     "I am not going anywhere." William held him. "I am not going anywhere."
     "..Why?" He sounded like a child then.
     "Because I need you." It was hard to see Hannibal in the dark bathroom, but as his eyes adjusted William could make out the beautiful contours of his face. "You are still the man I love."
     "I love you," Hannibal said, his voice raspy. "Oh, how I love you, WIlliam.."
     "You are all I've ever been looking for. Nothing can change how I feel about you. Nothing can erase that rush you give me, caro. And the fact that you trust me enough to tell all of this to me.. that just makes me love you more."
He kept thinking about Hannibal's tender kisses. "You never told me what those words mean," he said.
"Mylimasis. Beloved. Numylėtinis. Darling. Gražusis. Beautiful."
     They sat on the floor for what felt like hours, listening to each other breathe. Hannibal had finally calmed down, and his body became heavy in William's arms.
     "How about we get you some water?" William asked him. "And then go back to bed?"
     "Perhaps I need something stronger." Hannibal chuckled for the first time in a long time. "My colleagues have the right idea. Chilton with his wine, Mason toting around a martini more often than not..helps one forget the pain."
"Oh, I'm not letting you drown in the drink, beloved."
     "If I turn into Mason, just put me down."
Mason's obnoxious laugh, the way he was carelessly holding that martini in his hands. He could shatter the glass and get a new one all in the course of under a minute.
     Mason toting around a martini. Wait. All the time?  There was an idea forming inside of him.
     "Hannibal." William felt a rush of adrenaline through his body. "I think I know what we're going to do."