Behind the Mask: A Hannigram Fanfiction

17- Prigione

"Roasted beef heart with spinach and mushrooms. A classic of mine."
Hannibal set a meticulously dressed plate in front of William, sending an earthy aroma up to his nose.
"You've provided a beautiful meal, William," he said, taking his seat across from him. "I appreciate it."
     "I figured it was about time I did something for you. Considering all you've done for me."
     "Do you really think that you have done nothing for me?"
William kept his gaze fixed on Hannibal. Each of them studied the other, waiting to see who would make the first move. After a long pause, they picked up their utensils in unison and began to cut into the meat.
     "I was emaciated, and you took me in and fed me. I was cold, and you held me. I was lonely, and you loved me." He paused, staring down at the meat on the prongs of his fork. There would be no going back once he took this bite, he realized. He and Hannibal would merge to become one and the same. "And what have I done?"
     Hannibal set his fork down and reached across the table to take his hands. He ran a rough thumb over the back of William's hand. Neither of them had taken a single bite yet.
     " 'All days are nights to see till I see thee,' " he said, " 'and nights bright days when dreams do show me thee.' "
     "You see me as a lovely dream?" William smiled. " 'Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it.' "
     "You are my serpent." Hannibal kissed the back of his hand. He left his lips mere millimeters away from the skin as he spoke again. "You are all I've ever wanted, William."
     "Because I see you."
     "Yes." Another kiss. "Which is a rare talent to have. A rare gift for me to let it happen."
     "Thank you." William pulled Hannibal's hands towards himself and returned the gesture. "Thank you for this gift."
     "Thank you for completing me." He took a deep breath. "I want you to eat now, before it's too cold."
     And William did.
     For a moment, the taste shocked him— the meat was delicious, enveloped in rich flavor and the perfect texture. William savored it, his own heart fluttering with the knowledge that this was his kill, his doing. It melted in his mouth. Every taste bud tingled with excitement.
"I taste fear." Hannibal sipped his wine, a knowing look on his face. "This cow knew it was going to slaughter. Adds an interesting flavor."
     "Describe it to me."
     "A sort of acidic aftertaste, yet not in a bad way."
     "The animal's last little form of payback. And yet we still find a way to enjoy it."
Hannibal's eyes gleamed with pride. He picked up his fork and took another bite.
     "It's delicious." William tried to pinpoint that flavor Hannibal had spoken of, but his palate simply wasn't refined enough. He could only taste his own satisfaction.
     "Do you feel better? Having food in your stomach every day?"
     "Oh, yes." William didn't hesitate. He didn't care about seeming vulnerable in that moment. He'd learned that it was okay. "Yes. It..I didn't know how comfortable it could be."
     "I couldn't stand to see you like that, mylimasis. I thought of you in your bed, your stomach growling so viciously..the thought made me want to scream. It reminded me so much of myself..when I was a child." He looked away, embarrassed. "It was not pity. I promise. It was understanding. It was empathy."
     "Seeing things from my perspective."
     "Empathy is not a trait I thought I had." He licked his lips. "It intrigued me, the way that you could do this to me."
     "I didn't know I could feel secure."
     "Do you experience empathy, William?"
     "I did." He took another bite, pausing to enjoy it. "Before I began. Killing made it disappear. I had to teach myself to be distant. Empathy would only hurt me."
     "You put the art of the kill over your empathy."
     "Empathy never made me feel good."
     Hannibal set his fork down with finality. He stood from his chair, and the legs scraped across the wooden floor with a horrid screech. William flinched, confused.
     But there was no ill intention here. Hannibal straddled him, sitting down on his lap with his legs spread wide. He caressed the back of William's head, his thumb running over his ear.
     "I cannot control myself." He leaned in to kiss William. He tasted of basil and wine. "You are dangerous, caro. Dangerous."
"Do not give me that. You put yourself in more danger every time you kill."
"Killing is easy. It comes naturally. Loving? Trusting? That is different." He kissed William on the neck, stroking his chest.
"Caro..."
     "You already feel so much better." Hannibal snuck his hands underneath William's shirt, his finger tracing the line of hair down his navel. "So much more full. Healthy."
     "I feel like a different person," he confessed. "It's so much easier to sleep on a full stomach. I didn't even know that until now."
     "Oh, that makes me so happy." Hannibal leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. He kissed William for a long time, his tongue darting between William's lips. William reciprocated, and they quickly became lost in each other. He felt Hannibal's hand rest on his neck, his torso shifting closer to William's.
"You couldn't take care of Mischa," William said, his lips still soaked in Hannibal's saliva, "so you take care of me."
Hannibal smiled, a mixture of sheepishness and pride. "I already failed one person I love," he replied, staring deeply into William's eyes. "I cannot fail you, William." His eyes were copper, glittering pennies.
"You have not failed me. I promise you."
"What did I do to deserve you?"
"I should ask you the same."
"William.." He paused. "I would like to have sex with you."
William tensed. He felt a tingle run through his body, like he was already preparing for it. It excited him. "Like before?"
"More than what we've done before."
A small gasp escaped his lips. "But...but our relationship...sodomy...is not allowed," he said. "It's illegal."
Hannibal suddenly began to laugh, startling William. A large smile cracked his entire stoic demeanor, and the corners of his eyes crinkled.
William felt a flash of offense, but then it hit him how ridiculous the words that had just come out of his mouth were. How ironic.
"Wait. Shit. Wait.." He laughed too, a pleasant sensation traveling through his torso. The crows were inside, but they were simply airing out their feathers. Calmly flying about, rather than festering and screeching for what they wanted. His heart fluttered.
Hannibal was so cute when he laughed. It was one of the only times he'd seen the man's teeth— they were small and slightly crooked. He was laughing so hard that he wasn't making noise anymore, and the way his nose crumpled up and his face turned pink made William nearly blister his cheeks open smiling.
"We all have our moments," William said.
"God, I love you so much." He tried to kiss William, but he was sloppy and hit more towards the chin. William didn't mind.
"I would hate to break your moral compass, mylimasis," he teased. "Now, would you like to continue eating human meat?"
William cackled. It set Hannibal off again. They leaned against each other and laughed into each other's clothes.
     "Don't mock me," William giggled. "I don't prefer to be mocked."
     "I figured. After what happened to Chilton."
     William stopped, confused. He felt something take root in his gut, the crows fluttering their feathers with suspicion.
     "I'm sorry?"
     "Chilton mocked you, disrespected you, and now he's dead." Hannibal kissed his cheek. "You do not have to hide it, caro."
     "But..no. No, Hannibal." William's smile dropped. "I did not kill Chilton."
     Hannibal raised an eyebrow. "You didn't?"
     "I thought you did." His voice was soft, fearful.
     "No. I promise you, I didn't. I thought you did."
     They stared at each other, the reality settling in. Neither of them had killed Chilton. Both of them thought the other had.
     So who killed him?
     Before Hannibal could respond, there was a banging on the door. The two of them startled, and Hannibal scrambled off of his lap. He brushed the wrinkles out of his pants and glanced at William with a worried expression.
     "We're innocent," William reassured him. "Whatever he says, we're innocent."
     "Right. Right."
     Another aggressive pound, shaking the doorframe. Hannibal flinched.
     "Doesn't sound like we're innocent."
     William stood from his chair. He pushed past Hannibal and went to open the door for him.
     He'd barely turned the knob when the door swung open, and a group of four or five men busted into the house. William stumbled backwards, his waist slamming against the table and sending a shooting pain up his back. He grunted in pain, but Hannibal's cries quickly distracted him.
     "Wait. Wait, Jack. Stop this right now!"
     Jack Crawford was at the forefront, pinning Hannibal against the kitchen counter and forcing his wrists together. His men, the Italian police in uniform, kept him pinned there as he struggled.
     "Detective!" William sprung up to stop them, but the sight of a revolver's barrel made him halt in his tracks. He put his hands up.
     "Doctor Hannibal Lecter, you're under arrest for the murder of Frederick Chilton," Jack said, barring Hannibal's wrists together.
     "I didn't do this! Jack!" Hannibal shouted. "I promise you, I did not do this! Where did you get this idea from?"
     "Detective," William repeated. "I've been with Doctor Lecter for weeks. He never had the chance to kill Chilton. Please," he swallowed, "please tell me where this information came from. I can prove it all wrong."
     "We have witness testimony that you were seen leaving Chilton's house the day he died," Jack said to Hannibal, his eyes angry. "You and Chilton were in close competition. People call you L'Angelo Della Morte."
     "I perform my job to the best of my abilities. Frederick was my friend. I would not kill him." William caught his eyes dancing around the room, as if he was coming up with a strategy to take all of the officers out. William figured that if anyone could easily kill five men in seconds, it was Hannibal— but there were so many of them, and his wrists were bound, and many of them had guns. It was worthless, and both he and Hannibal realized that at the same moment. Even the two of them wouldn't be enough.
     "That witness testimony was a fraud. Please, Detective. He can't..he can't go to jail."
     "He can tell his story in the interview room," one of the other men said in rough, gravelly Italian. "For right now, we can't have him roaming the streets."
     "Please. Let me explain." The color drained from Hannibal's face. William had only seen him look this scared once before.
Mažasis! Atsiprašau!
     "Jack. Jack, no!" William stepped closer, and another man drew his gun. He whimpered. "He can't handle tight spaces. You'll ruin him!"
     "He should have thought of that before." Jack glared at him. "You stay out of this, Mister Graham. I'm going to interview you tomorrow. The only reason I haven't arrested you is because you haven't been killing your patients for years."
     "That is completely baseless," Hannibal objected. "Where on Earth—"
     "If I find that you've skipped town, I'll have the entirety of Florence searching for your tail and you'll be in prison for life. Do you understand?"
     William nodded, trembling. "Please.."
     "William." Hannibal shook his head. The sight was devastating. "Please..just get some rest. We will take care of this. We can clear everything up once we've all gotten some sleep."
     "You're not going to be able to sleep." He thought of Hannibal panicking in a small holding cell, cold and uncomfortable.
     "Tomorrow," he said again, standing up taller. "I know I am innocent."
     A couple of the police officers chuckled to themselves. One of the crows inside of William screeched, beady eyes narrowing with contempt.
     "I'll be there tomorrow," he promised. "As soon as I can. I'll talk to everyone we know. They can prove that this is false."
     "Yes. You know who to talk to." Hannibal sighed. "Thank you."
     "Hannibal.." William took another step. He wanted to hug Hannibal, kiss him, envelop himself in his warmth. Damn these men, trying to take away the only person he loved.
     One of the officers held up his hand. "Do not cause more trouble than it is worth."
     "Yes. I don't want you in trouble as well, William." Hannibal's shoulders fell. "Goodnight. Do not worry about me."
     They shuffled out of the room, pushing Hannibal along. When Hannibal spared one last glance back, William was struck with the anxiety in his eyes.
     The door closed. The house was quiet.
     William stood in the middle of the dining room, where the remnants of their dinner lay on the table. William's chair still had a divot in the cushion, fresh from where they'd sat laughing just minutes ago.
     He picked up the chair and threw it across the room. It smashed onto the floor, and one of the legs splintered. He picked up the large serving plate and tossed the rest of their dinner on the ground, whistling loudly for the dogs. They went crazy, both of them eagerly digging in.
     He threw the plates against the wall. He took a large swig of wine, finishing every last drop of his glass, and he threw that as well. He finished Hannibal's wine. That went against the wall. Glass was now scattered all over the floor, and the dogs were cowering near the food. They didn't like the noise.
     William ran, glass crunching under his boots, towards the bedroom. He felt every particle in the room buzzing, carrying the remnants of every conversation they'd had in here. Carrying Hannibal's smile, his warm eyes, his tears and his screams and the way he felt when he leaned against William like he was the only steady ground.
     He slammed the door and screamed. Each particle shattered like a fragile glass marble, memories leaking and soiling, replaced with fury. He felt fire churning inside of him. Black wings beating against his organs and making his heart shudder. He carried the screams of a thousand crows. He had never before been so fucking outraged.
     I do not crack. I do not cry.
     Something was cracking, but he would never cry.
     The dogs scratched faintly at the door, whining to get in. They knew something was amiss. William hesitated before letting them in.
     He sat down on the ground, legs crossed, and watched as the dogs sat on either side of him. He gently lifted their paws to check for any glass— nothing that he could see. They did not resent him for scaring them; their job was to protect. To love.
     William hugged one of them, and soon the other was scurrying over to be apart of things as well. He wrapped his arms around them both and breathed.
     "I don't need to go out," he said to himself. "I don't need to kill. Not tonight. Not after all of this." He tried to take deep breaths. "I just need to calm down. Think of home."
     Home was an indeterminate image. It was a blob of colors. He wasn't sure what it was, but he knew it was warm. He knew he was loved there.
     "Think. Think, William." He pushed down the lump in his throat. "Home. Home."
  Hannibal can't go home. Home has been ruined for him.
     He couldn't take this. He couldn't do this anymore.
     He stood, taking off his boots and turning the gas lamp off. The room was suddenly pitch black, and once he collapsed into bed he felt the dogs jump up after him. He didn't mind, unlike Hannibal. Hannibal didn't have to know.
     Would he ever be home to know?
     William curled up into a ball and hugged himself. He knew he had to clean up the mess he'd just made, but he didn't have the mental capacity. For now, he could pretend it was warm enough to sleep.