What Could Have Been- A Hannigram Fanfiction

I Would Remember This Time

"What a perfect ending that would have been, hm?" Will smirks. "A dramatic finale to the craziness that is our life."

"I liked that story. You're better at stories than me." Hannibal kisses him on the side of his neck a couple of times, more playful than tender. One of the dogs stirs on the couch, annoyed to be interrupted during a nap. Then again, chihuahuas are always annoyed. 

"I'm not good at facing my feelings, apparently. It's funny how many situations I can think of now." He shakes his head. "How much tension there was between us."

"I was moments away from sweeping you up in my arms and carrying you away, once I saw you in Italy. In the gallery, remember?"

"How could I forget?" Will laughs. "I've got battle scars from that day." He yanks down the collar of his T-shirt to reveal the scar on his shoulder, nearly a perfect circle. "We were so close, and I pulled out that damn knife."

"Who could blame you? You were still holding onto that innocent part of yourself." Hannibal reaches for the scar, lightly tracing over it with his finger. "And I turned around and hurt you right back."

"I like going back to that moment, though. That bit of civility, peace. Just us sitting together."

"Well, it's my turn." Hannibal pats the dog. "I'll take us back."

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There he was.

Will stared at Hannibal's back, watching the man's slumped posture. It was unlike him to look so defeated, so heavy, and it made him wonder what had changed. It had been nearly a year, after all— so many things could have happened in that time. The Hannibal he approached now could be a completely different Hannibal than before.

Wordlessly, he walked down the aisle like a bride coming to meet her groom. He settled down on the bench next to Hannibal, who didn't seem too surprised to see him there. That, or he was hiding it very well. Will examined the piece of art in front of them: Botticelli's Primavera, a massive homage to many mythological figures. They stood together in a field, joyful, naked, dancing in a celebration of spring and fertility.

It took him a moment to realize that Hannibal's eyes were no longer on the portrait. He returned the stare, curious about the wounds on Hannibal's face. He rarely saw Hannibal injured.

"If I saw you every day, forever, Will," Hannibal said, "I would remember this time."

Will softened, his lips eventually turning up into a smile. He couldn't help it; he showed his teeth, his face lit up. There was nothing better that Hannibal could have said. The words left a warm feeling in his chest.

He leaned over and wrapped his arms around Hannibal. The other man tensed at first, but once he realized that the gesture was genuine, he returned it with full force. They sat like that for a moment and breathed each other in.

"I missed you," Will murmured, close to Hannibal's ear. Hannibal's hand ran up and down across Will's back, as if he had to ensure that he was real, that this was happening.

"I missed you, too."

Will spoke into the fabric of Hannibal's suit, which smelled like sandalwood trying to mask the scent of sweat. "I know about Mischa."

Hannibal didn't answer. He hardly moved.

"I've been staring at afterimages of you in places you haven't been in years," Will continued. "I went home, Hannibal. I explored. I wanted to understand you before I laid eyes on you again."