Palatial Intimacy

XVII - The Bed

April 22, 2030

Will downed two shots of whiskey, enjoying the warm and fuzzy sensation they sent through his brain. It was like cotton padding, a warm bath after everything he'd put his mind through. He leaned against the counter, eyes closed, fighting back overwhelmed tears. He waited for a moment, and when he opened his eyes again he noticed that Hannibal was staring at him.

"Thank you," Will said. Hannibal leaned over to take the glass from him, pouring himself a shot and swallowing it. His lips touched the same spot on the rim that Will's had.

"Seeing you standing in front of me for the first time in five years...I couldn't concentrate on a word of your lecture." Hannibal shook his head. "I was in shock. I thought I'd never see you again. It was sheer coincidence that brought me to the Academy, and when I heard your name, I nearly bolted to the lecture hall."

"And then I didn't recognize you at all."

"I thought you were lying. Or doing it to spite me. But there was nothing in your eyes. Not a spark of any emotion whatsoever, apart from maybe boredom. I tried to drop hints, but you showed nothing. And then I never heard from you after, so I knew it wasn't just a public show."

"Until now, all I remembered was being in Italy. I thought it was an extended vacation, to clear my mind. I told everyone that's what it was. One moment it was early October, and then I was waking up in a random bed in Naples. I had the Proto-MED next to me and a note from myself, telling me to not search for answers. To just go back home. And then I realized it was the middle of May."

"Nearly eight months of memory, all vanished." Hannibal stepped around the counter, approaching him with wide eyes. "It's a remarkable device. But it was used in the wrong way."

"And it apparently doesn't take much for me to regain the memories, either. Just a little push seemed to be enough."

"What did you do with the device? Perhaps there's a reverse option."

"I threw it off the Ponte." Will sighed. His eyes felt so heavy now. He ran his fingers through his hair. "My note said to destroy it. Fuck."

"Will." Hannibal took Will's hand, bringing it down off of his head and instead holding it to his own chest. His thumb stroked Will's knuckles back and forth. "It's okay. You look exhausted. Maybe we should both get some rest tonight, before we carry on with anything else."

Will flinched, remembering what was waiting for him back at the house. "I can't go home," he whispered. "I've ruined everything there. I can't."

"What happened?"

"It was humiliating. We fought, started screaming at each other over how I've been acting different. And then she started kissing me, and we...we had some angry sex. But she was doing something, and then I felt everything sort of drip away. Like candle wax. And she was suddenly," he paused, knowing that the only reason he was even going this far was due to his drunkenness, "she suddenly turned into you. And we were in a different room, and you were doing things to me. And I said your name."

Hannibal raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure she didn't like that."

"I wish that I could remember something actually important. Not whatever that was." Substantial conversations were gone, relegated to a place deep within his mind that he could never reach without help. But being pinned against a wall, having his earlobe bitten, the pleasure moving up his thighs and into his belly, stomach fluttering with excitement — that was vivid.

"I think what we did was important." Hannibal squeezed his hand. "I quite enjoyed it."

"You know what I meant." Will flushed. "But, yeah. Basically, I can't go home. She's having me sleep on the couch, and I just...after finding all this out, I can't go back there." It felt like everything he'd been building up for years was all a farce. His marriage, his career, the ideas he had about himself and who he was meant to be — they were all constructed after Hannibal. They were replacements for someone that had left such an impact on him that he needed technological intervention.