The Sculpture And The Sculpted

Chapter 7

Sleep pulled on Will's bones as lazy kisses were pressed to his back. He smiled as fingers followed the adoration.

"They don't hurt anymore," he muttered into the quiet room that had the last glimmering golden rays of the sunset coming in from the balcony windows. "You don't have to keep kissing them."

"I wasn't there to prevent them." The slight bitterness in Hannibal's tone pulled Will from his drowsiness and he blinked his eyes open to find Hannibal's form settling beside him in the bed. Hannibal's eyes wandered Will's face as he propped up his chin with his hand, elbow pressed into the mattress. "Why did he do it?"

"The same reason he did this." Will traced the mark across his cheek with a single finger. "The morning after you left, we got into a rather heated misunderstanding. I threw my breakfast on the floor, and he hit me."

"A misunderstanding over what?"

Will breathed out a chuckle, the smile light over his lips as he reached out, tracing the muscle in Hannibal's forearm that was supporting his head.

"You."

Guilt plastered itself across Hannibal's face and he sat up, a hand going to his head. Will's smile fell as Hannibal's back turned to him, battle scars just as prevalent as Will's own, though earned so exceedingly differently.

"And the others?"

"You," Will repeated as he sat up himself. He reached out a single hand, hesitating, but eventually pressing it to Hannibal's back and running the line of it. Hannibal tensed under his touch. "After my mother passed away, we had another misunderstanding."

"I'm sorry about your mother. She was a kind woman."

Will bit his tongue, nose scrunching up in discomfort. "It's alright. She was terribly sick near the end. I think it was a blessing in disguise, honestly. I just never realized how much of a shield she was between my father and me. After that particular incident I had to cut my own switch from the oak tree in the courtyard."

"What could you have possibly been arguing over to earn his wrath like that?" Hannibal glanced over his shoulder at the prince whose skin was as perfect as porcelain save for the nicks. Skin that never should have been touched in such an abhorrent way. "And if you say me again, I will-"

"It was you," Will interrupted. He shifted from where he was tangled in the sheets until he was on the edge of the bed beside Hannibal. Hannibal downturned his face, eyes hard on the floor. Will wanted nothing more than to take that guilt from Hannibal's countenance. "I wanted to know what happened that night and no one would tell me. I searched for answers for years and could never find any sort of information. I blamed my father for the atrocities, for what his men did to you, but he only claimed that they weren't his guards."

Hannibal's brows furrowed and he licked his lips, slowly repeating the words back to Will as if he were just now learning the truth. "They weren't your father's men."

"Yes," Will agreed. "But I do not know who they are, nor will he tell me. I've tried everything I can think of. Getting him drunk, going hunting with him, handling some of his business dealings, but nothing has ever gotten me on his good side. I've also considered that maybe my father either truly doesn't know who they were or he's lying about the whole thing. He has lied about a lot from then."

"And you inquired the same from Jack?"

Will nodded. "The very same."

Hannibal exhaled deeply, pushing the newly learned information aside to dissect at a later date. His hand slid into Will's and gave it a squeeze. "I'm sorry that I made such a disturbance in your life." His gaze finally met Will's and he was given a smile he did not deserve. A kiss was given to him, and he leaned into the fleeting touch.