Hannigram One Shots and Things

Drowning

((For GAIStxR , hope you like it))

His lungs were filling with water faster than her expected. The waves had carried the younger male's body from his arms after the impact, no matter how hard he'd tried to keep his grip.

It was an odd sensation. Drowning. His body was submerged beneath the salty waves and he felt more alone than he had ever felt in his life in the cold water. It was an odd feeling.

Hannibal gasped for air as he'd managed to tear his way up through the water until his head bobbed above the surface. His lungs burned as he gulped in the air faster than he should have. But soon enough his head was under the water again and his already aching arms had to fight to get him back to his lifeline; the air. He looked around, more frantic than he usually was, and found a rock nearby. He shaking pulled himself up, even with the bullet wound in his side. But the pain felt dulled when he realized once more that he was alone. His dark eyes searched the waters for any sign of the man he'd fallen with, but all his orbs were met with was the ocean which looked an inky black in the moonlight. And then Will's words rung throughout his mind.

"It really does look black in the moonlight."

And Hannibal found that Will was right in more ways than one. He rested a moment and found the direction of the shore before he slid back into the dark waves. It wasn't an easy fight, but he won nonetheless and crawled onto the sand made from the eroded cliff side. He coughed up some of the stinging salt water and it dropped from his lips onto the already damp ground beneath him. Hannibal took a deep breath before forcing himself to stand, gripping at the wound in his side as it burned and ached with pain, blood still draining from it. "Maybe that's why the water seems so black beneath the moonlight. The blood has corrupted the water." He thought before turning and limping to the staircase that would lead him back up to the house.

It was a long ascent and Hannibal had ample time to think about his love, Will. They were supposed to die together then, or at least escape this madness together. But Will had betrayed him and left Hannibal alone and dragging himself up the wooden stairs, a trail of dripping blood behind him. At first, Lecter didn't know how to feel. Perhaps Will had survived and he just hasn't seen him in his wild frenzy to get to shore. That was surely it.

This was his mindset when he got to the top of the stairs. He walked onto the patio stones that spread out and reached the edge of the bluff, seeing the Red Dragon's body and his "wings of blood." But he was not compelled to eat the Dragon. No...no he actually felt anger towards the male. Because as he looked past the body and out to sea once more, his mind now as settled as it could be, the water was still even and black. No Will. No nothing. Just the dark abyss that laid before him. And now Hannibal felt that betrayal return to his chest and he felt furious, but before he could do anything he was double over in pain and clutching his side. That was more urgent at the moment.

Hannibal sat on the toilet, sewing up the gunshot wound since the bullet went straight through. He had kept the extensive first aid kit in this house because at some point he was sure his family would need it. His family. Will. He gritted his teeth and just finished with the needle before applying antibacterial cream and bandages so it would not get infected. He then stood and went to the kitchen, opening the cabinet and taking some pain killers so he could walk without the pain exploding just north of his right hip. After drinking a glass of water he looked out the window, gaze settling on Francis Dolorhyde. He furrowed his brow and growled a bit, deeply displeased. Both of his 'disciples' left him. Both the Dragon and the Lamb were gone, absent from the Devil's side. He strode into the sun room and picked up the glass of wine that Will had been using earlier, looking at the broken crystal.

"Will the teacup come back together again..?" Hannibal murmured, seeing his distorted reflection in the glass. But he did not see silver hair and dark eyes. He saw curly brown hair and bright blue pools that he felt himself getting lost in every time he saw them. He longed to see the younger man again and before he could control his actions he hurled the already broken glass across the room. This wasn't what he had in mind for either of them. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. They were supposed to die together.

"It's beautiful."

He heard Will's voice ringing in his ears again, as if he were still in his arms and resting against his collarbone. And Hannibal found himself longing once more to have the man he loved near him again. But he was no longer there. The black waves had ripped him from his possessive arms and stolen him away from the older man.

Hannibal walked back outside, chin tilting up towards the moon as the breeze ruffled his disheveled clothing and hair. Being basked in bright light only made shadows more refined and he felt as if every edge of himself was clean cut. He felt the wind caressing his cheeks and his slacks rubbing against his thighs as he shifted from foot to foot almost subconsciously. His heart ached when his eyes were drawn back to the thief that had stolen away with his Lamb. And he realized that it was no longer only the wind that caressed his face, but streams of water as well. Tears. Shed for a friend and a lover, those cool streams slid down until they met the collar of his shirt. And without meaning to he began to weep at the loss of his love. He ambled over to the edge of the cliff and looked out, towards where the velvety blackness of the sky met the torrents of ink waves that made up the ocean. He wondered where Will was now. Would he miss Hannibal, ache for him the same way he ached now? Would he be happy alone? Or would death provide Will with nothing, a greater torment to Hannibal than anything else. That his love died and in his final moments he was encased in a woman's arms whose salty skin burned the wounds and whose jagged rocks killed many. But we're the Devil's arms any better?

He allowed himself to sit now, at the edge of the cliff and his breath began to shudder as he lost his composure and all he could think about was the young man's features. That beautiful, broken smile. The hair that had prickled his skin when their cheeks had brushed just hours before. His dark curls, which now reminded Hannibal of the sea that laid before his eyes. And oh his eyes. Such captivating eyes. Those sapphires set in cream stone that Hannibal would gaze at for hours like a fine gem if given the chance. And then Will's voice was filling his head once more.

"I forgive you."

"I need you."

And streams became violent torrents as his wounded body began to shake. Hannibal held himself, and even without the sea to embrace him he felt the water filling his lungs again.

"Can't live with him, can't live without him."

It was true. And now he was gasping for air he could not find. His body felt submerged again in that dark liquid, like a blanket over his body. And he was sinking, body curled into itself. Hannibal found in that moment that you did not need water to drown.

No. He was drowning right now sitting at the edge of that cliff.

Sinking Deeper...

The Water Rising...

It was an odd sensation, Drowning...