𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞: A Hannigram Love Story

Chapter Five

"Hannibal, I said no, and I damn well mean it," Will grumbled at Hannibal, eyes narrowing.

Hannibal pursed his lips slightly, auburn eyes scanning William's features in a calculative manner. "You can be rather vexing, if you choose to be."

Will glares at Hannibal, setting down the dish he was scrubbing at after the dinner Hannibal had cooked for them. "I can be vexing?" he asked in disbelief. "What you're implying is absolutely outrageous, and I think you need to-"

"Need to what?"

"Don't you start interrupting my sentences before I can even finish them, Lecter." Will inhales deeply and rubs his eyes under the frames of his glasses. "I don't believe you've thought this through."

Hannibal frowns deeply; the thought that he presented to William was indeed well-thought out, and needed no more time to ponder on. "When have you ever known me to be callous with my decisions, William?"

"I'm not saying that you're necessarily callous, that's not the word I'd use. But this feels...rash."

Hannibal dries the dish that Will had cleaned, no spots visible on the glassware whilst he expertly soaks up the moisture with the cream-colored hand towel. Once he's sure that no water has been missed, Hannibal carefully tucks the dish away into the correct spot, straightening out the other dishes alongside it. "When feasible, one should always eat the rude, William."

Will grabs the towel Hannibal was holding, drying off his hands while shaking his head. "We are not eating Jack, Hannibal," he says firmly.

"I don't appreciate his disrespect towards you, nor how he's ever treated you in the past. He's a terrific manipulator with a tendency to make one feel crummy after they attempt to rebuke his tactics."

"Well, the tactics you're using right now aren't exactly devout," Will retorts, settling himself upon Hannibal's plush couch. "There are too many things that can go wrong, he's an F.B.I. agent, for Christ's sake."

Hannibal's thin lips purse as he sets down beside Will, gazing down at him. "Not even a nibble?"

"No."

"You're no fun, William."

Will removes his glasses from the bridge of his nose and runs his slender fingers throughout his head of curls, the silken strands gliding through the digits. His nose upturns in distaste, eyes squinting at Hannibal. "Fun has nothing to do with murder."

"You delight in wickedness, and then berate yourself for the delight."

"You delight in it. I tolerate it. I don't have your appetite."

Hannibal's features grow austere, deep brown brows knitting together as he peers at Will. "If the moon didn't stay still, does the sun still see its face?"

Will snorts. "The moon has no choice upon whether or not the scorching rays collide with its surface."

"Are you saying that I am holding you against your will, Will?"

"I'm saying I have no alternative. The beginning was my rebirth upon which you pushed on my life. From the moment we collided, I told you, we were bound."

The older man reaches his hand out towards Will's chin, forcing Will to look him in the eyes directly. "Were it a choice, I'd have devoured you long ago. But the truth holds not only simplicity, but complexity as well. Tainted hearts, half of a whole, not properly substantial without the other. Don't tell me you regret coming to Italy?"

"I have a lot of regrets," Will begins after long, surpassing moments, "but being with you is not one of them. You're dark. Demented. Not classified as a sociopath, but not a psychopath either. You are your own classification. Don't patronize me by asking if I regret it."