𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞: A Hannigram Love Story

Chapter Eight

Priorities. Priorities typically determined the elongating path that represented one's tiny life. We, as a human population in general, tend to play God. We allow our greed and selfishness to blind us, acting like Samaritans, but deep down, we are two faced sinners craving our next fix. Some crave love. Some craved an unnatural high. There were multiple variations, specific differences that ranged from person to person. Will Graham's specific poison of choice happened to be a person. Their love was so twisted, so out of control, so...morbid, it'd be hard to understand as an outsider.

Will knew that he himself was- no, is- one of these sinners, that he was as selfish as the rest of the inhabitants of the world. His personal design was constructed around Hannibal; there was no one, nothing, not a single soul nor object that could compare. He refuted the idea that one day they may be caught. What they'd done to Jack Crawford was an act of mercy; the couple chose to not dwell on the things they'd done, the crimes they committed. It was much easier to simply ignore it, and move on from the trifling matter.

Time passed like specks of sand, each particle falling into place in an hour glass with the title "Life". To reach an older age was such a great gift, and, after Will's fair share of faces with death, he was grateful to have aged as well as he had. Every singular moment was beginning to rock the glass, though. If pushed over, the fragile construction would burst into millions of little shards and splinters, and would be unable to build once more. Life can be taken as quickly as it is given. They both understood that far more than any other human on this earth did.

"Are you listening, William, or are you once again losing your grip on your new reality?" a smooth voice asked calmly.

Will's head turns to face Hannibal, his lips parting to release a rather quiet breath. "I find that the weight of our new life is much less overbearing than the former one."

It was very common for normal couples to have picnics, but Will found them to be a cliche. Hannibal insisted, though, that the two took one anyway, to take some time to themselves for a relaxing meal. So, rather begrudgingly, Will agreed and followed Hannibal all the way out to a clearing in the woods near their estate, helped him to drape the soft blanket onto the grass, and set the contents of their basket onto it. The fact that they were outdoors didn't bother Will; no, it wasn't the blistering rays of sun that shone brightly onto his volume filled curls, nor the soft buzz of bugs, or the hushed, yet prominent sounds of wildlife. He adored the outdoors. It was merely a feeling of being vulnerable out in the open like this, and all for a meal that could just as easily be eaten in the comforts of their home.

"Then why," Hannibal pressed on, crashing Will's train of thought, "do you seem to be reluctant to enjoy your time outside? Has your love for the outdoors faded over time?"

"No, it isn't that. Being outside isn't the problem. It's the other people surrounding the area that make me feel...jittery."

"Are you worried that I'd allow someone to hurt you?"

Will's eyes lifted to gaze into Hannibal's amused eyes, which glistened translucently beneath the raining rays of sun. His hand moves upwards, swirling the wine in his glass and taking a small whiff before taking a sip. It made Will snort. "That's the least of my worries," he retorts. "I'm more focused on the possibility of being recognized and turned in. It'd be a great deal harder to maintain a relationship behind steel bars and isolation."

"So, we are in a relationship?" Hannibal asked nonchalantly, as if the rest of Will's words had fallen on deaf ears.

"I'm convinced that you have selective hearing."

Hannibal set down his glass, glints of the sun showing off its shine by reflecting on the surface. "William, I've gone to great lengths making sure that our retirement remains untouched and peaceful. You are safe now, with me."