The Ladder Scene

CHAPTER ONE: HOOKS AND ANTLERS AND GREEKS, OH MY!

Will Graham had been checking his email six times per hour, eagerly awaiting to see the cast list for the local theatre's latest production: "Hooks and Antlers." It detailed the relationship between a female hunter and her fisherman husband, struggling through a dramatic separation, only to realize they really do belong together. There was romance, light violence, and comedic relief–everything Will appreciated in a good show.

He was hoping to be cast as the fisherman's brother, as he knew going after the lead was likely a lost cause. He felt that he came across as awkward at the audition, and even more so at callbacks. It was more realistic to hope for the bare minimum rather than reaching for the stars. However, as he opened up his laptop at midnight, he was shocked to see his name at the top....and his high school sweetheart's right under it.

Adrian Perkins - Will Graham
Diane Perkins - Molly Baker

This was going to be interesting. He hadn't seen Molly since...well, high school. He hoped there wouldn't be any bad blood. Afterall, he did dump her a week before the prom, but in his defense, he had been thinking about it since Homecoming.

He had to admit, he hadn't been good to her in the final moments. He was cold and distant, keeping to himself when all she wanted was to share her life with him. If he had any regrets in life, treating Molly the way he did was one of them. She deserved better than Will Graham.

But He didn't want to dwell on that for too long. It would only dampen his mood. Overall, this was good news! He had to tell Hannibal.

--

Hannibal Lecter sat in his studio, slaving over his latest piece. Hyacinthus and Apollo lay sprawled out on his canvas, strategically placed cloth draped over their bodies. He wasn't entirely happy with it. Sure, the anatomy was perfect and everything blended seamlessly, but something was missing.

He glanced up as Will Graham burst through the door, still dripping from the rain. He kicked off his boots and shrugged off his coat, hanging it on the rack. He was so clumsy and reckless, but Lecter saw something in that man that nobody else did. He saw his youthful cluelessness and ambition just like every other, but he also saw loneliness in his eyes. It seemed as though Will was missing something, or someone, in his life. Hannibal wished to be that someone. He fell for Will the day they met. He had done well to suppress it ever since, but it clearly showed in his art that he was in love.

"Hello, Will," Hannibal said, continuing to paint. "You seem excited."

"I have good news and bad news," he said, sitting down on a step of the ladder that stood in the middle of the room. "I got the lead in Hooks and Antlers!"

"And the bad news?" Hannibal asked, looking up once more.

"My ex is playing the love interest."

Hannibal's paint stroke came to a grinding halt. "Well, then, that will make things difficult. Are you comfortable with this?"

"Honestly?" Will began. "I hadn't really thought about what I would do if this kind of thing happened. I mean, we were both going into theatre, so we were bound to run into each other after the relationship ended. I'm not a huge fan of the idea, but I'm not going to turn down the role because of it."

"I think you made the right choice," Hannibal said, cleaning his brush and placing it carefully in its holder. "It would be a shame to miss such an opportunity due to past feelings."

"What are you working on?" Will asked, walking over to see the unfinished painting.

"One of many pieces in a series on ancient lovers," Hannibal said. "Beginning in Greece with the tragedy of Apollo and Hyacinthus."

"You know, the ancient Greeks had eight different words for love," Will said, flexing his philosophy minor. "Eros, passionate love; Philia, affectionate love; Agape, selfless love. Then there's Storge, familiar love; Ludus, playful love; Pragma, enduring love; Philautia, self love..."

"And Mania, obsessive love." Hannibal finished his thought. "I also studied Greek philosophy in college. In fact, I live by it."

"Then I'm sure you know thyself very well." Will seemed proud of himself, as if he had just referenced the most obscure Socrates quote ever. "You know, the Greeks basically invented theatre as we know it."

"And they have Dionysus to thank," Hannibal said. "He gave them theatre, among other things such as festivity, ecstasy, and, well, booze."

"I never liked Dionysus," Will said, scrunching up his face. "He often drove mortals to insanity, leaving them to let go of their judgment and ultimately, their humanity."

"Are you afraid of letting go, Will?" Hannibal asked.

"No, I'm afraid of going insane," Will admitted. "I've been close before, and it's not very enjoyable."

"Well then, who do you prefer?" Hannibal asked. "Of the gods, who's your favorite?"

"Tough call between the Muses and the Oneiroi," Will said. "I like to think I'm inspired, but I also have wild dreams, so I'm not sure who's influencing my life at the moment."

"Has Phobetor paid you a visit recently?" Hannibal asked, remembering a time when Will had nightmares nearly every time he closed his eyes.

"I haven't really had a nightmare recently, but I've certainly had strange dreams," he said.

"Aristotle believed that dreams are extensions of reality, and that our imagination is responsible for the impossible feats that appear as reality in our dreams." Hannibal stood, walking to his bookcase and retrieving Aristotle's On Dreams. "While we're awake, it is easy to distinguish between our imagination and reality, but in sleep, that ability disappears. This is why they feel so real, and you are upset when you wake from a pleasant dream. You wish that dream were your reality."

"What do you dream about, Hannibal?" Will asked. "What do you wish were your reality?"

"Last night, I dreamt of this piece," Hannibal said, gesturing towards his painting. "I dreamt that it was perfect, but that truly was just a dream because I cannot seem to achieve perfection."

"I think it's pretty good." Will said. "What do you feel like it's missing?

"There's something about Hyacinthus," he said, gesturing towards the smaller man. "He has no emotion, no life or passion in his eyes."

"Maybe you just need a living reference," Will said. "Find somebody who looks like your vision of hyacinthus and have them model for you."

"Or I could just use you." Hannibal suggested. He gestured to his left. "Sit over there. Don't put on a face, just be you."

Will pulled up a stool and sat down, relaxing his face and shoulders.

"Face the windows and turn your head this way," Hannibal said. He stood and walked over to Will, gently tilting his chin slightly upward. "There, perfect."

"This isn't going to be a regular thing, right?" Will asked. "You know I'm terrible at sitting still."

"You're doing wonderful," Hannibal assured him as his brush glided on the canvas.

It had been a while since he had the opportunity to simply admire Will's full appearance. Even with his hair soaking wet and his face ungroomed, he was beautiful. His eyes sparkled under the studio lights. Faint shadows were cast on one side of his face. The slope of his jawline looked as if it were sculpted by Michaelangelo himself, its sharpness contrasting the sweet and soft quality of his features.

"How do I look?" Will teased.

"Like you were made in a god's image," Hannibal said, adding the fine strokes of his hair. "Apollo would fall for you in a heartbeat. Let's just hope he doesn't try to teach you how to throw discus."

Will smiled. God, he was perfect.