Chapter 6: After the Travel

Hannibal tries to spend his weekend fully focusing on the keynotes of the conference, but the only thought that can take root in his head is that he is going to return to the empty house when he goes home Sunday evening.

For so many years now, his actions had only one clear purpose: to make Will his, to teach Will to accept the natural darkness that's living within, keep him for himself, and make him happy, and with this, gaining his own happiness as well. To be with Will and build their world of beauty and perfection together.

Basically, he understands that this is where he should let go of this dream, and give up. They had their life together, and it didn't work out. It was not beauty and perfection. But understanding it doesn't make it easier to accept. And maybe it was a sort of beauty and perfection – just not the blazing, burning one. A less apparent one. They should've found it underneath the thick layers of everyday nuisances.

And when Hannibal is sitting on the plane on his way back home, the unsettling thought starts to shape in his mind that perhaps he is going to be unable to move on. And this unpleasant feeling doesn't leave while he is looking through the cab window, watching the dark roads and the lights of buildings rushing by.

He has never felt anything more desolate than to arrive home to the empty house he used to share with Will.

He understands only now that his last few years completely centered around his life with Will, and everything he did was a part of his plans together with Will. Everything he did only had a meaning in the context of his relationship to Will. His life with Will evolved into something that cannot be converted back to its previous form. And it was what he dreamed of while fighting for having Will by his side. But this is a hidden secret, not the obvious surface. And now it's too late to understand this. Only now that he has ultimately lost Will, he realizes that this was the most beautiful thing he has ever had... from the first moment of their relationship to the very last one. And he cannot just simply start all over alone, as if it had never happened. Nothing makes sense anymore.

Maybe, he should follow Will and his lover, and bring Will home, chain him, and force him to stay.

But he knows that there's no point. They got their chance, and it's gone. What's spoiled is spoiled, and he cannot change it with raw force. He could have changed this together with Will, with long months of trying, but only if they both had wanted it and started it in time.

He pauses for a second before he crosses the front yard, because he spots their Rottweiler running towards him, happy to greet him.

Hannibal finds it curious that Will has left Abby home for him. He would have expected the younger man to take the dog, but rationally, it's understandable why he hasn't done that. This place is a safe haven for Abby's tortured soul; this is where she feels comfortable and free. Probably, Will was coolheaded enough to see this and gave her up.

Hannibal makes a slow, measured motion to stroke Abby's forehead with his gloved fingertips, and then he takes a vague step towards the inside of the house. He knows that the worst part is yet to come, when he has to walk through the empty building.

He can still sense the reminiscence of Will's familiar smell, and Will's things are still everywhere as he enters the house. He tries not to focus on anything that particularly belonged to Will, but he has to realize that every object holds dozens of memories that connect him to the younger man.

And while he is taking a shower alone in the grandiose bathroom, all he can think about is this last year, when their relationship ultimately went wrong, and about the question why they didn't timely try to change the growing coldness. It wouldn't have been easy, it would have needed a tremendous amount of time and effort, but they could've learned it together if they'd started it in time...

He knows that he should accept the current situation, but he also knows that he won't be able to. He is not the kind of person who simply accepts his circumstances. He is the one who creates his fate according to his own plans. But now there is nothing else left to do. This is all he could create. And this vicious torment of powerlessness and aching vacancy is the worst of all. And he is not sure that it's ever going to get any better.

Hannibal comes to a halt in the door of the dark bedroom, and he is staring into the empty blackness, knowing that he won't be able to fall asleep. Probably, he'll need to call Will on the phone and listen to his breathing for at least a few seconds... But not now. He should be able to suppress this urge for at least one more day.

He sets his cell phone on his night stand before mechanically laying himself down on the side of the bed he used to occupy while Will was here with him. The idea alone that he is going to call Will gives him back some comfort. Now, his actions have a meaning again. Things start to make sense.

But the next second, he hears a few small creaks of the mattress, plus a drowsy puff from underneath the blanket, and then warm, bare arms are locking around his torso, and Will clumsily nestles up against the doctor's chest in the dark.

"I wanted to stay up until you arrived home, but you were late and I fell asleep," Will mutters into the older man's neck, gently nuzzling it. "How was your trip?"

Hannibal rarely gets astonished to a level that he is at a loss of a reaction, but he feels frozen for a few seconds now. And even when he gets back some of his composure, and mechanically adjusts the crumpled blanket around Will, he doesn't speak.

He slowly understands, that after all this time – after everything lost its shine, turned empty, deteriorated, and burned out – sadly, one thing hasn't changed: no matter how bad, meaningless, and destructive their relationship is, they are unable to let go of each other. And he knows that eventually, this realization is going to make both of them numb and bitter, but for the moment, it fills him with contented warmth.

Will nudges the doctor's neck with his nose again. "Are you tired after the long travel?"

Hannibal finally opens his mouth, and he answers with a murmured, "Yes."

"How much?" And a little bite worries the soft skin of the doctor's neck. When the bite is followed by a brief lick, Hannibal feels some tension building up in his crotch.

"Not so much," he replies with a faint ghost of a triumphant smile on his pale lips, pulling Will closer, encircling him with his arms. They start giving each other blind, wet kisses in the dark.

They haven't kissed each other in months, and now whenever their lips meet, the doctor hungrily tries to savor more and more of the familiar taste of Will's tongue.

After placing a few damp pecks on the doctor's finely shaven jawline, Will asks huskily, "How much lube do we have from last time?"

"We have some."

"Is it enough for a long, sleepy 'welcome home' sex?"

And after that, there aren't any more questions, and the silence of the dark room is getting filled with the rustling of the bed sheets, the blunt thumps of the mattress, and their intensifying, thick groans.

Two hours later, they are lying next to each other, dripping with sweat, taking deep, ragged breaths, entangled in the pile of stained bed sheets and blankets, trembling from the aftershock of their laboriously-reached orgasms. Their relief was not violent and burning as it would have been two years ago; it was slow and sluggish. But in the end, it has also been deeply satisfying, and surrounds them now with the warmth of exhaustion.

Will mumbles drowsily, "I was thinking about us during the weekend. I was thinking... and... and... I was out with Abby by the lake, fishing. And I caught some carp. So... so I was thinking... Do you remember that rare Nigerian soup you saw on TV like six months ago, and you said you wanted to try that? I was wondering that maybe we could cook it together after work tomorrow, from the carp and the racist mail carrier we'd chopped, packaged, and placed into the deep freezer in July. So I visited your favorite specialty shop and bought the missing ingredients. They are in the fridge, under your tropical fruit section. Do you have some free time tomorrow evening?"

Hannibal searches for Will's hand in the dark and mutely takes it, while Will continues in his sleepy murmur, "And the new neighbors... Three weeks ago, I overheard them gossiping about us. I still have some difficulties with the local language, but I think they called us names, something like 'fucked-up homos,' and that was just one of the nicer things they said... I guess they deserve a lesson. What about that new challenge you promised?"

- The End -