Chapter Text
Hannibal had promised Will a trip to Florence. He had raised the topic the first time they discussed hideaway locations for the future. Admittedly, it wasn’t a safe place to stay for long, at least not at the moment. Hannibal’s footprints were still figuratively imprinted in the streets and the Carabinieri had their eyes and ears everywhere. Owing to a lack of evidence, neither of them had officially been declared dead by the FBI yet, so it was to be feared that they were still on the radar of international law enforcement. Nevertheless, Will had agreed to stop for a few days during their journey through central Europe; the end of which wasn’t yet determined.
They arrived in the last breath of summer, when it was still relatively hot in Tuscany. In spite of the forthcoming autumn the city was still overflowing with tourists and it hadn’t been easy to find moderately priced accommodation in the city center. Not that they were running out of money, but they hadn’t yet managed to gain full access to all of Hannibal’s bank accounts, so they were forced to keep a moderating eye on their expenses.
The hotel where they stayed was situated near the beautiful Piazza Santa Maria Novella and from the balcony of their suite, directly beneath the roof of the house, they had a stunning view of the historic center. Hannibal had booked them a room with a double bed. They hadn’t discussed this earlier and, of course, Will would have given his approval had he been asked. Nevertheless, the fact that Hannibal was assuming that at this point in their relationship the sleeping arrangements were self-evident made Will feel slightly uneasy.
Will liked to be close to Hannibal, but Hannibal liked to be closer and Will wasn’t entirely sure how much he liked that. It was complicated.
“Would you like to freshen up a bit before we take a look at the city? It’s been a long flight,” Hannibal asked, beginning to unpack his suitcase on their shared bed.
Will nodded; in fact he would have preferred to sleep instead, but running a hand through his tousled and oily hair made him realized that a shower might be in order.
“You can use the bathroom first,” Hannibal offered “I’ll take my turn after you.”
The refreshment of cold water was badly needed after their 9 h flight from the States. It eased Will’s thoughts and made him realize that he hadn’t breathed so freely for months. Finally they were gone; finally far away from where they’d escaped the force of judgment that was probably still pursuing them. Even though Will had dark memories of Florence, too, he wasn’t afraid to revisit the places where their ways had crossed and parted again all those years ago. These wounds were too old to reopen; and summer too warm for the darkness to be truly frightening.
Other things were less easy. Like Hannibal’s touches when they’d left the plane and set foot on Italian ground for the first time: a hand on the small of his back, too low to be unintentional, another on his shoulder; lips so close to his ear that he could feel Hannibal’s breathing tickle his skin. “Welcome to Florence, Will.”
He could still feel his skin tingle where their bodies had met and the cold water did nothing to wash the sensation away. Not that they hadn’t touched in the past months during their mutual healing process. They had touched a lot. But not like this; so feathery that he feared it’d burn his skin.
After showering Will heard Hannibal rummaging in the other room, probably getting dressed. In turn Will spent a long time in front of the mirror, looking at himself in the polished glass.
Back in the time when his encephalitis had got its grip on his sanity and hallucinations and nightmares had driven heat into his mind, he’d often found himself looking at his reflection in the mirror like it was a different person. He had sometimes feared, almost expected, that it would run away in the blink of an eye and leave him behind in a world that had was increasingly inhabited by his demons. Then he’d have become mindless and bodiless; a restless wanderer in limbo with an eye on the monsters in the lower layers of hell, and not an inch of sky above him.
Today he looked troubled and exhausted, but nothing in his reflection showed the internal fight that was constantly taking place in his head. It was fascinating, Will found, how everybody was carrying this huge internal world within them and what perfect masks faces were most of the time. Thanks to his empathy, it had never been too hard for him to look behind those masks; but the worlds he discovered there were often so large and all encompassing that once inside it was hard to find his way out again.
With Hannibal it had been different. It had taken Will longer to find a way behind the mask, but amidst the darkness he was surprised to find his own world there. He wondered if it was like this for other people when they fell in love.
Stepping out of the bathroom he almost bumped into Hannibal, who was still wearing his dark slack trousers and nothing else. Instinctively Will took a step back, but it didn’t affect the smile Hannibal was wearing since their arrival.
“Get changed, please!” he called to Will through the closing bathroom door. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”
♠♣♥♦
For their first evening they had decided to walk through the center to get a taste of the city again. They stopped at a bistro and Hannibal bought them fresh Piadinas as a takeaway. It amused Will, as he couldn’t remember ever seeing Hannibal eat takeaway food before and Hannibal’s explanation “Sometimes one must accommodate to simplicity to enjoy the full range of tradition” wasn’t entirely convincing. In this respect, Will was fairly sure that the shabbiness of the bistro itself was deterring Hannibal from insulting the soles of his custom-made shoes with any more contact than was absolutely necessary.
Their route led them through the narrow streets of Florence, passing shop window after shop window of numerous international brands that were a mingled display of fortune as well as ignorance, as countless street vendors trying to peddle their selfie-sticks and sunglasses to the tourists. For a moment Will felt himself drawn back into his old life, his old self who would have passed those shops with scorn regarding the unnecessary courtship wealthy customers received at the entrance while underpaid window cleaners polished the dust from the golden letters of Armani, Louis Vitton or Roberto Cavalli, whose products they would never be able to afford. Now with Hannibal by his side, who would certainly buy him any suit that might catch his eye, the perspective was a bit different. Nevertheless, he still didn’t plan to spend even a single cent in any of those shops.
Hannibal was talking most of the time, recounting stories about his former visits to the city. He seemed to have one about virtually every building they passed, and Will tried to listen attentively while concentrating on not allowing his Piadina to fall apart.
Finally they sat down at the Piazza della Repubblica and waited for dusk to fall over the city. Yet while it grew dark, the night didn’t come and the city remained as lively as ever. Hordes of tourists and locals were milling about, chatting and laughing: the typical Florentine flair that made summer at this place so precious. Some street vendors were selling balloons and small flashlight toys that looked like dandelion seeds: when shot into the air they slowly floated downwards, glowing colourfully against the moonlit sky. A little boy whined at his father to buy him one, but he was offered a ride on the big carousel in the middle of the Piazza instead. A clever move.
“Sometimes I think about Walter,” Will said, sitting at Hannibal’s side with his hands folded in his lap.
“He would have been too old for the carousel, wouldn’t he?”Hannibal asked, his eyes following the rising and falling of the dandelion toys.
“Maybe,” Will smiled, “but he wouldn’t have been too old for that stuff” He pointed at the toy. “He would have loved those.”
“You would have bought him one?”
“Probably not. He’d ruin it within the course of an hour. Or one of the dogs would use it as a chewing toy. “
“Instant destruction of something beautiful. A talent that children and dogs share,” Hannibal replied with a smile.
“That’s true.” Will gave a small laugh.
Then they sat in silence for a while, before Hannibal abruptly asked: “Do you miss your family?”
It was a difficult question. To be honest, Will hadn’t thought a great deal about them since he had plunged into the ocean. Everything had been such a blur and there were more important things to be concerned with: care about his own life as well as Hannibal’s; that alone consumed every bit of attention. But now, seeing this scene of a family - both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time - Will came to ask himself whether he missed it now, even though he had never particularly needed it before. Still, the answer to Hannibal’s question wasn’t ‘no’, so he remained silent and watched the dance of the glowing toy in the air. There was something strangely mesmerizing about it.
“It is very beautiful here,” he said after a while.
Hannibal nodded, his attention drawn to a group of children playing around the stone coulomb next to the carousel. One of the boys had dark curly hair, just like Will’s.
“It used to be even more beautiful centuries ago, before the great restoration of the Piazza at the end of the 19th century. They tore down the Mercato Vecchio and other medieval buildings around the place and instead drew up this enormous triumphal arch. Presumably this was done out of the need for Florence to represent itself as the new capital of Italy, which this city had actually been for some years in that century. Since then opinions differ about whether the restoration ruined or simply reshaped the place.”
Will was only half-listening; his focus had suddenly been drawn to the mother of the child he’d been watching previously, and whose father had just lifted him down from one of the horses on the carousel. She hugged her son from behind and put her hands over his eyes, whispering into his ear. The boy chuckled and turned round while his father pressed a kiss to the woman’s cheek. This was what family should look like, Will thought; and it gave him a slight sting in his stomach when he realised that for him it had never been like this. Never in his entire life.
“Shall we leave?” Hannibal asked, as if he’d read his thoughts.
Will simply nodded and they turned to go back to their hotel.
♠♣♥♦
In the darkness of their room the air felt heavy again. It didn’t matter where in the world they were, Will thought; lying side by side in their shared singular space of intimacy which always formed around them whenever they were silent, and sometimes when they had conversations. There was no need to speak, there was no need to do anything, but Hannibal had had this particular glint in his eyes whenever their glances had met over the drawn back sheets and Will knew the question. And the answer. They needed to talk.
“Hannibal?” he whispered and hoped that the darkness didn’t swallow his words before they could be heared.
Will felt the mattress dip by the movement of the other man turning towards him. He couldn’t tell how close they were, as the thick curtains kept the darkness safely in the room; but with Hannibal it always felt close, no matter how many miles they were apart.
The sudden warm touch of a hand on his forearm felt like a flame stroking his skin and he pulled back abruptly, regretting it a second later and feeling for Hannibal’s hand.
“I’m sorry.” It wasn’t clear which of them said it first.
“I just didn’t expect it,” Will added. Finding Hannibal’s hand, he begun to gently stroke his thumb over the knuckles, feeling Hannibal’s fingers twitch against his at the sensation.
“I will warn you next time.”
“No, it’s fine.” Will replied, continuing his caressing “This is okay.” He thought he heard Hannibal give a small sigh, but that could also have been his imagination.
“What is it that’s not okay, Will?”
Will turned his head so he could look at Hannibal directly. “So far, nothing.”
“Do you want us to talk about the direction in which our relationship is developing? Or in which you perhaps fear it might develop?”
That was the easy part of conversations with Hannibal. The understanding between them was so profound and intuitive that it often felt like they’d already discussed a topic lengthily when in reality they hadn’t exchanged a single word over it. Although this time, Will felt that a few more words were going to be needed to set things straight.
“I don’t fear it,” he began; but there his words ended and he wasn’t sure if he’d even spoken the truth.
“You have always feared it, haven’t you?” Hannibal turned his palm up and his fingers locked around Will’s, stopping them in their movement.
There was no need to pretend. Hannibal knew it. The question was whether he understood and accepted it.
“I have feared people’s reactions to it,” Will replied some moments later. “Feared that they wouldn’t believe me. And I’ve often been proved right. Someone like me has no place in their universe that’s full of touches and sex. I’ve always been watching from the outside, but I never entered this world.”
Hannibal’s other hand found its way into Will’s curls, slowly running through them without touching his scalp even once.
“That’s the worst, you know” Will continued. “Being told that you’re picky, or ungrateful, or worst of all: People pitying you. Being told that you’re missing out on the best thing in life, and the fear that that you could never, ever understand.”
“But you’ve done it before?” Hannibal’s words were gentle.
“I could probably count the number of times on one hand. Even when I was married to Molly it only happened a few times at the beginning. She soon realised that I wasn’t really interested in that particular activity and so we kept it to simple touches. We still shared a bed, and I liked being close to her, but only ever for comfort, not for lust. I mean, my body is still reacting properly, but there’s no yearning; no intimacy in it for me.”
Part of him couldn’t believe that he was actually having this conversation with Hannibal. He was relieved they were in darkness; he didn’t think he could endure Hannibal’s doubtlessly curious eyes on him right now.
“Have you tried it with men before?”
“No. But there was never any interest. Not before...” he interlaced his fingers with Hannibal’s. “...before you.”
Will was sure Hannibal smiled into the darkness. “But I don’t think it would be different either.” he added.
“Everything about our relationship is different, Will,” Hannibal said and Will drew in his breath sharply as he heard him moving closer.
“I can still read your reaction to any of my touches as some kind of attraction, can’t I?”
“You can,” Will whispered; and felt his defence being taken away. There was attraction, undoubtedly. There was even yearning. He had never been this close to another person before, emotionally. Their connection was precious to him. He didn’t dare to touch it. He feared it might break again, like their teacup.
“Would you describe it to me? What you feel?” How does that make you feel, Will?
“I just...”He trailed off. Hannibal’s steady pace of stroking through his hair calmed him, made it easier for his tongue to find the words again.
“I don’t feel like I’m getting closer to a person by physical contact,” Will finally said. “For me it’s a weird concept. It’s like breaking a mirror to get to a thing you see behind yourself in the reflection. You want to touch it, so you break the glass; but the moment it shatters the image is lost. The only way to get closer is to turn around.”
“What am I to you then?” Hannibal asked “The mirror or the reflection?”
“They’re conjoined. Whenever you see a mirror you also see a reflection. I see us both in it. You’re standing behind me. You are what I want to get closer to. But I won’t break the glass. I don’t want to touch you in that way.”
Hannibal’s hand in his hair stopped moving, but he didn’t take it away.
“Physical contact is not the closest way you can be intimate with someone,” Hannibal said in his soothing voice that enfolded Will into the words as if they were a blanket. “I’m sure you, of all people, understand that. And it has never been the preferred way I wanted to be close to you. I know you deep beneath your skin; as you know me deep beneath mine. What we share is far beyond the simple attraction of two human bodies to each other.”
He unlocked their conjoined hands and trailed a line with the tip of his finger up Will’s forearm, stopping by the elbow and wandering back downwards.
“I could cut you open and tear you apart; crawl deep into your body to the very core of you. I could build a ship out of your bones, make sails out of your skin and sail to sea; and I would still not be as close to you as I am right now, simply lying side by side.”
Will felt a shiver running down his spine. It wasn’t fear. It was the excitement of being understood.
“Can we be close like that for tonight?” he asked, sliding an inch closer to Hannibal, almost close enough for their torsos to touch.
“At any time, Will.”
Slowly and carefully, Will lifted his head from the pillow and laid it down on Hannibal’s shoulder, feeling the warmth of the other’s body through the thin layer of his pyjama shirt. Hannibal’s hand came to rest on his back, higher this time than at the airport. Hannibal held him close without any pressure. It was incredibly calming. Their fingers interlocked once more and after a few further minutes of silent breathing in the dark, Will felt sleep sneaking into his limbs and he drifted away.