Will calls Hannibal in a panic after he sleepwalks and ends up in the woods. “Maybe I should just let whatever this is…” He swallows hard. Will drops his eyes, clenches his hands into fists, then releases. His spine straightens without his permission and Hannibal leans back, fixing his unmoving boy with a blank stare that reflects a calmness that he no longer feels. Ridiculous boy, how could he-īlood, bones, and tar all turn to ice.
“You are not dying.” He replies, sure as can be. Will stares with that same vacant mask he’s built, giving nothing away. Hannibal blinks, feeling blindsided, before a surge of relentless anger floods every corner of his body.
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