The Neighbor

by Scatter0Shot

It was a town that was slow and steady. The most exciting things, of recent date, were the stop lights that were installed last year because they deemed that they had enough traffic through to earn them, like some kind of town badge. It was strange to have rich people move in, much less right next door to the Graham family. Childhood friends AU.

(Quick warning: Contains mutilation of an animal, allusions to pedophilia, mild homophobia, disciplining a child with spanking and threats of violence against another, underage kissing and undertones of bullying)

There were always certain rules that small towns seemed to follow. The men wore suits and the women wore their tea dresses only on Sundays, for morning or evening mass. Past four it was work boots and jeans paired with a shirt you wouldn't miss too much if it got stained. If the town was poor, every man did his best to help his neighbor when they fell on hard times. The hard work would always be done by the man of the household. Suppers were at six o'clock and no one was to be called at this time. And, if you had a new neighbor, you had to be polite and offer them at least one supper at your house.

In April and June it rained for days until the people were afraid the river they lived next to, that fed into Lake Erie would overtake their shanty houses. though, the wind seemed to be threatening to do the job itself if the river didn't. The houses more inland were enclosed in woods and small fields that served as the children's playgrounds. they were larger and slightly better than the hovels on the mud banks, but still far from what would call luxurious. It wouldn't be odd to see the occasional white tailed deer wander just on the edge of the town and onto the roads at night. It wouldn't be odd to see the occasional crushed in bumper as well after a drive on the roads at night.

It was a town that was slow and steady. The most exciting things, of recent date, were the stop lights that were installed last year because they deemed that they had enough traffic through to earn them, like some kind of town badge. But still the town grew with houses seemingly popping up out of the wood works, poorly made with poor families trailing behind in an endless stream of bills and fish oil smell to confuse it with a hatchery.

It was on a muggy day in July when the men in hardhats came. The rain was just starting to wane but its damp still clung to your skin. They stood on the edge of five year old Will Graham's home. He stared, watching the men wave in vague directions and point at spots on a sheet of paper. He observed from his porch as the men paced and placed markers deep into the ground. They marked trees with spray paint x's and made a perimeter of string before leaving.

Curious, Will ran across to the string. True most of the house ended up in the forest, the edge still stepped into the dry grass of the field. He walked around the string, analyzing what it could possibly be. He decided house after looking at the letters in the patches of soil that had no leaf litter and a little initial of what each room was going to be.

He nodded to himself and ran back to the house and sat down on his porch step again. He would have to tell his father about the new neighbors when he got back from work.

It was much after dark and the stars in the sky were all hung on steady hooks when Will Graham's sire came home, mud caked and tired. A slow happy smile on his lips.

"Hi Willy, is supper ready?" His large hand dropped heavily on top of the small child's head. Will moved into the contact and smiled, His butt a bit numb.

"Yep! All wrapped up in the fridge like you told me to!"

"That's a good boy Will, I'm so proud of you. Did you wait long?"

"Nope! We're getting new neighbors."

"We are?"

Will only nodded excitedly as his father moved past him into the house. He got up quietly and followed him in obediently. "What do you think they'll be like?"

The door opened up into the cute kitchen/dining room of the tiny house. The fridge was an ugly yellow and looked older than the dusty relics stored up in the attic. The table that sat in the center of the room, wobbled and covered with coffee rings too old to remember. It had two chairs, huddled together as close as they could without the table leg blocking them. A third, leaning up against the soft green wall. It was a house that felt like family tradition.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe they're a bunch of people WHO LIKE TO EAT LITTLE BOYS THAT SNOOP AROUND!" Graham senior roared and hurtled lightly at a shrieking Will.

The young boy giggled at his father's theatrics. A happy smile, crinkling his bright blue eyes. "You think they'll actually eat me?"

"No doubt a tender boy like you, gobbled." He slurped and made a sound of pleasure as he dug his dinner out of the fridge.

"Would you fight them?"

"For you? Oh Will, I'd do anything for you."

"Can you bring mom back?"

the mood in the house turned sombre in an instant. Mr. Graham getting far away look in his eyes before returning to Will, voice soft."I wish I could Will. That might be the one thing I can't do. But you know... I get off work a little earlier than usual tomorrow, you want to go fishing?"

"Yeah! I love you dad!" He wrapped his thin arms around his father. A hand patted the child. Calluses leaving behind goose bumps on Will's pale skin.

"I love you too Will. Now go to bed you have school tomorrow, don't forget to brush your teeth." As small feet rushed up creaky stairs, Will pretended he couldn't hear his father weep the moment he was out of sight. Instead he stared at the clock on his wall and repeatedly read out the time till he fell asleep. His eyes finally closed at around one thirty six am.

The neighbor's house took a month to build and a week to occupy. Each passing day, Will would check around its borders and look inside, checking to see if he could find any clue to who the new people might be. His only hint was a stag statuette wrapped in plastic on a mahogany end table.

He never saw the neighbors up close but he knew their routine. The man would get into his car at six forty five, a half-eaten bagel hanging out of his mouth as his wife waved at him from the doorway, always in a little sundress and apron. Then she left twenty minutes later, a suit of some kind replacing her dress, and got into her own car, son trailing behind her. She would blow him a kiss and pull out and he would head down the road to the only school in town.

Will would follow the boy, a good ten paces behind. He knew the older boy was aware he was there. The subtle checks he would do, looking off to the side as a bird flew past then tracking his eyes to Will. They never talked but it was fine that way. Will wouldn't know what to say to the blonde haired boy anyways.

He wore pressed shirts and ironed pants with a tie. It was all spotless, not a single thing out of place. It made Will feel underdressed. As if the boy demanded that people in his presence were spotless and precise. It set nerves on end for Will, knowing even his best clothes, his church clothes, would look shabby compared to the boy with the golden locks.

Recess was always the worst. Will would sit and watch the kids play and feel joy in their smiles and smile the same in turn. He would pretend to be ignorant of the heated glares that struck him. He was new, he was strange. He realized at the start he wasn't going to fit in so he never tried.

He was content with watching others. His gaze had often been drifting to the blonde boy of late. How he moved, how he seemed to be so proper in his actions. It unsettled him, knowing he couldn't even stand as straight as him. He felt pity for those who threw themselves at him in anger.

The incidents were quick and nasty. Only barely hushed up out of fear. A cut across the forehead, a jabbed eye and a swollen finger were all easily explained away. His sullen face keeping its same innocent indifference.

It was like watching a wild animal he had never seen before.

He had never felt closer to anyone than him. He was strange, out casted, new. He was alike in all the right ways. He felt such a kinship with the small curly haired boy with his wide inquisitive eyes.

Just as the boy had been watching him, he had been examining the boy. No name was known to him but it wasn't hard to find out. He was quite the popular topic, next to himself of course.

He decided on the fifth week of school to finally talk to the youth.

He did his routine. He awoke at six, dressed and combed his hair, ate breakfast with his aunt, prepared his bag, put on his coat as it was chilly this morning and trailed out behind her. Only this time he waited. The boy was at his usual spot. Outside the house, leaning heavily on their rotting wooden banister.

He locked eyes through the brown curls into azure bolts. It lasted for only a second before the boy was looking through him. He was confused. But that was alright. Hannibal could work with that. He moved closer. Will fidgeted, like a trapped rabbit in a snare. Except the noises he made weren't as ugly.

"Hello."

His accent was thick and it occurred to him that this may actually be the first time Will had heard him speak.

"Hi..." The voice was tiny, his eyes were on his shoes but at least it was still a response.

What to say now. He had to tread with snowshoe laden feet around this one.

"You're cold." True indeed the boy was shivering, little goose bumps as evident as the soft clicking of teeth.

Wild curls shook as he tried his hardest to deny the statement as his frame trembled and shivered with a great force in the September air.

Hannibal only paused for a second before extending a hand, "I'm Hannibal, come, I have a coat you could borrow."

"I-I d-don't need it, thank you..." Blue tinged lips moved slowly as his tongue lolled, making slow slurred words.

"I was going to get rid of it anyways, besides your cold. Come with me."

"N-no... Thank you."

"Afraid of me?"

"Afraid of..." The sentence hung loose and Hannibal waits for him to finish, Will's eyes still somewhere else. "Of what you might think of me..." Will finished, fingers tightening on the rail as his stomach clenched. He wanted to hide and stop feeling like puking.

"You're talking about your disorder?"

Will nods and Hannibal made a crooning noise, so perfectly filled with just the right amount of hurt.

"It is a gift. A glorious one, they just can't see it. Come, you are cold, and I have a coat around your size."

It took a bit more coaxing through friendly hand gestures before Will felt safe enough to follow Hannibal, on his way to his house Will introduced himself and apologized for the delay in doing so. For that, he had earned himself a spot at Hannibal's island, with a cup of cocoa as the older boy fetched the coat.

The house was oppressively immaculate. Deep, rich colors and paintings lined the perfectly clean hallways. The floors wood, shined with an almost unnatural ease. It was if these people never even lived in this house. It was only for show. It smelt of cleaners and the slight tinge of bourbon.

Will took a slow sip of his beverage and waited in silence, a little tune playing in his head.

His closet had seemed to have eaten any coat that would be good for both the fall and the tepid winter this side of the lake could offer. He had estimated Will's measurements as best he could but the size was always uncertain. Would the arms be too long or the body too short? Maybe it would be better to get him something that he could grow into and would last a long time. Then it couldn't be anything too worn and it had to be durable too. It would need to last for years. He spotted it just off to the side, hung delicately on a wooden hanger, crushed by other pieces of clothes. That coat would do just fine.

"Well, do you like it?"

"It's really warm."

"You can have it if you want."

"No... I couldn't..."

"Think of it as an early Christmas gift, from me."

"Really?"

"Really, besides, I feel like you would have better use for it anyways."

Will smiled. His new brown coat almost eating him. He looked small, the coat accentuating what little muscle and body fat was on his body. It caused an involuntary shutter to go down Hannibal's spine.

"Are you hungry Will?"

"Shouldn't we be getting to school?" He glanced nervously at the clock, the bell time coming nearer.

"We'll take the day off, they won't mind." He watched as Will resettled in his seat and finished off his hot chocolate, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. Hannibal's eye twitched softly.

"How come I never see you in the church?"

"It's because my family doesn't believe in Jesus ."

"Me too… but my dad makes me go anyways. It's all stupid and boring." The countertop was the subject of interest in this conversation. Will's eyes examining the marble behind the older boy as he sat at their island.

He took the invitation and sat down and talked. They talked small about little things they enjoyed, things they hated, small things that painted a picture of a lonely child, sitting on the outside...

It wasn't until the door to the house opened that Hannibal realized how late it actually was. Will's eyes got comically wide. He started getting off his chair as the man, who was Hannibal's uncle came closer. Hannibal grabbed his arm and made him stay put. Will clutched his coat (which he had taken off somewhere around the middle of their talks) to his chest, almost as if afraid it would get taken away.

Soothing circles were rubbed into pale flesh as Hannibal's uncle stopped at the table. He looked at Will with a little worry, then at Hannibal with slight distrust.

"Who's this?"

"This is my friend, Will Graham" Hannibal said smoothly, "I invited him for dinner, is that alright?"

He wetted his lips and let his eyes travel. Will looked up from underneath his curls and waited. He had the same eyes as his nephew, a deep maroon that swirled to an almost chocolate color. His hair was just starting to grey and worry lines barely poking their heads on his brow.

"Hello Will. I'm Hannibal's uncle, you can call me Mr. Lecter." The smile he presented to the child was friendly enough that Will returned with one of his own.

"Hello." Will said.

Hannibal's uncle seemed to almost soften instantly. A smile melting into his features as he studied the nervous boy some more. He seemed open and warm like an uncomfortable hot summer day.

"Are his parents okay with this?" His tone was gentle as if speaking to a pet when it needed comfort after pissing on the rug.

"I don't think my dad will mind much sir, he gets home late anyways and I usually have supper by myself." Will spoke with a confidence that could only be brought on by known facts.

The man thought for a good while. His hand on his chin and his suit jacket draped over his arm, "Well alright. As long as Will's father doesn't mind, I guess it's okay." He paused and tacked another thought onto his sentence, "You should really be asking your aunt, she's the one that's going to be making dinner."

"I will, uncle." Hannibal got up, touched Will's shoulder briefly, silently ordering him to follow. Will slid out of his chair, coat draped in imitation across his arm, with less than successful results. He nodded politely and trailed after Hannibal as he led him to his room.

It was on the second floor, third door to the right and close to the study, as Hannibal had so beautifully told Will. It was large, and had its own bathroom. Which Will was free to use whenever he needed. One wall was completely lined with bookcases, at least half full with heavy texts. There must have been twice, no three times as many books as Will had at home.

He starred in awe, an itch to grab one and tear into it became more prominent.

"Do you want to read one Will?"

"Yes please."

"I'm not too sure how much you'll enjoy them", he said as he eyed the shelves appraisingly before selecting a hardcover, its sleeve missing and handing it to Will, "But, I myself enjoy this one greatly."

Will read the title out loud, "George of the jungle?" He looked at Hannibal for approval and it was given. A small smile on Will's lips as he thumbed the cover.

It turned out the text was a bit too difficult for Will to read so Hannibal took over as master story teller. Breathing out the perils of the main character with ease. The twists, the turns, and the feelings he experienced as an outcast among his own kind. Will felt for him, deeply. His heart ached for this boy, who was so much like himself.

At some point Will started sniffling. Hannibal stopped reading and grabbed him closer, easing him close to his chest. A gentle hug to soothe the hurt. A quick reminder he wasn't alone.

They stayed close, Will slowly bringing himself tighter into the boy, who quietly rubbed small circles into his back.

"Do you wish to talk about it?"

He shook his head.

"Very well. I think my aunt is home. Would you like to meet her?"

He nodded and Hannibal helped him up, washed his face of tears, straightened his clothes and offered him a tissue which was gladly accepted.

Will hung back as they traveled down the spiral staircase.

They stopped when the entrance way came into view.

Prim and proper, she was a lady of business. Brown skirt and jacket with black heels, her hair was pulled tight into flowing ringlets that traced the shell of her ear and framed her face. High cheekbones and a voice of a songbird as she spoke to her husband in their native tongue.

"What are they speaking?" Will asked, careful not to be heard by the two talking in the entrance way to the living room.

"Lithuanian. Come now Will, you cannot hide behind the banister forever. You must be polite and greet them."

"That's okay... You can tell them I said hi."

"Don't be nervous, they won't harm you Will."

Still he stayed put, even gripping a bit tighter as Hannibal tried to lift him up by the arm.

"Will, get up and greet her." It was a growl. Gentle prodding turning to anger in a fraction of a second.

Will's eyes became weepy a bit and shook his head. He would not move an inch. She was scary looking, cold. It was safe up here. It was safe at a distance.

But Hannibal would have none of it. A forceful hand to the back of the neck and a gentle hand around the mouth and the boy was down by the stairs, in a silent squirming mess of limbs. He was set down and cut off from shouting as the older boy called out to his aunt.

It was not in English but instead, glossy tones, politely put together to create a harsh elegance.

She paused in her conversation with her husband and turned to face the two boys, crystal blue eyes flashing lazy daggers. She spoke again in a slightly harsher tone, making inflections that sounded like questions here and there.

Hannibal answered, the assumed questions, with grace and held out his arm pointing at Will who was struck silent beside him. He had made the terrible mistake of looking into her eyes.

There was hate, silent hate bound up tight with a string of envy coloured red with delight. She didn't want to hurt her husband's feelings. She kept her insecurities hidden, had to be strong for the family. Couldn't tell her husband she didn't love him anymore that she felt like she was dying. She only stays for one reason. She feels obligated, a heavy deed, to raise a child.

He must have said all this out loud, or at least some comprehensible form of his thoughts, as the room was deathly silent and a blizzard seemed to emanate from Misses Lecter. She turned over her shoulder and talked to her husband in that strange language that seemed to cover this house like honey being spread on a cold piece of bread.

He replied gently and she seemed to ease up a bit. A light smile even touching her lips. She gave an answer to Hannibal before turning down the hall to a room, which Will assumed was a private sitting room.

His uncle was pale faced. He spoke in English, to avoid being caught by his wife's ears, "Supper will be at eight. I suggest you tell your friend what's acceptable at the dinner table in this household." He stalked off, slowly down to the kitchen. It looks like he would be preparing dinner tonight.

"You are rather lucky Will that my aunt is only fluent in Lithuanian or we might have just served you for dinner." He whispered into his ear and led him, much gentler, into the common room. His teeth clenched with rabid strength.

It was down a short hallway lined with paintings of landscapes bordered by stiff family photos containing people beyond Hannibal's aunt and uncle. He spotted a little girl around his age with locks of strung silk and eyes that swirled with an intelligence that fascinated Will. He wished to ask but... the frost that emitted from the foye was not just emitted from his gracious hosts aunt.

Deep red covered the walls. It was accented by the gold framed pictures and mahogany wood pieces. The stag Will spotted when he had snooped, was alone on an end table by a powder blue French two seated sofa. It looked striking, as if the room was built just for it. To the left, a fireplace crackled, surrounded by furniture of a similar colour. But it did not hold the same entrancing power as the French sofa.

They sat quietly on the French sofa, backs pressed to the blue fabric lightly. Will's eyes watched the clock. It was a little past seven.

The sounds of movement, came over from the kitchen and dulled the stillness of the living room. The incident was not mentioned, but neither was anything else.

Dinner proceeded in the same manner. Quite, deathly still as they all ate politely with their fancy forks and polished China and Will understood how he did not fit in with his worn shoes and shirts in a land where thick coats could be given away like nothing.

"What's wrong Will?" Hannibal whispered from beside him, not turning an inch to actually face the boy.

"I don't know what fork to use."

"The inner one, by your plate."

He spied the fork and picked it up. He looked at Hannibal. He approved and Will set to eating his dinner.

The flesh was strange and the greens too dressed. Nothing on his plate tasted right. "Is this supposed to taste like this?"

"Yes Will, it's patte."

"Can I not eat it?"

"No Will, you have to clean your plate."

"Do you cook better than this?"

"Eat your patte Will."

He did, a grumpy wrinkle to his face. His lips pursed as he shoveled meat in. Eventually he got used to the taste and actually started to enjoy his food. A small smile graced Hannibal's lips as he watched the young child eat with such vigour. He had a feeling the sight of Will beside him at the dinner table would be a frequent one.

After dinner he was shipped out with his coat and bag and he walked down the unlit road to his house. He pulled his key out and went through the house turning on all the lights. He went upstairs, did his homework on his small work desk. When that was finished he took the instant meal out of the freezer and put it into the microwave with the correct preparation. Once done, it was moved onto a plate and mixed in with leftovers from the weekend, wrapped and put in the fridge. Then Will, with his new coat went out and sat on the front step and waited for his father to come home and smile, pat his head and put him to bed.

Just how it always went.

His eyes felt heavy. He didn't know what time it was, but it was cold. He didn't want to sleep yet, his dad wasn't home. Maybe a moment wouldn't hurt. The cold breeze caressed his cheek and slipped underneath his coat to entangle its arms around his skin. He went limp and his lips turned blue in the air. Little puffs of white frosting his hair and lashes before dissipating.

When he woke in the morning to his alarm, he was in bed, a blanket he had never seen before folded neatly on the foot of his bed with his jacket close by, hanging on one of the short bed posts.

He blinked, and slowly got up and did his routine. Dad must have saw him asleep on the front porch and tucked him in. It was rational, it was logical, but it wasn't the case. The dinner he made for his father, still wrapped in its plastic, his bed still made and no cold cup of coffee on the counter. The final nail to Will's theory was the fresh French toast sitting on his table with a note beside it.

It read, 'Hope you enjoy breakfast, H.'

He sat down and tucked into breakfast. It tasted better than anything he had in a long time. Tears swelled from his eyes after every bite.

He got abandoned again.

"Hanny!"

There was no response. Perhaps the boy didn't hear Will call out for him, so he tried again, louder.

"Hanny!"

This time he definitely heard Will. Eyes flicked at him once, briefly. Will smiled, blue pools becoming puddles.

"Hanny! What are you reading?" He crawled up beside the older boy and looked at the text for a second before he was forcefully pushed to the side.

"Hanny?" He tried again. Coming up from a different angle but the result was still the same. A silent push away from the older boy. His face heated up, Anger rising to the surface. He tried again, dodged his arm that lanced itself towards him and stuck close to his side.Look at me! He thought as he clung to him. There was no comfort, no warmth, just the feeling of cold stone against warm flesh. And then, gentle hands were prayed off with crushing strength and Will tumbled backwards into the hard ground.

Even his only friend thought of him as an annoyance. He didn't want to be alone. So he cried and prayed and begged until Hannibal's stone exterior gave way and he wrapped will up in his arms until he stopped crying, then wiped his nose with a handkerchief he kept in the breast pocket of his jacket.

He mumbled sweet nothings dipped in the sourest bits of truth and the boy ate them whole. So he apologized and the other accepted. Wholeheartedly keeping his little empath close to his breast and lavishing the innocent in only what he needed to know.

Dinners were spent with the Lecter's on the weekdays and at home on the weekends. His father insisted they gave back to them anyway they could, for the food and the small necessary 'gifts' Hannibal would give to him. So fish was wrapped and politely given to them as a sort of token.

The gifts were mostly from Hannibal but every once in awhile Hannibal's uncle would pull him aside and take him to his bedroom to try on clothes a co worker had given him, or some other family friend that just so happened to have a boy that grew out of clothes his size. He thought nothing of it as he tried on the new, nicely fitting clothes with glee. Each set, shown to Hannibal for approval. Each set responded to with an answer roughly with, "I don't know Will. What do you think uncle?"

Eventually both guardians were introduced to each other, even forming a light bond of their own whenever Will's father dropped by to pick up his child when he got off early.

When Hannibal first saw Will's father with his large jaw and square nose, he understood that Will took more after his mother and that she must have been a truly beautiful thing. But still he smiled politely, impolite thoughts kept silent. The golden rule being practised with the utmost skill.

But everything proceeded nicely Hannibal thought. Will stuck close and Hannibal allowed it as long as he followed his suit. Sure there was the occasional tease of how birds of a feather flock together, but it was fine as long as Will stayed by his side and kept his uses.

They kept this pattern of dinners and play dates, Will always refusing to stay overnight because of his tradition of waiting for his father to come home from work. It was charming and cute to see the young fellow wait so obediently. Hannibal would wonder if he would ever wait for him like that, and decided he would because he was his.

The routine was disrupted in February. On Will's sixth birthday when he received a bike. It was a bright shiny green that had a horn and everything. His father had been saving up for months, working day and night to finally be able to get his boy a gift he himself had always wanted as a child. The reaction was instantaneous, Will was in absolute love. He spent every moment he could learning and perfecting how to ride the bike. He was so happy it was if the smile would never fade.

It brought such a change others started noticing it too. They gathered and swarmed like flies. Poking and touching at Will and the bike. He started to slowly open up to them, slowly dragging himself away from Hannibal's side. He was no longer the revered, strange child, but the awkward shy boy who had a new bike. Bug eyed Will was being heard less and less on the playground.

His bullies were still numerous, still throwing rocks and slurring his lineage, it was a sad state of affairs.

There was one girl that had to be dealt with. Sweet, chubby faced Zoey. She was gentle, kind and was really good at checkers (according to Will at least). She stuck to him like a foul smell trailed a bum. She had a crush and it wasn't very subtle on who it was on.

It made Will a little bit more than uncomfortable. So, on his friends behalf of course, he told her to stop. It wasn't clear what was said to her but afterwards it was all tears and heated glares directed at Will.

Slowly the crowds dropped away and there was once again only him and Will, with only a linger or two from others. Strange how one incident could change everything. Strange how you could gain so much power from it.

"Was that really needed Hannibal?" Yellow light casted dark shadows onto the older mans face as he stood in his nephew's bedroom doorway. His said nephew, watching the neighbors boy out the window.

"He was going to leave me uncle, I do not wish to be lonely."

"If he finds out he'll-"

He was cut off sharply, "He won't find out uncle."

"What if I tell?"

"You won't. It wouldn't benefit you much either to put an end to this game."

"What are you suggesting nephew? That I enjoy your little games?"

"I'm suggesting you like the second player more than the first. Don't pretend you don't look. You see it too don't you?"

He swallowed harshly, his fist tightening. "Don't go too far Hannibal, that is all I ask."

"What will happen if I do?"

"I will take action."

"Then I'll be waiting. Oh, by the way, Will's here."

Just like clockwork the doorbell rang. He was torn for a second before leaving his nephew alone. He put on his best unassuming face and opened the door and took the blubbering Will inside. Fingers clenched in brown hair as he told the woeful tale of how his beloved bike was missing. Taken right out of their backyard shed. He shushed and hummed and held back the awful need to touch more.

He could only dream of soothing the boys fears.

He did his best with what was allowed. A blanket, some hot cocoa and a charming tale of some misfortune in his own youth quelled the boys tears to the point where he could ask for his nephew. To that he could only nod his head and say, "Of course" and tell him he was in his room and watch as he smiled brighter than the sun. His own moon catching the reflection of such brilliance.

After Will had gone up stairs he walked to the garage. A green bike with a horn and everything sitting propped up against the wall. It would be taken out to the river and buried the next day if he knew anything about his nephew.

It was quiet on the main floor. There was no soft clang of pots, only the tick tock of the clock as pencil made soft scratches on notepad paper. He heard every sound they made up stairs as he sat in his private sitting room, alone.

He was frightened and intrigued, so quietly engrossed in the morbid melody they were performing.

"This isn't right."

"It's alright Will. Nobody will know."

"I'm scared."

"It's alright, Now hold it like this... No your fingers go there."

"Like this?"

"Yes just like that. Do it quickly now, so it won't feel a thing."

Two young boys sat, hunched over a squirrel strapped to a nightstand with a paring knife in hand. the rodent squeaked and screamed terribly. its mangy fur clinging to it in sickly clumps of grease and dirt. it was by all terms of the word, disgusting.

Will Hesitated, the knife end hovering over the exposed belly, "Hanny I-"

"It's fine Will. It's sick anyways, its going to die either way."

Will nodded and pushed the tip in. Slow, thick globs of hemoglobin welled around the fur and knife. he slid the knife up, just like a fish and the blood chased the cold metal. It did not die right away as Hannibal had promised. It clung and scrambled for minutes more as Hannibal secured the flaps of skin to the side of the animal with a sewing needle and thread.

"Don't faint now Will. Come on you wanted to see. Look, there's its guts." He touched them with his index finger and Will gagged a little. He turned his head away from the sight, paring knife thrown somewhere carelessly.

"Is it still alive?"

Hannibal checked. He looked at its heart, hidden underneath tiny bones in a beautiful arrangement, "Very much so. Look, its lungs still inflate."

"Then why did it stop screaming?" Will grabbed the cuff of his knit sweater tightly, his eyes somewhere other than Hannibal who had his hand deep into scarlet folds.

"I don't know. Does it matter?"

"A bit. Let's stop, I don't like this." A twist and the careful stitching tugged with it.

"Why? You wanted to do this Will. It was your idea."

"I was wrong, make it stop please."

"Why don't you?"

"I don't have the knife."

"I'll get it for you."

Will gulped as Hannibal removed his hand from the open cavity and slid behind him to the knife. Maroon locking blue for a moment long enough to distress. Black plastic was pressed into Will's hand. He looked back, he had to admit, it did look a bit intriguing. It was the first time he had seen a heart beat so fast.

"Cut out its heart Will." Hannibal's hands gripped lightly around his shoulders rubbing rhythmically.

"I can't. The ribs are in the way."

"Then get rid of them." Press, he could hear the joints in Hannibal's fingers creek.

"But the lungs-"

"Then go under Will." It was growled lowly into his ear and he couldn't help but shiver.

He did as he was told and took hold of the guts and cut them out. He nicked the edge of the stomach and the contents spilled out. Will paused for only a moment before he slipped the knife underneath and punctured the heart with the tip. Blood poured out and pooled in the membrane sack around the heart before spilling over and collecting in the bottom. He dipped his fingers inside and touched the cooling blood. He examined his fingertips as the blood grew tacky.

The smell of sweat and waste byproducts hit his nose before the gentle tang of blood. The hands on his shoulders felt heavy, his skin clammy and sensitive. Where colors always this bright? What happened to all the air?

He took a couple deep breaths and calmed himself before speaking. His voice still shook, but it was much less disastrous than the sniveling he thought would come out.

"We killed it."

"For a purpose."

"We did?"

"We did."

Will stared at the squirrel. A dead silence fell over the room and choked the voice out of Will. He swallowed and gestured at the squirrel, a question of what do we do now? Playing in his eyes.

"We get rid of it Will." The answer was accompanied by Hannibal gently removing the knife from Will's hands and cutting the restraints off of the nightstand.

"Just like that? There's nothing more?"

"What were you expecting Will?"

"I don't... I don't know but maybe more. Will that happen to me to?"

His eyes flicked briefly to Will as he gently lifted the squirrels body, holding it so the organs didn't fall out. "I doubt you'll be cut open by two children when you grow sick. Come now Will, get the door for me please?"

A nod and the small child walked towards the door and gripped the brass knob with a slight limpness and turned it. He opened it and stood to the side, eyes focused on his shoes.

Hannibal stopped when he reached Will and leaned in. His nose whisping brown curls, the scent of cheap musk washing over him. "Thank you Will."

Penny loafers stepped quietly on royal blue carpet as a barefoot Will trailed behind him, the door to Hannibal's bedroom closed tightly behind him.

"We should bury it." Will suggested as he quickly came up beside Hannibal on the stairs, his eyes on the second button from the top on Hannibal's shirt.

"Why?"

"Its the only proper thing to do. When things die, you let them lie, at least that's what my daddy says when I bring up things from the past..."

"I think those are wise words Will." For a simpleton Hannibal thought for a brief moment, "Very well, we shall do the proper thing. Where do we bury it Will?"

He thought for a long moment, quiet as they opened the front door and slipped out, Will lagging to put on shoes.

"I know a place." So Will lead. Sure steps on prickly yellow grass and fallen leaves crusted with frost. He led them to a spot that had a lovely view of the houses where they lived but also the river that fed the town.

They stood in the shade of an elm as Will dug a hole with his hands, speaking as he did so, "I was going to bury my dad here when he died, but I guess the squirrel can share it with him."

"Why?"

"This was mom's favorite spot before she left, or that's what my dad used to say... We don't really talk about mom."

"Will..."

"I know its weird to think about that kind of thing but... Everyone is going to leave me alone one day." The hole was dug as deep as it could be as dirt gave way to clay and halted Will.

"Do you accept the shovel when it is given to you Will?" He placed the squirrel in. It wasn't quite big enough and the squirrels sides were outside the shallow grave, its head at a disjointed angle.

"I got to, it's only proper." He piled on dirt, hiding the fur from view. He sniffled and patted the lump once and got up. He primed his hands to be wiped off on his pants when Hannibal grabbed his wrist and shook his head lightly. Will nodded, a little red around the eyes.

"I'll say some words." Hannibal spoke, his chin held high, golden hair catching the sun like a halo. He spoke in Lithuanian, his words flowing like a broken river.

When he was done Will simply nodded and marked the crude grave with some crossed sticks and flowers then went to Hannibal's house to wash up and clean up the blood and excrement off of the night table and knife. After they sat in silence, each pretending to read their own piece of literature.

"Will, promise me you won't forget me?"

"I promise Hanny. Cross my heart and hope I die."

He chuckled lightly and turned a page.

In the morning Hannibal woke up before Will and walked out to the burial site. When he got there, it was exhumed. The squirrels cavity empty and just the bare remains of the organs could be seen. A crow sat near by cleaning its beak, looking at Hannibal with a curious hate.

He crouched and examined the carcass. It smelt awful and the cloud of flies was not helping. The eyes had been plucked out too on closer inspection. He smiled and looked at the bird with a twinkle in his eye, this is proper, he stated to himself and walked back, went inside, climbed the stairs to his room, tucked himself into bed and waited for his alarm to ring to start the day, a giddy excitement clawing at his flesh to see Will's reaction.

It was stone cold acceptance. He was shut down that day. A slightly haunted look clouded his eyes as he played with Hannibal in a less than enthusiastic way.

When walking back Will,who had been quiet the entire way decided to speak up.

"Do you think I can be forgiven?"

"If you think you can. Anyone can be forgiven Will."

"Even monsters?"

"Yes, even beasts can be forgiven by the right people."

They came home to Hannibal's house, ate dinner and received a phone call from Will's father saying he wouldn't be coming home that night and it would be best to not wait up for him. Hannibal suggested staying the night at his place which Will finally agreed to. So, in the falling of night they crossed the distance between houses to retrieve enough stuff for tomorrow. They went up the creaking, familiar steps up to Will's room. Happy chatting dulled by Hannibal's non committal replies. He eventually stopped the conversation and drew attention to what was really bugging him.

"Will, do you hear that?"

"Hear what Hanny?"

"A dog. I think there's a dog outside."

"A dog?" His eyes shone in the dull yellow light.

"Listen."

They paused. In the silence, with only their breath and heart beats for a backdrop, they heard it. The low baying of a dog in pain.

"It's hurt. We should help it." He grabbed a blanket off his bed and ran to the bathroom and found the first aid kit and dragged it out from the cabinet underneath the sink.

Hannibal tailed Will quietly and took the small purple case when it was handed to him. He followed down the steps where Will, went to the fridge and grabbed out a pack of sandwich meats, bait for the dog, Hannibal guessed. He watched Will hurry around with excitement before they were ready to set out.

They trecked a good distance. A fair amount of it slowly as the dark was heavy and neither boy had the foresight to bring a flashlight. They stumbled on protruding roots and rocks and clung and held onto each other and their gear as they searched for the dog.

They eventually found it, lying with its paw in a snare and teeth around its ankle.

It was small, probably some spaniel mix, with ruddy brown fur and white socks on its feet. It was caked with brambles and mud and awfully skinny.

"Felix stop that!" Will yelled and ran over to the dog, blanket and snack meat in hand.

"You named it already?"

"No that's his name."

"How do you know?"

"He looks like one."

With that impeccable logic, Hannibal decided this would simply not be a matter argued on and steeled himself. Opting for silent servitude for right now.

"Hanny hold his mouth shut, I need to get the snare off."

He did as he was told and wrestled with the canine. He was nipped twice before his hands firmly clamped around the dirty things muzzle and Will could examine the wounds.

"Its not bleeding too badly... I think." His hands worked on the snare as Felix tried to jerk his paw away. The wire came off with a snap and Hannibal released the hound. It ran off from them into the brush and Will and Hannibal sat there dumbly.

This was far from the daring rescue they had hoped it would turn out to be.

"Well. We did it Will."

"Yeah. I'm going to leave some food for it though. It might come back." He opened the pack and dumped the lukewarm meat on the ground and got up, dusting off his pants.

Hannibal lifted his hand, asking for assistance which Will gave.

"You're hurt." He turned the hand over and looked at the bites. It didn't break the skin luckily but it did leave nasty looking ring of bruises.

"Its minor. No need to worry."

Will rubbed lightly on the discolored patches of tender flesh. "I'm sorry Hanny" Will kissed the bite marks for only a fraction of a second before Hannibal's hand was gone.

Will looked at him with mild surprise. "What's wrong?"

"You... kissed my hand."

"Yeah, I kissed it better. What else was I supposed to do? Haven't you ever got a booboo kissed better?"

"No... I haven't Will, sorry, it just... surprised me."

"That's okay. I should have asked first too so I'm sorry, okay?"

A look up from those floppy curls and it was all it took to make his heart beat in a more alarming way. He nodded and patted Will's head and thought about kissing those soft curls chaste and tickling his nose with the fine soft fibres of Will's sweater but resisted.

Instead Hannibal offered his hand and led them home. He gripped loosely on the cold soft skin wrapped around tiny bones and muscles. He felt the skin on Will's hand jump as he shivered lightly.

"Will, wear the blanket you're cold."

"But then it would drag and get dirty."

He thought for a moment before he offered up a solution, "I'll carry you then." He knelt and presented his back that Will, blanket wrapped and all, happily climbed onto.

Hannibal was thankful that Will was as light as he hooked his hands under his knees and got up.

"Wait! We forgot the first aid kit!"

"We can get it tomorrow Will. Tonight, bed."

"Will you tell me a story before bed Hanny?"

"Anyone you like Will."

"Will you sleep beside me?"

"Of course."

"Will you protect me from bad dreams?"

"They would never even cross your mind Will."

"I love you Hanny."

A pause, for only the briefest moment.

"I love you too Will."

When the houses finally came into view, Will was peacefully asleep on Hannibal's back. Hands, still lightly gripping his shirt. Hannibal leaned forward a bit more, afraid of Will slipping off his back. Hannibal dropped Will off at his house, tucked him into his bed and crossed back to Will's house. He grabbed and finished the day bundle they were making earlier, locked the door with the key that was stored underneath the welcome mat.

A brisk hop and a skip back to his house and the chore was done, knit sweater only letting trickles of cold through.

He opened the front door, took off his shoes and straightened them out beside Will's. He sighed, looking at the scuffed and holey toes of Will's shoes. He would have to get him new ones pretty soon.

He got up and walked out of the entry way into the little space that opened up to the stairs and sitting room a bit further back. He spotted his uncle coming down the stairs.

"You look happy, what happened?"

He stopped mid step, his smile waning a little bit, "Did you get Will's stuff from his house? He was saying how he would like to brush his teeth before bed."

"What did you do?"

"I did nothing Hannibal, don't worry. I only watched."

"I hope that truly is the case, uncle."

"It is, have a bit more faith."

"Faith is for gods and you are far from one, uncle."

"I will ignore that remark because I do not want to send you to Will with a bruised cheek, but I suggest you watch your tongue if we are to be living together under the same roof." He hissed and stopped down the stairs, eyes locked into slits as he stared down Hannibal. There was no response, just silent hate and the twitch of a slight smile.

"Get to bed." He pointed for Hannibal to trudge up the stairs, and, he did with his head held high and the air of I won choking his adversary. He walked past the doors of the bathroom and one of the many spare bedrooms before he came on his.

The door was slightly ajar and soft yellow light left a gradient of warmth from its source, the night light. Will was fast asleep, tucked in a swamp of quilts, fending off the chill of early winter.

He looked like the picture of vulnerability.

He poked the boys shoulder. An annoyed grunt answered and Hannibal couldn't help but smile.

"Will, get up. You have to put on your sleepwear."

"No, don't want to."

"Will… don't be stubborn. Get up." the playful tone in his voice waning slightly.

He whined but did as he was told and struggled out of his self made nest, "There, you happy?"

"Yes, now get dressed." He dug the sleep shirt and pants out of the bag and handed them to Will, the worn fleece of the pants leaving little fluffs on his fingers.

"Yes dad…" Will mumbled as he turned away, removing his shirt swiftly from over his head. Hannibal soon followed suit and changed into his own, silky pajamas. They slipped into bed, relishing the warmth and snuggled close. Hands wrapped around torsos and behind heads as they faced each other.

"Will you tell me a story?" It was an innocent request, one that was promised fulfillment earlier.

"Of course Will. What kind of story would you like?"

A few weeks after they first found the dog, it reappeared. It was caught, with Will behind the boys house, by Hannibal. Who, in all honesty, was not surprised. It fit the boy well, to be mothering over others.

The dog looked about as well as it had the first time Hannibal had seen brambles were still caked in and hip bones were still rather prominent. the only difference was slightly heightened swelling around the snared paw.

Will clutched the mutt around its neck, holding it in a protective embrace.

"It doesn't have a home."

"You can't keep it Will."

"Can you keep it?"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Will, leave it."

"No. Please Hanny?"

Hannibal's face twisted. Pleading eyes made of baby blue were hard to resist.

"I will ask. But that does not mean yes!" He shouted as Will whooped and hugged and touched in manners that were so close yet far from their purpose. He smiled and was dragged into the excitement, a little giggle even leaving his lips.

Will patted Felix happily, a warm feeling bubbling in his chest making him smile uncontrollably.

"But first, we have to wash it Will."

So they lead it to the hose and sprayed with cold water for only a second as it ran off the moment the drops hit it.

The chase was on in a moment. Young screams and cold drops hitting every surface. Shirts, mud and brambles stuck to them as they dragged wet hands over damp fur. Felix may have been cleaned but the same couldn't be said for the boys.

Mud splattered on noses and cheeks dusted with rose tint. They were chilled through their coats and thick blue jeans. They shivered, eyeing the dog that had ran circles around them. He sat, tongue lolled to the side as his wet nose scented the foul vapor as slobber ran over one jowl.

The first roll of laughter hit in between chattering teeth. A little unsure at first but slowly gaining volume and momentum. They clung to lapels of coats as the laughter attacked their knees and brought them down into the mud.

Hannibal was the first to stop. A single tear rolling down a flushed cheek, "How did this happen?"

"Must be opposite day!" Will explained with vigor.

"Now we need a bath."

So they got up, taking the dog with them as they travelled through Will's kitchen and dining room, down a small hall that lead to the bathroom.

The walls were green with matching fixtures and towels around the same shade. The paint had a thick tar ring at the top from the cigarettes Will's father smoked casually on the weekends.

The same musk that floated around Will found its source in the shape of a bottle of amber liquid with a gruff looking sailor on the front advertising it.

He made note to avoid that brand in the future. But, that really wouldn't be a problem.

The flow of water took over his ears and the bottle with its weathered, tired eyes faded from his mind. Will had turned the tap and the lukewarm water flowed in an egg smelling rhythm. He was half over the edge, watching the wet touch the dry porcelain.

"Hanny? Is the water alright?" Will motioned him closer.

He came and dipped his finger tips in. It killed the chill in his skin but his bones still tingled in static waves that weren't entirely unpleasant.

"Yes it's fine Will, not too hot at all."

"Good." The shirt was gone in a moment and pants were being shimmied and pulled off wet legs to be put in a small pile.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to take a bath?" Underwear is no where in sight.

"Oh! Right... carry on."

An awkward glance from Will, his eyes just over the edge of the tub.

Hannibal fumbled for a bit and nodded at Will as he took off his shirt. Pants were folded neatly and underwear was removed. He settled in the water, wishing it was actually just a touch warmer.

Will's eyes travelled down and so did Hannibal's. They examined each other not really knowing what to look for but finding satisfaction none the less. Will lazily splashed water up his legs, nudging the drying dirt to smear off his skin just a little bit more.

The dog barked and sniffed wagging its stubbed tail without a single care, as was the way that dogs were able to do. It wondered and knocked the silence around, like a paper bag in a strong breeze.

"I've never kissed a girl before."

Hannibal's eyes became a twinge larger at the confession that arrived from the blue.

"I mean I'm going to, i just haven't found one to kiss with yet."

Hannibal grabbed one of the soap bottle and applied a generous amount into the palm of his hand.

Will continued on with the topic as Hannibal lathered the soap through his hair. He rinsed, dunking his head in the water and scrubbing lightly with his nails. A new glob was put on his hands and his attention given to Will.

"Maybe i should practice first." Will mused, entirely lost in thought.

"Practice does make perfect. Turn around Will."

He did what he was told and bowed his head forward, allowing Hannibal better access .

"Have you kissed a girl Hanny?" Will inquired.

"Not yet."

"Wanna practice with me?"

Hannibal's hands stopped for a moment, a small smile hugging the corners of his face, "Sure Will, rinse please."

Little hands grabbed a cup from the edge of the tub. They dunked it and poured the contents over his head. Soap suds cascading in little clumps of bubbly residue. Will turned his head to face Hannibal, lips puckered and eyes close, a perfect defense against water and blush.

It took ten seconds for Will to realise there was more than just lips on his mouth. Wet, muscle pulled. White stones set in flesh walls tugged on his bottom lip. This was not kissing. This was not what the people in the movies did. This was a perversion of such sweetness.

He opened his mouth to ask what was happening. What his friend was doing, with his tongue slipping inside his mouth and touching the top of his mouth, rubbing the ridged portion right before his teeth. He was much too close. Hannibal tasted like how his house smelt. As if his home had seeped into his blood and tainted his flesh. He tasted like bad meat laced with some kind of addictive quality. Probably the last bit of it that hadn't spoiled.

Hands hold his curls. the soothing circles back. fingers digging into his temples, it finished the kiss and drew air and heat into his body.

"That was not a kiss." Will said, offense and fear hiding in his cold fingertips.

"It was a different kind of kiss Will." Hannibal was cool, even headed as he watched Will, fluster and splash around in water that had turned grey. His fingers passed Will, catching the way he flinched as he trailed fingers to the stopper, the tub making a awful sucking sound as the water drained away.

"I won't do it again Will, I'm sorry." Hannibal said as he got up and stepped out of the tub, grabbing a towel to dry his hair and body. When he was done, he handed the towel to will and watch as he dried off. they put on clothes, hannibal telling jokes to soothe away the tension, it worked and soon Will was smiling and joking along with him. Hannibal's eyes never actually leaving will's delicate face.

Will giggled in stutters, fists clenching and unclenching as they walked up to Hannibal's House. The dog trailing behind them as they walked the short distance. His uncle wasn't home yet, as signalled by the absent car in the driveway. So they sat and waited. Bums feeling the cold off of the concrete step that was still feeling the mornings frost. The dog was patience at their side, sometimes wandering off to do things in the garden or field before returning, nuzzling Will's hands and sides.

It was a couple minutes before hannibal's uncle came home. The black bentley pulling up smoothly into the gravel driveway. He stepped out, confused.

"Where did this dog come from?"

"Can we keep it?" Will asked, wrapping his arms around its neck.

"Will, let go of that dog he could be diseased. Now boys, we really can't take in this dog, for one, it might already has a home."

"There are wild dogs in these hills all the time sir, I'm sure it don't have no place to go."

"Will, I really hope that isn't a wild dog you're holding."

"It's not", Hannibal interjected.

"Well that's good but Will, my boy, you can't keep the dog." Mr. Lecters face was stern, little wrinkle lines forming around his grimace.

"I'll take care of it! I'll feed it and wash it everyday. please Mr. Lecter?"

It appeared the uncle did not have the same weakness for Will's pleading as his nephew had. He grabbed the dog by the scruff and lead him away from will and into the back seat of his car, the door slamming shut with finality.

"I'm sorry Will, but you can't keep the dog."

He stepped back into his car, sadness painted in his eyes as he backed out of the driveway, watching Will for as long as he could, the boy was in tears, leaning on Hannibal's shoulder.

Forgiveness not as easily achieved. There would be no repaying the ugly deeds he had committed.

A phone call at two o'clock in the morning was hardly the Lecter's ideal method of waking up on a weekday. they were like normal folk and set alarms. So, when such a call was made at such a rude hour of the night, there was more than a fair bit of whining done.

When Mr. Lecter finally did pick up the phone, his ears were not ready for the onslaught of screeching from the other end. He'd swear, for a week to come that in that moment, he had gone deaf in that ear and had to switch his hold on the phone, shifting it to the other side to actually tell what was yelling about.

"My son" Mr. Graham adamantly yelled, "Is not going to be some kind of homosexual! Keep your queer nephew away from my boy! I don't want him..." there was a pause for a moment as he took a moment to decide on what word he would be using to describe his feelings, "Tainting my son any longer."

His wife was pawing at his arm, gently, asking him who was calling this late. He didn't answer her at first, only thinking about the situation. When a plan of action became formulated, he smiled, sweetly to his wife and simply replied, "The neighbor. He lost his job and is distressed about it, I'm going to offer him a job at our company. I'm sure he has the correct amount of qualifications needed."

That night, they discussed the parameters around the job as compensation for his son's innocence. the arrangements were made and the Graham's were set to move into the city by the end of the month.

The information was not unlike a bomb to Hannibal, hanging high above his head until the wind whistles around its bullet shape until it hits the town. Crumpling down to fire and coal as children wander the streets screaming. He howled like a feral cat. Angry and white hot he stormed to Will. He ran, arms held tight to his sides, his eyes setting the landscape on fire.

He found the boy on the front step screaming. Yelling, punching pushing away his father has he tried to reason with the small boy, explaining the importance of Will to pack his things and say good bye to his friends, correction, make that friend. His father, was growing red in the face, trying his hardest to keep his shuttering arm from coming up and grabbing Will by the shoulders and shaking him.

"You can't make me! I'll go live in the woods!" Will yelled.

"Will I will give you to the count of three to stop this. At three you're going to get spanked." His father was composed at the moment, frustration, picking at his skin.

"No!" Will screamed, eyes becoming a fraction wider, flicking to the large open hand.

"One!" It pulled at the air with ominese strength.

"No!" There were tears in his eyes, cheeks flushed as he wailed his answer. He was so scared.

"Two!" A hand comes up with the appropriate amount of fingers upwards.

"No!" Will has fallen to his knees, voice sounding a tinge raw. His eyes are scrunched up tight from the force of his crying.

"Three!" Will's arms were grabbed. He was pulled to his feet and bent over his father's awaiting knee. His speech had devolved into pleas half garbled by sobs. Mr. Graham didn't hold back, three sharp whacks to his behind. A crack sound on each as Will's blue jeans did nothing to soften the blows.

Hannibal simply stood, his mouth agape as he watched. He marveled at how Mr. Graham could look so serene when disciplining his son, no remorse, no anger or righteousness, just calm. He looked at his friend, covered in tears and dirt, redder in the face than he had ever seen. He was a disgustingly frightened thing that looked positively lovely. Clutching for some kind of escape as he was held down and entrapped in strong corded arms.

Will's father turned his head and pointedly looked at Hannibal, surprise masked under his anger. A message was sent between them before Will was stood back up and told to behave. He stood, quietly sniffling, trying to not receive his father's hand to his backside again. When his father left, stepping back into the house, Will crumpled. It was like watching a building detonate. the foundation coming inwards as the building leaned sideways on its trip to the ground, breaking up partially on the way there.

Hannibal's heart clenched as he walked closer to the boy, aware of Will's father peering at them from the houses kitchen window. Hannibal touched Will's face. His fingers drumming on the back of his neck, his thumb was smudging stains, gently feeling the heat on the young boys face.

"Are you alright?" Hannibal asked.

will shook his head and hunkered into the taller boy's chest. Arms wrapped around Will's shoulder, a voice cooed in his ear in a language he didn't understand. He felt safe and grappled with that feeling to stay as cold dread tucked its head underneath his throat.

the end was coming and he was no where close to being ready for it.

"I wish to show you something Will" Hannibal said, his arms retracting from the hug to touch Will's hands.

"Is it far?"

"No, just past the forest. Come, I think you will enjoy it." Hannibal pulled Will slightly, showing him the direction he would take him, opening his body to him. The young boy nodded and let himself be led off.

The brush was thick and the saw grass cut little stinging marks into Will and Hannibal's legs. The spring warm enough for shorts left legs exposed when traversing slightly hazardous areas. Hannibal still held Will's hand in a loose grip. Using it as both comfort and guidance. The forest was starting to thin out and the sound of running water was starting to filter in.

Will's eyes widened when he saw it. It wasn't anything notable at first, but as the full picture and details came into view, he felt like crying out. "My bike!" Will said, an arm outstretched and pointing at the handle that was sticking out of the wet river soil.

Hannibal nodded and let the boy go. Will ran, clumsily with a slight limp almost, to his possession. He tugged on the handle and pulled. The mud sucked and let out a pop of air as the bike slowly came out inch by inch. Hannibal walked closer and helped Will free his bike. It came out with a final pop. Forcing the boys to fall backwards at their own strength, the bike toppling on top of them. the petals and handles jabbing them unpleasantly.

Will was just so happy, arms wrapped around the muddy frame. "How did you find it?" He asked, eyes full of amazement.

"I just stumbled upon it. I meant to tell you earlier…" The end of his sentence was implied, Hannibal's mind flashing back to Will's hands coming up to his eyes in balls. He felt warmth blossom in his chest and smiled. He squashed closer to Will and moved the bike off of them. Hannibal touched Will's face and kissed him. It was quick, just lips and the soft sound of longing.

"I will miss you Will."

Will nodded and touched Hannibal's hand.

"I will find you Will don't worry. It doesn't matter where you are, I will find you."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die. I will never abandon you Will."

For a long time they didn't move. they laid in the rivers mud and held each other. They cried softly, understanding the gift they were giving up.

When the month was up and the boys restricted from seeing each other, Will left, head turned to the truck window the entire time as he watched Hannibal and his house slip away. The smell of river mud and saw grass tucked in with happy memories of his friend. Will had no tears to weep for his eyes had dried up the night before in his pillow.

Hannibal watched from his bedroom window as the beat up blue truck pulled out, dragging the little trailer behind it. the sun was setting and his uncle was rather pleased with himself.

"I told you I would take action Hannibal." Mr. Lecter said cooly.

"I will find him again."

"How do you suppose you're going to do that?"

"I have his name uncle, that has a lot of power in today's world. I can find him."

"Why are you so adamant of this boy hannibal? it's almost obsessive the way you think about him."

"I don't want to be be lonely."