Johnny Brooke's body was discovered eight hours later by an dog walker, who was with her six year old daughter.

Will Graham was dining with Hannibal that night. A glass of alcohol that wasn't beer, something that could've potentially blinded him in large amounts, was set on the beautifully laid out, candlelit table. It was a dinner date, the first dinner date of his life, and he'd dressed accordingly. Though it was a dinner date, it was also a bitter farewell meal. Until such a time as fate sought to cross their paths again.

"I'm leaving, too." Hannibal voiced. The silence had been deafening.

"But I'll find you. I promise." He glanced up at Will, eyes sad.

"Then we can be together forever."

"Yeah." Will was despondent, staring at his plate. He wasn't remotely hungry, the brunette allowing himself to look at Hannibal, eyes sad as he mulled over how unfair everything was.

"It's... It's not fair. I was right, I... I can never catch you. I doubt I ever will."

"'Catch me'? Why do you feel like I need to be caught?" Hannibal took a bite of the meal he had made for them both, a sip of his foster mother's best wine because he had asked especially nicely for just two for his date.

"Honestly, I think you've already caught me, Will."

"I... You're uncatchable. You'll always slip through my fingers..." Will felt the need to reiterate, shovelling a mouthful of food into his mouth. It was too nice to eat brutishly. He paused, staring at Hannibal with saddened eyes.

"I'll miss you. I always miss you." He sounded so bitter, resigned to the fact.

"Come here, Will." Hannibal slid out from the table and patted his lap, feeling the hot sting of tears in his eyes.

Will stood, recognising the gloss in Hannibal's gaze, though he was trying hard to suppress it. He sat himself on Hannibal's lap, pressing their foreheads together. Will was not really a crying person by nature, but he allowed himself to, dignified, his crying silent.

"You've... You saved me." He muttered.

"I want you to move on... If... If it's two months, or ten years. I don't want to be your burden."

"You could never be a burden, Will." Hannibal wrapped his arms around Will's torso, kissing him gently.

"I love you." His voice was the ghost of a whisper.

"I love you too..." Will murmured softly.

"I'll miss you. I don't want you to leave me. Being without you, that hurts... I love you more than anything, o-or anyone, and..." Hannibal placed his forefinger on Will's lip, silencing the blathering teen. He knew everything that Will felt that he needed to say.

"When I get there, I'll send you a letter. We can be pen pals." He suggested, knowing it would never work. Will would be moving, too, and the letter would arrive to a stranger.

"Stay here, tonight. Drink your wine and sleep next to me. Maybe it'll keep you cool longer if we're close before we leave." He brought Will's chin up, his mouth into a gentle kiss, brushing his tongue over his friend's bottom lip and tasting the honey glaze he had cooked Johnny in. Will nodded slowly, pulling his mouth from Hannibal's.

"I... That might be nice." It wasn't a school night, and the potential for a glorious evening with the only person he'd ever loved, the only person who was remotely capable of understanding his beautiful mind for what could be the last time in his life, was too wonderful to pass up.

Hannibal brushed a curl out of Will's face, head tilted slightly as he examined his companion with genuine compassion on his features.

"I wish we didn't have to part like this. I wish I could take you with me, but I have a year before I have that choice." Hannibal realized he probably shouldn't have been talking about it, but he wanted the ache off his chest.

"Would you like to watch some television? We could lay on the couch." He reached for his wine glass and took a sip, bringing Will to his chest. Will nodded. He just wanted to be close to Hannibal.

'-While the victim has yet to be formerly identified, we understand that he is a local middle schooler-'

Hannibal stared at the television, marvelling at the ripples his work was already making. Will, void of most of his clothing and covered by a blanket, was snoozing softly, oblivious.

'-locals have identified the male as Johnny Brooke. Though we are still waiting for the local PD to make an official statement, this could potentially be linked to the killings of Amelia Fault and Molly Hill-' Will stirred in his sleep, and Hannibal pressed a kiss to the male's forehead, closing his own eyes. Will was his, and for a few more hours, everything would be peaceful.