Bringing this over from my AO3 account because I still really like it and NEED TO FINISH THE THIRD CHAPTER AGH!
There was the deafening sound of his pulse in his ears, blood thundering throughout his skull and muting him from the sounds of the outside world. He blinked twice in an attempt to clear the haze he was feeling, but the vision that resurfaced was more nightmarish than he'd expected. The bloodied corpse of Garret Jacob Hobbs stood before him, head lilting to the side staring back vacantly as Will began to shiver in horror. His fists clenched unconsciously, the motion alerting him to the gun he held. As his hold loosened, the weapon slid from his sweaty palms and clattered to the floor. His whole form seemed to quake in response, vibrating like it was trying to keep warm. The sound of his pounding heart seemed to speed up and intensify, causing him to lurch forward and clutch at his skull. A scream pierced the heavy air around him and his eyes shot open, suddenly realizing the sound was coming from his own mouth.
Something soft batted him in the face and silenced his shouts. Will blinked the sleep from his eyes and squinted through his lashes. The plastered, white ceiling was now the only sight before him, rather than the ghastly visage reminding him of the last time he'd fired a gun.
Another column of fluff fell across his face, his nose crinkling in response as it tickled him again and again. He smiled, not nearly as reluctantly as one would've come to expect, and scratched the animal at the base of its tail. Truth be told, he was incredibly thankful for being awoken in a manner more pleasant than he was accustomed to. "Hey Winston. C'mon, time to get some breakfast, eh?"
Will swung his legs over the edge of the bed and felt his feet touch the smooth, wooden floorboards. Two more of the animals who had been dozing at the foot of his bed, rose at the sudden movement and excitedly followed him to the kitchen. As he approached the cupboard, the remaining three dogs gathered around him, eager for his attention and the food he was sure to dish out. Their bowls were filled and quickly surrounded by hungry muzzles, Will standing back to allow them better access. He let out a quiet chuckle and watched them for a bit before walking to the windows and peering outside. It was a nice enough day out, the sky above bright, albeit a little cloudy. He was grateful for the almost-cheerful weather, seeing as he'd be doing some planting outside today. From his kitchen windows he could make out little sprouts peeking up through the soil in pots on the front porch.
"Alright guys, out you go." Will shuffled past the happy canines and swung open the front door, allowing them to bound through the yard and roll around. After a good while he whistled for them to come back inside so he could get ready to leave for work. They quickly obliged and he went about showering and dressing himself, stopping to devour an apple before he left.
He arrived at the little nursery, plucking the keys from his coat pocket and letting himself into the shop portion. Making his way to the greenhouse near the back of the property, Will flicked on a few lights and slid off his jacket, replacing it with a clean white apron. He approached the tinted doors of the greenhouse and entered, pushing past a few ferns in need of a trim and kicking some displaced mulch out of the walkway. The glass building was nearly overwhelmed with its variety of foliage. Soft light filtered in through the panels in the ceiling and flickered over the leaves and petals that surrounded the minimal concrete walkways. The whole place was a little overgrown, to say the least, but that was the way he liked it; A place for the plants to live and grow freely, without the confines of tiny plastic pots like in those huge chain stores. It seemed wrong to have everything immaculate and pristine when it came to gardening. Plants should be able to thrive as they do out in the wild, and that sometimes required a little bit of oversight when it came to messy workspaces.
He came to a large, wooden table and swept a few more bits of mulch from its surface. There was a little terra-cotta planter on top, filled with soil and ready to be relieved of its temporary and quickly-budding guests. They'd grown too big for their current home and it was time to replant them outside so they could grow to their full size in comfort.
Will had hoisted the planter off the table and was heading out of the greenhouse when he heard a rustling of leaves. He was tempted to blame it on a wayward breeze, but all the window panels were locked tight from the previous day, making a cause like that unlikely and spurring his imagination to run wild. Though the inhabitants of the greenhouse technically did move as they grew ever so slowly, there was no way they could cause such a sudden noise. Could it have just been his imagination? After a few moments of silence, the planter feeling heavier by the second, he resigned that this must have been so.
It had taken a little over an hour to carefully replant the budding greenery, inspecting each leaf after he'd settled it into the new soil. Satisfied with his work, Will brushed the dirt from his hands and made his way back to the greenhouse, a lighter terra-cotta planter now in tow. Once back inside, he gave the place another once over, eyes scanning the canopy-like structure of creeping vines and the jasmine starting to bloom at the fringes. He smiled to himself and shrugged, deciding he should at least trim the ferns near the entrance and by the paths at closing time. He found himself waiting in the quiet for a few moments, listening for any more rustling leaves or imagined breezes. After hearing nothing but the sprinkling system gearing up to water the leftmost quadrant of the greenhouse, he was satisfied enough to return to the shop front.
Business was slow for the majority of the day, his only guests being the usual window-shoppers on their way home from work and a wayward teen looking to impress his girlfriend. He wasn't sure how enthralled she'd be with the three carnations and the prickly little cactus that he'd described as "punk-rock" and "easy to take care of". Will checked the clock and let out a brief yawn as he moved to the entrance, flipping the sign so that it read 'CLOSED' to the outside world. Grabbing a pair of shears, he meandered back towards to greenhouse again, apathetic about his earlier promise to finally clip those damn ferns. One last small chore and then he'd be home with the dogs, relaxing in front of the television as they surrounded him.
As soon as he stepped through the glass doors, he felt something was off. The air was slightly more humid than usual, though it had been warm today and the ventilation was in need of cleaning. Still, the dewy smell rose up from all around him and invaded his nostrils, hot and potent. Will took a step off of the pathway, hesitant and soft on the mulch as it sunk beneath him. The sun was beginning its descent; Bright blue dissolving into oranges and pinks above. Another rustling of leaves sounded to his left, Will whipping his head that way in response. The ferns long-forgotten, he held the shears in front of his chest as he continued forward and closer toward the source of the foreign sound. A voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Wh-what?" He own voice, barely a whisper, sounded alien to him in the otherwise silent greenhouse. The shears, gripped tightly in his hands, cast an X-shaped shadow over his chest in the waning daylight.
"Come closer. I can't see you."
He must have been hearing things. Had somebody actually managed to sneak into his shop and hide out all day without him noticing? Why would anyone even want to do that? "…What are you doing here?" Will responded, no longer whispering but still quiet. His pace was slow but he had begun to advance again.
A dark, low sound came from the gloomy patch of shade, just a few feet away from where Will stood. Laughter? It must have been, but it spoke again before Will could get another question out. "Shouldn't you introduce yourself first? You are a guest in my home, afterall…"
Will's brow furrowed, the words forming and about to leave his lips before he froze in place. Whatever had been talking to him from the shadows had pushed away an overhanging laurel, revealing it's face. It stepped forward, Bleeding Hearts and Oriental Poppies grasping at his pant legs as he moved through them. Yellow eyes glinted back at Will, their gaze heavy-lidded and poised. This thing, or whatever it was, could not be described as human, except for it's shape and manner. Still, it held out a hand in a polite and inviting gesture. It nodded as if to urge him on.
"W-Will. Graham. My name is Will Graham…" He choked out the words, unable to keep the slight stutter out of his voice.
"Well then Mr. Graham…" The hand, still held aloft, reached forward and touched the shears, lowering them slightly to better glimpse the awestruck gardener's face. "Please, call me Hannibal. It's a pleasure to meet you."