At night, Will received an e-mail from Alana. She said she had received it from another co-worker and even though she knew it was something appalling, she thought it was best for Will to know about it from a friend. She linked him to a website, at first it didn't look particularly baffling, it was simply one of their student's blog. Freddie Lounds was her name if Will remembered correctly. He frankly had no idea what she was at his class, no one looked as desinterested as her at the classroom, she simply didn't belong there.

Scrolling down he finally found what Alana wanted him to see. There was a picture of him, several pictures actually, and he wasn't alone in them, he was with Hannibal. At the sight of that he felt his chest constrained. Why would someone want to violate his privacy like that and make his personal life as some sort of entertainment? What would they gain with this... Why did he feel ashamed of seeing himself in the arms of his partner, kissing him?

He bit the inside of his cheek and kept scrolling down, looking for an explanation. The text accompanying the photos didn't help to make him feel better. His dear student had make up a ridiculous and striking story about his love life.

On her blog, Lounds claimed to have discovered the secrets of the mysterious professor Graham, a man of stern appearance who actually seemed to enjoy life quite a bit after school was over. First she talked about that elegant man who had been seen several times standing outside the institution. There she described Hannibal as some sort of sugar daddy that was providing Will of those fancy suits he was wearing lately, those Italian shoes; no doubt why such a sober man started looking slightly chipper lately, she wrote.

Will didn't want to keep reading the stupid fanciful story of a young woman who had nothing better to do but invent lies. He shut off his laptop and let out a frustrated sigh that caught Hannibal's attention. When he asked what was going on Will was reluctant to talk about it, he felt his blood was boiling and he wanted to pretend that he saw nothing, but he ended up telling Hannibal about the entry about them on the blog.

There wasn't anything to fuss about, Hannibal thought, he even felt slightly flattered by the attention received. He knew, however, that Will couldn't bear to be noticed like that. Probably a lot of his students knew about that blog if not all of them, even his co-workers were aware of those rumors and the idea of being the center off attention made him sick. People talking about him behind his back, spreading senseless rumours, perhaps some of them would even get to ask him directly about the topic. After all, that story made him seem as someone who probably didn't have many filters.

Just go and do your job as always, Will said to himself the next day, let them think whatever the fuck they want, you know who you are.

That sensation he had when walking down the halls was making feel dizzy. Was it real or a product of his affected imagination? He felt the eyes of people nailed at him. He heard whispers, giggles, words of disgust.

Shut up.

When he entered the classroom and sit at his desk, he noticed a piece of paper on the floor next to him and picked it up. Faggot, was written in large letters over a copy of the infamous photographs that could be found on Lounds' Blog.

That day Freddie Lounds didn't show up, but it probably was better that way, he wasn't sure how he would have confronted her.

- "You do know they can't fire you because of something like that, right?"

Bosses usually fail to look as someone likable at the eyes of workers. Will's superior stood up thanks to his ignorance and arrogance, everybody knew he was a bastard but that day he sadly discovered he reached the point of being homophobic. After finding out about Will's personal life he had to talk to him immediately and spit on his face a bunch of crap he wasn't in the mood to put up with.

- "I know."

How could that institution have an aberration disguised as a person who sold his body at the highest bidder as a professor. What could he teach to someone besides how to be a revolting representation of what was wrong with the world.

- "Sue them, there's no way you can lose the case."

- "I don't have the money for a lawyer."

- "I can give you the money."

- "I don't need your money, Hannibal." His words started severely, but he trailed off. "They didn't fire me, I quitted. I can't be working in a place like this. Who needs to be surrounded by these people, anyway?"

He was trying to dismiss the subject, insisting that they should go and grab some food. The annoyance and frustrating on his mien were hard to ignore.

How could Hannibal help with in that sort of situation? Money wasn't a problem for him, but it wasn't something his partner could misspend with seven kids at home. He could be stubborn as a mule if his pride was getting in the way. By the things he had hinted about his childhood, most of the time he had had to fend for himself and work hard at an early age. He wasn't going to ask for help... He wasn't going to let Hannibal hand him the money just like that, he wasn't going to accept his help even if he said he didn't care. Anything would feel like charity at that moment.

Now he remembered what he had told him; following in the footsteps of his father Will had worked in a shipyard until his old man pushed him to pursue an actual career. Once or twice Will had also mentioned that after that he had still fixed boat motors as a gig a couple of times. How critic could Will's financial status be was something Hannibal wasn't sure about. The man wasn't ostentatious, he was simple so if he didn't boasted of wealth it could be because he simply didn't care about appearances.

After having brunch, Hannibal suggested they went to the movies or do some activity that would help Will not to think of his job but it seemed that he didn't feel like doing anything at all.

A little after lunch time Hannibal had work to do and though he said he could cancel those sessions Will insisted that he didn't do that. He wasn't a little boy and he shouldn't require the constant presence of someone to help him to get distracted.

It had been quite some time since he went jogging or exercising in general, so he thought that day would be good for jogging. Some exercice helped him a little bit, for a moment he felt vitalized and being at the park breathing fresh air was relaxing. It was nice to see people walking their pets, playing with their dogs, some groups friends and families having a picnic. Maybe we should have a picnic one of these days. I wonder if bringing all the dogs would be a problem... Sadly, once he left the park the dejection took over him slowly.

After his working hours finally came to an end, Hannibal convince Will to go to a cafe. The atmosphere wasn't the kind that he enjoyed but he heard there was a stand-up comedy show and he thought that maybe a little humor would help. But at the end it look like it didn't look at all.

Dinner time came and Will said he had no appetite, all he wanted was to go home and maybe have a drink. When it seemed that Will was starting to drink a little too much Hannibal tried to stop him.

- "Talk to me instead of doing that."

He felt he had vented enough about everything he had to hear from his boss - or rather former boss - before he had managed the courage to tell him to go fuck himself and leave the building.

- "I don't like it when you play the psychiatrist with me."

- "You know that's not what I'm doing."

His blue eyes fixed at the glass he was holding for a moment, he then sighed and put it aside.

- "I don't really care about the job. I can find a new one. I just..." He bit his lower lip. "Those stupid things they said... The things they did... That is what bothers me." It was like they were trying to make him think that he was a disgusting person, make him feel ashamed of what he was doing; and at a certain point, they succeeded. "I don't want people to try and mess with what I feel."

If you know who you are it doesn't matter what others think. That saying had probably been started by someone who didn't actually go through something like that. It's not as easy as they made it sound. Wouldn't it be better to divulge expressions of broad-mindedness instead?

- "I know it's beyond all bearing..." The doctor said as he took Will's hand. "A lot of people will try to make you feel that what you do, what you feel or what you think is a horrid mistake but it also works the other way around. Don't let the negative side into, at least listen to both parts. To me you're perfect, Will."

Will withdraw his hand, but his partner saw the hint of a smile on his face.

- "I told you know to play the psychiatrist with me." He replied mockingly, but happy. "And if you're going to do it at least keep it professional, Doctor Lecter. I feel flattered but I don't think this is appropriate."

- "Let this be our secret." He replied with a wink.

Feeling slightly flustered Will snorted and looked away, his expression changed. He didn't look as somber as before, he didn't look particularly content either.

- "Hannibal... Can you stay with me tonight?" His lover wrapped an arm around his shoulders and dragged him close to him to gave him a soft kiss on the forehead.

- "Of course." He never asked that in such a forlorn way, it was clear that tonight he needed comfort. Regardless the nature of the consolation he needed, Hannibal was willing to give in.

When Will wrapped his arms around him and fall asleep against his chest, Hannibal laughed at himself and stroked his brown curls gently. Just a little love could sometimes help to overcome any ill.