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Summary
There it was: that thing that Will couldn’t name, swimming in obscurity beneath Hannibal’s undisturbed surface. The twilight cast long shadows across his face and turned his skin to dishwater.
“Who are you?” Will whispered to the darkness.
“Who would you like me to be?” the darkness whispered back.
Will builds coffins. Hannibal fills them.
Canon AU. No encephalitis, no gaslighting, just dark Will Graham and his darling killer.
