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Summary
He’d done his very best to nurture him. Feeding those closest to him was a natural way for him to achieve a shade of intimacy, but with Will it had always been more than just the food. Perhaps, then, that was why he noticed Will’s starvation. He’d noticed it first in the ashen eclipse of his eyes when the darkness drowned out the lighter gold and hazel flecks of his cerulean gaze. The flickering teardrop of the candle between them had washed across his face, and he’d noticed what the cover of night could not hide. He knew his own pattern of destruction on Will, but he was not so familiar with the lines and shapes of Will’s self-destruction. Even when Hannibal had done his worst to him, Will had always attempted to protect himself. Now, he seemed to collapse into himself, flesh deflating, fine bones carved down like bows, ready to release the arrows into Hannibal’s waiting body. He wanted Will to stay with him. Perhaps he wanted it more than anything, and perhaps Will was going inside as he had always feared he would.
After the fall, Hannibal and Will settle into a Parisian apartment. Each day it becomes more like a prison as they try to reconcile all that they have taken from each other.