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“No, Will, no.”
Will paced in a tight circle, hands clutched into fists at his sides. He lifted them to his ears and held them over, hard. His fists snapped against his temples as the alarm continued to blare in sickening waves of intensity. His heart twisted in his chest as he gasped, the pain searing through his skull.
“Will, no. Will, stop!”
‘Stop faking it! It doesn’t hurt! Stop fucking acting like that!’
Tears pooled in Will’s eyes as he heard his father shouting in his head, shaking his fist in his direction after he had dropped a plate and shattered it after the smoke alarm went off thanks to the grilled cheese he had been trying to make. His ands had come up to his ears just like that too, agony rippling through his entire body. He had screamed too, wishing for the feeling to dissipate. It wasn’t until his father came in and saw him like that had he exploded, yelling at him, telling him that it wasn’t that bad and that he was faking his reaction. Will had stood there sobbing, almost unable to move as his father had grabbed him by the elbow and forced him to clean up the broken pieces of the shattered plate, all while a horrible slew of insults spewed from his mouth.
‘There’s no reason for you to act this way! Stop doing this for attention! What are you? A baby?’
Will swallowed hard as the memory overwhelmed him.
Don’t flap. Don’t rock. Don’t stim!
The alarm continued to sound and Will found himself pressing his fist against his mouth to stop from screaming. His teeth sunk into his first knuckle, unable to stop himself. He could still hear his father screaming at him like he was acting like a child, that there was nothing ‘wrong’ with him and that he had to learn to live in the real world.
‘No one will ever tolerate you this way!’
Will dropped to his knees as he sobbed. His shoulders shook as he curled into a fetal position with his hands over his ears as his shoulders shook with each trembling breath. He knew that he had to get a grip on himself, that he had to stop pretending like this hurt him. It was just a simple alarm. He could just stand up and shut it off with no problem, just like everyone else did. There was no good reason for him to be acting this way, yet he couldn’t force himself to do anything. It was as though his body was frozen.
“Will?”
Will hardly heard his name being called, and he certainly couldn’t respond to it. All he did was curl more into a ball as he let out another choked sob. “Make it stop!”
Soft footsteps headed over to the other side of the kitchen, followed by a soft grunt until the keening siren finally shut off. Silence filled the room, but Will’s body was already overstimulated, and he couldn’t stop himself from continuing to cry where he was as his fists began to pummel his ears.
“It’s alright.” A gentle, thick accented voice assured as someone came to kneel beside him. Will could feel his presence, but he didn’t reach out to touch him, to which Will was grateful. “Show me with one tap for yes, two for no. Do you want to stand up?”
Will managed to splay his fingers and lower them to his shoulder and give two short taps.
The man beside him nodded. “Alright, we can stay right here until you feel you can move.” He suddenly tensed when Will went back to hitting at his temples. A calloused hand enclosed Will’s in his own and gently set it back on his ears. “I cannot have you harming yourself. Would you like something else to hit?”
Will tapped his shoulder once.
“I’ll be right back.”
Part of Will wanted to beg him not to leave, to stay with him until this Godawful feeling passed. But, the man was up before he could, and Will was left with an empty feeling overwhelming him. What if he was alone forever? Would this man finally realize the man that he married and grow to hate him for it? Maybe his father was right and that he was just making all this up since there was no way that any person would react this way to a simple alarm.
Will wasn’t given much time to dwell on that as the man in question returned a mere minute later. In his hands was a square decorative pillow from the couch, and when he set it on the floor beside Will, the empath didn’t hesitate to strike it three times in quick succession. It didn’t give him quite the same feedback as hitting his head had done, but it was close enough that he didn’t feel the need to continue to harm himself.
“Use that as much as you need and I’ll be right here if you need anything else.”
Will didn’t feel well enough to answer, so he continued hitting the pillow with varying degrees of frustration. It started as residual energy from the alarm, yet now he could only hear the things that his father had said to him. How weird he looked and, in turn, made his father look. How he should be able to control himself better. How he was faking what he was doing? The voices became so loud that Will curled even harder in on himself and wailed.
To Will’s relief, the man beside him hardly reacted, didn’t tell him to quiet down. He kept his distance while not appearing annoyed or overly concerned. If anything he seemed relaxed despite not being in control of the situation.
“H….Hannibal,” Will managed to ground out.
The man in question tipped his chin downwards. “Don’t feel the need to talk if it is still too difficult. We can communicate in different ways.”
As much as Will appreciated the sentiment, he couldn’t bring himself to indulge in another form of communication. He knew a few signs that Hannibal knew as well, as well as pointing, which was becoming more and more used when Will was like this. He could use his phone too, yet that sometimes took more energy than he possessed. Most of the time he would push past the struggle of talking just for the connivence of it.
“Mo-move?”
“Of course.” Hannibal reached out his hands for Will to take, not commenting on the shakiness as which Will reached for him and finally clasped their hands together. Hannibal pulled him forward until Will’s head was pressed against his chest. Will buried deeper, sobbing once more as the smell of Hannibal’s expensive cologne reached his nostrils. It was so comforting……so Hannibal.
Hannibal sighed and lowered his head to press a kiss against the top of Will’s head, his thick curls tickling his nose. “Everything will be alright. I’m here.”
“Don’t go,” Will begged as he wrapped his arms around Hannibal’s middle.
Hannibal hugged him back, applying bursts of pressure by gripping different places on Will’s body. He climbed from his back, to his shoulders, and down his arms, lips pressed into a tight line as he waited for any signs of discomfort. Will had told him that firm pressure was always better than light touches, and he had taken that to heart to help with grounding. Despite all the information, Hannibal often wondered if he was out of his element. He certainly didn’t feel inferior in any sense, but this was Will, and he wanted nothing more than to do right by him.
“I will never leave you so long as you want me here,” Hannibal assured, chin rested atop Will’s head. “I only wish to make your time with me the best you’ve had.”
Will almost laughed at that. After all they had been through together, it hardly seemed like that could be the case. However, no matter what anyone else said, he had more than forgiven Hannibal for everything that he had done. The past was in the past, and that was where it would stay.
Hannibal carded his fingers through Will’s hair, encouraging the man in his arms to tip his head back. Will wouldn’t dare meet Hannibal’s gaze, eyes fixed somewhere past Hannibal’s head, but Hannibal knew he had his attention.
“Why don’t we go upstairs for a little bit?”
“But, dinner,” Will practically whined, arm thrown back to point at what had used to be a beautiful sautés of onion, bell peppers, and braised bison.
Hannibal rested two fingers upon Will’s pointed one, his touch like a tranquilizer that had Will lowering his suddenly very heavy arm. “Are you hungry?”
Will frowned. It wasn’t often that Will was able to recognize sensations such as hunger. It took Hannibal inquiring about it for Will to come up with an answer.
“No, not anymore.”
Meltdowns stole his appetite more times than not, leaving him exhausted and strained. The fact that he was as verbal as he was surprised him, even though he was sure it wouldn’t last long at this rate. He figured he had about ten minutes before he fully crashed, his body completely limp, limbs heavy. He had been down this road plenty of times and often knew what to expect.
“Then I believe you have answered your own question.” Hannibal gingerly untangled himself from Will and began to stand with his arms curled around Will’s middle. Will’s heels propped themselves against the hardwood floors, knees creaking as he stood with Hannibal’s assistance. Hannibal tried to pull away from Will, but Will was having none of it. He threw himself back against Hannibal’s side, face buried in his chest. “Easy, my mylimasis.”
Will rolled each ankle in turn before arching his feet so that he walked on the balls of his feet. The added height gave him enough leverage that he could tuck his head protectively against the curve of Hannibal’s neck, where the dark mahogany mixed with cedar aftershave was the strongest. Tendrils of scent flooded his nose and reminded him of the comforts that being with Hannibal brought, the feel of the man that cared for him against him.
Hannibal hooked his arm protectively around Will’s middle and drew him forward, brow furrowed as he saw that Will was toe walking. “My dear,” Hannibal began as they made their way to the stairs. “You know the damage that can cause to your feet. I do not wish to see you in any pain as you grow older.”
Will lowered back down on his heel, the urge to balance back on the balls of his feet churning inside him. But, he had promised Hannibal he would try to humor him with these sorts of request, especially when they benefited his health. He’d save the worst of the toe walking when Hannibal wasn’t home.
The steps up to their bedroom took longer with usual, as Hannibal shifted completely to one side to let Will have the rest of the space to spread out to take the next step comfortably. Will grumbled to himself at the slickness of the stairs, and felt his ankle twist inwards as he attempted to balance on the edge of the topmost step.
Hands tightened around his waist and brought him back before he could fall backwards, Will’s heart puttering like mad in his chest. His face twisted in fear as he tipped his head expectantly back, waiting for Hannibal to say something about how he needed to pay better attention to where he was walking.
Instead, Will felt the lightest touch on the tip of his nose, the softness of lips rested against his sensitive skin. “I will always catch you,” Hannibal assured.
Will didn’t doubt it for a moment, and even allowed Hannibal to shoulder more of his weight as Hannibal led them into the library/study. Will dug his heels at the door, a look of pure confusion showing on his face. Hannibal didn’t hesitate to pull Will the rest of the way in, and half led, half carried the smaller man over to the corner of the room where he had bought a large beanbag chair that Will had affectionally dubbed a crash pad.
Will lowered down to his knees with his back arched, forearms stretched lazily on each side of the crash pad before allowing himself to tip forward. His face smashed against the thousands of little beads he could feel inside, ever shifting as he lifted one leg, and then the other to crawl into the center. His hips rolled back and forth until he found a comfortable position with his knees pulled towards his chest as he laid on his side, arms dangling in front of him until his fingertips touched the floor.
It wasn’t long before the room was coated in darkness, only to be replaced by beautiful twinkling stars overhead from a projector that Hannibal had bought for him at a craft show, and then meticulously repainted to make it more accurate to the sky above them for Will’s former home in Wolf Trap, Virginia. It was a compromise that Will had been happy to make to move in with Hannibal, and this projector helped him cope with the loss of stepping outside and seeing his beloved stars.
Will rolled more onto his back to face up at the ceiling. Collections of stars spread across every surface of the ceiling, each constellation that they formed appearing in Will’s head. Stars and space had always fascinated him, and if he hadn’t gone into the field of psychology and forensics, he would’ve certainly wanted to be an astrologist.
“Music?”
Will grimaced.
“No music, then.”
Will let out a short whimper at the sound of a lawnmower growling outside. He brought both of his hands against his ears and pressed on his tragus to dull the sound. It was less noticeable then using his palms, and sometimes achieved the same results.
Hannibal noted with a frown of his own how the normal schedule that the gardener followed was also earlier than usual, which would no doubt bother Will even more than he was already bothered. The change in routine was difficult to break, even if Will wasn’t the one that it would directly effect. He would still be able to hear the lawnmower and weed trimmer, both of which Will had expressed numerous time how painful those sounds were to him.
Swiftly, Hannibal made his way over to the desk in the corner that Will sometimes used to prep for his classes while Hannibal used it for drawing. His fingers clasped around the knob on the bottom drawer and reached in the back before his palm touched the smooth surface of just the item he was looking for. He slowly lifted the object from the confines of the drawer and brought it over to Will.
Will kept his fingers pressed on his tragus until he saw the object that Hannibal held. Eyes bright in relief, Will grabbed the item and pulled it over his head, shoulder visibly relaxing as soon as the soft pads were over his ears and the headphones were adjusted on his head. The ear defenders. cancelled out the worst of the rumbling sounds of the lawn mower from outside, while still giving Will the ability to hear what Hannibal said to him.
“Better?”
Will nodded, sinking deeper into his beanbag chair, the pressure on his body soothing his overworked nervous system.
“Is there anything else you need?”
Will opened his mouth to answer, quickly clamping his mouth shut. He looked bashfully to the side as he worked his hands together, the request dying on the tip of his tongue.
Knowing the thoughts that were possibly overwhelming Will at the moment, Hannibal crouched in front of him, balanced on the balls of his feet. His left hand extended first in Will’s line of vision, then tipped to the side and hovered over Will’s cheek. Will turned his head so that Hannibal’s hand rested against his left jaw, eyes closed in bliss.
“Please, my mylimasis,” Hannibal encouraged, accent heavy as he spoke. “Tell me what you need.”
Will turned over each word in his head thoroughly, processing what he had just been asked. After a meltdown, it always took all of his energy, and even simple conversation was difficult. That was why he was thankful that Hannibal gave him time to absorb what he was saying instead of repeating what he said until Will finally answered.
“Can…..can you sing?”
A faint memory of Hannibal holding his little sister and singing her to sleep filled his mind. They had been so young, and he could still feel the softness of her hair, the admiration that shown in her blue eyes when she looked at him. Hannibal had lived for that, and hadn’t known how much he’d miss that until he could no longer see her.
“Or you don’t have to. Sorry. Sorry.” Will lifted his arms over his head as he tried to shield his face away from Hannibal. He hated to see that look in Hannibal’s eyes. It wasn’t one that Hannibal let everyone else see, and not one that he was even sure the psychiatrist felt thanks to his condition.
Hannibal frowned and scooted closer to the crash pad until his knees touched the sides. He reached out both hands and took Will’s wrists and gingerly pulled them from over Will’s head. There he could see Will’s right eye blink open to peer in his direction, body rigid.
“Is that all? Do you have a preference for which song,” Hannibal asked.
“As long as its not in English.”
A huff left Hannibal’s lips in amusement. Sometimes Will did things that Hannibal couldn’t help but laugh at. Will might refute that he was cute, but to Hannibal, he was adorable.
Hannibal pressed his lips to Will’s forehead before leaning back, sitting comfortably beside Will with one knee raised and the other leg extended. He filtered through which songs he could remember and what he felt he could actually preform with ease. So much of his childhood was a blur that he hardly remembered any of the ideal moments. However, there was one song that stuck out to him.
Hannibal’s soft voice filled the small space as Will let out a long, content sigh and closed his eyes. Dark curls fell into his eyes as he twisted his head closer to Hannibal until Hannibal threaded his fingers through Will’s hair as he continued to sing.
Everything around them faded away, all the pain and hurtful words that Will had heard all of his life about his autism and how inconvenient it was for others, disappeared into the background. He was with Hannibal, and he had never, ever made him feel the way that the rest of the world has.
When he was with Hannibal, he was home.