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Things are a little bit blurry around the edges now, blackness creeping in and flashes of light bursting in his field of vision whenever he turns his head. He’s cold, so very cold, and it’s hard to move. He thinks he may be bleeding out.
“Will! Will!”
He turns his head, eyelids almost too heavy to open, but he finally manages to look at whoever is calling his name. Hannibal’s face swims into view, a frown line deep between his brows. It takes a moment for Will to realize that Hannibal looks worried, and he can’t at first think why.
“Why are you worried?” he manages to slur out, face feeling a little numb. It doesn’t bother him as much as he thinks it probably should.
“Oh, Will.”
Hannibal drops a light, sweeping kiss across Will’s forehead, one hand coming up to cup the back of his head. A sound is growing from somewhere in the distance, finally materializing into the whine of an ambulance. That seems wrong, somehow, or at least bad.
“Ambulance… police… you need to leave,” Will finally says, struggling to sit up. Hannibal’s grip doesn’t loosen, though. Flashing red and white lights suddenly brighten the room they’re in, throwing stark shadows onto the face of the man who Hannibal had killed after he’d tried to gut Will. “They’ll arrest you.”
“It’s alright, Will,” Hannibal says, voice so soft Will almost misses it. Or maybe it’s Will’s hearing that’s going. “You are worth it.”