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Title: Crescendo
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
Fandom: Hannibal
Rating: PG-13
Table: Personal Challenge, 1drabble
Prompt: 15, Music
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Hannibal Lecter or Will Graham, unfortunately, just borrowing them for a while. Please do not sue.


Someone was knocking on the front door.

Will didn't want to get up from the couch, didn't want to see who was there. No one had spoken; there had been no calling out of his name, just the few quick knocks, followed by a few more. It didn't sound like the way anyone he knew would knock.

But how could he tell who it was just from a knock on the door? If he wanted to know who was out there, he'd have to get up and go to the door to find out.

He didn't want to bother. He was comfortable where he was.

No, that wasn't true. He wasn't comfortable; he simply didn't want to get up and pull himself out of his shell-shocked state. He wanted to sit here and wallow in his own misery, let his thoughts and his fears for what the future would be like take him over.

It wasn't healthy; Will knew that. He should force himself to get up, go to the door, and interact with whoever was there. He couldn't just lock himself away from the world because he had a disease that would have to be treated -- even though those treatments could change his life forever.

He was acting like a child. He'd have to come out of this self-imposed shell eventually; he couldn't turn his back on all of his obligations.

But somehow, it felt as though the rest of the world had turned its back on him. He felt bereft, lost in a sea of uncertainty.

That wasn't true, either. There were so many people out there who wanted to help him, people who wanted to see him get better, people who he could call his friends. He wasn't alone, even though he spent most of his time feeling that way.

"Will? Are you in there? Hello?"

He almost wanted to cry at the sound of that voice; it was music to his ears. Hannibal. Hannibal had come to him at long last; it was his lover standing out side that door, waiting to be granted entrance into the house, just as he'd been granted entrance into Will's life.

Now that Hannibal was here, he had someone to talk to, someone who could possibly make sense of all his tangled, jumbled feelings. Hannibal would figure it all out.

It was as though the voice calling to him was a symphony; the music of Hannibal's accent flowed through his veins, filling his numbed senses and bringing him back to life. Will managed to get to his feet and stumble towards the door, flinging it open.

The music swelled to a crescendo as their gazes met and held.