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Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
Author's Note: Sequel to "Toccata."
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.
***The nocturne of their relationship had been like a dream come true.
Will had savored every one of those nights, holding them close to his heart, letting himself revel in the joy of loving and of being in love.
He had never thought that it could all come crashing down; all he'd been able to think of was how happy he was. He had gone to work every day with a smile on his face; he'd known that at the end of the day, he would be seeing his lover, and that knowledge had made his heart soar.
The days had always seemed too long; the time he'd had to spend away from Hannibal, teaching as well as working in the field, had been interminable.
But the nights had been marvelous. Those nights had belonged to the two of them; they had hidden themselves away in the bedroom, in the comfort of Hannibal's king-sized bed, and they had loved. Oh, how they had loved. Will had opened himself to every experience that he could possibly have.
And he had loved them all. He'd embraced everything that Hannibal had shown him with open arms, he'd begged for more, given himself to Hannibal in every possible way.
And it still hadn't been enough.
If only Hannibal had been able to leave his crimes behind for the two of them! Even if he had known at the time that his lover was a criminal, he would have held out that hope.
But, of course, Hannibal couldn't change who he was. And if he had known about what his lover was during that magical time, he would still have brought things to an abrupt end by turning him in to the authorities? Wouldn't he? Will asked himself. Somehow, he wasn't so sure of that.
He didn't know if he would have been able to turn Hannibal in during that time. In spite of his own strong moral compass, he didn't think he could have borne to do so.
That would have destroyed all that they shared far too soon.
It was enough that he'd destroyed them now, wasn't it? But he'd had to do it; he couldn't have let Hannibal continue to kill, not after he'd found out.
Still, it had hurt, knowing that he had to turn his back on everything that he held most dear in the world. He'd had to turn his back on the love he'd felt, on those nights of passion that had taken him to the stars. He'd had to repudiate all that made his life worth living.
Will raised a hand to his eyes, ready to wipe away any tears that might rise to the surface, but none did. He supposed that he'd cried away all the tears he'd had stored up inside him.
There were no more tears left, no more emotions left. He was a cold, lonely, empty man without Hannibal in his life, just as he'd known he would be.
He had told himself when their relationship had first begun that if this ended, he would never be able to love again. He would never allow himself that luxury; Hannibal would be his one and only love, the one person who could touch his heart. He would never open himself up in that way again.
No one else could ever be what Hannibal had been to him. No one else could understand him in the way that Hannibal had; no one else would even want to try.
Hannibal had been everything to him -- and now everything had been taken away.
He knew better than to try to recreate what they had shared with any other person. It wouldn't be possible, because no one else could ever be like Hannibal.
Oh, they could try. Other people might want to try to take him to the heights that Hannibal had achieved; other people might think that they wanted to be his lover. But no one could know what he and Hannibal had shared between them, and they could never begin to duplicate those feelings.
It would be useless to try being with anyone else, Will told himself firmly. No one else could ever compare to the one lover who would always hold his heart.
He would be better off alone, if he couldn't have Hannibal by his side.
He hadn't realized just how much he would miss what they'd shared once it was over. He hadn't known until the first night he'd had to spend alone had brought it all back to him.
Tossing and turning, flinging off the covers before pulling them back up, pummeling his pillow .... he'd done all of that before the magical nights of lovemaking he'd shared with Hannibal, and now he was back to doing it again. He would keep doing that for the rest of his life.
WIll closed his eyes, holding back the tears that threatened to trace burning paths down his cheeks. He'd done what was right. He knew it. But doing the right thing hurt so badly.
He wanted the nocturnes back. He wanted those nights of passion, then nights when Hannibal had held him and kissed him and made love to him. He wanted that magic back in his life, that magic that only Hannibal could bring. He wanted back that feeling of being .... loved.
But he would never have it. Those nocturnes would never play again; those nights were gone forever, consigned to be nothing more than fading memories.
No, not fading. He wouldn't let them fade away.
He would keep those memories strong and bright, never letting them die. He would remember them each and every night, going over them again and again in his mind.
He'd relive those nocturnes every night' he would keep those memories fresh, and they would have to be enough to fill up his lonely nights. If he couldn't have Hannibal's touch, his kiss, then he would at least have the memories of them, memories that he would never let go.
Yes, it would be lonely. But it would be better than trying to replace what he'd lost, and being disappointed when he realized that nothing could ever live up those memories.
And, after all, he was used to being lonely.
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