Chapter 15: Dreams

Entangled in each other's arms, they are lying on the double bed in the bedroom under Will's red-golden blanket. They both smell like sweat and sex, lips sticky with semen and saliva, muscles slack, naked bodies pressed against each other... Hannibal rests his head next to Will's, and they are watching each other dreamily, half asleep. It makes Will wonder whether he has ever felt this close to Hannibal before.

His relationship with Hannibal still seems like fruitless attempts to tame a monster that simply cannot be tamed, but it slowly turns more and more natural as Will gets accustomed to it. And what they did to each other tonight with their mouths was so intimate and gratifying that it seemed to melt away some more of their deeply instilled resistance. Even though Hannibal was so violently eager to taste Will and took so much of Will's length in, that after one point, Will had to grab him by the hair and make him stop. Will was terrified that Hannibal might hurt himself, since the older boy had already been letting out choking sounds. And Will also felt anxious for his own safety because Hannibal's sharp teeth started worrying his sensitive skin with frightening strength. Hannibal's displeased, scary growl that followed Will's desperate action to stop him made the smaller boy's heart drop, but Hannibal soon ceased looking at him with the reptilian, dead stare full of the hypnotic obsession of a carnivore. Instead, he climbed up on the bed next to Will, put his arms around the smaller boy's trembling body, and with one hand, ruffled Will's hair as a sign of forgiveness. And when Will slipped out of the embrace to lean over Hannibal's lap and taste him in return with careful, small licks, Hannibal finally stopped emitting the hostile growl, and ended up on his back, drawing in contented and silent, yet labored breaths.

And now they are both satisfied and relaxed, lying in the bed in each other's arms.

When Hannibal breaks the silence, his thick words are just a murmur, "I want to stay here."

It still makes Will's inwards tremble with utter joy whenever the older boy speaks, even though he should've started to get accustomed to it during the past few weeks. They have multiple routines now: bringing each other small gifts, sometimes dinner too, taking walks in the building, having their exhausting play-fight, hours-long language learning, and then, they spend the rest of the night in bed, experimenting with ways of pleasuring each other. And sometimes – very rarely and briefly though – Hannibal speaks to him. Real speaking, his own thoughts, not just repeated phrases like during lessons. At best, three or four sentences. It happens at irregular intervals, and mostly without any prelude, and it's always a pleasant, exciting surprise for Will.

"Stay here?" Will's reply is also croaky from drowsiness, but his heart is already beating with alert happiness. "You mean forever? You don't want to wake up?"

Hannibal doesn't answer.

"If that's what you mean... it would be nice." Will gives a sleepy smile, adjusting his arms around the older boy's waist. "I'd like that, too."

Hannibal puts a hand on Will's bare chest, above the smaller boy's rapidly beating heart, and Will notices the ligature marks around the older boy's wrist again. They are much less apparent than they were when he had a closer look at them weeks ago in the bathroom, but they are still visible. A thought hits Will like a struck of lightning, and he sits up with sudden vigor, putting his fingertips on Hannibal's old wounds.

"Come, and find me," Will bites out with excitement, hastily massaging Hannibal's bruises. "Come, and live with me."

When Hannibal gives no response, the next words burst out of Will in a hectic flood, he is so enthusiastic about what he is saying, "I'll work double shifts at the coffee shop for some real payment, and collect the money for you. As much as you need. I can also get it exchanged for the currency of your country. Maybe you could give me a real address where I can send the money to you. And then, you can buy an airline ticket and travel to my place. We'll find a way to get you any paper you might need – I know a guy from the alley behind our home who sells some weird stuff. I'll do anything he wants, and I'll get you the necessary papers from him. Please, come to me." The speed of Will's breathing increases as he continues with his idea, "I would say you are an exchange student. We could go to school together, you could work with me at the coffee shop, and perhaps, you are old enough to sell some fish at the market. I think my dad would be angry first, but if you worked hard enough and didn't interfere with his drinking, he'd be alright with you staying with us. Once, I brought a dog home, and he kicked her to death when he was very drunk, saying that she ate too much, but I'll make sure he won't hurt you. You'll make yourself useful. And I... I'll protect you, no matter what." Will's voice is already wavering from exhilaration. "You could sleep in my room. I mean, it's just a storage room, it's not very nice, but it's okay. If my dad is drunk enough and can't see us, we can also sleep together on my mattress. But only if he is very drunk. He wouldn't like that. But... but we can do that. Or I'll buy you a mattress. I can work more. You know, they offered me that I could go and set the tables and arrange the chairs in the morning, from 3 to 5, I was just too tired to do it so far, but I wouldn't be tired if I did that for you. Yes, I'll do that. I'll work some more, and buy you a mattress. And a blanket and a toothbrush and things like that. Please, come, and live with me."

Will stops, because he perceives that Hannibal's face has grown pale, and it just turns whiter with every word the smaller boy utters. Not understanding the reason for this, Will moves closer in order to look Hannibal in the eye, and what he sees there almost scares him. He sees lifeless sadness.

And then Hannibal gets up from the bed, wipes his hands into one of the bed sheets, pulls his gray pajama pants on, and leaves the room with composed, slow steps.

Will emits a small puff of surprise, and supports his back by a cushion, sitting on the bed, musing over the older boy's odd reaction, puzzled. He doesn't get what's going on, and absent-mindedly strokes his favorite blanket with his palms, wondering, choosing to wait a while before doing anything. And Hannibal soon returns. He keeps a brown paper bag, in which Will brought dinner from the coffee shop, in one hand, and a pen in the other one.

"Why do we need that?" Will asks, completely at a loss.

Hannibal just sits down in front of him onto the bed. He turns the paper bag to the side where the printing date of the logo is visible, and then he circles the date with the pen.

"Yes?" Will finds himself still confused. "That's the day I brought you some doughnuts. They make these bags at the coffee shop with their own equipment, and print their logo and the date of delivery on them. So what?"

Hannibal writes another date under the logo, a date with a ten-year difference. A day from about ten years earlier.

Will gapes at the numbers, trying to figure out what Hannibal wants to show him... And when he finally understands, it seems to him that his whole world has collapsed.

A rush of emotions veil his eyes. Everything turns into a blur, and the walls seem to melt into waves of amorphous curves. The colors are fading... as a huge teardrop forms in the corner of his eye and runs down his cheek.

From the first day they met, Will has fantasized about Hannibal being real. A real boy living thousands of miles away from him. And though he never really considered it up until now, he has always wished to meet him one day... And he secretly believed that they could do that sooner or later. And tonight, when suddenly figuring out the idea that Hannibal could travel to his place, Will finally realized that it was all he ever wanted... All he ever needed in order to find happiness and comfort, and make the dull darkness of his days brighten up, and start a real change...

Will feels a helpless feeling tear into him. Deep, unstoppable pain weakens him, and he collapses on the bed.

"No, no, no." That's the only word he growls into the creases of his red-golden blanket, burying his face into the warm plush, palming the soft texture with bitter despair.

He understands now that it's not just thousands of miles parting them, but also ten years. In the real world, Hannibal had these dreams ten years ago. The palace they share links them in their dreams, but nothing else. They cannot just simply meet, cannot just simply find each other, because as long as they dream about each other in Will's lonely present, that means they still haven't met... How could they meet in a mutual present, if they dream about something that partially happened ten years ago and in some sense, that's their present? These are just dreams, not a full synchrony of their realities... This is some twisted mixture of their separate presents and half-joined dreams, but not a perfect link. And ten years have passed for Hannibal after these dreams, without meeting Will in real life! Otherwise, Will wouldn't be lonely now... And as long as they dream about each other with this strange link as a part of their current reality, they cannot change their loneliness, can they?

Almost choking on the spasmodic stings of his despair, Will rasps. The soft pressure of the waves of his plush blanket feels like the perfect contrast against his dark pain. It seems to him that his heart has been torn out of his chest, and now there's only a gaping, blood-leaking hole at the place of it, burning, pulsating with throbs of pain...

He is able to regain some of his composure only when he feels Hannibal's fingers on the top of his head, and the older boy soothingly strokes his nape.

"We... we cannot be together," Will coughs into the bed sheets, voice hoarse from pain. And then, a messy jumble of tormented words leave his lips, "If we want to meet here, in our dreams, we cannot be together in real life. Otherwise... it would be your future... And you cannot dream about your own future in the past, it's simply impossible... It might destroy everything... This is the only way we can stay like this and keep dreaming about each other like this, linked together over a ten-year gap... if... if never meet in real life. This is such a chaos... Our time... our time is not the same... The time and our dreams... The time..." Will is unable to continue.

"Yes," Hannibal utters plainly.

The older boy's disillusioned calmness gives Will some strength to handle his shock, and he sits up on the bed, rubbing away some disheveled curls from his forehead. He is huffing and puffing, cheeks burning red, eyes tearful.

"But... but you knew this. You have known this for a long time," he speaks tremulously, "And you told me nothing... You did nothing. Why?"

Hannibal doesn't answer. There is something in his maroon eyes that's the closest to deep emotions Will has ever seen from him. Something blurred and heavy.

"I... I don't understand," Will stutters. His bitter despair and black sea of sadness have been replaced by the burning wish to find solution. "Maybe, we could try to change the future... I mean, my present and your future. I could give you some information that would be enough to change the happenings of these ten years. Perhaps, I could give you the winning numbers of a lottery or something, and then you would become rich, and you could come for me, and take me with you..."

A slight frown appears along Hannibal's forehead.

"Uh, okay, I guess you've already thought about this, and it's not a good idea," Will mumbles after a few seconds of considering. "It would probably mean the collision of this palace and the loss of our memories of each other, or something even worse, if we tried to change something this important – and I don't think we could succeed. It might also kill us. It's... it's very likely that it would destroy us. Let's figure something else out." Will rubs his forehead, concentrating with some difficulty. "What if I jumped out of a window of your palace, into the empty darkness? Maybe, that way, I could leave your palace forever, and then we could find each other in our reality. I guess, the earliest we will be able to meet is when you'll be like 25-26. For me, that would be just a brief while of waiting, but at least ten years for you. And... and most probably it would take more time... It might take many more years for our timelines to align. But at one point, we'd be able to find each other in a common reality, I believe. Perhaps decades later, when we would already be adults." When Hannibal doesn't respond, Will proceeds with his idea, "That means I'll have to leave your dream palace right now. As long as we dream about this place, we are linked together in our dreams, but parted from each other in our reality. And time just passes... Why haven't you told me about this? I... I'll have to leave as soon as possible."

Hannibal gently puts his palms on Will's hands, and silences him. "No," the older boy says in slurred, quiet breaths. "I want you here, in my dreams. And never meet you in real life."

Will blinks at Hannibal with surprise. "But... but, why?"

The older boy gives no reply.

Will tries to reason, even though it barely seems possible he is so shaken. "Maybe if we gave up this dream world and met as adults... things would be easier for us. We would be more mature, more experienced, so we wouldn't have to go through this much pain in order to learn how to love each other. Everything would be more simple and clear with so much knowledge of life... Wouldn't it?" Will swallows back a sob that tries to break forth from his throat. "And... and we could get some nice jobs, live in a fine house, with a couple of dogs, and... and books, and everything we like. We could have clothes, meals, rooms, anything. And... and all of these would be real. Real! Even better than here in your palace. Together all day and all night. I... I think we'd have a beautiful life. We could adopt children too. And we could be the happiest family in the world. A real life together! Don't you want this?"

Hannibal just stares at him, with his solid decision glimmering in his eyes.

Will shakes his head feverishly, "Why would you choose a false world that only exists in our dreams... over a real relationship we could have?"

Hannibal doesn't reply.

"I don't understand you... I don't understand..." Will iterates huskily. He grabs Hannibal's hands and holds them tight. "Don't you want to be with me some day? Like... like a real couple? We'd just have to be patient, and wait for each other, until the time comes. We'd find each other, I'm sure of that."

Hannibal still doesn't answer; he maintains eye contact without a stir.

Will tries to see, he tries to figure out the reason the older boy doesn't like his idea, and then, finally, he understands. And what he realizes makes his heart sink.

Will closes his eyes and hangs his head.

The room seems to turn eerily cold as if the glossy marble surfaces were made of ice. The flickers of the crystal chandelier hanging above are pooling into glassy, elusive teardrops of light on the floor.

As Will speaks again, disenchanted emptiness fills his tone, "You are right. We'd never have the life I've just described." His voice slightly falters, but he continues, and lets the most painful words leave his lips, "It'd be too late to learn how to love each other. The world would take me from you and take you from me. The lonely years would change us, and it'd be irredeemable. It'd be too late, for both of us. You don't want to lose what we have now... even though these are just dreams."

Hannibal puts his hand to Will's chin, and pulls him closer, touching his forehead to Will's, like he did after he had almost strangled the smaller boy in the bathroom. The touch is comforting, and eases some of Will's pain.

"I want you to stay here," the older boy utters in low, mumbling tones. "I want to stay with you here."

Will presses his face to Hannibal's in response, while whispering, "I'll stay."

And after that, there is only silence lingering around them, covering everything with its invisible, yet heavy veil. Then, surrounded by the warm creases of their golden-red plush blanket, their lips gently touch, and they melt into a sad dream kiss that feels more real than the whole world they'll have to visit alone again in a couple of hours.

- The End -