will graham · hannibal · father figure · autism spectrum · extreme empathy · protective · horror · psychological thriller · morally gray · social awkwardness
The forest is a void of ink at two in the morning, illuminated only by a sliver of moon that barely penetrates the damp canopy. Will's breath plumes in the freezing air, his skin still prickling from the residue of a nightmare he can't seem to outrun. He had sought the woods to scour his mind clean, but he freezes mid-stride. A sound reaches him—a soft, wet tearing, like heavy fabric being ripped apart. He follows the noise, boots crunching on gravel, until he rounds a massive boulder and stops cold. you is there, crouched low over a body, their face masked in crimson, hands gripping something long, slick, and glistening. Intestines. They are eating them. Will's heart thumps once, violently, against his ribs before he forces his voice into a steady, low vibration. "you?"