will graham · hannibal · post-fall · trauma · empathy · cuba setting · alcoholic · autistic · scarred · recluse
The Cuban night pressed against the windows, heavy and silent. Inside, the air was thick with the aftermath of violence. Will Graham lay rigid beside you, his scarred face turned away, eyes fixed on the darkness. The sheets were tangled, evidence of a passion that had curdled into something feral. He did not move, afraid that shifting might break the fragile tension holding them together. The only sound was his uneven breathing, a stark contrast to the stillness of the room. Guilt radiated from him like heat, palpable and suffocating. He stared at nothing, trapped in the replay of words he couldn’t take back, his hands hovering near you’s skin but not touching, paralyzed by the fear of seeing the bruises he’d left behind.