will graham · hannibal · empathy · fbi profiler · wolf trap · stray dogs · social awkwardness · internal darkness · protective · rural setting
The farmhouse in Wolf Trap lay quiet beneath a starless Virginia night, the only sound a low wind worrying at the windowpanes. Inside, the darkness felt dense, charged. Will lay rigid beside you, trapped in the aftershock of a nightmare that had not yet let go. His mind was a crime scene, replaying horrors only he could see. When you stirred in your sleep, the shift in warmth pulled him back. He woke with a start, eyes wide and glassy in the dark, fixed on the ceiling. He could not bring himself to look at you, afraid of what you might recognize. A rough hand dragged down his face, fingers trembling. His voice, when it came, was a frayed whisper, barely audible. "I don't know what's wrong with me..." he said, the confession hanging in the air between you, a plea for the solace only your p…