✔️ Only I Can Feel You | Hannigram | Rye Ambrose

29

The floorboards creaked under Will's feet as he headed up the stairs, the noise from the dinner party fading behind him.

His shoulders began to loosen as the noise disappeared, and he walked down the hallway, to the very end and to the right. He stopped before a closed door, highlighted only by the moonlight pooling in from the window beside him, and took a deep breath.

"Abigail?" he softly called into the wood, gently knocking a few times. Already, he could feel her aura—bleeding with a void sense of cold and emptiness. "It's Will."

There was a pause, and the void-like atmosphere shifted into something warmer.

"I know," came her soft voice through a smile. The door opened, and Will met eyes with Abigail.

"Come in," she said.

Will walked past her, and she followed, leaving the door open in the slightest. Will glanced around the room. It was quite barren, though clearly lived-in.

Wrinkled, red satin sheets over a soft mattress, a worn, white oak desk against the wall, and a maroon recliner. A pile of books cluttered beside the chair, along with a few articles and scattered pencils.

"You can sit there," said Abigail, pointing at the recliner. "My room isn't much, but Hannibal says it's only temporary. I did come here quite suddenly."

Will gave another glance around the room and shook his head with a faint smile. "No, I like it," he said. "It feels more like... home."

Abigail wearily smiled at that word, sitting on her bed. The thick sheets flattened under her weight. "This is the only place I'll ever call home," she said, her voice falling. "The only time I feel welcome or—warm—is when I'm with Hannibal... He's like a father to me."

She brushed some hair behind her ear and smiled, a sadness glimmering in her eyes. "Anyway," she said, shaking her head and straightening herself so she met Will's eyes, "I wanted to tell you something."

Will shifted in the recliner and gazed at Abigail as she took a deep breath. She rested her elbows on her knees, and a grave expression fell about her face as she leaned forward.

"Will," she said through the dim light of the room, "do you... love Hannibal?"

Will blinked at the question, brows furrowing, but before he could say anything, Abigail continued.

"I mean, really love him," she said, eyes alight. "Do you imagine a future with him?"

Will hesitated, the sudden question jumbling the thoughts in his head. His brows furrowed, and he gazed at Abigail, who stared at him with a vigorous intensity.

"Yes," said Will quietly after a moment of silence. "I love Hannibal."

Abigail merely blinked. "Do you want to be with him forever?" She tilted her head in the slightest, and Will sat back in his seat.

"Abigail—what type of questions are these?"

Hobbs glanced away for a moment, something glimmering in her eyes. "Hannibal is not Death alone."

Will's lashes fluttered, and Hannibal's words faintly rang in the back of his head.

"Do you think Death could have offspring?" echoed Hannibal's voice from ages ago. "Pass down his gift to his children?"

Will shifted in his seat, and he cleared his throat, gazing at Abigail.

"What are you trying to say?" he muttered.