Will blinks at the kiss, sees it in startling echoed negative every time he closes his eyes, but it... It doesn't not fit, does it? Marijus looks alarmed for a heartbeat, like someone had just shown him a door where there had been only wall before, but in the aftermath he settles in a way Marijus hasn't since that boy showed up in the courtyard.
Neither of them relax - Neph is closer to it, but Neph has a razor-edge of attention that's all her own, too - but both of them seem more certain, like self-knowledge and some interpersonal bonds are all they need to patch themselves back up and keep going, keep going, until an uncertain future point when everything in the entire universe has been tugged to a stop.
--Now that he sees it in someone else, has to try to name it, Will realizes that it's not just his 'empathy disorder' or a surplus of mirror neurons, that this is actually an accurate reflection he's staring down.
Neph catches his hand and-- thanks him, actually thanks him, and Will finds his certainty for watching Neph and Marijus interact doesn't extend even slightly to what on earth anyone could ever see in himself. He's too stunned to deny anything coherently, too touched to jerk back away from her, just lets his fingers spasm against hers and stammers out. "I'll-- always say something. You're-- you're welcome. And it's fine." A flicker of real smile, a flash fire across his face. "I'm so used to it, I think I kinda prefer the weird shit, at this point."
It's clearly meant to be light-hearted, but Neph also isn't dumb to innuendo. Will knows there's a solid foundation of something very serious under that layer of jokingly asking him to keep an eye on her closest friend in the world. Will just nods, face falling into honest surprise and warmth. "I'll make sure he waits til we're back at your guys' place before he starts doxxing that kid, yeah. Promise."
He and Marijus turn as one unit to watch Neph flee down the street after that, back the way they came.
Which leaves Will and Marijus on the sidewalk, standing on either side of a sudden chilly gap.
Will surprises himself by moving first. His arm twitches and then falls back at his side, useless for reaching out physically, but the intensity of the two of them sings in his blood, vibrates under his skin. He can't remove the imagery of a hawk gently letting something slip back out of its talons, of Marijus taking that unexpected step towards trust.
What ends up spilling from Will's mouth, while his eyes are focused on the ground in front of himself, is a phrase he's never heard from anyone for himself. But it keeps ringing in his ears like struck metal. "I'm-- proud of you."
Marijus is an immovable post next to him for two, three heartbeats, and then he's lurching forward. A palm catches against the back of Will's head, fingers threading through his hair with familiarity Will can barely process, let alone explain. There's a thumb behind his ear across a pulsing vein, and their noses nearly touch. Their temples do touch, in fact that's the point of contact that seems to be why Marijus has tilted forward so far. Will thinks of Neph kissing Marijus's cheek just moments ago, and feels himself undeniably caught - a rushing tide dragging him back out to sea, with some hint as to direction but no way of knowing the depths he might be sucked down towards.
He's holding his breath. Will is holding his breath and he's letting this happen because he has no idea how to convince himself he isn't getting anything from the howling force that's demanding him, with more sincerity than anything Will's ever had directed at him before.
"Hannibal." At first, Will doesn't know how to place the whisper that makes the curls of hair by his right ear flutter. "My name is Hannibal."
Oh. Oh.
The hand across the back of his head doesn't twitch, Marijus - Hannibal - doesn't budge an inch, teeth nearly grazing the tip of Will's ear as he speaks. "I can't explain why you can't call me that in public, but I want you to know my name."
Will's hand comes up without thinking, knuckles going white immediately in his grip on Mar-- Hannibal's forearm. They stay like that, a tense and unsustainable statue, Will holding the arm of the hand that's gripping his head, the street traffic parting around them and giving occasional exasperated looks. Will ignores all of them, just trying to steady his breathing back into his own pattern instead of taking Hannibal's as his own.
They're on a cliff, and Will isn't sure what he could possibly offer - for escalating or de-escalating - without knocking them both off of it. He stays put, gradually feeling the tension tug at his bones, feeling desperation ring through him but with nowhere to put it. Hannibal makes a soft sound and, on instinct, Will turns to look at him, their noses barely brushing--
"Let's go."
Cold air rushes to the spot on the back of Will's head where Hannibal's hand was a moment ago. Hannibal is pulling back, firmly in his own circle of gravity all at once, and Will sways on the spot with dizzy relief.
"Okay," Will says, and then they're off, instinct letting them fall in step with each other but a new distance slowly settling in. They don't hold hands. Neither of them falsely reach or check for the other, they both just force forwards. Will wonders if Hannibal's ears are ringing as much as his own.
It's not until they've turned two corners that Will finds his voice fully.
"How the hell's she gonna beat us home by running?"
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Neither of them relax - Neph is closer to it, but Neph has a razor-edge of attention that's all her own, too - but both of them seem more certain, like self-knowledge and some interpersonal bonds are all they need to patch themselves back up and keep going, keep going, until an uncertain future point when everything in the entire universe has been tugged to a stop.
--Now that he sees it in someone else, has to try to name it, Will realizes that it's not just his 'empathy disorder' or a surplus of mirror neurons, that this is actually an accurate reflection he's staring down.
Neph catches his hand and-- thanks him, actually thanks him, and Will finds his certainty for watching Neph and Marijus interact doesn't extend even slightly to what on earth anyone could ever see in himself. He's too stunned to deny anything coherently, too touched to jerk back away from her, just lets his fingers spasm against hers and stammers out. "I'll-- always say something. You're-- you're welcome. And it's fine." A flicker of real smile, a flash fire across his face. "I'm so used to it, I think I kinda prefer the weird shit, at this point."
It's clearly meant to be light-hearted, but Neph also isn't dumb to innuendo. Will knows there's a solid foundation of something very serious under that layer of jokingly asking him to keep an eye on her closest friend in the world. Will just nods, face falling into honest surprise and warmth. "I'll make sure he waits til we're back at your guys' place before he starts doxxing that kid, yeah. Promise."
He and Marijus turn as one unit to watch Neph flee down the street after that, back the way they came.
Which leaves Will and Marijus on the sidewalk, standing on either side of a sudden chilly gap.
Will surprises himself by moving first. His arm twitches and then falls back at his side, useless for reaching out physically, but the intensity of the two of them sings in his blood, vibrates under his skin. He can't remove the imagery of a hawk gently letting something slip back out of its talons, of Marijus taking that unexpected step towards trust.
What ends up spilling from Will's mouth, while his eyes are focused on the ground in front of himself, is a phrase he's never heard from anyone for himself. But it keeps ringing in his ears like struck metal. "I'm-- proud of you."
Marijus is an immovable post next to him for two, three heartbeats, and then he's lurching forward. A palm catches against the back of Will's head, fingers threading through his hair with familiarity Will can barely process, let alone explain. There's a thumb behind his ear across a pulsing vein, and their noses nearly touch. Their temples do touch, in fact that's the point of contact that seems to be why Marijus has tilted forward so far. Will thinks of Neph kissing Marijus's cheek just moments ago, and feels himself undeniably caught - a rushing tide dragging him back out to sea, with some hint as to direction but no way of knowing the depths he might be sucked down towards.
He's holding his breath. Will is holding his breath and he's letting this happen because he has no idea how to convince himself he isn't getting anything from the howling force that's demanding him, with more sincerity than anything Will's ever had directed at him before.
"Hannibal." At first, Will doesn't know how to place the whisper that makes the curls of hair by his right ear flutter. "My name is Hannibal."
Oh. Oh.
The hand across the back of his head doesn't twitch, Marijus - Hannibal - doesn't budge an inch, teeth nearly grazing the tip of Will's ear as he speaks. "I can't explain why you can't call me that in public, but I want you to know my name."
Will's hand comes up without thinking, knuckles going white immediately in his grip on Mar-- Hannibal's forearm. They stay like that, a tense and unsustainable statue, Will holding the arm of the hand that's gripping his head, the street traffic parting around them and giving occasional exasperated looks. Will ignores all of them, just trying to steady his breathing back into his own pattern instead of taking Hannibal's as his own.
They're on a cliff, and Will isn't sure what he could possibly offer - for escalating or de-escalating - without knocking them both off of it. He stays put, gradually feeling the tension tug at his bones, feeling desperation ring through him but with nowhere to put it. Hannibal makes a soft sound and, on instinct, Will turns to look at him, their noses barely brushing--
"Let's go."
Cold air rushes to the spot on the back of Will's head where Hannibal's hand was a moment ago. Hannibal is pulling back, firmly in his own circle of gravity all at once, and Will sways on the spot with dizzy relief.
"Okay," Will says, and then they're off, instinct letting them fall in step with each other but a new distance slowly settling in. They don't hold hands. Neither of them falsely reach or check for the other, they both just force forwards. Will wonders if Hannibal's ears are ringing as much as his own.
It's not until they've turned two corners that Will finds his voice fully.
"How the hell's she gonna beat us home by running?"