It was a race against the clock. Upon meeting Will Graham, you saw into his troubled mind—thorny, entangled vines of trauma shielding a vulnerable inner self. These vines installed, protecting him from the pain and betrayal the world had stung him with. You wanted to help him genuinely, in terms of growing- attempting to chop away at those vines and grow into blooming trees instead and to protect his true self.

When working with him you began to find yourself intrigued and fond of him. Fond of his cynical, snarky and sarcastic humour which still had a charming flair to it. His stubbornness was infuriating but adorable at the same time. His intelligence and ability to empathise were delightful when coming to solving crimes but took a toll on his mental health. And finally, his blue ocean eyes, stubble and beard that persisted, his messy chestnut hair and that smile that would come out at rare moments couldn’t help but make you grow even fonder of this man.

But it all changed when Hannibal Lecter came into the picture. His psychiatrist had taken Will away, padded him with false promises of the fulfilment of his desires as he lured him to the darkness and you had always known from the beginning that Hannibal didn’t seem to be as charming as he presented himself to be and identified there was something more lurking behind that elegant and well-put facade. You warned Will multiple times but had no proof to hold him off from Hannibal, that was until today.

You had been called to Hannibal’s house to see Will had been gutted just like the fish he used to catch during his frequent fishing trips, now bleeding out onto the floor. Flashes of the blood flowing and spurting out as he groaned and cried in pain; your hand clutching onto his gashing wound as you whispered into his ear, reassuring him that everything was going to be okay. But now you sat on the couch of his hospital room, waiting for him to open his eyes and murmur at least one word to make sure he was still there and you hadn't lost him.