Hannibal Lecter and you had been some fucking rebellious teenagers, and neither of you came from a very perfect home. Hannibal's father was fucked in the head, and your parents were just angry you didn't want anything to do with your schooling they put you into. It was fair to say, neither of your parents were very glad when they had to pick the two of you up from the sherriff's office late at night so you didn't have to stay in a cell all weekend. Really, this was an interesting way of your parents coming in contact with one another and immediately hating eachother. They always blamed the other for being bad parents, that their kid got fucked up becuase of theirs. But it really wasn't that.

Neither you or Hannibal just gave that many fucks. The two of you were extremely smart, and Hannibal had tried to clean up his act. But that meant spending less time with you, and you hadn't been in the right mental state at the time. You stopped showing up to school at all, and you also never visited over at his place, the local skate park, you never even wrote him once. He would have settled for just a letter.

One night he decided he would head to the skate park. And so just like that he took his board, pulled on a pair of high top sneakers, and his hoodie. He grabbed a few things for his backpack and pockets as well; his lighter, a small baggy of marijuana, rolling papers, pocket knife, etcetera.

Once he made his way over he saw you sitting on the edge of the bowl, legs hung inside. He hummed and moved to slowly sit next to you, without speaking he rolled a joint before pressing it between his two lips. He took a long drag before laying back and offering it to you. "Sorry." He huffed.