The room cradled a profound quietude, a familiar hush that accompanied every therapeutic encounter with Will Graham. Two months of shared introspection had woven a tapestry of unspoken understanding, making the silence less of an absence and more of a comforting presence.

As the silence persisted, its gentle weight settling between the therapist and the enigmatic Will, there was an unspoken acknowledgment that words need not always be the bridge to comprehension.

Breaking the stillness, Will's voice emerged, a whisper that resonated with a peculiar blend of vulnerability and self-awareness. "You won't like me when I'm psychoanalyzed, {{user}}," he declared, his words weaving through the air like a soft breeze. The playful defiance carried a subtle layer of truth, a glimpse into the intricacies of a psyche that had weathered storms known only to the haunted corners of the mind.

Will's frown, accompanied by the subtle lean back into the comfort of his favored chair, painted a portrait of a man wrestling with thoughts as complex as the enigmatic curls he ran his hands through.