Chapter Text
Will dreaded the idea of a roommate. Why did he need to share a room with someone else? School policy? Some ridiculous housing rule? Whatever the reason, he already hated it.
He hoped, no, prayed, that whoever this mystery roommate was, they'd keep to themselves. The goal was simple: minimal interaction. That would be enough to get him through the year.
But the universe had a bone to pick with Will Graham.
Because when he opened the door to his new dorm, the last thing he expected was to be greeted by a man who looked like he stepped straight out of a luxury catalogue. Tall. Polished. Prestigious. Snobbish. Not even that good-looking, Will thought bitterly, though he was objectively handsome if you were into the overly-groomed type.
Will blinked. Maybe he was in the wrong room.
"Hello, you must be Will Graham."
Even his voice was classy—crispy, refined, pretentious as hell. Will's stomach turned.
He groaned, not hiding his displeasure, and walked past the guy without a word, heading to the empty bed on the other side. Of course, this guy had already unpacked. His bed was neatly made. All his belongings were perfectly arranged, from expensive toiletries to colour-coded supplies. The dorm still smelled like cleaning fluid and fresh linen, but somehow it already reeked of wealth.
Will dropped his duffel bag with a thud and slung off his beat-up backpack. In contrast, his half of the room looked like a tragic before-shot in a makeover montage.
"My name is Hannibal Lecter," the stranger continued smoothly. "I hope you don't mind that I've already selected my side of the room. There are a few things that I'd like to go over, if you—"
Will didn't care. He was too tired for this. He flopped onto the mattress, rubbed his face with both hands, and interrupted flatly, "Let's just keep it simple, yeah? You've got your side, I've got mine. You stay out of my way, I stay out of yours. Deal?"
Will hadn't made eye contact with the guy since walking in, but the sudden silence that followed his little speech made him curious. So he looked up—tired, dishevelled, unimpressed—and caught something unexpected.
Hannibal was stunned.
Not offended—thought he should be. Not smug. Just genuinely caught off guard. Like Will had smacked him across the face with a wet towel of reality, and he wasn't sure whether to feel insulted or blessed.
His lips were slightly parted, eyebrows raised like he'd just witnessed a miracle. His wide eyes shimmered a deep reddish brown—like maple sap—and they were locked right on Will.
"...You good?" Will asked, squinting at him.
Hannibal didn't answer right away.
Instead, the corners of his lips twitched. Just barely. His eyes softened, and that polished composure cracked for the briefest moment, as if something had shifted within him.
He was the first to break eye contact. Hannibal tilted his head slightly to the left, as if observing a rare insect. A smile threatened the corner of his lips.
"Yes," he said simply. "While I'd be inclined to agree with your approach, I'm afraid I cannot. We're to be roommates for the year, and I'd much prefer if we could be friends."
He faced Will fully now, looking pleased with himself. Too pleased.
Will blinked at him. Was this guy serious? Had he not just heard what Will said? How meaner did he need to be?
"Look," Will stated, gesturing vaguely, "I'm sure you're used to everyone tripping over themselves to be your friend, but guess what? I don't. In fact, I'd prefer—" he leaned on that word, almost mocking—"that we stay completely foreign."
He sealed the statement with a tight-lipped look, daring Hannibal to try again.
But instead of being offended or discouraged, Hannibal clasped his hands neatly in front of him and took a breath. Composed. Collected. He almost looked delighted.
"Or," he said, "we could socialize like adults." A smirk tugged at his lips.
Will raised his brow. "I don't find you that interesting."
"You will."
"I doubt it. You're a pretentious snob."
"You've known me for all of two minutes."
"And that's more than enough."
Hannibal's smile widened a fraction. "Are you truly that adverse to friendly conversation?"
"No, I just don't like people."
"You're doing quite well so far. Do keep up."
Will's eye twitched. Was this guy serious!?
He tsked under his breath, rolled his eyes, and got up to unpack his duffel bag with the energy of a man being forced to participate in society. He'd ignore him now. No attention, no conversation, no nothing. Maybe then, he'd take the hint and shut up.
He didn't.
"What's your major, if you don't mind me asking?" Hannibal asked, still sounding polite. Unbothered. Almost amused. "I'm in human physiology."
Will didn't respond. He dropped his clothes into a drawer without folding them, shoved books onto the desk like they'd personally offended him, and made absolutely zero effort to look like he lived here.
Meanwhile, Hannibal was hovering. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to make Will feel it. Watching him, studying his movements. "Business?" Hannibal guessed aloud. "Economics? No...computer science? Hmm. Chemical engineering?" He paused. "You seem like a tinker."
Will sighed through his nose and yanked at the bed sheets with more aggression than necessary. Behind him, Hannibal paused. "You don't like people," Hannibal continued, voice soft but certain, "but you see what others miss. You see what they're capable of. Is that why you avoid eye contact?"
Another pause. "Criminology, then."
Will's shoulders tensed. Hannibal smiled, like he'd just solved a riddle. "Ah, have a knack for the monsters, do you, Will?"
Will spun around. "I do not!"
The sudden rise in his voice took them both by surprise. Hannibal blinked, caught off guard for just a moment, then smiled again, this time taking a graceful step back.
"My apologies," he said. "I seem to have poked the bear, as they say." He chuckled lightly. "No, offence intended."
Will scoffed. "Whatever. And not that it matters, but I'm in forensic psychology." He turned back to his back, muttering under his breath.
"Ah," Hannibal said. "Interesting."
Like Will, Hannibal began getting ready for bed. He turned off the main light, leaving only the glows of their lamps behind.
"I suggest you get some rest, Will," Hannibal said gently. "Tomorrow is our first day."
Will sat on his bed, knees pulled up loosely to his chest, his back resting against the wall. At the sound of Hannibal's voice, he hugged his legs a little closer, eyes still on his phone. "Do you ever shut up?"
"Something tells me we're going to be great friends."
"You sound real confident about that."
"I am,"
Will grunted. "Whatever."
"Goodnight, Will."
After a stretch of silence, Will finally glanced over to Hannibal's side of the room.
The guy was sleeping flat on his back, hands clasped neatly over his stomach like a corpse, eyes closed in perfect serenity.
"Weirdo..." Will muttered under his breath. How he ended up stuck with this guy, of all people, he'd never know.
He went back to scrolling through his phone until a buzz lit up the screen. Beverly called them besties—her words, not his.
Beverly: Hey, Graham Cracker 😉 All settled? How’s your roommate?
Will: I told you to stop calling me that… (I choked on crackers one time.) 🙄
Will: Also, I’m unlucky. I got paired with a snobby, wealthy asshole.
Beverly: 😯 OMG! Wealthy? As in rich? Is he cute?!
Will: Uh, no. He’s weird asf.
Beverly: So he’s handsome?
Will: If you like excessively groomed guys, sure? He’s creepy.
Beverly: So what? A man who takes care of himself is hot. You should ask him out. 😉
Will: Wtf? Hell no.
Beverly: Why not?? He’s rich! 🤑
Will: I don’t care, plus I don’t even like him 🤢
Beverly: You don’t like anyone.
Will: Exactly.
Beverly: Except for me, though right? :3
Will: Sure.
Beverly: Love you, too, Will! ❤️ You got lucky, though. I got two roommates, both guys who are clearly into each other but neither will admit it. They’re chill, though.
Will: Lol, I’d take that over what I have.
Beverly: Come on, don’t be such a downer. It’s not that bad! It’s just for the rest of the year anyway.
Will: God, yeah. A whole year. 😩
Will groaned and dropped his phone to his chest, staring at the ceiling. A whole year with Mr. Human Physiology over there.
He could switch dorms. Unlikely though, pretty much everything was full. Beverly might be willing to trade with him. She'd definitely make a move on...what's his name again?
Hannibal. Will snorted quietly at his own thoughts. Hannibal. Seriously? The name literally rhymes with cannibal.
Hannibal the Cannibal.
Wouldn't that be hilarious?
***
Will rustled under the covers as the unmistakable smell of sausage and scrambled eggs invaded his nose.
He didn't even want to check the time. He already knew, by the sheer weight of his mood, that it was too goddam early.
He tugged the blanket up over his head, trying to smother the scent and block out the world. He squeezed his eyes tighter, willing sleep to come back and drag him under.
But unfortunately for him, his roommate noticed.
"Good morning, Will," came that annoyingly smooth voice.
Will groaned into his pillow. Of course, he was awake already. Just looking at Hannibal, screamed, "Early bird."
"I hope you're hungry," Hannibal continued. "I made breakfast for both of us."
Will didn't move. Maybe if he stayed perfectly still—like prey—Hannibal would lose interest.
"Will?" Hannibal's voice was closer now. Too close. "Will, are you awake?"
In slight panic, Will yanked the covers down and found himself face-to-face with Hannibal, who had leaned in slightly, watching him.
That damn smile was back. The pleased, perfectly polite one that irritated Will to no end.
"You're awake," Hannibal said softly. "Breakfast?"
Was this normal behaviour in Hannibal's house or something?
"No," Will muttered, voice rough and low. "Leave me alone."
But, because life was cruel, his stomach chose that moment to betray him with a loud growl. Will closed his eyes and sighed through his nose, thoroughly defeated.
"Come," Hannibal said, already turning away. "It's best to eat while it's still hot."
With great regret but no real choice otherwise, Will sat up in bed.
The clock on his nightstand read 6:30 a.m. This was a crime.
He dragged himself out of bed, still in nothing but a white t-shirt and boxers. Not that he cared. The dorm was decent enough, basically a glorified hotel room with just enough space for two beds, a small kitchen area, and a shared bathroom. Both sides had their desk, which was the only saving grace.
Will had already decided he'd never use the kitchen. But clearly, Hannibal had other plans.
The small round table was already set: two plates of food, two mugs of coffee, perfectly arranged, just like a brunch at a fancy café.
Will shuffled over, eyes half-lidded as he blinked at the light. Hannibal, of course, was already seated, dressed, and looking absurdly alert.
Will didn't have the energy to be mean. Not yet. He was too grumpy to form a proper insult.
"Thanks, I guess."
The first thing he reached for was the coffee, and he had to admit, it tasted good. Really good. For something that should have been a cheap supermarket find, it was borderline life-changing.
He stared at the mug like it held secrets.
Hannibal, watching him too closely, answered the unspoken question. "I bring my own coffee grounds from home," he said, as if that were a normal thing to do.
Another fancy, rich-person quirk. Will let it go, set the mug down, and pick up his fork. The food looked harmless. Basic. But the second a bite of eggs and sausage hit his tongue, he nearly groaned. What the hell did he put in this?
Hannibal continued to watch him closely, never taking his eyes off him. He watched Will chew with quiet fascination, his gaze sharp. He smiled faintly, pleased. There was a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes.
As if a reward, Hannibal picked up his fork and took a bite of his food. He chewed slowly, savouring it not just for the flavour but for what had come before. For the moment, Will unknowingly gave him.
It pleased him immensely.
"This is..." Will hesitated. "Good..." He sounded almost disappointed to admit it. The last thing he wanted was to feed Hannibal's ego.
"Thank you."
Will was practically ravaging the meal. Fork shovelling, jaw moving fast—it was almost embarrassing.
But more than that, it was irritating.
Because Will could feel Hannibal watching him. Not judging, not scolding—pleased. Like this chaotic mess of a breakfast scene had somehow earned his approval.
Will cleared his throat, cheeks faintly pink as he tried to slow down. “You know,” he said, mouth still half-full, “this is completely unnecessary. I would’ve been fine with cafeteria food.”
Across the table, Hannibal made a face. A subtle cringe that conveyed more offence on behalf of humanity than a personal insult.
“I can’t even imagine what horrors the cafeteria dares to label as ‘food.’” He delicately took a piece of sausage. “I’m particular about what I put in my body.”
He took a bite, his expression shifting once again, back to that ever-pleased, near-smug smile.
“And it’s no trouble. I don’t mind cooking for both of us,” he added. “Which reminds me, I do have a few rules I’d like to go over, since we’ll be living together.”
Will looked up mid-chew. “Rules?” he echoed, then took a long sip of coffee to wash it down. “What kind of rules?”
“Rules, as in guidelines. Simple boundaries to keep things orderly.”
“I know what rules are, dumbass. I just don’t see the point.”
Hannibal didn’t gasp, but there was a distinct shift. Eyebrows raised, lips parted slightly in surprise.
“My goodness,” he said softly, almost breathless. “You really do have a mouth on you.”
He looked somewhere between appalled and delighted as if Will said something vulgar at a five-star restaurant, and Hannibal was quietly living for it.
“Yeah, well, get fucking used to it,” Will said deliberately, not even trying to be polite.
Hannibal didn’t flinch. He adjusted his posture, as if settling into the rhythm of a conversation he was enjoying far too much.
“To continue,” he said smoothly, “the rules will help us maintain a clean and functional dorm. They’re designed to ensure neither of us invades the other’s space.”
Will squinted at him, still chewing. “Alright. Go on.”
Hannibal smiled. “First rule: clean up after ourselves. No clothes are left on the floor or the beds. No dishes left in the sink. Bathroom cleaned after every use.”
Will raised an eyebrow. “Sounds reasonable,” he muttered. He wasn’t a total slob.
“Second rule,” Hannibal went on, “if either of us plans to invite someone over, the other must be notified ahead of time.”
Will snorted. “Easy. I don’t have any friends.”
Hannibal didn’t even blink. “Third rule: lights out by 9 p.m.”
Will nearly choked on his eggs. “A bedtime? What are we, twelve? You can’t just decide when I go to sleep.”
“Getting sufficient rest is essential, Will. It aids cognition, mood regulation—”
Will narrowed his eyes. “Fine. In that case, no waking up at 6 a.m.”
“A fair compromise,” Hannibal said, clearly amused. “Would 6:30 be more agreeable?”
Will groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “This is hell.”
“Lights out at 10 p.m., wake up at 8 a.m.,” he offered, voice muffled.
“7 a.m., “ Hannibal countered.
“7:30.”
“Deal.”
Hannibal extended his hand across the table. Will stared at it, then looked up at Hannibal’s face, calm and expectant.
He rolled his eyes and shook it. Hannibal’s hand was slightly bigger than his own, warm and rough in a way that surprised him. Not calloused exactly, but textured. Firm. Steady.
Will pulled away quickly, wiping his palm on his thigh without thinking.
The rest of the meal passed in silence, which Will appreciated.
He was seriously considering crawling back into bed when Hannibal stood, taking his plate to the sink.
“Finish up your breakfast, Will. Your first class starts soon.”
Will’s brow furrowed. “How do you know my schedule?”
Hannibal turned, wearing a mask of innocence. “It’s posted right there—above your desk.” He tilted his chin toward it.
Will glanced over and sighed. “Right…” he muttered, annoyed. He’d forgotten entirely that he stuck it there so much for more sleep.
“I must be going,” Hannibal said, slinging his bag over one shoulder. “Don’t forget to clean up after yourself. I’ll see you later.”
He reached for the door but paused.
“Oh—and Will?”
Will looked up, bracing for whatever parting lecture was coming.
“I do hope you have a wonderful first day.” Hannibal smiled, all teeth and warmth. “I have a feeling you’re going to accomplish quite a bit this year.”
He winked, then slipped out the door.
Will sat there, dumbfounded. Who the hell does this guy think he is?