Chapter Text
Buckheart, Virginia. October 15th - 16th, 2013.
Will Graham is a known name in the town of Buckheart, though he doesn’t enjoy talking to a ton of people. He’s one of the town’s two butchers and runs a small shop right across the street from the local Catholic church. A lot of people get groceries right after Sunday morning mass, it’s the only “rush” he ever gets in there. It doesn’t make him much, but it’s not like he needs to be rich to afford to live here.
Hannibal Lecter is THE Buckheart resident. Extremely good-looking and mysteriously well-off, along with being the town’s only priest and among the most educated in the country, he’s every religious Buckheart girl’s dream man. Not to mention the ambiguous European accent he has within the sea of Bible belt twang. He’s different, and everyone loves him for it.
Will knew of Hannibal, but never paid attention to him. He thought he was a pretentious know-it-all, not to mention he’s religious. Will never was religious, and when he transitioned it just made his already poor view of religion even poorer. It makes sense, considering how his mother treated him. He never attended church or Hannibal’s monthly dinner parties, though he never stopped hearing about them. Among his few “friends” and girlfriend, Alana, Hannibal was a constant topic. In fact, he’s a topic right now.
“Today’s mass was very good, Will. You should’ve been there.” Alana says, chewing some steak she’d made.
Will shrugs, twitching slightly. He’s a very twitchy person. “You know I’m not interested in that.”
“I know, and I’m not either, but Hannibal is such a good public speaker.” She urges, her voice earnest. Will never understood why she went to church just to stay on Hannibal’s dinner party invite list. She’s an amazing psychiatrist, and very logical, so going to mass every week seems so dumb of her.
“If you like him so much, go have dinner at his house.” He grumbles, tossing his fork down onto his plate and taking a sip of his water. Looking away from Alana’s angry face, he speaks again. “Look, Alana, you talk about him all the time. The whole town does. I’m tired of it. It’s like he’s your boyfriend.” Alana sighs.
“Sorry that I have a friend I think you’d like.” She sounds frustrated, and tense, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world and Will is stupid for not getting it. Will doesn’t like the majority of people, doesn’t she know that? He’s not even sure he likes her.
They eat the rest of dinner in silence before Alana gets her stuff together and leaves Will’s cabin. She was supposed to stay the night, but he obviously ruined that. He does the dishes before letting his dog, Winston, outside to go to the bathroom. He stands in the doorway to watch him and get some fresh air, and just beyond the treeline he spots something tall and dark with two yellowy eyes staring at him. The hair on the back of his neck stands straight up and he quickly calls Winston inside. He triple checks the locks on his doors before brushing his teeth for bed.
He’s had problems with “seeing” things since he was a kid, especially when he was exhausted like he is now. He pops far too many melatonin pills and crawls into bed shaking slightly, twitching as he closes his eyes. He feels Winston next to him and he feels slightly better.
In the middle of his dream, he sees the same figure from earlier. He jolts awake, sitting up immediately with heavy breaths in a pool of his own sweat.
“Fuck,” he whispers, more irritated at waking up than anything. Winston blinks awake and Will pats his head, urging him to go back to sleep. He looks over, and the clock reads 2:37 A.M.
He desperately tries to fall back asleep but inevitably cannot. Will gets up, throws on a jacket and a pair of random jeans, and his usual brown work boots. He steps outside and takes a deep breath. It’s pretty chilly, about 40 degrees, and he is quite frankly terrified but he’s found that walks help with sleeping sometimes.
Will walks aimlessly down his gravel driveway, and past the next few houses. He walks into the town square, where the courthouse sits next to the church. He glances at “Graham’s Butcher Shop”, then the church. He pauses, seeing a very large and dark stag staring directly at him right in front of the dimly lit “Buckheart Catholic Church” sign. Its yellow eyes pierce his, sending a shiver down his spine. Is this what he saw earlier? If so, why is it following him? The buck takes a step forward and snaps Will out of whatever daze he was in. He trembles as he walks backwards, eventually turning around and jogging hastily back home. If only Will had his shotgun, that thing would be dead.
:::
Will’s alarm goes off at 7:15. Today is Monday, his only day off of the week. He gets out of bed groggily, heading to the kitchen and feeding Winston. He lets him outside while he showers and gets dressed. As Will is towel drying his hair, he finds a tuft of dark brown, almost black fur on the coat he wore last night. He throws it away before he can think too much about it, putting it on and calling Winston back inside before clipping his leash on. He likes having Winston with him while he runs errands.
Winston practically drags Will to the supermarket; he’s learned that they give him treats there. He grabs a basket and is browsing the fresh veggies before he hears the little bell on the door ring. He doesn’t look up, but hears the woman behind the counter say hello to Hannibal of all people. He rolls his eyes, not paying much mind, before suddenly getting a whiff of a cologne that smells much more expensive than anyone in Buckheart should ever be able to afford. Winston immediately starts sniffing the man next to Will, and so he has to acknowledge him.
“Sorry about that.” He mutters, avoiding eye contact, pulling Winston off of Hannibal.
Hannibal smiles, that snakey smile of his. “It’s perfectly fine, Mr. Graham.”
“Will is just fine, Father.”
“Will, then.” He nods. “How come you don’t come to church? I know Miss Bloom does.”
Will rolls his eyes, pretending to inspect the tomatoes in front of him. “How come you never come to the butcher shop?” He retorts sarcastically, earning a low chuckle from Hannibal.
“I prefer to get my meat… elsewhere.” He says, taking the tomato Will had out of his hands and into his basket, forcing the younger to look at him. He smiles again.
“Right. That fancy stuff from Europe, right?” Will doesn’t like looking at Hannibal’s face, it reminds him of that weird looking buck. It’s uncanny.
“You could say that. You can come to my next dinner party if you’d like, it’s on Halloween this month. Keeping it festive.”
Will rolls his eyes. “Maybe.” That pleased Hannibal. It wasn’t a no!
In all honesty, Hannibal had been keeping tabs on Will for a long time. Ever since the man came to Buckheart 3 years ago, really. He’s gotten closer to Alana not for her, but for her boyfriend. He thinks he could be real fun.
“Consider it, please. People always say they have a good time. And I’m a great cook.”
Will grimaces at the gloating, petting Winston now that his tomato scapegoat was taken. “Alana’s told me all about it. She keeps trying to get me to go to church so I can get an invite.”
“I understand that you aren’t religious, then. You needn’t come to church, you always have an open invite to my home regardless. But if you ever change your mind and decide to accompany Miss Bloom, I’d be eternally blessed. The Lord would be pleased to see you.” Hannibal smiles, pets Winston, and makes direct eye contact with Will before grabbing a few more vegetables and walking away.
Will shakes off the feeling of dread that’s filled the pit in his stomach, urging Winston to walk with him towards the fruit section. Hannibal seems even worse than he originally thought. Not only is he Euro trash, he’s creepy. Winston seems to like him though, he keeps whining and trying to go in the direction the priest left in.
He goes to the hygiene aisle and hears the bell ding, the lady behind the counter saying bye to Hannibal. He grabs a couple razors and some toothpaste before heading to pay. The cute redhead at the register smiles at him.
“Find everything okay this week, Will?”
“Mhm.” He says, pulling his wallet out.
“I saw you talkin’ to Father Lecter. You guys friends?” She asks, never having seen them speak before. She’s nosy as all-get-out, Will’s noticed.
Will scoffs. “Not even close.” He pulls out his cash, handing it Freddie. “Thank you, Mrs. Lounds.”
“Of course, Will. Father Lecter’s real nice, you should get to know him some more.” She’s obviously digging for more info. Will grits his teeth.
“I just don’t find him that interesting.” He says tersely, grabbing his groceries.
“Oh, you will. Everyone does.” She says gleefully, waving goodbye to him and Winston.