Chapter Text
The first time Will went outside was about six months after the fall. Prior to it, he never really saw a reason to exit the mansion- the world out there held something against him, hurt him in ways he was sick going through, he was so sick of feeling the need to worm his way into other people’s lives and thoughts, trying to understand them, trying to help them, but really only resulting in hurting them and himself for that matter. How much blood was the direct cause of Will? Too much, too much for his consciousness to handle, so better to just hide it here, where only Hannibal could see. Hannibal. The direct cause for most of his own bloodshed.
The day he had gone outside was a little dreary- grey cloud cover smothering the sky out like it was strangling out the empyreans, but also wrapping the world in its warm grey fabrics, making everything seem a little smaller than it actually was. Making it seem that everyone was a little more sheltered than they really were. Making is so that it seemed as if God couldn’t see them anymore, couldn’t see whatever we were all doing here on earth. Will wouldn’t have gone out have he not heard the bark.
At first he thought it was all in his head, just him trying to remind himself of his better times, when the world could be summed up in his pack of misfit dogs and ranch style house in Baltimore. But then he saw the dog, out in the front yard, barking a squirrel up a tree. It looked like your typical mutt type- wiry hair, pointy ears, a bushy tail like a german shepard but a body like a lab or something. It wagged its tail apathetically at the squirrel up the tree, chattering the other sounds away.
Will watched it for a bit, telling himself that he would stay inside, wait for the dog to leave then sleep. That’s what he needed, he needed to sleep. He shouldn't be exercising his brain like this. Will needed to recover, to fix his mentality, but then again there was a dog in the front yard. A dog.
He let himself outside, the front door far heavier than he expected. As soon as the big oak thing moved the dog looked up, brown ears pointed to the sky like satellite dishes. He remained still for a moment, but it only took him a second to wag his tail in human company.
“Hey buddy, hey boy.”
The dog seemed to forget the squirrel and padded over to Will, who was not really standing outside so much as leaning out from behind the door, trying not to get high off of the fresh air, trying not to let himself fall back into the order of the moving world. He liked staying in his frame here. Or maybe he truly did lose it and now he was even afraid of the outside, just making excuses to cover up how screwed up he actually was.
It had no collar, which for Will was the trademark of an unclaimed dog, one that anyone can just take, so he offered for it to come inside. The mutt paused in front of Will, panted, then strolled in without much of a hesitation.
Will shut the door as quickly as he could, the stained glass framing the wood creeping him out and the feel of the outside coming inside disturbing him more.
“I’m like 75% sure this is pepperoni, but who the hell can tell.” Will tossed the chunks of meat to the dog, scratching its ears every so often, the dog responding with a faint wag of the tail, a small grin- the kind of smiles a dog gives. For the first time in a long time- years maybe, too long- Will smiled back. For a moment, the wendigo wasn’t chattering in his peripheral vision, the shadows weren’t as long as they used to be, the pain in his head resided.
“Yea, yea. I hope it’s pepperoni.” He watched the dog finish off the meat. “Lost? I’m lost too I think. Well- i’m lost but it’s a good sort of lost. I don’t want to be found. Surely you do?”
The dog wagged it’s tail again, ears perked and the grimy, scruffy hair already coating a good portion of the floor in shedded fur. It watched Will as if it understood what he was talking about, as if he cared to listen. No one cared to listen to Will, not really. Hannibal used to, but that was until Will found that he was only using his personal life to manipulate him. Alana used to, until she started to manipulate him too. Dogs don’t manipulate people. They can’t hurt you. They just want food and love, and they will listen.
The dog sat on its haunches, staring at Will patiently.
“Good dog. Good boy. You don’t have to be lost.”
Will led the dog- which he started to refer to as ‘Cosmo’ for his obnoxiously large satellite ears- up to his room. He stole a bunch of flannel and pillows from other rooms and put together a bed next to his. Cosmo watched patiently, then stood and laid over Will’s work before getting up and sniffing out the room.
He then whined for a second, and Will heard the front door open.
Internally, Will felt like recoiling, not wanting to talk to or think of Hannibal. Cosmo seemed to think differently, as he raced down the stairs to greet another human.
From below Will heard a frantic “Will? Will? What-”
Will followed the dog down to greet Hannibal as well, keeping his vision lowered so he didn’t have to see whatever Hannibal was thinking, whatever he had done today in his free time, whatever was in the bags he was carrying.
“Will where did this dog come from?”
Cosmo panted happily, intoxicated by the fact that there was now not one but two humans.
“Just, just outside. He seemed like he needed a place to stay.”
Hannibal stepped back from the dog. “No. No you need to sleep. You need to adapt Will, and this dog will not help you. I’ll get rid of it tomorrow morning.”
“Uh- n-no.”
“You are sick Will, do you really think taking care of a dog will help?”
Will looked down at Cosmo, meandering through the kitchen, sweeping for anything left over. The house didn’t seem as threatening, his life shimmered a little on the edges. Dogs are inherently better than people, Will decided. “I’ve been sick for years Hannibal. I’m keeping Cosmo.”
“It has a name?”
Ignoring Hannibal, Will turned back to the stairs to go dwell in his room, Cosmo quick to follow him.
“Will? Will? Are we going to talk about this?”
“Nope.”
The wallpaper expanded and contracted, as if in response to some cosmic wave no one could really see. It manifested and rotted and got sick, the yellows varying and changing in a myriad of different hues and shades and values. Behind it all, the wendigo creeped- its antlers fashioned from human bone- bits of red still clinging to it. Its body a slick black like a burnt corpse, blackened skin clinging to the countless skeletal structure beneath. The wendigo pushed up against the wallpaper, seemingly screaming silently and trying to reach out to touch Will.
Will could do nothing but watch, wait for it’s grotesque hand to break through and smother him. He watched it press down on his lungs, his ribs suddenly in a great pain as if the wendigo was about to snap them. It kept pushing and pushing, the bone prodding into Will’s lungs, the air squeezed out from him. Will started to panic- the wendigo was going to crush him, bury him alive in its own flesh.
“Stop, stop.” He murmured. “Go away. Please.”, he pleaded.
The wendigo responded with a sound that cracked like a whip, hissed like a tea kettle, coddled like a mother’s tone. Then it pushed Will’s head into the the bed, a surface that was now hard and painful. It pushed so hard, his skull crushing now.
“No more. No more.” Will trembled and shook, his hands clenched in terror.
Cosmo brushed up against Will’s hand before jumping up onto the bed, taking a moment to settle himself at the foot of the bed, his body heat and stray-dog smell filtering through the sheets.
The wendigo left. The wallpaper was just wallpaper again. The dog snored, and Will went back to sleep.