Work Text:
The blood dripped on the floor with each note on the piano. It has been a while since he had tampered with it. However he has been regular with tempering with himself.
Scars on his hands and thighs are the proof of it.
The new ones from which the stream flows will be the last of it though. One notion in his life he could clearly support.
In these final moments Will finds himself longing for a hug. But the only companions who shared such a form of love with Will, are given away to Alana for the foreseeable future.
He stands up. Stepping towards his work place. Where his fishing hooks came to be. Lays a spare of them, the one he wanted to share with Abigail.
At the desk he also finds his glasses.
Picks them up, smearing the fresh blood upon the lenses. Making them opaque.
With a swift turn he smashes them on the trail of blood left behind him.
Shattered glass making the blood stand out more with its shine under the moonlight.
The action caused him to take a heavy breath or two. But the pause in the moment didn't break his resolve.
He took a turn towards the exit. Bare feet on the cold floorboard.
Being in nothing but his undershirt and briefs, the cold wind drags up on his open cuts, leaving a painful shiver down his body. Will relish in it.
Determined in his cause he walks and walks. Walking on the wet cold grass numbing his feet. Breaths become fog, the tip of his nose turns pink, complimenting the blood on the ground.
He reaches the lake.
For the last time he turns around and looks at his house, observing it to be a boat sailing on a quiet sea. Just like he told Hannibal, he finds himself at peace.
Keeping his eye on the sight on the boat, he slowly but surely becomes one with the water.
Nothing in sight now, he exhales his last breath, letting the water reach his lows.
His body struggles in vain and he lets it. Letting the animal instincts run before they give into the salty sting of water in every pore of his.
Vision blurry but his mind finally clear. As he wades into the quiet of the stream.