The Cake

“I am positively sure I did nothing wrong!” Will raised his eyebrow and said nothing. “What?! Don’t you dare give me the silent treatment!” Frederick looked at the other man indignantly. “FYI, I have invented that!” That was the thing about Frederick Chilton. He couldn’t bear the silence — neither alone, nor with others. Will had to get used to his chatter which was a drastic change after the meaningful silence they used to share with Hannibal. At first, it was unnerving, but now he thought of the very same chatter as melodic accompaniment to their days, not unlike the birds singing or the leaves gently rustling in the trees. “Alright,” Will smirked and nodded at him. “You say you’re positively sure. How positive are you about that exactly?” “A hundred percent.” Chilton said confidently. Will’s smirk turned into a smile and he nodded. “Happy to hear that.” and he poured himself another cup of herbal tea Hannibal had left in the teapot before going for one of his famous spices hunts. They were currently staying in a small country in Europe that desperately wanted to be a European but was not, and it didn’t lack in beauty or friendly faces. People here were lazy and calm. Nature was stunning. You didn’t have to choose what you’d like to enjoy: mountains or the sea, because it was provided in both departments. This little country lacked spices. And, to be exact, it lacked the allspice. Hannibal, who took his pride in cooking more than in his drawings, became a restless hunter visiting the local markets, posh culinary shops and even villages close to one of the land borders which the little country had a lot. He was on one of his journeys when Frederick brought the cake back home. The cake he had ordered. And was going to pass it off to Hannibal as his own work. “Well…” it was Frederick who broke the silence. He was watching Will taking a sip from the cup and his beautiful green eyes darkened. “Maybe not a hundred percent… Maybe like eighty. So what? Eighty is good. Eighty is satisfactory!” “If you say so,” Will readily agreed. “I hate you sometimes!” Frederick bursted and crossed hands on his chest. “What’s wrong with a little white lie? It has never hurt anybody!” “I think I’d go out and buy some pop-corn.” “What? Why?” “No reason. I’ll just dig in a bowl of pop-corn while watching Hannibal’s face when you’ll be telling him that pearl of wisdom about a little white lie.” “Don’t you dare tell him that I bought the cake!” “I won’t have to. Freddy, come on…” “Don’t call me that!” “Okay. I am sorry. But I mean, come on. You know Hannibal. He would be able to tell just by the smell of it,” Will put the now empty cup back on the table, lowered his eyes and then suddenly looked at Frederick. His expression changed ever so slightly, as if a shadow passed over his face and stayed there, finding the depth of his eyes to dwell in. “I smell another person’s hands preparing the dough… you smell different, Frederick. You smell… tasty.” “Stop that,” Frederick startled and added. “I got it.” Will looked at his teacup and the darkness left. Frederick still couldn’t get used to that thing Will was able to do now almost effortlessly. He would become Hannibal to think like Hannibal… and sometimes Frederick thought that he would physically change into the other man they both loved. “I am sorry,” Will did look sad. “Let me help you, alright?” They baked the cake together, and though it didn’t look as good as the one Frederick had bought, this time they were both positively sure they had done nothing wrong.