The Fall of the Aftons

007: William Afton

William was chopping onions when Henry unlocked his front door and walked into the house. He had given Henry his spare key a couple of days after he moved in many years ago. Sure, he didn't always care for how Henry often dropped by unannounced, but it remained of the best decisions he'd made.

"Whatcha making?" Henry asked as he sat on one of the three stools tucked underneath the counter of the kitchen island. "I'd never thought I'd say this about your terrible cooking skills, but it smells delicious."

"You're hilarious," William replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes. He reached up and wiped his teary eyes with his long sleeve, but the tears from the onions' pungent aroma returned in an instant. "I'm making spaghetti and meatballs, but the sauce is homemade."

"Sounds good, Willy," his friend teased, then laughed to himself. William's cheeks burned from embarrassment. He hated it when people called him that.

"I told you this earlier: don't call me that," he muttered as he pretended to check the timer next to the stove so Henry couldn't see his flushed cheeks. 

Henry chuckled, then sighed. William heard his stool skid across the shiny tile, and within a few moments, he wrapped himself around William. Just as William was about to ask him what he was doing, he felt Henry's whole body shake as he sobbed quietly. He turned himself around in Henry's tight embrace and hugged him back.

"Henry?" he asked quietly after his friend finally started to settle down some. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Henry laughed forcefully. "You were right, Will." He laughed again as his hands unintentionally clawed into William's back. "You always are."

"What're you talking about?"

Henry didn't answer. He just clung to William. When the timer for the food rang, William led him to the couch and pried him off. He sank into the brown leather cushions and curled himself into a small ball, not even taking up half of a cushion. William went back into the kitchen, finished cooking their dinner, prepared their plates, sprinkled shredded parmesan cheese on Henry's, and brought the food over to the couch. He handed Henry his plate, sat on the couch with his legs crossed, and started to eat. Henry took a single bite of food, then set the plate down on the coffee table and rested his head on William's shoulder. 

"You had warned me about her," Henry mumbled glumly. "You had warned me that she was the type of girl who would cheat."

"Mrs. Emily?" William asked. He always felt guilty since he could never remember Henry's wife's name, but Henry never seemed to notice. If he did notice, he didn't mention it. He assumedly didn't care.

"Mmhmm. And you know what? She did. I caught her last week."

William stopped eating and rested his plate on the arm of the couch. "That was a joke! She had always cheated on the boys she dated in high school, remember? It wasn't meant to be an actual warning."

Henry chuckled unhappily, a sad sound that William never wanted to hear again. "Oh well. What's been done is done. You can't change the past," Henry mumbled.

"You have to tell her," he instructed, his voice strained with a sudden pure anger at his childhood best friend's wife. "You need to tell her to stop. You're married, Henry! You two have an amazing love for each other! You can't let this happen anymore."

"I... I know. I'm still thinking about how to tell her, though."

The two men sighed in unison, but for different reasons. William was livid at Henry's stupid, idiotic wife. Henry was emotionally drained, probably from penting his emotions up all day.

William hesitantly continued to eat, holding his plate up in the air when Henry decided to move his head from his shoulder to his lap. Henry stretched his body across the couch, his lap as his pillow. The two had both been told on numerous occasions times that it was odd, to put it nicely, how they were clingy with each other. Honestly, William liked it. He liked it a lot more than he would ever admit. He enjoyed the comfort he felt from his one and only friend, a sort of security and peace he had never felt from anyone before.

Henry's soft snores filled the room and William knew he had fallen asleep on his lap. He looked so amazingly peaceful as he slept. William suddenly felt overprotective of his friend. He wanted to keep Henry from the pain of his wife cheating on him.

~ ~ ~

William woke up from the loud ringing of the landline telephone. He carefully lifted Henry off of his lap and went to the phone, picking it up and putting it to his ear. "You're speaking to William Afton, how may I help you?" he said habitually through a long yawn.

"Good morning, Mister Afton. You are the younger brother of Lillith Olivia Afton, yes?" someone with an unrecognizable voice asked. His tone was polite and sincere.

William rubbed the drowsiness from his eyes and yawned again. "That's me. Why do you ask?"

"We have your nephew here with us at the police station. Lillith passed away yesterday night, and it says in his files that you are Terrance's godfather."

"Wait. Lilly died?" he clarified, his legs threatening to give way. "How? When? She was healthy!"

"She died last night in her sleep. We don't know how. We've yet to perform an autopsy. But since you are Terrance's legal godfather, you're his guardian."

The next few minutes after that were a blur. He had a hard time differentiating panic and depression and anger and a million other emotions that he couldn't identify. He barely registered how he hit the ground when his legs finally gave way. Barely registered the phone being taken from his hands. Barely registered the heavy downpour of rain as Henry led him to his car, shoved him in the passenger seat, and drove him to the police station.