✨ghram crackers✨

chapter one

William Afton. The Purple Guy. That's what they called him nowadays.

He sighed, holding his head in his hand as he put his drink down.

It all began on June 26th of 1985. The missing children incident. After all these years, the memory still stuck with him, haunting his dreams, lurking behind every thought he had.

He laughed aloud in the darkness of his room, slumped at his desk. A hollow, brittle sound. It sounded nothing like he'd remembered. Who was he kidding? He couldn't even remember the last time he laughed.

The incident, after all, was connected to one of his most painful memories, but no matter how hard he tried, how much he drank, or how many pills he took he couldn't forget. Whatever. Pain was an old friend anyway. He thought back to the day it happened or tried to at least.

It was right after their breakup.

He really hadn't meant to do it.

He was just frustrated and angry; his emotions had gotten the better of him and his judgment. When he walked into Freddy Fazbears Pizzeria and he saw those young kids running around, having fun, being happy, he'd become envious that they didn't feel the way that he did. That he couldn't be like them. They hadn't felt heartbreak yet, so he decided he would put them out of their misery so that they wouldn't end up like him... or so that he wouldn't have to look at them.

He couldn't tell.

He didn't remember doing it either, the only memory he had was of him sitting in the dark, empty room, with the blood of five different kids on his hands, splattered across the walls and slowly spreading across the concrete. When he'd realized what had happened, he'd sprinted out of the building, down the streets, until he had reached the safety of his home. Then he cried.

He didn't do such things anymore. Especially over him.

He shouldn't be doing this. That jerk wasn't worth anything.

He felt a sharp pain in his chest, and for a moment thought he'd been stabbed again, then he realized it wasn't that kind of hurt. This was worse. He grabbed at his chest as if taking the knife out would make it hurt less, but there was no knife. He screwed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth from the agony he was suffering. 'Son of a bitch!' Then an image of his long-lost ex flashed in his head, and he immediately forced it out of his mind.

A few minutes passed, and the pain ebbed a bit. Just enough so that he could move again. 'I need another drink. Fuck this shit.' He got up and went to the kitchen, stumbling to the counter where he left the last bottle. Grabbing it and tilting it back, he chugged the last of what was in there and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. It had barely been a cup. Not nearly enough to erase the pain. Fuck. He only had a few dollars. Looks like he'd have to go visit his local bar again. He didn't bother cleaning up, just walked out the door and into the street, hardly feeling the cool night air as he made his way to the bar.

As he walked into the door and took a seat at the counter, he ordered a drink and sat in silence amidst all the music and talking around him. He got his drink, and sipped at it occasionally, making sure it lasted for a long time; it was the only drink he was able to buy. It was cheap, and he could clearly taste it, but it did the job.

"I see you're going through it too, huh?"

He looked to the seat next to him, where a man had sat down. He was wearing a rumpled green pinstripe suit jacket, his shirt was creased and there was a tie half around his neck. Long green gloves had been pushed down to around his elbows. There was purple under his eyes and he looked extremely tired. William paused before responding, wondering if he should be talking to him, but in the end, he said fuck it. What did he have to lose now? Besides, it probably wouldn't hurt.

"Hah- yeah." He chuckled faintly, remembering how it'd been before. "Crazy ass boyfriend I had, who I thought was the love of my life, broke up with me and- well, shit started going downhill from there. Asshole kept trying to ruin my life, and it worked. Now I'm here at least 3 times a week. You?"

The man next to him smiled lightly in bittersweet sympathy. "Same thing happened to me. Toxic boyfriend, toxic ex, just kept trying to come back in and wreck everything. What was your ex's name?"

"Dream," He said, his voice wavering. Had he not been drinking at the time, he was certain that he'd have collapsed, both emotionally and physically, but he still buried his head in his hands.

The man's eyes widened.

"Really? I- well- That's certainly interesting."

He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. "Heh. Tell me about it... My name's William. William Afton."

"Did you say, Afton? I think I've heard that name before, it sounds familiar." The man paused, rubbing his chin trying to think.

"Hehe, uh, have you? Well, that's funny hahaha." William chuckled nervously. 'Oh shit, does he know? How could he know? There's no way that news of the incident would reach so far out. Fucking shit what do I do??'

"Hmm... weren't you the co-founder of a company or something? Uhhh, damn, what was it? Fred's Pizza or something like that?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, haha. I was, actually. Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. It was shut down a couple of years ago though."

"Oh, sorry. The economy has been bad recently... I'm glad my factories are still going at least." 

"What do your factories make?"

"Thneeds."

William just stared, confusion twisting his face.

"A Thneed is a-fine-something-all-people-need. It's woven from the foliage of a Truffula Tree. It can be used for a lot of things by taking different forms and stuff."

His voice is tired, and he sounds like somebody who used to care before too much broke him.

William nods.

"You're that guy... the one-"

He tried to come up with the name but the alcohol was getting to his head.

"The Onceler- right?"

The man next to him just snorted. "Just call me O. That was a long time ago." He stood up. "Anyways it's getting pretty late, I've gotta head home. We should talk more, William."

William downed the rest of his drink and stood up as well. "Yes, we should. Meet me here at the bar tomorrow at, umm... 8-ish?"

"Sure."

Then the man had left.

As soon as William got home, he crawled into bed and just lay there, thinking about him.

That man had gone through the same shit that he had and ended up the same way too. He had found a kindred spirit in this rotten, godforsaken world. He'd never thought that he'd be able to open his heart to someone else ever again after Dream, but maybe... Maybe this time would be different. He would still have to be careful; you never know. But that man, The Onceler– no, O, seemed-

Something buzzed on the desk across the room, a blue glow lighting up the wall before it turned off. A second later, another notification lit up the screen of the beat-up phone.

He just stared at it, not bothering to get up as it kept buzzing. Probably just messages from Dream, he honestly didn't know why the number wasn't blocked.

Whatever. His eyes drifted back up to the ceiling as his thoughts strayed back to O. Tomorrow at eight.