𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨 | William Afton x Reader

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣

content warning - read with caution or don't read at all if you are uncomfortable with the following topics: grief and nsfw.

   After a lot of internal debate, you decided you weren't going to bring up the blueprints with Vincent. He was going through enough already. You just hoped he wouldn't take his pain out on... well. You tried not to think about it.

   "Vincent?" You called, taking off your jacket and dropping it on the couch as you stepped closer to his room. "I'm home."

   You didn't expect him to come out and greet you, so it came as no surprise when you didn't get a response. With luck, he was sleeping.

   You made your way to his bedroom door and chose not to knock before you entered. You didn't think it'd result in anything productive - he hadn't spoken to you in anything more than a soft murmur for the last day or so; it wasn't like he'd cheerily call: 'Come in!'

   When you entered, he looked the same as ever - seemingly asleep with his back to you. When the door creaked, though, he turned, and something like relief flooded his gaze. His eyes fell closed.  A small sigh left his lips.

   There was no way he had moved or done anything since you left. A pang of pure sadness stabbed at your heart. How was it possible for him to be like this? He was so unlike himself, and it hurt you. Quietly, you said:

   "Hey."

   "Y/N." He murmured in response. You couldn't think of anything to say until something hit you.

   "Vincent, you haven't had anything to eat or drink since yesterday. If I brought you something, would you promise to have at least some of it?"

   His eyes flicked open, and he looked away from you. Slowly, he nodded. You weren't sure if you believed him.

   "Hey," You said again, approaching him and kneeling by the side of the bed. "Promise promise."

   You stuck your pinky out and made eye contact with him. This time, he looked right back at you, and even propped himself up a little, sighing as he went.

   And you locked pinkies.

   On days where you could, you usually tried to stay with Vincent, which he appreciated. One of the longest sentences you'd heard from him in that time period was that you made him feel less like dead weight, and he wasn't sure how to feel about it.

   On most days, though, you were out giving interviews. It became harder and harder to explain to people why they weren't getting calls back even if they were really good candidates. You didn't want to have a conversation about business and hiring with Vincent when he was in this mindset. It was hard enough to get him to talk to you about literally anything else.

   He never left his room, but you always brought him something to eat. He was out of bed more often, though - usually to shower or just pace. Still, though, it had been weeks, and you were certain he didn't leave that room once. You wished you could be there for him more, but you had to take care of his company. You'd also managed to pick up a small job on the side - just for income while Circus Baby's Pizza World was still in the works.

   It was exhausting, but you didn't care. Weeks had passed, and Vincent still wasn't better. That was what you cared about.

   "How's moving going?" You asked Nicole on the phone. You heard her sigh.

   "It's so tiring, my god... But totally worth it for the cool new restaurant!"

   You tried to smile and say something peppy, but all that came out was a deflated: