"Who's This?"-[05/10/1985]

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"Y/n. You should leave before I walk in," William closed his eyes for a moment and sighed before he looked back to Y/n and continued, "I don't want you to get dragged into my homelife-bullshit."

𝙔/𝙣'𝙨 𝙋𝙊𝙑
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"Will. Please." His expression stayed unchanged and concerned. Your fist tightened, and your knuckles turned an off-white.

"William. You can't make me leave." Your voice was gentle but firm. You had to get it through to him. You wouldn't be leaving. Not yet. "Please." He sounded desperate.

It seemed he didn't want you to have to deal with the drama in his homelife. You were technically a part of it, though! His wife thought he was cheating on her with you and such.

You may not have known him for long, but you knew he wouldn't take your advice without you being a bit pushy.

He needed to get rid of the toxic people in his life!

He couldn't be a pushover forever. It wasn't like you wanted to wriggle your way into his business and latch on like some sort of parasite.

You weren't here for mere entertainment. You were here for your friend's best interest, and you weren't going to leave until he saw how horrible his relationship with his wife- No. With Clara was.

She didn't deserve that title. Marriage is based off of trust and she was the filthiest bitch you've ever heard of.

"William I'm not leaving. If she thinks you're cheating on her with me, let's let her know I'm not a 'threat' to your 'relationship'." You said sternly.

He let out a shallow sigh and mumbled out something like, "You're damn persistent, aren't you" underneath his breath. "Fine." A proud smile came onto your face.

William pulled out his keys and pushed them into the lock. He twisted them and then pulled them out, opening the door. He gave it a light nudge and walked in, you quickly following suit.

You two walked a short while and into the kitchen. "What are we gonna do? Is Clara even here?" You asked.

"No, I don't think so. She might be out with friends again. Micheal shouldn't be home. He has school. He gets out at-" William was cut off by footsteps.

"Dad?" Michael's voice was quiet and groggy, and his eyes bloodshot like he'd been crying. "Mike? Shouldn't you be at school?" William questioned. "I didn't go because mom wouldn't take me.." Micheal responded.

"That's fine, Michael. It's not your fault. Have you eaten?" Mike shook his head. "Okay," He walked over and ruffled Mikes hair. He then continued, "I'll make you something, m'kay?" The boy nodded.

𝓦𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓪𝓶'𝓼 𝓟𝓞𝓥
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He made his way to the kitchen and opened the fridge. He pulled out the wet ingredients for the waffles he was making.

He then went to the pantry and pulled out the flour, sugar, and baking powder. He put the vanilla extract, eggs, milk, and now melted butter into the bowl and mixed them all together.

He then slowly sifted the flour into the bowl and mixed again. He then repeated that with the sugar. Finally, he spooned in the baking powder and stirred.

He reached his hand out and grabbed the waffle maker. He opened it and poured the batter in and closed it. He repeated that two more times and put the waffles on a plate, then he pulled out a pan and some oil.

Y/n walked into the room and leaned against the counter, quietly watching William's swift movements as he was making his son food. "You really care about him, huh?" William nodded, somehow knowing about Y/n's presence even before they spoke.

He grabbed two more eggs and placed them on the counter. "Do you want any food?" William asked. "Nah, I'm good." William made a noise of understanding while placing the pan on the stove and pouring some oil in it. He grabbed one of the eggs and cracked it into the oil. He then pulled open a drawer, taking out a spatula.

Then William took the spatula and, in one swift flick of his wrist, flipped the fried egg. After a few more minutes of it cooking, he put salt and pepper on it and moved it to a plate.
He repeated that with the other one. Then he went to the toaster and put two pieces of toast in it.

You honestly didn't know what you were expecting. He obviously knew his way around the kitchen. He literally works in the restaurant business! Not to mention the fact that he has a family.

"Mike! Your food's almost done." After a few minutes, he sighed. "Would you mind watching the toast while I go get him?" You shook your head, "Nah, I don't mind at all."

"Thanks." He then exited the room.

𝓦𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓪𝓶'𝓼 𝓟𝓞𝓥
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William was walking past the front door when he heard it open. "William?" It was Clara. William stopped. "Why are you here?" Clara said in a condescending tone.

"Because I bought this damned house. The real question is, why weren't you here?" William questioned. "And why isn't Micheal at school when it's your job to take him?" He was pissed.

She can do whatever the fuck she wants to inconvenience him, but when it's his son; hell no. He looked her up and down. "Now get out of my face." She took a step back then walked around him.

Goddamnit. She's a real pain in the ass. William turned and walked up the stairs. "Mike! Your food's done. It's on the kitchen counter." William half-yelled. "Okay!" Mike emerged from his room. "Come on." William and Michael walked down the steps and to the kitchen.

"Your mother's home, so if she bothers you at all, just let me know." Micheal nodded. He picked up his plate and walked into the dining room. He sat there and ate for a bit before William came and sat in front of him. "Dad?" Michael asked.

"Yes?" William asked gently. He didn't want to sound mad and hurt his son's feelings. "Who's that?" He asked, pointing to Y/n, who was still in the kitchen, now with a glass of water.
"A good friend of mine," William told him. "

"Their name is Y/n." Mike made a noise of understanding. "Where's mom?" Mike asked.

"I couldn't tell you for sure. Most likely in our room. Why?" William counter questioned. "Just wondering." William hummed a short response.

After Micheal finished eating, he got up and rinsed off his plate.

𝙔/𝙣'𝙨 𝙋𝙊𝙑
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Mike walked into the kitchen and cleaned his plate, setting by the sink. "Hey, Y/n. It's nice to meet you." Mike greeted.

"Likewise." You responded in a nonchalant tone. "How long have you known my dad?" Mike asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Like a month or so. Why?" He shrugged. "I was just wondering."

The rooms temperature suddenly felt like it dropped a few degrees. "Mom." Micheal said with a scowl.

You turned to look behind you. Your expression soured. "Clara." Clara looked confused.

"Who the hell are you, and why are you in my house?" It was less of a question and more of a demand for answers.

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