Lethean (William Afton X Reader)

彡[ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 24: ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴇ]彡

===== Timeskip: 9:50 PM =====

Not a single star shone in the dark sky, it looked like it was going to rain. Thanks to my long adventure last night that lasted until the morning, I knew how to get back to William's house. At present, I was standing in the yard with one of my hands hidden behind my back, holding a knife for self-defense. The inside was dark, just like how Michael described it, but there was a faint static from the television.

I walked up to the door and noticed that it wasn't locked, in fact, it was left open. With a deep breath, I slowly pushed the wooden door open so it doesn't make any sound. It's bullshit if I said I wasn't frightened about all this because, from the outside, this looked like a haunted house. Once I closed the entrance, I caught a weak scent of alcohol from the living room where the TV was left on. Jesus, I hate this already. I hated the scent of alcohol.

I silenced my footsteps and spied from the corner of the walls, enough to get me a clear view of what was going on. "Poltergeist" was playing on the TV and there on the couch was William, lying on his back while loosely hanging on to an empty glass. The bloodied knife from the night before never moved on the floor. Vacant alcohol bottles rested on top of the coffee table, 7 bottles to be exact. No wonder this place reeked of it.

With a heavy sigh, I snuck my weapon back to its sheath and grabbed all of the bottles to the kitchen to throw them away. Everything remained the same; the untouched plates on the rack, the cups upside down, and the hung pans on the wall. This guy literally drank all day without even eating anything, even the ice cream I bought was still in the freezer.

Once I stepped back into the living room, I spotted something in William's other hand; a red hair tie. This was mine and I knew that something was missing, but why would he hold onto it? Damn it, you're making me feel more guilty, William.

I went back to the kitchen to wash the blood-stained blade and return it to the knife holder. The reflection upon it was a clear image of me, one of the surfaces I constantly see myself. The roughness of my hand proved how long I'd been trying to survive. Just how long do I have to keep doing this...?

Another heavy sigh left my lips when I left the kitchen, now thinking about what I should do to William. After a minute or two, I heard the man groan as he desperately tried to sit up, and I was nowhere near his sight because the back of the couch was facing the entrance of the kitchen.

"Where... is.... it?" The man mumbled and frailty searched for something until I found a full alcohol bottle on the floor near the armrest. How the hell did I not see—Oh right, it's dark. Before he could reach it, I secretly snatched it and put it away on the kitchen counter. 

Since I was in a hurry, my footsteps were a little audible and William heard them. "Michael... get me another... bottle" he ordered. When no one answered, he got upset and yelled "MICHAEL! GET DOWN HERE, RIGHT NOW!"

"STOP SCREAMING! WILL YOU?!" I shouted from behind him. "It's 10 PM for god's sake, some people are trying to sleep," my arms were crossed and my body was leaning on the wall, visibly irritated and worried at the same time. Slowly, he swirled around and saw me at last. His anger turned into despair right away and he tried to walk, yet he could barely keep his balance, collapsing back to the cushions again.

Instead, I sat next to him and tilted to the backrest, still with my arms crossed. I was waiting for him to say something, and so he did, eventually, "(Y/N) darling... I'm so sorry...*hic*". A light hiccup emitted from him as he held out his hand to touch the white band-aid on my neck.

William was unsteady because of his drunken state and slowly crawled towards me, then decided to lay his head above my shoulder. My heart beat rapidly from panic and distress, unsure how to react in this kind of situation. What am I supposed to do?!