Lethean (William Afton X Reader)

彡[ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 62: ʟᴀꜱᴛ]彡

+++++ William's POV +++++

Clara's friends decided to stay much longer, and their children already grew bored with the party. Henry and the others were having their own conversation by the kitchen where the pizza boxes were located. Michael hasn't come down from his room after the candle blew, and his sister tried to cheer him up by bringing the presents to him. None of us knew what was in his mind, and his mother didn't bother to know. I'm not too sure if I could call this party a success.

I went to the kitchen to drink something and noticed Neil spacing out. His friends waved their hands in front of his face, yet he remained unresponsive. Henry somehow shared the same expression, and it left me wondering what was wrong with them. It has been 4 hours since this celebration started.

"Shit, now there's two of them," Vanessa moped. "Seriously, are you guys going through something?"

"Surely there's something," Luis thought and nudged the out-of-touch brunette. "Missing your girl already eh?"

Neil twitched, but no answer. He only blinked once, and those blues lacked the shines of life; the same glimmers that disappear when one experiences extreme grief or loss. That state of his remained constant as he entered here with the air of gloom. Linnea- or should I say (Y/N), left earlier than the rest, but we never got a chance to talk. 

The events last night were a blur, but I remember her being in the bedroom with me, and I melted to her touch. I believe she was... crying? Did she tell me the reason? Damnit, I can't remember.

"Hey Mr. Afton, you don't have something to do with this, eh?" The blonde glared.

"Oh sure, blame your boss again." I rolled my eyes. I had my own problems to take care of, one of them being Michael's current condition. I excused myself, passing by the nearly-drunk women, and proceeded upstairs to check up on my son. After several knocks on his door, I opened it and found him sitting on the floor with a clouded figure next to him. The white silhouette's hand was on Michael's crouched back and whispered something in his ear. Unlike before, this figure was only a white apparition, with black tar-like tears running down its face, but now, I could see clearly who it was. So this is how she saw my son before...

To my surprise, Michael turned around, tears filling up his blues.

"Dad?" he said. He can hear him? Or it was a mere coincidence?

I quietly closed the door and settled on the carpeted floors. Michael surrounded himself with unwrapped presents such as new pairs of shoes, t-shirts, and snacks. However, he hardly paid attention to these, and was set on what he was holding in his trembling hands; a red sketchbook and a full set of colored pencils. Though his room was filled with highly-detailed drawings, nobody knew he had that talent unless you visit his room.

"Who gifted you that?" I asked.

".... (Y/N) did," he said weakly. "She said I was talented, and I could probably make something out of it..."

"Hm... She isn't lying," I replied. "You inherited my talent of course, and it would be no surprise if you began designing your own animatronics."

The boy frowned, "Why are you here...?" he asked.

"To ask what's wrong. You haven't eaten anything, and it's clear that you've been bawling your eyes out. Did something happen down there?"

His fingers formed into weak fists as he drew his knees further into his chest. Chris was by his side, looking away. Surely they're both hiding something and if it's critical, then I have to know what it is. However, pushing him won't be a good option. I have to let him tell me at his own pace. That way, it wouldn't worsen his current melancholic state.