The Fall of the Aftons

157: Michael Afton

"Why have you been ignoring me?" Noah asked as he took his normal spot next to Michael at the lunch table, setting his tray of food down. "Did something happen? Is something wrong?"

Michael closed the book he was reading, setting it down. "U-Um... You... You know how I had to leave early on Friday? Because Henry's sister came to pick me up?"

"Yeah, I remember. Why do you ask?" he asked quietly.

Michael looked down, sniffling softly. "Henry's dead," he whispered, his voice shaking.

"Crap, Michael," Noah muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What are you going to do now? Are you going back to the Center?"

He shook his head, wiping the tears from his eyes before they started to fall. "No, we're staying at our house for now. Since William is still declared missing, we'd go to foster care right now, and I'm trying to avoid that. So we're staying at our house."

"Michael, that's a terrible idea and you know it."

"Jen didn't tell the police that Henry's dead. We've got time. Hopefully, we'll be lucky and they won't find his body until I turn eighteen next year."

"Michael, listen to yourself! You're going to get in serious trouble if you go through with this plan. Just tell the police that Henry is dead and go into the system, my dad's registered to be a foster parent, he can care for you and Elizabeth!"

"I'm not telling the police that Henry is dead."

"Well, why the hell not?"

"Because Henry committed suicide, okay?!" he exclaimed, his voice cracking. "He programmed one of the old endoskeletons to stab him straight through his damned heart! Do you know how bad that will be for the business? It's gonna be a mess trying to fix whatever damage that drama will cause, and I've already got enough on my plate—taking care of Beth, running Fazbear Enterprise, managing both of the restaurants, handling all of the missing kid cases at Freddy's, and then dealing with not only my grief of everyone that's died but Beth's, too!"

Noah froze, staring at him in shock. "He killed himself with one of the Endos?"

He looked down, avoiding eye contact, but nodded his head slowly. "Yeah. He did," he mumbled, desperately trying not to cry. He sniffled, rubbing his eyes. "I don't have t-time for this. I have homework to do before I go home. I'll see you later." He got up from his chair and picked up his tray of food, starting to walk away.

"Michael, wait," Noah said, grabbing his wrist. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you, okay? I'm just worried about you. You constantly have so much shit going on, and I fear you're gonna work yourself to death."

"I know, I'm sorry. But I can't control what happens."

Noah sighed, letting go of him. "I know you can't. But... If you ever need anything, call me, okay?"

"I will. Don't worry. And, you know, things will get better eventually, right? What goes up must come down—certainly, it works the other way, too. What goes down must come up."

He laughed, dragging a hand down his face. "I would assume."

Michael smiled weakly. "Then things will be easier soon. They have to get better soon."

He was wrong.

Things only got worse.