Death Of Me (William Afton X Reader)

̷C̷̷h̷a̷̷p̷̷t̷̷e̷̷r̷ ̷T̷̷h̷̷i̷̷r̷̷t̷̷e̷̷e̷̷n̷

Putting your hair up with a few hairpins, you smiled faintly. Today felt peaceful. You weren’t tired or anxious, nor were you particularly enthusiastic—just... content. Like maybe, for once, today would actually be a pretty good day.

You’d already showered, brushed your teeth, and slipped into something comfortable: a simple black long-sleeve top and a pair of faded black jeans. Sure, the all-black ensemble might give off an edgy vibe, but you just felt relaxed. Comfortable. Maybe even prepared.

Reaching into the fridge, you snatched an Uncrustable, one you’d definitely swiped from the breakroom at work yesterday. No shame, just mild amusement. You unwrapped it as you grabbed your keys and phone, taking a bite as you headed out the door.

The early morning air greeted you, cool and crisp, laced with a light fog that clung to the streets. The faint glow of the rising sun painted the horizon in soft golds and pinks, the kind of scene that would make anyone feel optimistic. You started your car, music filling the silence as you drove through the sleepy streets toward Freddy’s.

Pulling into the parking lot, your eyes automatically landed on William’s car. It was parked in its usual spot, as it always was. Beside it sat Henry’s polished sedan, gleaming under the faint morning light. A small smirk tugged at your lips as you parked your scrappy Taurus right next to William’s. There was something amusing about the contrast.

You wondered, briefly, if they ever competed to see who would get there first. Henry’s sedan was always spotless, while William’s car had a more practical, no-nonsense air to it. Still, their cars seemed to mirror their owners: polished and dependable versus... reserved and enigmatic.

Shaking off the thought, you turned off the ignition and stepped out, heading inside. Freddy’s was quiet, the eerie stillness of an animatronic-free morning wrapping around you. You were earlier than usual, your feet carrying you instinctively toward the workshop. But just as you passed by Henry and William’s office, you slowed.

The door was ajar. Voices drifted through the gap, low and threaded with something that made you pause. You didn’t mean to stop, but some part of you urged you to.

Henry’s voice was the first to filter through, calm but edged with concern.
“Will… Did you stay here all night again?”

There was a beat of silence before William’s voice followed, groggy and low. “Yeah—must’ve lost track of time…”

You froze. William sounded different. His usual sharpness was dulled, his tone thick with exhaustion. It was strange, hearing him like this. For a moment, you tried to brush off the odd flutter in your chest his sleep-roughened voice caused.

Henry’s response came quickly, tinged with frustration.
“Right… lost track of time. You’ve been doing that a lot. Makes me wonder how often you did that when I was… well, y’know.”

His voice tightened, and you felt the weight of something unspoken hanging in the air.

William sighed, the sound heavy. “A couple of times. Nothing to be concerned about, Henry.”

But Henry didn’t let it go. “William. I know you. I’ve known you for far too long for you to think you can bullshit me. I can see what you’re doing to yourself, and as your friend, I hate to see you like this.”

There was a chuckle from William, dry and forced. “Henry, you’re a good friend, but I assure you, I’m fine.”

You frowned, leaning closer to the door. There was a lightness to William’s tone that surprised you. He sounded... softer. Not the sharp, calculating man you were used to. It made you wonder how long they’d been friends for Henry to see through him so easily. Long enough to call him "Will" with such ease, long enough to know when he was lying.