Carnage : 1983 | William afton x reader |

Missed Traces.- 11

May 6th, 1983

The rain had left the streets slick, reflecting the orange haze of streetlights. My apartment was quiet—too quiet—and every creak of the floorboard made my stomach twist. I was halfway through reviewing my notes from the diner case when a low rumble of a car engine stopped me cold.

I didn't need to check the clock. I knew who it was.

A knock at the door, soft but deliberate. I hesitated. My heart raced—not just from anticipation, but from something else, something I wasn't ready to admit. Finally, I opened it.

William leaned casually against his car, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly messy. He smiled—controlled, smooth

I couldn't help but smile.

there was a spark in his eyes that didn't quite match the calm surface. I noticed it immediately: the slight flush on his cheeks, the restless energy under his polished exterior.

"Ready?" he asked. Calm, but his voice carried just enough warmth to make me aware of it.

"I... think so," I said, stepping back, trying to hide how nervous I actually felt. "You sure you want to do this? The old diner... it's not exactly inviting."

He laughed softly, that rich, effortless sound that made me forget the tension in my shoulders for just a moment. "I've never been one to shy away from a little darkness," he said. "Besides, you're better with patterns than anyone I know. I just... help."

I bit my lip, looking him over. Something about the way he said it—so casual, yet deliberate—made my pulse quicken. "Help... or supervise?" I teased lightly, though my voice shook a little.

He leaned closer, just enough to catch the edge of my shoulder. "Maybe a little of both," he said, smiling, but there was a softness behind it, a hint of something personal.

I let out a small laugh, nervous and awkward. "Well, I suppose I'll allow it... for now."

The ride to the diner was mostly quiet. Rain drummed softly on the roof of his car, the wipers swishing rhythmically. I kept sneaking glances at him—his sharp jawline softened in the dim light, the way he focused on the road like it was the only thing in the world he cared about. My stomach tightened each time his hand brushed against mine reaching for the gear shift, accidental or not—I wasn't sure.

"So," I started, breaking the silence, trying to act casual, "why are you helping me? You could stay out of this entirely."

His eyes flicked toward me, playful. "And miss all the fun? Not a chance." He smirked, tapping the dashboard lightly. "Besides, someone has to make sure you don't get lost in there—or eaten by a rogue animatronic."

I snorted, despite myself. "Very reassuring."

"You love it," he said without missing a beat, and I felt my cheeks heat up.

The diner appeared, dark and hollow, its once-bright facade dulled by age and neglect. I swallowed hard, the air thick with dust and memory.

"You've been here before," I said softly, trying to mask my nerves.

"More times than I'd care to admit," he replied, stepping aside to let me through. "But it's better with company this time." His eyes lingered on me, warm, teasing—but something deeper hid beneath it.

Inside, the stale air hit me immediately—rust, mildew, and a faint trace of fried food from decades ago. Shadows hugged the corners of the room, and the animatronics loomed, frozen mid-performance, their painted smiles unnervingly perfect.

"I don't even know what I'm looking for," I confessed, voice low, trying not to let him hear how jittery I actually felt. "Last night... I saw patterns, but it's like they're hiding themselves."