Here's a small writing piece I made of my William. I tried to keep it as true to the confusing lore as possible as I can, hopefully that shows!
(Small TW for inferred child death, smoking/alcohol and general angst shit!)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"What are we going to do now, Will?"
William Afton was drinking his third glass of a generous filling of Black Velvet whiskey mixed with bitters. He was sitting in his makeshift throne of an office desk in his study.
He rubbed his eyes, burning of stress and sorrow. It had already been a long night already. His eyes said 'sleep' but he was going to be damned if he slept easy tonight.
Just another glass will do. He can handle another glass. He was a grown man.
"Will," the voice repeated, becoming more clear and familiar.
He jolted up like he received an electric shock. He looked at the man who was standing next to him, having a glass of some other liquor he couldn't make out. He calmed down, giving a slight glare.
"The Hell you jabbering about?" William interrupted roughly, slamming his hand against the wooden desk as he got up. He looked pissed.
The man raised his arms in silence, backing away as if he prepared for these situations years in advance.
"And don't call me Will."
The man lowered his head, swallowing a lump in his throat as he clenched his fist to control its shaking. "Sorry... But there's a dire situation an-"
"I know there's a dire situation, Henry. I'm not fucking stupid." William was shouting now, downing down the glass like it was water.
Henry looked worried. "I know you're not but I don't want to lose our business!" He said, holding up a newspaper article featuring their restuarant from William's desk in front of William's face.
"Fuck, I want you to figure something out like you always do, damn it!" Henry slightly raised his voice, getting slightly frustrated.
William's angry presence was silenced for a second and gave a tiny smile as if a tiny puppy made a loud yap at him. He sat back down and leaned back, placing his feet on the desk "Don't you bark orders at me," William's voice was condescending and playful.
"I'm sorry." Henry quietened down, dropping the paper in the ground.
William made a smug grin, grabbing his cigar case from his coat's pocket. He lit the cigar and took a large drag, sighing.
"We are never going to financially recover from this."
"I know, I'm not stupid."
"Shut up, Henry!" He hissed sharply. "I am so sick and tired of you," He pointed his cigar right at him maliciously.
"You are nothing but a waste of my time, I don't even see the point of having you as a business partner."
Henry remained silent. William continued with his tired rant. "I should just put my cigar out between your eyes! Huh?! How would you like that?!?"
"I'm sorry about your kid, Will." Henry spoke up, letting out a heavy, shuddering sigh.
Will took a long heavy pause, not even bothering to take another drag from his cigar. When the ash pile began to get larger underneath his fingers, he blinked painfully. His eyes looked red.
"You did." Will's voice cracked, sounding like it was about to break into pure, unfiltered rage. Henry looked terrified but still kept his professional composure. Will took a sharp breath.
"I want those robots out. Get rid of them. Hell, destroy them, I don't care. I'll make replacements."
"What about the incident?" Henry stammered.
"There was no incident. We are just wiping the slate clean." William said this slowly as if he was talking to a child.
"Do as I say, damn it!" He threw the empty glass at him aggressively, making a close shot at Henry's head. Henry nodded as he ran out the door, closing it quickly.
The atmosphere was so silent that William could hear his panicked steps run down the hall. He just sat there, gripping the desk with angered hands.
Suddenly, he bursted into angry silent tears, covering his face. Nothing but the quiet, still air comforted him as he muttered to himself, sniffling.
He calmed down after a good cry, wiping his red eyes as he store into space.
"Oh, Timothy..." he made a heavy sigh, beginning to feel the always present empty void in his heart alone.
