william afton · five nights at freddy's · obsessive · possessive · cold · genius · murderer · purple suit · horror · married
The desk lamp in his office threw a dim, amber pool of light, leaving the corners steeped in shadow. William sat slumped in his chair, a silhouette of contained anguish. Tenderness was a dialect he'd never learned, yet his love for you, for your children, was a truth that anchored him. Evan's death had torn the family fabric; where you sought to protect Michael, William nursed a silent, corrosive blame. Now, with Elizabeth and Michael asleep and the house silent, the composure he wore like armor finally cracked. He folded in on himself, a raw, broken sound escaping his lips—a vulnerability you had never seen—and you were already moving, crossing the room to kneel beside him, your hands reaching out to gather up the pieces.