Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

William set the table for two.

For him and Henry.

A glass of water and a glass of wine for them both. A plate of spaghetti bolognese, a recipe William had spent hours perfecting. A candle and 9 yellow roses (Henry's favourite).

William himself was dressed in a fine suit he had rented for £65. He tucked one of the smaller roses into the left chest pocket of the suit, and in the right sat a crimson hankerchief that had come with the suit. 

William felt proud of his work. 

It was perfect.

Then the doorbell to the small apartment rang. William quickly adjusted the rose in his left pocket and rushed to the door. 

Henry stood on the other side. He wore a plain grey shirt and khaki cargo trousers. He looked surprised to see William dressed up so...

Nicely.

"Hey Will! You're dressed up... nicely. You got a date or something later? Want me to be your wingman?"

William's hopeful expression faltered for a second before a shaky smile formed on his lips. 

"C- come inside!" He said, stepping aside to let Henry in. There was a short corridor before it turned to the dining table, so Henry hadn't seen it. Yet. 

William practically skipped on ahead, his twitchy smile growing wider at the thought of Henry seeing the fruits of his labour.

When Henry saw the dinner table, his cheery expression faltered for a second.

"Wow! The lucky lady you're seeing must be a keeper if you're treating her like this." He said. 

William blinked. It was a small, ordinary action but it sent shivers down Henry's spine. 

"No." William said, slowly, as if explaining something complicated to a child. "This is for us. Me and you."

Henry had feared as much. He felt sweat, hot, wet and sticky, trickle down his now damp backside. "Listen, man, I appreciate the thought, really, I do, but I really gotta-"

"But I spent ages on this." William said. "For you."

Henry had begun slowly backing away by this point. He was scared, if he had to be honest. William was acting a lot stranger than normal, and it was really creeping him out. 

Before he could make a run for it, William reached out and gripped Henry's arm with a surprising strength, his thin, calloused fingers digging into Henry's forearm. 

"Just sit down. The food I spent forever on will get cold." William said. His voice had a pleading tone to it. 

---

William was talking about something. Work, or his ex- wife's latest social media post. Henry felt as if he was listening to him from underwater, his ears ringing. 

The spaghetti was good, Henry had to admit. Just the way he liked it. He gulped down another forkful as William leaned forwards in his chair.

"What do you want to talk about?" He asked. "I'm all ears."

Henry stayed silent for a moment. What was he supposed to say? Something simple like how he had hated the recent heatwave, or ask him what was going on?

"Uh... well there was this show I watched recently.." 

William nodded eagerly. "Mhm?"

"And I was really enjoying it. It was about some psychological experiment, and like the patients start, like, mutating and turning aggressive, and the main character - one of the doctors - found out like it was all to do with some cult the company he worked for was part of? I didn't get that far though, because Emma said that it wasn't interesting." Henry said. 

"Hm. I like the sound of it. If you want to watch it with me, I'll be happy to!" William smiled. 

"...right." Henry said. "Well, I really have to go now, if you'll-"

"Come on. Like another.. another half hour? Please?" William pleaded. 

Just then, Henry's phone rang. He got it out of his pocket. 

'Wife' is calling you.

"Right. I gotta go. Emma wants me to go to the supermarket on the way back, and I don't want to be the guy who comes in at 4 in the morning looking for milk. I'll... I'll come back tomorrow, alright?" Henry said, a nervous promise. 

William nodded reluctantly. "Alright. Drive safe." 

---

William lay in bed, happier than he had been the night before. He thought about Henry's promise, and smiled. He'd come over again tomorrow. Maybe they could watch that show together. That'd be nice. 

He had prepared this room for Henry. He had framed drawings of them together (since he didn't have to many photos of them that weren't group ones or old college ones). He had spent all of his savings on the queen sized bed and soft, bouncy mattress. The bedsheets were the perfect plump and fluffiness, the pillows fluffed, and on Henry's side, he had left a special note. 

One day, Henry would read it and smile and tell William that it was the most beautiful thing he had ever read. 

He would want to recreate the drawings so they could frame actual photos, and would collapse onto the bed, saying how soft and plump and cosy it was. How he couldn't wait for them to cuddle up under it, and lay his pretty head on the freshly plumped pillows. 

William smiled at the thought, and fell asleep with his head full of images of him and Henry's future life together. 

Chapter Text

William sat back at his desk, clicking a ballpoint pencil. He had some bills to go over, and he should really do them soon, but he was too exhausted. He blinked slowly, a yawn escaping his mouth. It had been a quiet day, only one party, but it was a Thursday, so it wasn't to be unexpected.

He was about to get up and perhaps walk around when suddenly the office door burst open and in stormed Henry, the door slamming loudly behind him. He looked mad, his eye blazing furiously from behind his glasses. William felt his stomach curdle. 

"William." Henry snarled. "We need to have a talk. 

Henry never called him William. 

Now he was scared. 

William swallowed the lump in his throat. "What about, Henry?"

"Don't play games with me, William." Henry spat. "I know what you did. I know you killed Charlie."

The already sparse colour drained from William's face, leaving him a deathly shade of white. "I... I have no idea what you're talking abo-"

"Save it, Afton. You know, I expected better of you. You petty, deceitful, lying-" Henry inhaled sharply, calming himself. "One thing. Why? Why Charlie? You didn't hate her, did you?"

William did, but it wasn't Charlie's fault. She had her mothers eyes, and it angered him. She wasted time Henry could have spent with him. She was in the way, that was all. William couldn't tell Henry that though. 

William began to weave his excuse. "I was... I was drunk, and angry. She was the first person I saw, and-" 

"Tell me the real reason. Or I swear to God I'm going to break EVERY BONE IN YOUR FUCKING BODY!" Henry yelled the last part, spittle flying everywhere. William didn't flinch. 

Henry saw calculation, cold and sly. But William was close to crying. "I... it wasn't her fault. She... she had her mother's eyes, Hen." William said. 

"And? What the FUCK DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH ANYTHING?" Henry spat again. "Emily died a year before Charlotte did anyway. Don't tell me you wanted me to loose the last person I had left?"

"... not quite." 

"The fuck you mean 'not quite'?" Henry grunted. 

"... I thought that, after Emily died, you would... your attention would be more on me. But instead it went to Charlotte, and I-" William almost choked on his own words. 

Henry gestured for him to continue, and he did. "After Charlotte died... you went to me. And I got take care of you and... and it was... it was what I had wished for in the first place."

Henry's fists clenched on the table, and he stood up. He stalked around the table to where William was sat, and for one, beautiful second, William almost thought he was going to-

William was met with a hard fist in his face. Then one in his stomach. He doubled over in pain, a hand coming up to feel his aching nose, but only feeling blood and bone and mush. 

"So you did this all so you could cling to my side?" Henry snarled. "Pathetic. That's what you are. Pathetic little snivelling wrench. You don't deserve any of this."

William finally felt the tears come, and he let out a choked wail. "Did... did those months not mean anything to you, Henry?"

A month after Charlotte died, Henry began to self harm. One day, he called William saying he had cut too deep, but he didn't want to go to the hospital. William had sewn the wound on his wrist up and bandaged it, and taken care of him for perhaps another few months until Henry felt comfortable enough to leave. 

Henry was a heavy sleeper, so many a night William had crawled into the spare bedroom bed with him. He would wrap his own scrawny arms around Henry's large middle and bury his face in his neck. 

William would close his eyes and pretend that Henry was hugging him back. He would imagine Henry's firm, muscular arms around him, and he'd look up to see Henry smiling down at him, his brown eyes warm and filled with made up love. 

Some nights he'd kiss the sleeping man, on the neck or jaw or lips, and to William, those were the most beautiful nights of his life. 

He'd sit in restaurants on his own occasionally, and imagine he wasn't. That Henry was telling him a joke, his larger hand beneath William's calloused one.

He wanted that Henry with him now, not this Henry that hated him. He began to cry more. Sly, cold, clever William Afton, sobbing on the floor, nose dripping with blood, all because his work partner wouldn't show him the kindness he craved.

Henry scoffed. "You really are pathetic, aren't you? You really thought I'd care? That I'd love you? Your smarter than that, Afton."

William wiped a mix of tears and blood off his face. "But... I took care of you! I loved you! I did more than Emily ever did for you! All this? I did it so you could see me!"

Henry sneered. "God, how did I put up with you for so long. How did I call you my friend?"

William let out another pained wail. "Please Henry! I can make it up to you! I can make everything better, just give me a chanc-"

Henry ripped the bandage off his forearm. It was a symbol of how William had nurtured him back in that house, and Henry didn't want to be reminded of how he had trusted him enough to let him take care of him for 2 months. 

"You disgust me." He said, before turning on his heels and walking out, slamming the door behind him.

William watched as the man he loved left without another word, stealing his dreams of a life together with him.

Chapter Text

Two men sat on an old, stained couch. They were leaning into each other, heads pressed. Their hands were linked, gently, holding the others.

One was large and plump and hairy, like a bear, glasses perched on the end of his nose. His eyes were a warm brown, drooping at the ends slightly. His hair was a warm brown, but was loosing a battle against grey. 

The other was thin, his hands bony. His eyes were grey, intelligent, but in this moment looked sad. His hair was salt and pepper, and stubble messily coated his bony chin.

He had a ring on his finger. 

"This is it." The large one said. "I don't want it to be."

"I don't either." The thin one agreed. "But it has to be."

The large one's shoulders began to shake, his body wracked with silent sobs that made him look a lot smaller than he was. "Oh, dear." He said. "Do we really have to?"

The thin one nodded. "We do. They want us too. Otherwise bad things happen. Very bad things."

The large ones brown eyes seemed to droop further, giving the effect of a sad puppy. "But I don't want to."

"Me neither." The thin one agreed.

The large one thought for a second. "What if we run away? Away from all of this. From people who know us. We have savings. We could buy an apartment, and-"

"It's no use." The thin one said. "People would recognise us."

"Oh." The large one sniffed. 

The thin one wrapped his arms around the large one, holding him close. "We could find a way. I promise, my love."

The large one wrapped an arm around the thin one, holding him close like a child does with their favourite stuffed toy when they're upset. "Promise?". 

"I promise."

The ring was found in a trashbag a week later. The trashbag was found on the side of a dusty, barely used road. In that bag were clothes too. 

The two men weren't seen again. 

But that might not be a bad thing.