Work Text:
He was driving straight, thankfully.
It was a miracle he was. With the overstimulation he was giving himself, loud rock blaring in his radio, the bright headlights of his car, and the drinks in his system, he was seconds away from keeling over to find some peace. But he wouldn’t find peace there, he’d find his thoughts.
William drove aimlessly, staring at the empty carseat in his rearview mirror. He changed the radio channel. The song didn’t fit what he was thinking, it was twisting his mood.
The slower tune that came on didn’t help either. He turned off the radio to hear the drops of rain slam down on his windshield. After a while, he slowed down and turned off the main road.
It was instinct to, this was his workplace. William stopped at the end of the parking lot, about halfway filled with cars. He could guess a birthday party was happening even without a schedule. His car inched closer to the establishment, before his headlights swept over a young girl.
He stopped the car again. She was Henry’s little girl, Charlie.
Again, William glanced to the back of his car, before his eyes rested on the compartment at the front. He reached over to pull it open, a pair of gloves catching his attention first.
He felt his window to confirm it was cold outside. William then saw Charlie shivering to further prove it. She had looked back at his car a couple of times, William going unrecognized in the dark. He pulled the gloves over his thin and weathered hands. Only then did he come out of the car, needing a couple of moments to adjust to his feet on the ground.
All the while, looking at Charlie. She had her brown hair up in a bun that night, a simple twist. And though her father would always call her sunshine, she was stuck in the rain and reminding William of darker things. His inner voice, the honeyed one that lashed out so frequently, was always softer when he was drunk.
Drowned out, but still whispering. It was whispering of the rotten connections Charlie made, to the man and creator of his son’s death. She turned, sweeping her eyes over the landscape again. And William thought she must’ve known somehow.
It would be so easy to put his gloves to good use. To inflict Henry the same pain without dirtying his hands, if nobody would even notice his little girl stuck outside. His hands felt shaky yet tense at the same time. Mentally, they were around her neck, creating an invisible but bright link between the two. So bright that everything around them darkened. He could better focus on pushing every last breath out of her.
His chest hurt. The thought of going through with it burned him, like touching a stove burner, if she resisted too much, he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to go through with it. Convicted for nothing, he feared. It would be a shame.
He squeezed his hands into fists, perhaps to simulate the feeling as he thought it over. But he couldn’t think well, his voice washed out. Instinct brought him closer instead, but his drunkenness had led him to stumble.
Seconds enough for the front door to open. If he hadn’t hesitated, he would have done it. He shivered as the boy, quite a bit older than Charlie, let her inside. The boy extended the offer to William, keeping the door wide open for him.
The restaurant, though his stomach turned at the familiar smells, was very warm tonight. It was a basic urge for warmth that turned him away from violent thoughts, turning to Charlie. She waved with a widespread hand and said, “Hi, Mr. Afton.”
A kid her age quickly bounced back from pain and discomfort, she wasn’t shivering anymore knowing she was safe. William wished he were the same. He waved back, but stayed silent.
“Did you want to see my daddy?” Charlie asked, naive in the distance William kept from her. The distance he was keeping from Henry as well. If he had self-control, he would’ve shaken his head. But nodding seemed easier, nodding didn’t need an explanation.
She helped him look around the small pizzeria for her father. Most of the looking was done by her, as William was glancing at the decorations. The dolls made out of paper plates, faces drawn on them by children. He walked away from her, following the line of dolls until the end.
A paper plate doll with blue streamer legs, with wide blue eyes, a red nose, and a smile to top it off. William didn’t need to turn the doll over, he knew the name written on the back already. His younger son’s.
He used to be able to hide his expressions, but an influenced frown came over his face. It didn’t remain for long. It was shocked away by the entrance of another man, coming down the hallway towards him. One Henry Emily, seeing him in front of essentially a late son’s relic.
It was pathetic. And he couldn’t have faced Henry with that look, only letting words stream through his ears. “William? You’re not supposed to be here.” When Henry touched his arm, William jerked it away. How sensitive to rejection he was when not sober, that he couldn’t stand to be outside the pizzeria. Neither could he stand to be inside. He was somewhere in between, rotting in the walls.
“I know,” William used his voice, his cracked voice that worked for a moment before hiccuping. “Your daughter…” He paused frequently between words, keeping himself steadied, “I found her outside. Keep an eye on her, this world’s not a safe place.”
Henry nodded, but he wasn’t too worried. Pushing off William’s anxieties like this, he sometimes wondered how much it would break Henry if he violated this trust. But that was a terrible thought. “She’s fine, William,” he said, “She has friends who watch out for her.”
And when an angry look flashed across William’s face, Henry felt the guilt of saying such a careless thing. Once upon a time, a father could trust an older brother to care for his younger. He placed a hand on William’s shoulder again, suspecting that when his anger boiled over, they would need to be away from where children were playing.
This time, William didn’t resist, and he was brought to the office they shared in the early morning before the restaurant would open. William would be on the phone, ordering supplies. Henry was the one who roamed the restaurant. He would try to inform his staff of their duties, usually failing to get across a clear message. Usually rambling on about the weather or some other inane thing.
If there was one place William felt safe, it was this office for its steady routine. “How… have you been handling things alone, hm?” William asked, a broken tone that let poison drip through.
“Well…” Henry debated with himself on providing a truth, or something other than that, “Things have been hectic without you, I admit.” It never went silent in the room, there was always a low hum from the generator and fan. Henry shook his head, smoothing back his hair and mumbling, “But we’re okay. We’ll be ready for you to come back when you are.”
“I’m ready,” William said. Blank blue eyes locked onto Henry. “I have other kids at home, Henry. I’m going to work tomorrow, and you know damn well you won’t keep me home.”
Though Henry could’ve told him anything else, he was close enough to say, “You look like a wreck. Have you been drinking? Did you drive yourself here?” As he kept talking, he became the wreck he accused William of being, his hand shaking as he took it away from the other man’s shoulder.
“I made it here fine,” William said. He was seconds away from collapsing, needing to sit down and needing to hide how his legs felt like they could fold in themselves a million times over. And likewise, Henry sat down too, rolling his chair close to William’s.
Henry sighed. If only to get through whatever wall William had built and disguised as pride, he grabbed the other’s hands, “So you did drink. Look, I know you want to just… move past everything that’s happened. You want to forget things.”
William kicked the other’s chair to push him away, muttering, “I want to forget nothing, don’t put fucking words in my mouth.” With the other pushed away, he lifted one of his legs and put it in the chair, wrapping his arms around it. “I want to come back and do my job, all right?”
“William, you know I’m making sure you’re still getting paid. You can take all the time you want,” Henry paused and waited for another outburst, a relieved exhale leaving when none did, “You look terrible, and I’m allowed to say that as your friend.” He rolled himself closer to William in his chair, his hand moving under William’s arm to lift it. His other hand brushed over the top of it while he murmured, “You’re thinner. Have you been eating?”
Like clockwork, William tried to nod again, but his entire face twitched. And tears fell down from his eyes, building up from when he first saw Charlie outside. Before that, it was numb. Another reminder that anything of Henry’s still inflicted raw and stinging pain. To Henry though, all he could possibly think was that he’s never seen his friend cry before.
“Hey,” Henry said, much softer. When it was this quiet, he couldn’t keep his clear tone, slipping into a drawl as he mumbled, “I’m sorry. I’m pushing you with these questions. C’mere.”
The two of them both came to the conclusion that their proximity was still too little, that they needed to be closer. So Henry’s hands naturally rested on William’s arms, ready to lift him into his lap. Hugging him just as friends would do. William felt comforted for a moment, looking up and down and realizing how small he was compared to his friend. Or, he thought, his vision was so meddled with he couldn’t even tell the true size of things.
“Talk to me,” Henry suddenly said, sending shivers across William’s entire body. It was a welcoming tone, but both of those men knew well that a stern tone welcomed them more, inviting them to speak.
William hesitated, which wasn’t a surprise. Perhaps it was a good thing, even in Henry’s eyes. He gave the man in his lap the time he needed to think and to scrutinize himself. It was strange watching William cry, he left his tears to be and let them fall. He didn’t lift his hands to wipe them away. Henry watched the tracks on the other’s face glisten under the flickering lights of the office before he interpreted the signal, brushing his hand over William’s face.
William leaned into the touch, Henry’s calloused fingers bringing a little warmth into his frigid body. His cheeks were ice cold. It was common of them to argue over the office temperature, it was never perfect. Too cold for Henry, too hot for William. But this time he turned off the fan. Because William had wet, still dripping hair, signaling he had let the rain pelt him for minutes on end. Letting himself run this cold, and for what reason? Henry never thought to ask, but knew his old friend was strict on himself.
He didn’t have a blanket. Henry didn’t have anything in his possessions that could help William, not at this point.
In a rough voice, William asked, “Let me stay over tonight?”
Of course he had said yes. Anything William asked in that position, he would’ve granted him anything. Henry looked in the mirror, seeing the fading blush on his face. By noticing their position, he admitted to himself how close he had let himself come to William. When William was grieving, no less.
They didn’t ever talk about sleeping arrangements. There wasn’t talk when Henry slipped his arm over William’s resting form, their hands meeting and holding one another. It felt right, like many things did in their friendship. He squeezed William’s hand before closing his eyes.
It took seconds for William to decide that he had in fact been uncomfortable the whole time. He pulled away, and while Henry’s body felt cold, Henry didn’t see it as a rejection. He let out a sigh, the breath stopped though before it fully escaped. It was almost too short to notice, but there was a kiss pleasantly tingling against Henry’s lips.
By a drunken William, of course. That complicated things. Not for now though, thankfully. William smiled a gentle smile as he stood from the bed, knowing where to find Henry’s telephone.
He dialed his home number, waiting a minute for one of his children to pick up. It didn’t take much to guess they would try to pull an all-nighter with him away.
William greeted his eldest son on the phone in a drowsy voice. Rather than worrying about the example he was setting, he asked that Michael could please remember to wake his brother and sister for school the next morning.