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William closed his front door roughly and hoped that it didn’t wake up Elizabeth. The other two people they shared the house with wouldn’t move to investigate if they had heard.
William would’ve moved past to shower away the sweat and weight the day brought him, but he paused when he saw Michael passed out on the couch. Michael, his eldest and most unpredictable child. The cause of death for his youngest.
Michael clearly hadn’t been handling his grief well, seeing that he had a still open cut across his palm (presumably from a broken plate William spied through the kitchen Michael hadn’t bothered to clean) and the empty bottle of some alcohol William had lying around somewhere.
Of course, William was angry at Michael, but punishment wouldn’t do him much. (Michael was already punishing himself.) William could honestly direct his anger at a lot of people; Michael’s friends for letting him go through that the stupid prank, Henry for distracting him long enough the kids got onto the stage, himself for letting them out of his sight.
Shaking himself out of his thoughts, William huffed a bit and wandered into his workshop where he had rubbing alcohol stored. After all, you can’t work with robotics and not expect to get cut at least once. He grabbed a cloth from the kitchen and stepped back to Michael’s unconscious body.
He rolled the teenagers sleeve up to get a better look at the cut on his hand. William hesitated and grumbles under his breath as he continued rolling the sleeve down, revealing many deep, straight cuts that just barely seemed to have stopped bleeding.
Well, he couldn’t say he was surprised. To kill someone, even accidentally, does weigh on the mind of a person with human decency. Something it appeared William didn’t have. William was not gentle with the rubbing alcohol, and Michael woke with a start, spitting out a curse.
“That hurts!” He whined, attempting to stand too fast and collapsing back on the couch.
William kept a tough enough grip on Michael’s arm to pull the teenager back should he fight again, but he just sunk into the couch and let William do whatever with his arm.
“It wouldn’t hurt so much if you’d cleaned this properly,” William replied, purposely dabbing the cloth on the cuts a bit too hard to make a point. Michael scrunched his nose but didn’t complain again.
They sat in silence for a moment, Michael watching his father dab at the bloody cuts with an equally bloody rag through half-lidded eyes.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered.
“So, you’ve said,” William replied.
“It was an accident,” Michael added.
“You’ve said that too.”
Michael went silent again. William would’ve given almost anything to figure out what was going on in his brain.
“Do you hate me?”
William locks up almost immediately at the question. It makes Michael flinch and lowers whatever hope he might’ve had. William blinks and pulls back, staring at Michael.
“I don’t hate you.” William began slowly. He considered his words carefully. Whilst what he said was true, he doubted Michael believed it. “I am angry and mourning.” He cringed.
“I see you’re not one for emotions,” Michael comments sarcastically, and if William sees the tears in his eyes, he doesn’t comment on it.
“Well, emotions are your mothers forté,” William admitted and was honestly a little glad when Michael chuckled a bit.
The pair fell into silence again as Michael watches with mild interest as William clean the wounds on his arms and wraps them up carefully in some spare bandage found in the bathroom.
William hesitated, considering. “The cuts on your arms,” he starts, and Michael freezes. “You have scars there. I’m not going to ask, because you’re not going to tell me, but I want you to know you can come to me for comfort. I’m not the best, but I’m here.” Michael’s nodding slowly.
William can tell he’s already decided – Fuck, NO.
“I love you, Michael.” He finishes.
Michael seems genuinely taken aback, to begin with, and dabs at the tear threatening to fall from his eyes. “Yeah,” he croaked. “Love you too, old man.”
William watched Michael slip into his room before heading to the bathroom. He wouldn’t have said those words if he knew what William had done…