Work Text:
Sunday, June 23, 1986. 10:24PM
“You’re moving out?”
Michael stares at him from across the dinner table. The air is thick with the effect of William’s cold, unwelcoming stare.
William stares back, his formerly blue eyes pierce through him with disdain. It’s not indifference, which he thinks he would’ve liked better to be honest, but it’s not the reaction he was hoping for. It’s just the reaction he knew he was going to get.
“Answer the question Michael.” he orders him, his deep voice booms across the room. It was weird, no matter how quietly he spoke, everyone always listened to him. Everyone except Uncle Henry.
He swallows thickly, forcing himself to meet his father’s eyes again. “I mean… yeah, I’m 18 and I was talking to Uncle Henry-”
“You’re still talking to Henry?” he interrupts and Michael internally curses. He forgot how much William hated the man.
“Just a few times,” Michael says, trying to keep his father in a decent mood, “We passed each other on the street and he said hi and talked to me and I mentioned that I was planning on moving out so he found me a cheap place to stay near the college I’m going to.”
William tilts his head, his expression is unreadable which doesn’t make Michael feel any better. Because when his expression is unreadable, it means he feels… hurt? No, disobeyed. He doesn’t think that William’s capable of feeling things beside disdain towards his son. “You told Henry before you told me? Your own father?”
“It was only last week- It’s not like that-!” Michael attempts but William cuts him off again.
“How could you do this to me?” he asks and Michael cringes internally, his stomach turning. “Is… he more important to you than I am? After all I’ve done for you this is how you repay me?”
Don’t fucking try to gaslight me.
But he is, and Michael’s falling for it no matter how much he reminds himself that his words weren't true.
His mouth twists. “Please father," he pleads, "Can’t we just talk about this normally for once?”
William’s eyes flash as his expression hardens. Michael’s lips press together uncomfortably.
“I’m leaving in two days.” he trails, still trying to maintain eye-contact. He doesn’t want one of his last interactions with him to be pathetic and sad. His pride wouldn’t recover from it. He just wants this one thing. “I just… wanted to give you a heads-up.”
Surprisingly, William nods slowly, and Michael almost thinks that he’d leave it like that. It’s not too unbelievable for a child to move out when they’re 18, he thinks. And it’s not like William would want him to stay anyway, right?
And maybe a small part of him wishes his father would want him to stay. A tiny, childish voice in the back of his head.
“Why are you leaving?” William asks, and Michael’s grip on his fork tightens.
To get away from you, he wants to stay but he doesn’t.
“It’s closer to the college I’m going to,” he tells him instead with a weak smile, “Shorter commute, more business opportunities around there, more people too…” He looks back at him, “Kinda just want to see more of the world I guess.”
“Are you coming back?”
Never in my life.
“For the holidays, sure.” Michael offers, “I’m going to be busy every other day though so… yeah.”
“You’re not going to leave me?”
Michael’s smile tightens. “Of course not.”
He’s lying - and William, a man that can pull Michael’s emotions to pieces with just a glance at his body language, knows it.
“You are.” he accuses, “You’re not coming back are you?”
“What?” Michael asks, his eyebrows raising up as his lips part in surprise, “I said I was coming back just now father!”
“Don’t talk back to me Michael.” he snaps, his voice raising as he glares at him with a terrifying, inculpatory gaze.
“I’m not-!”
“I said don’t fucking talk back to me!” he shouts, standing up and Michael falls quiet, his eyes widening as his fork bends around his grip. William’s rage was always sudden, it was quick, and most of the time, it wasn’t sharp.
This is not most of the time, apparently.
Michael feels like a little kid and not a legal adult under his father’s withering stare. His heartbeat quickens, and the palm of his hands is covered in sweat.
“After all I’ve done for you, you’re just going to fucking go?!” William yells. “After I took care of you and your siblings and put a goddamn roof over your head you’re just going to leave me?!”
That’s your job as a parent jackass. Michael’s thick brown brows furrow as he watches his father tower over him. They’re the same height but Michael’s still sitting on the chair, his legs won’t move on their own. He’s always been like this. At least Evan runs when his father gets angry. Elizabeth would get angry back but her voice would remain calm. Michael on the other hand just froze.
It was pathetic. Aftons don’t cry. (He’s not sure if he wants to be one anyway)
William runs a hand through his hair, “Fuck, you’re supposed to take over the business.”
“What?” Michael gasps, he didn’t mean to say anything. “I have to go to college Father, I can’t just stay here with just a highschool diploma!”
“Shut the fuck up Michael.” William glares at him, “You are my son and you are to do as you are told.”
“I don’t have to anymore.” He doesn’t know what he’s saying - the words just come out of his mouth without thought, it’s a reactive response. “I’m an adult now, you can’t just order me around anymore.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about, I’m protecting you!”
“Like how you protected Elizabeth?” he shouts in retaliation, standing up, and fucking god he’s crying now, “Mamá? Or Evan?”
“You killed your brother.” he snaps back and Michael lets an involuntary choked noise from his mouth, “All I was trying to do was protect him and you crushed his fucking skull in!”
Michael stares at him, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. He collects his thoughts enough for a quiet, but still clear answer. “You told me to scare him, to keep him away from the animatronics.”
“I told you to scare him not murder him!” William shouts. “It’s your fault Evan died, everythings that happened has always been your fault.”
“Are you blaming all this on me?” Michael asks in astonishment at his nerve, “Fucking god man.” he mutters, running his hand through his air.
“Did you just swear at me?” William seethes.
He looks at him in disdain, his cheeks red and blotchy, and lets a breath out of his mouth, “I don’t fucking care anymore.”
“What did you just say?”
“You know I truly wanted to do this smoothly,” Michael snaps, his voice dripping with fake sweetness, “I would've forgotten everything for you. I was ready to forgive you for everything you’ve done to fuck up my life.”
“You have gotten the perfect little sheltered life.” William tells him and he’s just about ready to clock him in the face because what the fuck is he talking about?
“Are you fucking serious right now?” he questions in indignation, “You left every single fucking day to work on your fucking robots. You never talked to us and when you did, it was always because we weren’t good enough for you. You cared more about your business than your own children. You made me raise two fucking kids all alone the second Mamá died and you’re fucking tell me that I had a good life?”
William glares at him, leaning over the table and Michael eyes him warily. “You’ve had such a good life compared to mine Michael, I’ve been through hell-”
“What about me?” he asks, or sobs, he really can't tell with the tears streaking down his cheeks, “Did you ever even care about me? I was eleven when she died. Charlie died, Sammy was taken away from Uncle Henry, Elizabeth went missing two years later and then Evan-” he stops abruptly, not even able to say the next words.
It’s silent for a moment as Michael catches his breath, then he meets his eyes with a glare. “All I ever wanted was for you to love me, you know? I was fine with dealing with Lizzie and Ev. I was fine with being home alone. I was fine with all the shit you pulled. I just wanted you to be a fucking father for once in my life.”
William looks at him, brows furrowed, face red, his breath coming out hard and heavy.
“Get the fuck out of my house Michael.”
Michael stares at him, teary eyes and all.
“Stop crying and get out of my fucking house right now.”
His lips tighten. With a final look, he turns around and climbs up the stairs to his room. His bags were already packed before-hand so he doesn’t take long to go back downstairs. He looks back at William, his eyes dark and empty. He stares back at him.
Opening the door, he considers saying goodbye to him, but he doesn’t. His father doesn’t deserve that.
It’s pouring rain, the moon is high in the sky and he’s soaked to the bone in seconds. He feels too numb to have it affect him. He walks down the sidewalk he’s been on since he was a baby. Every single thing in this neighbourhood has been the same for as long as he could remember. Every corner has a memory. Every building has a story behind it. It was once comforting, but as he trudged down the path like a robot breaking down, the atmosphere was suffocating.
He finds his feet moving down a familiar old path. A path he’s been down every day until he was 9. A time when everyone was happy, when everything was fine. The sidewalk is cracked and muddy but it's still the same one that he ran down when Charlie died 9 years ago. It was the still the same one he carried Elizabeth up as she sobbed into his shoulder when she broke her ankle. It was the same one that he used to cover in chalk with Sammy and Charlie accompanying him.
He stands on the porch of Uncle Henry’s house and knocks weakly on the door. It opens and he's met with a scruffy brown beard and a man that was once a towering giant now looking up at him with a surprised expression.
“Michael?” he asks in concern as his soft, now sunken green eyes take in the state of him from his wet hair to his red skin and stuffy nose. “Michael my boy, are you alright?”
This part is engraved into his memory for years to come. He falls onto his shoulder, his bags falling onto the ground as he wraps his arms around Henry and rests his face into the crook of his neck. Warm, welcoming hands wind around his chest as Henry hugs him back in a tight, fatherly embrace. He doesn’t ask any questions, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even mention how bad he looks right now.
Michael stays there for a moment, and just sobs.