Work Text:
Michael carries a plate down the hall to his father's room. The morning sun shines, but all the curtains in the house are drawn. William prefers it that way. He knocks once on the door, and as usual, there is no reply. He opens the door, tension leaving his body when he sees his father laying in bed, flipping through TV channels. He's always worried that one day, he'll come up here and find him dead.
"Father, I brought you breakfast."
"You know I won't eat it."
He frowns. William hardly eats anymore, having grown pale and thin. "I know, Father." He sets down the plate of pancakes and eggs on the nightstand. "Have you any new injuries?"
"Nothing."
It's a lie thats told quite frequently. Michael sighs. He wishes his father would make things at least a bit easier and tell the truth. Lying makes him think that Father doesn't love him. But Father does love him. He has to. They burried Elizabeth together, he was trusted to keep the accident with Baby a secret, they're all eachother has left.
Father loves him.
Michael takes William's hand and turns it over, frowning when he sees some new slices on his skin. "You worry me."
"I know I do, but I've assured you, I'm not going anywhere." William still won't look him in the eyes.
It's an indirect way of saying he won't try to kill himself. Michael knows that William tends to try to go back on that promise when he's drunk. The truth is he doesn't know what he'd do without his father. They're the only two Aftons left, star-crossed and forever linked. "I will get the first aid kit out and bandage these. I would hate for them to get infected."
William says nothing.
Michael makes his way to the bathroom, taking out the container he always uses to fix up his dad's injuries. As he brings the box from the cabinet, he catches a glimpse of himself from the mirror. He looks into his own eyes and inspects himself. He really is the spitting image of William. Same grey eyes, same long, thin nose, same unkempt hair. The only thing he's missing is the springlock scars.
He was a baby when his father got them, but William tends to gets angered when it's brought up, so Michael doesn't know the full story of how they came to be. For the longest time, as far as he knew, his father had simply always had them. Uncle Henry had let it slip that it was a springlock failure but he never went into any more detail about it. Since then, Michael had been fascinated by them.
He thinks they're pretty. He almost wishes he had identical scars to match his father's. Once he had brought that up. William had beat him with a beer bottle and then disappeared into his office for the rest of the day.
But it's okay. Michael is sure that it was done out of love.
He carries the box of medical supplies back to his father's room, delicately setting them on the bed before taking William's arm. He gently wipes at the cuts with a cotton ball and rubbing alcohol. He can feel William's eyes on him, inspecting him. Michael feels oddly comforted by it, though. He loves any attention his father gives him. Ever since he was little, all he wanted was to be seen by William, and now that they're all that remains in eachothers lives, William is forced to give Michael that attention.
Michael gently covers the now disinfected cuts with bandaids, smiling a little at William. "May I sit with you?" He asks every day, and usually the answer is no.
"Do whatever you want, boy."
Michael's face lights up and he walks to the other side of the bed, sitting down next to his dad. He knows by now not to touch him or hug him, he's gotten enough beatings to learn his lesson there. He sits a safe distance away, criss cross on the bed.
He's sixteen now, and he knows his almost childlike need for his father shouldn't be there. All William has done to him is abuse him. But he can't help it, all he's ever known was William. The one time he tried branching off, him and his friends had killed his little brother. After the Bite of '83, he had isolated himself again. Nobody wanted to be friends with him anyways, not after they read the headlines in the paper that detailed the accident. After they lost Lizzie too, Michael had become a shut-in just like his father, only ever leaving home to run errands for him. Hell, earlier this year he had dropped out of high school. Now he spends all his time caring for William, both of them spiraling together.
He really can't imagine a life alone.
Sometimes when William is asleep, Michael will sneak into his room and lay down on the bed next to him. The only time William hugs him is when he's asleep and mistakes Michael for a pillow.
William doesn't beat him as much anymore, and for some reason that makes him sad. The beatings are the only time that Michael has his dad's full attention.
"Would you quit looking at me like that," William snaps.
"Of course, Father." Michael averts his eyes, looking instead at his lap.
"Run along, now. Your presence is rather upsetting to me." He stares at his son with nothing but malice.
"I'm sorry," Michael stands from the bed and grabs the medical supplies, giving his father a kiss on the cheek before returning the supplies to the bathroom where they belong.
Father doesn't spend much time with him, but it's okay.
Father loves him.
Father needs him.
And Michael needs his Father.