Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Michael opened the door and stepped inside the parts and service room, intending to peek around for his missing toolbox, but instead surprised to see Jeremy knelt on the floor. He had his back turned, but his posture appeared perplexed. The blonde noticed Michael’s presence and turned to him as Michael leaned on the door frame with his arms crossed.  

“What are you doing in here?” Michael asked with a lighthearted smile. “You’re not a mechanic, are you?” He chuckled, looking down and noticing the toolbox he was searching for, as well as one of its tools in the palm of Jeremy’s hand.  

Jeremy scratched the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. No, I’m no mechanic, but I didn’t want to trouble you. I’ve been trying to take care of it myself but...” he glanced past his shoulder with a grimace, revealing to Michael an extra mangled mangle. “He’s been malfunctioning all morning,” he explained. “We have a party at 2 and I don’t even know where to start in fixing her. I would just leave them out of function for the day but the parents paid extra to make sure she would be there for the kids.”  

“Well, you’re in luck,” Michael grinned, walking past him and rummaging through the toolbox. “My father was a bit of an engineer himself, he taught me a few things and I picked up a few things.” Michael’s voice carried a tang of disgust within them.  

Michael examined mangle, who was at that point just a pile of parts rather than anything that was once an animatronic.  

“So, what’s she been doing? How is she malfunctioning?” He asked as he picked up and looked at certain parts, trying to find an indication of a physical malfunction, but it could’ve been within the system.  

“He won’t come apart anymore. Stick a piece to another and there’s no chance you’ll ever get them apart again,” he shrugged.  

“What have you tried?” He picked out an allen wrench from the toolbox but threw it back in.  

“Well, now I’m embarrassed to say,” he laughed. Michael gave him a playful side-eye. “I kind of just tried prying it off as hard as I could, with the help of a crowbar at certain times.”  

Michael drew a palm to his face with a shake of his head. “Nothing else?” He scoffed. “No oil or any kind of lubricant to try and loosen the bolts or something? Did you even use a proper tool?”  

“Okay, when you put it liked that it doesn’t make me look that good.”  

Pulling out a small can with a spray top, he began to coat mangle in a layer of clear liquid. He worked his way from the outside to all the crevices and joints that connected certain points. “Leave her like this for about 30 minutes, possibly an hour, and he’ll be good as new.” Michael tucked the small tin can back into the toolbox and stood up, wiping down the knees of his pants.  

Jeremy watched in amazement. “Wow, thanks, dude! Didn’t know it was that simple.”  

Michael pat Jeremy’s shoulder reassuringly, exiting the parts and service room and holding the door open for Jeremy to follow.  

The party of children arrived later that evening, and Jeremy was absolutely astonished when mangle came apart and together so easily as if she was new. But due to some systematic malfunctions and the possibility she could fall apart again, Michael stayed in the room with mangle so he could supervise the children playing with them. The last thing they would need would be a lawsuit.  

While Michael watched the children in Pirate Cove with mangle, Jeremy remained in the main party room, running the job as usual. The animatronics on stage sang and danced, and the sounds of children screaming with excitement filled the room.  

Phil remained in his office, offering to help since Michael had to stay in one room, but they denied his help, grateful for the offer.  

The loud giggles and screams of children rang in Michael’s ears. In all honesty, it made him miserable, they were just too damn loud. Kids filed in and out of the room, and at one point a pile of kids blocked mangle from Michael’s view entirely. But he only heard screams of laughter, which put him at ease. That was until a small girl ran up to him, a straight face, hinting at disappointment.  

“Excuse me, sir?” She tugged at his pant leg. He knelt down to her level and rested his arms on his thighs. “Can you fix her?” She sniffled, talking gently.  

“Fix who?” Michael questioned, speaking just as softly to match her tone. The girl pointed at the pile of children crowding mangle. He gave her a nod and stood up, beginning to approach the crowd of children. He got them to make a pathway for him and he got close enough to see her. “Oh, dear god...” he mumbled. He quickly shoved kids aside, first asking, then shouting at them. It worked far more effectively, especially when his shouts carried great urgency. However, the children believed it was a game, and revolved around mangle in a circle. He picked up mangle’s head, whose jaw was moving up and down in a biting motion, malfunctioning and unable to stop.  

The children began to try and crawl up Michael, trying to pull him to the ground. They giggled wildly as he shouted at them. It was a dangerous situation.  

As if on cue, Jeremy walked in to see the commotion. He noticed mangle’s malfunction and rushed over to Michael, trying to push through the ambush of kids.  

“Jeremy! Step back!” Michael exclaimed. “Just get these kids out of here!”  

“Give me the head! I’ll take care of it!”  

Jeremy leaned over and extended his arms out to take the head. At the exact same time, a little boy jumped on Michael’s arm as Michael attempted to pass the head to Jeremy. Michael dropped it, watching in shock as it flew overhead. Jeremy reached out to grab it but tripped over some random kid.  

“JEREMY!”  

A loud gruesome crunch echoed through the room, and everyone went dead silent. The sound of dripping blood was far too loud for Michael.  

Mangle had her teeth lodged deep into Jeremy’s skull, a single tooth through his right eye, but he still stared wide through his left. His body dropped to the floor with a great thud, a puddle of deep red pooling beneath him. Michael pushed everyone out of the way, falling to his knees beside Jeremy, his arms hovering over his body, unsure what to do. With no parents present, he had to be the one to call 911. He got up and grabbed a nearby phone, dialing the number and flagging down Phil from his office, getting him to assist him immediately.  

“911 what’s your emergency?”  

The world froze as Michael watched Phil rush to Jeremy’s side, the children running out of the room as they screamed. “He’s dead...” he whispered, his world fading to nothing as he knew Jeremy was gone.  

Chapter Text

I sat in my room, staring at the sparkling pink and purple liquid swirling inside of the syringe I held. I stared at it with intent. Intent to discover and experiment. Intent to make millions off of my discovery. All my hard work would pay off. My tense posture shifted into a relaxed slouch as if I was amused by such a situation.  

With a deep breath, I moved the needle up to my forearm, pressing the cold metal against my skin. With tingles of anticipation traveling up my spine, I watched as I slowly pressed the needle down, and it entered my vein. My breath shook as I injected myself with the sustenance, the glow showing through my skin as it flowed through my bloodstream.  

The feeling was at first abnormal. It did not feel as simple as something like an IV, no. This was different. It felt like pure energy and power running through my veins. However, that strong and confident feeling morphed into agonizing pain.  

That electric feeling I was experiencing became quite literal. White hot fire pumped from my heart out to the rest of my body, and I crumbled underneath such exertion. The syringe clattered to the floor as I ripped it from my arm, the rest of my body falling with it.  

My lungs ached as I practically stopped breathing. My heart felt like it was skipping multiple beats at a time, as if I was experiencing the beginning of cardiac arrest over and over again, without a visual ending. My once even breaths became heavy and fast. I grabbed my chest and gripped it tightly, not being able to breathe. I attempted to stand, but my knees buckled and I doubled over, gripping the edge of my wooden desk, all oxygen leaving my lungs as I vomited into my hand.  

Such loss of air resulted in the loss of my consciousness.  

When I woke, I was shaking violently, I could not stop or control myself, but due to the circumstance, I could not bring myself to my feet.  

I gasped desperately for air as if I was fighting for my life. How the hell did Vincent do it? I wondered, but it was not time for questions. I extended my trembling arm out to my chair, pulling it towards me and using every ounce of strength I had to pull myself onto it.  

I grabbed at the material on my chest, overcome with relief as I began to feel myself stabilize. By the time I came back to my senses, I realized my clothes had practically welded themselves to me from sweat.  

However, I finally realized it. I had survived. The remnant did not kill me. Although it damn well tried. My eyes darted around the room, and I grabbed a pair of scissors that sat on my desk without hesitation. Without thinking twice, I impaled myself in the stomach, twisting and turning the pair of scissors before ripping it from my torso.  

I blurted out a cough of blood, and I quickly covered my mouth to prevent my clothes from becoming tainted with red.  

Behind my hand, I grinned wildly. The pain in my body from such a stabbing was not present. I placed the scissors back on my desk with a clatter, and a breath of amazement followed.  

Lifting up my shirt, I stared at the wound. Besides the pool of blood it had formed around me and on my clothes, there was no real wound to be seen. It had been healed.  

I laughed to myself. I was unstoppable, I could continue my experiments without any interventions regarding my own health, and without the anxiety of death or prison.  

Chapter Text

Michael walked solemnly back home with a MacDonald's bag in one hand and sipping on a drink from the other. He called Henry about what he had seen that night, in fact, his eyes still stung against the cold air of the night due to the tears he cried. His eye bags were heavy and bold in contrast to the rest of his pale skin. He was nothing but tired. He hadn’t had the guts to go with Henry back to the basement, he left him to discover it on his own. He didn’t regret his choice.  

He didn’t regret his choice, up until he walked into his house. He set the greasy bag of food on the counter and searched the house. The door in the garage was closed and locked. His father had indeed been home. It was that thought that worried him the most. Did William happen to come home at the same time Henry was here? Did they run into each other? What if something happened to Henry?  

Michael pressed his hands to his eyes as he sunk against the cold concrete garage wall, trying to ignore his intrusive and anxious thoughts. ‘Henry is okay’ he thought to himself, repeating it over and over again. He did this until he realized it would get him nowhere. He stood up and walked back into the house, deciding to eat his meal and watch TV. His mind would be too overwhelmed if he tried to think too hard about what he’d seen.  

Unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy as he wished it was. William’s face floated across his mind constantly, interrupting his favorite show. It bugged him more than anything. It got to a certain point where he turned off the TV altogether, not wanting the image of his comfort show to be ruined by his father's face. He tried to think happy thoughts, about when he was younger. He thought about when he would play with Elizabeth and make CC laugh when he was just a baby, but these ‘happy thoughts’ only reminded him of what he was missing.  

Tears consumed his vision, streaming down his face and onto the burger he held beneath him. He dropped it onto the couch and stood abruptly. He couldn’t stand to be in his house any longer, he needed somewhere else to go.  

But where?  

.  

The miserable Michael walked to the nearest Walmart, searching the parking lot and letting out a heavy sigh of relief when he saw the ‘Love Bus’ at the farthest end of the lot. His walk turned into a jog as he was eager to see his uncle. He knew Vincent was not fully innocent when it came to his father, he knew Vincent helped William when he needed it, even if he knew what he was doing was wrong. Michael looked past this, knowing Vincent’s the kind of guy to stay true to his family no matter what.  

His knuckles made contact with the door and he knocked three times. Michael heard complaining from the other side, and the door opened shortly after.  

“Michael?” Vincent stared at his nephew in confusion, but his face became softer when he saw the boy's red eyes and dried tears along his face. He looked back at Scott, who walked up next to him.  

“Please, come inside,” Scott ushered him in, and they shut the door behind him.  

They sat down on the living room couch, Michael in the middle and Vincent and Scott on either side of him. “What brings you here kiddo?” Vincent asked in a lighthearted tone, although it was laced with worry.  

“Henry’s gone.”  

Michael spoke quickly and directly, addressing the reason he was so concerned without hesitation, but there was a lot more to the story than just Henry’s disappearance. Vincent and Scott waited to see if Michael had more to say. His hand moved to his back pocket and he placed a thin strip of paper on the coffee table in front of the couch. Scott grabbed it and held it to his face, his face dropped when he saw it. He faced it out to show Vincent.  

“A check, for 500,000 dollars,” Michael said, wiping a stray tear with his sleeve. “He left it for me.”  

“Michael, where is this coming from? What happened? Why did Henry leave?” Vincent put a hand on Michael’s shoulder and leaned in.  

“Fatha, he told me to go into the basement. He told me to look at his ‘research’. I learned everything. I didn’t know what to do so I called uncle Henry. But I couldn’t bear to see him how I was, so I left before he got there, and I came back to this,” Michael covered his face embarrassed by his returning cries, Scott comforted him while Vincent thought.  

“Mikey, I’m so sorry,” Vincent said, already accepting the guilt he was feeling. “I’m sorry you had to find out that way, I’m sorry about what you’ve been through these past few years, and I really wish I could help you.”  

“You’re... not going to help me?”  

“Nonono, I am going to help you Michael, but... I can’t make you unsee what you saw. You’ve been through a lot, and I promise to help you any way I can and I’ll do whatever you need.”  

Michael took deep breaths. “I’m sorry to lay such a big thing on you, I’m assuming you already knew about him from the way you’re reacting.”  

Vincent looked ashamed, and he was. He nodded slowly and Michael accepted that. “You don’t have to worry about anything Michael, we’re glad you came to us.”  

There was a moment of silence.  

“Michael,” Scott started. “Would you like to stay with us?”  

Sniffles and silent cries came from Michael’s clasped hands. “Would that be okay with you?”  

“Of course, you can stay as long as you need, we’ll take care of you.” Scott brought Michael into a hug and scowled at Vincent, upset at him. Vincent looked confused, but he just acted that way to save him the abundance of shame. He knew Scott never liked William or the fact that Vincent mindlessly followed his every move, and this was Scott’s way of saying ‘Look at what happened' or ‘Look what you contributed to’. Vincent felt horrible, but he wasn’t going to dwell on it, he was going to help William’s son and make sure he was safe. It was the least he could do.  

.  

The three of them were inside the Walmart, buying food, bedsheets, and any supplies Michael needed to stay with them. Michael argued that he could pick up his stuff from home, but Scott insisted to gift him some new stuff.  

They began to walk back to the Love Bus with bags in their hands and entered their home. Michael helped them unpack what they got and he set up his small bed in the space they had for him above the driver's seat. There was another knock on the door to the bus.  

Vincent groaned from the bathroom. “It’s probably Walmart security again, Mikey, would you mind convincing them to go away please?”  

Michael couldn’t help but crack a small smile. “Yeah, no problem.” He opened the door, and to his surprise, he saw his father. He was not the only one surprised, William was equally as shocked to see his son there.  

Vincent and Scott had never been a big part of Michael’s life, it didn’t make sense for Michael to be there when he barely knew the couple.  

Michael made a move to shut the door, but not in time for William to react. His surprise became anger, as he remembered the reason he was even at Vincent’s doorstep in the first place was because of Michael and his big mouth. He shoved his foot in the way of the door, ignoring the sting of pain. Michael stumbled back as the door was forced open. William made his way inside and grabbed his son by the collar of his purple sweater.  

“What the fock are you doing here? Huh?” He whispered, shaking him and inching closer to his face, practically seething.  

“I could ask you the same thing,” Michael stated, holding his ground.  

William stayed quiet, thinking to himself. Michael knew what he had done, he knew who he was, he knew where he was. He couldn’t let him get away.  

“It’s your fault I’m here. You thought it would be funny to go tell your precious ‘uncle’ what you’d seen. You’ve ruined my business! I have to find another way to finish what I started.”  

“You won’t even get close. I can destroy your life for good, and pray that no one will ever see your godforsaken face again,” he spat. “Fuck you.”  

William used his empty hand to wipe the spit from his face. “You won’t get the chance, not before I kill you and every damned bloke who knows. That’s assuming your little uncle Henry hasn’t already killed himself because of you.”  

Michael’s fearless posture completely shattered, and he was enveloped with fear as William reached for his back pocket, pulling out a pocket knife and switching it out to show the clean shiny blade, soon to be vandalized by his blood.  

“WILLIAM.”  

William halted suddenly and looked to his left, staring at Vincent and Scott. Vincent did not waste a single second to exchange even a single word, marching towards him and knocking the knife out of his hand. William pushed Vincent off him and made a dive for the knife on the floor, successfully grabbing it and attempting to stab Vincent as he lunged at him. With an incredibly lucky dodge, the knife only scraped his cheek. He held William down and grabbed his wrists, holding them away from him to avoid the knife. While he had him down, Scott returned from the kitchen he had gone to with a large kitchen knife. He knelt down and swung it right into William’s bicep, the only part of his body he had access to at that moment.  

A blood-curdling scream made everyone cover their ears. Vincent climbed off of William and took the pocket knife he had dropped. “MICHAEL! GRAB THE KNIFE!”  

Michael blinked through his horrified tears and grabbed the handle of the kitchen knife that was lodged in William’s right arm. The man writhed in pain, and it hurt Michael to see him like that, yet it gave him a hint of justice. He ripped the knife from his father’s arm, which called for another horrifying scream.  

Vincent left the knives with Scott and dragged William out of the bus, leaving him out on the floor of the parking lot to bleed. Vincent ran to the driver's seat and started the car, taking off for another parking lot much further away. William had taken it too far and had just lost Vincent’s trust for the rest of time.  

Michael was safe for the time being, but he would not be safe forever. His father had a way of escaping, and he had a way of coming back. He knew that this would not be the last time.  

Chapter Text

Those college days were over, and William has decided to pursue his talent to achieve his dream career. Not only would he soon be able to accomplish his dream, but he would also be doing it with his lifelong friend: Henry Emily. The two took time from their new lives and new families to work together and brainstorm their idea. What they wanted to do could be considered risky. An animatronic diner? In their time? It sounded near impossible, but William believed they could pull it off, and he would do anything to make sure it would happen.

On this specific day, it was William and Henry’s third week of beginning to build their ideal animatronic. Construction was difficult and complicated, and on their third week, they had only completed both legs. Today, they were beginning to create the torso. With minimal funding and time, they used scrap metal and anything they could get their hands on at fabric and hardware stores. This was only their first version; it was not going to be the best quality.

“Pass me the wrench,” said William, holding his hand out. Henry placed their largest wrench in his hand and continued working on his sector of the animatronic torso. “Thanks.”

They chatted with one another when one would take a break, or when they both would, or when they were doing something that didn’t take all their concentration. They both enjoyed their time together and appreciated one another. The feeling was mutual. On some days, William would bring his second youngest child, Michael, and that would mean they would do little to nothing.

Equipment like the ones they used and worked on could be dangerous for someone so young, but they still did their best to get things done. At this point, both had dedicated their lives to their project, and they loved it.

“Hey, Will,” Henry looked over at William, peeking from behind the torso. William glanced at him while he continued to twist and turn locks and screws inside of it. Henry was working on the back of the torso; William was working on the front. When they were both finished, they would attach each side to make a full torso. “How would you feel about going to get some burgers after this?”

William paused his work to focus on the conversation. “Oh, Henry I’m so sorry, my family wants me home for dinner tonight. The wife says I’ve been away too much, and she wants to spend ‘family time' with me.” William seemed annoyed by his family’s want to spend time with him.

“That’s alright,” Henry said quickly. “I understand, I mean you have been away quite a lot. You should enjoy your time with them while your kids are as young as they are. They grow up quite fast.”

William resumed his work with a hum, taking his mind to another world as he indulged himself in perfecting their idea of spring locks.

.

Sometime later, and it was around lunch, William wouldn’t have to be home for another few hours. He picked up his paper bag where Sunny had packed a small lunch for him, insisting he take it. He peeked inside to see what she had made him, happily surprised by the homemade dinner she had made the previous night. He didn’t have a chance to eat it, simply too tired from his long day. It was accompanied by snacks and bottled water, a note attached to another energy drink, the note wishing him luck on his project.

He ate his lunch while Henry continued working.

.

Another few hours passed, and Henry excused himself from the small shed they worked in. “I’m going to run to the store and get us some cold drinks, it’s getting a little hot in here. What do you want?”

“Beer,” William answered simply. He then turned to glance in his lunch bag, making sure there was a bottle of tang in there. He turned back around and nodded at Henry to confirm he wanted a beer. Henry nodded and left, closing and locking the door behind him. William took this as his opportunity to take a small break himself.

Once he heard Henry’s car leave, he unlocked the door and stepped out of the shed, stretching his arms and basking in the sun. His pale skin practically glowed at its first glance at sunlight. He walked around the small area they stayed in. They had put their money together to purchase a transportable shed. They used a truck William owned at the time to transport it anywhere they wanted it. But in this case, it was just Henry’s backyard.

He walked around the backyard, exploring Henry’s Garden and sitting on the swinging chair he had. He closed his eyes and relaxed, feeling the warm breeze against his flushed cheeks.

The wrench from earlier remained in his hand. He often kept those things with him until he was fully finished with his work, as he often misplaced things. It simply saved him some time.

            William went from relaxing his eyes to falling asleep on the swing, dozing as the swaying seat eased him.

Let’s hope Henry comes back in time to wake him.

.

Children giggling and screaming awoke William. He flinched awake and tried to grip the wrench that was no longer in his hand. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, smacking his face to wake him up quicker.

When his senses came back to him, he saw the shed up ahead, the door wide open with the laughter of giggling coming from inside. “Shit!” He had forgotten to lock the door. But in his defense, he did not intend to look away from the shed. He rushed to the shed and looked inside, his eyes going wide.

Three children jumped and played around gleefully, tools of every kind in both hands. They knocked down parts and supplies, and the stand the fragile torso stood on wobbled and shook to their jumping. William began to shout at them angrily, but their laughs were too loud for them to hear.

His anger turned into distress as more things began to fall. He rushed towards them and chased them out like he was trying to cattle sheep. He saw his wrench on one of the desks and grabbed it, shooing them out with it. He watched the two of them leave and slammed the door, locking it with a heavy sigh. He returned to his work, picking up all fallen items and tools, putting them back where they belonged, and putting certain parts back together.

He drew his attention back to the torso and examined it to make sure it was okay. When he saw nothing ruined or messed with, he turned his back to it and tidied up the rest of the shed to ensure Henry would not know of this incident.

“What does this do?”

William froze and turned his head slowly, making eye contact with the third child he had completely forgotten about. The kid pointed at the torso curiously, poking at it gently. William stood “Oi! Don’t focking touch that!” He yelled. The kid flinched and accidentally bumped into the torso. It fell to the floor with a loud clatter. Screws fell out of it like a piggy bank falling and shattering. The kid was amazed and knelt to poke it more, trying to take it apart as if it was a toy.

He ran to the child and swept him up throwing him onto the floor away from the animatronic parts. “I said don’t touch it!” He seethed. The kid didn’t seem to know what he was doing wrong but assumed they were playing a game.

To William’s surprise, the kid managed to escape his grasp and run over to the animatronic parts, laughing and giggling. In worry of both Henry’s and his hard work, he chased after him and reached for the back of his shirt, trying to grab him and pull him away.

However, as William lunged forward, the boy stopped abruptly to turn and laugh at him. William didn’t have time to stop himself or his hand, forgetting about the heavy metal wrench still wrapped tightly in his palm.

As his own hand swung down to his head, the wrench only added to the momentum, effectively smacking the kid brutally against his head. He was knocked backward, hitting and scraping against the sharp scrap metal from the torso on the way down.

Blood pooled around the child’s head, but all William could do was stand there, horrified. He dropped the wrench and knelt to the kids' side, holding up his head and looking at the wound. He had to look away, genuinely disgusted by what he saw.

When he looked back, he pushed his two fingers to the kid’s neck, feeling for a pulse. When there was nothing, he stopped to think about it. This kid had just lost their life to something William had done. How would he handle it? What should he do? William as a person expected to feel disgusted and revolted by this event, especially knowing that he was the reason it happened.

However, he didn’t feel much. Instead, he only saw this event as an annoyance. A minor inconvenience. A burden. He expected to feel regret and any kind of self-hatred. But then again, it was so quiet. The only sound he could hear was the faint dripping of blood falling into a puddle.

What should he do about Henry? He should call 911. He should. But why didn’t he? William couldn’t get his arm to move, nor the rest of his body. He could easily waltz into Henry’s home to call medical services, but if he didn’t, what would happen? Would it not save him the trouble? William thought long and hard about this moral conflict, but only one thing kept coming back to his mind.

It was quiet.

So quiet.

Just pure silence.

Beloved silence.

The rumbling noise of a car engine followed by the crackling of gravel filled his ears. Henry was back. His seconds of bliss came to a harsh stop as he realized the gravity of the situation. He looked around and around, wondering whether he should come clean or find a way to avoid this.

He opened the door to the shed and heard Henry talking to his wife. This had bought him some time. He dragged the child's body out of the shed, a trail of crimson red blood following behind. Close to Henry’s backyard fence, not too far from the shed, he found a nice pile of mowed grass and fallen leaves, along with bad crops that had been picked from the batch. He threw the body carelessly next to them and took the pile of nature, throwing them onto the lifeless boy.

When it looked covered enough, William ran back to the shed, continuing to hear Henry’s laughs with his wife. He grabbed some trash bags they kept in there, threw some towels over the pool of blood, and threw the trash bag on top of it to hide the color. He cleaned up the smallest of the red trail with a hand towel he would take home with him and covered what he couldn’t clean with a trash bag. He picked the torso back up and put the screws to the side, deciding he didn’t need them too desperately at the moment. He cleaned his hands and grabbed some oil he had, placing it on any and all stains he had on his clothing, as well as his hands to hide the red tint. He then closed the door and locked it, waiting for Henry’s arrival.

A minute passes, and Henry unlocks the door, looking around. “Hey Will, sorry I took so long. I got held up down the road, there was an accident and I had to go around. I got your beer, hope it’s still cold.”

William thanked him and took the beer, pouring tang into it and sipping from it. There was silence between them. “What’s all this?” Henry asked. William presumed he was talking about all the trash bags.

He was quick with his words. “Well, I was finishing up on this torso here and wanted to make sure the hinges to the chest opening were nice and easy, so I got some oil but ended up spilling it all over the place! I put some towels down under these so we wouldn’t slip. Hope it’s no problem,” he said nonchalantly.

Henry nodded, “Oh, yeah that’s fine. Did you slip at all?”

He shook his head, “Nah, I’m all good.”

Henry smiled, “That’s good,” he sat down with William and rested his knees on one of the trash bags. William glanced down at it cautiously, but luckily, no blood showed from beyond the corners. They continued to work and were almost finished with their current goal for the torso.

They drank and drank, William completely forgetting about the curfew his family had given him. William almost choked on his drink as he looked past Henry, watching drops of blood drip from the corner of the desk. One of the splatters of blood he had forgotten to clean. He slid toward Henry with a clean towel in his hand, “Hey bud, you look sweaty.”

He dabbed the towel over Henry’s forehead, laughing. When he brought his arm back, he swiped the bloody corner of the desk, returning to the spot he was before. He saw the now clean desk and allowed himself to relax.

He felt strange having to clean blood from his best friend to hide such a violent death, and he couldn’t help but feel guilty for it.

However, something within him told him otherwise, as if he knew this would not be the last time something like this would happen.