Chapter Twenty Six

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Three days have passed since the accident, and you have been by his side ever since.

William had undoubtedly been through many springlock failures, though none this severe, and each time he grew in his knowledge of adjustment methods and his own recovery.

By now, it was fairly easy for him to return to a functional state and move, despite your abundance of caution.

"I'm perfectly fine, doll," he chuckles, noticing you start to stand up as the phone rings.

"I just want to help," you respond with a smile, eyeing him lift himself off the couch.

You wanted to help, but you knew anyways that he is far too stubborn and independent to idly rely on others, no matter his physical condition.

It can be frustrating at times, but part of you admires him for this.

"Mr. Afton speaking."

He holds the stocky wall phone up to his ear, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed as he winks at you in the living room.

You look away quickly with a blush.

'Yup, he is completely back to his usual self.'

"Ah, thank you for your kind words. I am planning on returning to work later this week, that is, if the weather cooperates."

He looks to you with a playfully stern expression before turning his head to face the kitchen.

"This week?! Will, don't you think you should take more time off than—"

"I'm fine, Henry. I appreciate your concern, but I can handle myself."

The phone conversation must have ended soon after, as William remains quiet in the kitchen for a moment while you continue to sit in the living room.

Somehow, he has almost fully healed from the accident, and is still dressed in his usual black suit and tie from earlier.

Tonight is an especially cold evening, with the first snow of the season being a harsh snowstorm, heavily blowing through and completely blocking all roads.

Accumulating bundles of thick white snow and shields of ice pour from the sky, acting as a beacon against the dark blackness of the night.

As if the Afton house wasn't cold enough, you sit shivering under two layers of blankets before securely wrapping yourself in one and standing from the couch.

"I'm going to get changed for bed," you quietly call, glancing over as you head into the foyer.

William looks to you as if he wants to say something, but eventually just nods with lightly knitted brows.

His hair is messy as usual, his eyes the same dull silver. Yet somehow, he looks different in some way to you tonight... a way that causes butterflies to dance along your stomach.

You make your way upstairs and through the hallway, briefly peeking into the barely cracked master bedroom as you pass it.

'Gosh, his bed looks so warm.'

Shaking your head with a soft blush, you continue down the hall before pausing at Michael's door; it's very late and you know how deep of a sleeper he is, so you decide not to check on him tonight.

You enter the guest bedroom and close the door behind you, shaking under the blanket draped across your body as you gently pick up your pajamas from the foot of the bed.

Clothing falls to your feet while you slip them off, your arms holding the only set of pajamas you own to your chest.

You slip the thin dotted nightshorts on first, feeling as a cold gust of air instantly sweeps across your exposed legs.

'It's so cold, these alone are not going to keep me warm.'

Peering over to the bay window seat, you clutch William's large sweatshirt to your bare chest as you inhale the faint scent of his cologne.

Mr. Afton has always been so kempt, always ensuring everything is orderly, well-kept, and neat. Perfectly messy hair, unwrinkled suit and tie, and the same intoxicating scent to him.

Warmth floods your body as you pull the hoodie onto yourself, feeling the thick fabric comfort despite the waves of relentlessly cold shivers.

You can't help but blush while thinking of him... truly thinking of him... while you settle yourself under the covers of the bed.

Although the cold, snowy scene outside the window, with delicate snowflakes glistening down the window frame, was undoubtedly mesmerizing, it betrays you as it provides not only cold throughout the house but deafening silence in the room.

You tremble as the cold air hits your bare neck, your arms shaking slightly as you pull the mauve comforter up a little closer to cover your chest.

With only the sound of your rising and falling breaths audible, you are left alone with your own thoughts...

Thoughts you can't help.

And ones you'd be ashamed to ever admit.




[word count: 795]

"𝑾𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒓" - William Afton x readerWhere stories live. Discover now