Secret Admirer [William Afton x Reader}

𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢

tw .* : alcohol misuse/intoxication 

You spent the entire day making up the lost school hours. All your professors tried to assure you it wasn't much of an issue, but you had a fixed mindset on the matter. 

Still, nothing you could do would bring back your perfect attendance, that you'd worked for all year.

Otherwise, things had taken a pleasant turn. Your job was becoming enjoyable again and so was laying in your bed. The kids had found a recent interest in finger painting, which had proven to be problematic after you spent half an hour cleaning pink paint off the plastic table, and you were beginning to get some rest. 

You'd done some research on seasonal insomnia, which was a completely legitimate thing. You decided to believe that's what the strange feeling was. You were pretty sure a family member had a similar condition, which supported the case you were trying to make.

And on top of all of this, there was the project. It was going exceptionally, but not everything had fixed itself. Mr. Afton's "strange" mood was still very prevalent. You loved the man so much yo refused to take off your rose tinted glasses and see that there was something very wrong with his behavior.

He stopped eating. He stopped shaving. He stopped doing anything that wasn't work related. Yet, he was always drinking while he worked. Unhealthy amounts sometimes, to the point where his speech was slurred and he looked like he was going to trip over his own feet whenever he stood.

So he was having a hard time, that didn't lessen your view of him one bit. So it was you who did his laundry every Sunday and you who brought him the extra sack lunch you had "accidentally" made. 

One day you were sitting on the tile floor fiddling with a wrench when he spoke, speech slurred, "You seem to be pretty ambitious [ Name ]. What is it you're looking for in life?" You nearly dropped your tool as he asked such a broad question, that could be interpreted in multiple different ways.

The truth was, you weren't really sure yet. You still thought of yourself as a kid, even though you were in college. You could make a fool of yourself and say honestly "I don't know.", or you could answer with the normal answer, that was somewhere along the lines of what you were searching for. You chose the latter.

"I think I'm looking for love and friendship and new experiences." You responded, not completely satisfied with your answer. "I want to make a difference," you thought out loud. He seemed to be amused by your response, but in what sense? Was he laughing at you?

"We all like to think we're going to make a difference, but in the end, what does it amount to?" You weren't quite sure you understood what he was saying. "What do you mean by that, sir?" He took a sharp swig of whatever he was drinking. "Well, in the end we're just dead, no matter what difference we've made, and eventually all the people we've impacted will die too." Jeez. Talk about a pessimist. 

"Life is too short-lived, no pun intended, imagine if we lived forever, imagine what a difference that would make, if someone found a cure to death. Humans try so desperately to hold onto life, they refuse to let it go, so much that they force themselves to believe in something more, something after life." 

Despite how much he'd been drinking you felt as if this was the most sober you'd seen the man. His eyes seem to glow at the prospect of immortality, and the way he talked about humans, like he wasn't one himself. As if he was a superior, a god.

"So, you don't believe in the afterlife?" You asked curiously. He took another swig while shaking his head. "No," he answered, after swallowing the liquid.  He didn't bother to elaborate. 

"But sir, wouldn't living forever be lonely? We're supposed to die, it's just the way things work, it's apart of life, or at least its end." He cackled. "We're taught to think like that, little one, just so we can speed up the process of acception, acception of our own finiteness. You don't want to be alone in life, but in death wouldn't you be even more isolated?" He leaned back in his chair. You didn't like thinking about this, he was right, you didn't want to think about disappearing, being gone forever, you didn't want to be alone.

"Sir?" He looked over at you, with piercing silver eyes. "Yes?" You scratched the back of your neck, "I mean no disrespect, but it isn't a very good idea to drink throughout the day. You can become dependent on alcohol or cause an accident." You were desperately trying to change the topic.

The corners of lips tugged up into a smirk. "Hmm, I suppose you're right." He set the bottle down on the office desk. "Are you okay, sir? Do you have a headache? Do you need water?" You asked frantically. "I have a high alcohol tolerance, dear, I'll be alright. What about you, do you need a ride home?" Your mouth dropped open, "Mr. Afton! You can't drive! It's not safe, you could get hurt!" Maybe he wasn't as sober as you'd thought. 

There was a knock on the door. "Come in," he groaned. You recognized the man with messy sandy blonde hair and square framed glasses almost instantly. Henry Emily. "William! What were you thinking? You can't keep doing this, it's immensely selfish. You're a grown adult, we can't keep babying you ever time you're in a bad mood," Mr. Emily exclaimed, seemingly more nervous than angry. 

You'd never seen Mr. Afton get yelled at like this. You looked over at him for a response, but there was none, he seemed careless. That was around the time Mr. Emily noticed you were in the room.

He gasped. "What is a child doing in here? Ohgodohgod. William this is bad, really bad. Are they even of drinking age?" Mr. Afton lazily moved his head to look over at you. "They didn't have any, Henry. In fact, [ Name ] was just discouraging my bad drinking habit before you walked in." It didn't seem like the time to angrily point out that you weren't some little child. 

"I can't let you stay at my house, Will. Things have been rocky with Amanda, she can't deal with any more trouble at home," he sighed. Amanda had to be Mr. Emily's wife. "I don't want your kids to see you like this." Mr. Emily pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. 

"Rubbish, I'm perfectly fine," Mr. Afton claimed, but his slurred speech seemed to contradict his statement. Mr. Emily couldn't even bring himself to roll his eyes. "How are you going get home? I won't be driving you." Mr. Afton shrugged, "I'll drive." 

Mr. Emily was able to kill with just a glance, you experienced the feeling the first time in Mr. Afton's office. It felt like your soul was leaving your body, no exaggeration, you were glad the glare hadn't been directed towards you.

"William if you get pulled over you could be arrested, and that's the least of my worries, you could seriously hurt someone or yourself," Mr. Emily pleaded. That's exactly what you'd been trying to tell him earlier, but you're guessing he hadn't listened. 

There was a moment of silence while both men tried to find the solution to the problem. 

"I-I'll drive him."

Both men turned to search for what had spoken. Now all eyes were on you.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Sorry to end on a cliffhanger, but I'm already working on the next chapter :D Hope you guys are going well and have a great week!

Word count : 1304