Stay Quiet || William Afton

twelve

tw: alcohol

William's POV

"Stop, does it look good or not?" I looked in the mirror.

Willow giggled. "I'm just joking, of course it does."

Henry thought it would be nice for us to have dinner at his place, for me to say hi to his wife again and um.. Charlie.

I don't hate Charlie, but I dislike her. She's one sneaky, pesky fuck. She's sticky all the damn time too. And her forehead is too big, which is unusual since neither Henry or his wife have big foreheads.

"What if his neighbors see me?" I looked at her.

"William, Henry doesn't have any neighbors for miles." She said.

Michael slowly showed up at the doorway, a smug look plastered on his face.

"What is it Michael?" Willow asked.

He slowly pulled a hairbrush from behind his back and looked at me, smiling. "Daddy has messy hair."

I looked in the mirror, at the tangled, knotty hair. "Well it's not that bad."

Willow turned around and stuck her fingers through my hair, attempting to brush through it. "Yikes! When did you last brush this!"

"I don't think I ever have.." I yanked my head away.

"Not even after a shower?" She raised her eyebrows.

"No.." I quietly said.

Willow grabbed the brush from Michaels hand, wetting my hair and turning me around. "Clench your jaw big guy."

"Ow fuck! You bloody plonker what's the matter with you! Not even a warning!" I cursed at her who was violently brushing my hair.

Both her and Michael at the same time giggled at me.

"What if I did that to your curly hair? It would be a whole different story!" I spoke angrily.

"Calm down you big baby, it's basic hygiene." Willow wet my hair more.

Michael slid himself between us and sat on the toilet seat to get a good glimpse of my angry face. He sat there and giggled.

"Oh this is funny to you, huh?" I pointed at him.

Suddenly, I had an idea. An idea of which I would not speak of until later.

Yet Willow kept ripping the hair off my scalp. "Will you calm down with it?"

"Bleh bleh bleh." Willow grabbed the fronts of my hair.

Michael then burst into a sudden fit of laughter. "Mommy you should cut his beard!"

I widened my eyes and looked at Willow through the mirror, who was looking at my goatee through it.

"It's not a beard!" I whined.

She giggled. "I'll save that for another day."

"You won't be giggling when you're in a body bag." I mumbled.

She slapped my head lightly. "Shh. Don't say that stuff around him."

I rolled my eyes.

She finally pulled the brush away, placing it on the counter and running her fingers under my hair, ruffling it.

She smiled. "See? Doesn't that look and feel better?"

I looked at my hair that was now shoulder length rather than chin length, soft and nice looking.