The Afton house was quiet in a way that felt… deliberate.
Elizabeth’s laughter didn’t echo down the halls. Evan’s soft footsteps didn’t trail behind Michael anymore. Their rooms sat untouched most days, doors half-closed like pauses that hadn’t quite finished.
Custody arrangements, lawyers, schedules—things Michael didn’t like thinking about.
He stayed with William.
Always had, even when he technically didn’t have to.
Maybe it was because this house felt more predictable. Maybe it was because William, for all his distance in other areas, had always been steady with him. Or maybe it was something Michael never fully put into words.
It meant nights like this were just the two of them.
And tonight?
Michael really wished it wasn’t.
The front door clicked open softly as Michael stepped inside, carefully shutting it behind him like he could somehow avoid being noticed.
Because of course William Afton noticed everything.
The house smelled faintly of coffee and something warm—dinner, probably. A low light glowed from the kitchen, casting long shadows across the floor.
Michael exhaled quietly, kicking off his shoes near the door, trying to act normal. His heart was still beating a little too fast, and it had nothing to do with walking home.
Noah.
Michael ran a hand through his hair, the memory hitting all over again—Noah’s voice low and teasing, the way he leaned in like everything else in the world had stopped mattering, the way his lips had brushed against Michael’s neck—
Michael froze mid-step.
Right.
That.
His hand immediately flew up to his neck, fingers pressing lightly against the spot.
It hadn’t seemed like a big deal at the time. It was just… a moment. A quiet, stolen second tucked between laughter and soft teasing and Noah’s usual confidence turning into something a little more focused. A little more real.
Michael’s face flushed at the memory.
“Good evening, Michael.”
Michael jumped.
He turned quickly to find William standing in the kitchen doorway, sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms, posture relaxed but composed in that way that never really was relaxed.
Observant. Always observant.
“Hi,” Michael said, a little too quickly.
William’s gaze lingered on him—not invasive, not harsh. Just… attentive.
Taking things in.
Michael tried very hard not to look suspicious.
It did not work.
“You’re home later than usual,” William noted, voice calm, even. Not accusatory—just a statement.
“Yeah, I—uh—lost track of time.”
“Mm.”
That was all William said at first. Just that quiet hum of acknowledgment as he stepped further into the room, setting a mug down on the counter.
But his eyes hadn’t left Michael.
And Michael could feel it.
That subtle shift in attention. The way William’s focus sharpened just slightly when something didn’t quite add up.
It made Michael want to shrink and stand taller at the same time.
“I assume this is related to the Carter boy.”
Michael choked on absolutely nothing.
“I—what?”
William raised an eyebrow slightly, the faintest hint of amusement flickering in his expression.
“You’ve mentioned him twice in the past week,” he said calmly. “Statistically, that makes him relevant.”
Michael stared at him.
“…You keep statistics on me?”
“Mentally,” William corrected.
Michael opened his mouth to respond—then froze.
Because William had taken a step closer.
And now—
Now he was definitely looking at Michael’s neck.
Oh no.
Michael instinctively turned his head slightly, like that would help.
It did not help.
William’s gaze sharpened—not in anger, not even in disappointment. Just… recognition.
Understanding.
“…Michael.”
There was a pause.
Not tense. Not heavy.
Just there.
“Yes?” Michael said, trying (and failing) to sound normal.
William’s tone, when he spoke again, was as composed as ever.
“You appear to have a mark on your neck.”
Michael wanted to disappear.
“It’s nothing,” he said quickly. Too quickly.
William tilted his head slightly, studying him.
“I see.”
Another pause.
“Would you like to revise that answer, or shall I make an educated assumption?”