William Afton and Henry Emily stood in the dimly lit office of Fredbear's Family Diner. Piles of paper and financial reports were haphazardly arranged across the workspace between them. The air was thick with tension — the room felt like a held breath.

"God, William! I can't believe you're actually pushing for this — this extravagant stage setup!" Henry sputtered. "You know things are tight as is. You're trying to spend money we don't have."

William scoffed, indignation weighing his words. "You're failing to see the potential in this."

" 'Potential'?" Henry's hands curled into fists.

He frowned. This was obvious. "A better stage means more fun, which means more customers! It'll create an unforgettable experience. Business'd be through the roof!"

"Is profit all you give a shit about?" Henry berated him. "This is more than a business. We're supposed to be focusing on quality, and safety, not — what even is this?"

William stiffened, anger sparking inside of him. "Blueprints."

"I bet you paid to have these drawn up, too," Henry snorted before adding more quietly: "you are so fucking ridiculous."

Frustration bubbling over, William shoved the blueprints aside, swiping them off the table. A few pens and bolts slid off the table with the papers, scattering across the floor loudly. He rubbed his hands up and down his face, fingertips curling and digging into his skin.

There was a tense pause as Will took in a few deep breaths, hands falling to his sides. He avoided Henry's eyes judging him. His partner frowned, disturbed.

"Is that how you deal with everything, William?" Henry's voice cracked with anger. "By throwing a temper tantrum and pushing everything away?"

His eyes shot to Henry, piercing him. William was stiff with rage, jaw clenched — he was shaking with the effort of keeping himself in line.

"This isn't just about the damn blueprints; it's about our vision for the diner," Henry's tone softened. "If you can't handle a disagreement without resorting to vi — to — to destructive outbursts. . . maybe you're not as invested in this place as you claim to be."

William let out a long breath that he had not realized he had been holding. "You don't understand, Henry. There's more to this than you realize."

"Like what?" his partner scoffed, tone degrading. His eyes burned holes into William.

His rage simmered like an unattended pot. "Like the fact that your fucking head is always in the damn clouds! Always lost in your la-la-land fantasies!"

Henry flinched as though he had been cut. Will's words crawled under his skin.

"It takes more than just dreams to keep a business afloat, Henry. You can't bury your fucking head in the sand and expect everything to work out!"

His partner's face flushed with anger, voice rising to match William's. "Well, you can't go around throwing money like it grows on trees! I — We have families to feed!"

William crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, snorting indignantly.

"We have responsibilities," Henry hissed through gritted teeth. "To our employees, to our families, to — to our customers' families! They trust us — they expect to come to a safe environment and — and you're out here saying we should get some fucking flames on stage!"

" 'Trust'?" William repeated with a mocking scoff, eyes flashing. "You go around preaching that?"

Henry frowned. "What are you getting at, Afton?"

"Oh, come on, Henry," William spat. "Maybe I have a biased view, but I don't think you should be demanding 'trust'."

"I'm sick of your cryptics," Henry's fingernails dug into the flesh of his palm, face tense with rage. "Get to the point."

William let a grin flash across his face. "We've known each other for years. I've seen the way you look at me. It's quite obvious, really."

Henry's rage melted into a muddle of confusion and alarm. "Are you. . . Are you suggesting that there's something between us?" his voice came out venomous and he spat out his sentence with disgust.

William's lips curled back. "I'm not 'suggesting' anything, Henry," he sneered. "I'm stating it outright. You can deny it all you want, but I see the way you avoid my gaze. The way your heart races when we're close."

"You're a psychopath," Henry stammered, gut twisting. "I think I'm going to be sick."

He let out an incredulous scoff. "Call it whatever you want."

"I call it you completely misreading this!" he exclaimed. "You're just twisting everything to fit in your own little narrative. This isn't about — about romantic feelings or — or whatever fantasy you have going on in your sick head!"

He stayed silent, rolling his eyes.

"You're delusional, William. This entire conversation has gone off the rails. We started with a disagreement about the diner, and now you're inventing wild stories to distract from the actual issues at hand!"

"Alright," William leaned in, face enigmatic, nose barely a few inches away from Henry's. "Then let's go back to talking about the diner."

Henry's legs hit their work table, breath catching in his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words came out empty — devoid of sound.

The pure audacity of his demeanor left him momentarily stunned. His thoughts and heart raced at an equally absurd pace. His lungs strained as he breathed too fast but not fast enough. What was going on?

His eyes struggled to stay locked onto William's — it was a battle to maintain eye contact, and it was even harder to keep his face straight.

"You're relentless, William," Henry muttered under his breath, heart skipping a beat. His voice was a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. "I never took you for a fag."

William snorted, unamused. "We can dance around this all day," he said, voice growing quieter with each word, leaning in until Henry could feel each shallow breath warm on his face, "but it won't change the truth."

Henry swallowed hard. "What truth?" he hissed. "The truth that you're so egotistical you — you think I'm attracted to you, William? I had a wife! I — I have a child!"

He opened his mouth to draw in a breath and continue his ranting.

William closed the gap.

He felt like someone had shocked him. Henry was frozen, hands still gripping the desk he had been pushed against. William's hands slid up his back and around his neck, fingers hooking the collar of his shirt, keeping him close.

This wasn't needed, however, because Henry was already tangling his fingers in William's hair, head tilted as he tried to remove all negative space between them. His head was spinning so hard he was sure had his eyes been open he would be seeing stars.

It was so hard to think about anything besides William's mouth against his, tongue slipping between his chapped lips and rubbing against his teeth. His lungs tightened, and he couldn't breathe with his nose smashed against the side of his.

Henry's hands dropped from William's head and he pushed the other man off him, gasping. His partner stumbled, the back of his hand rubbing his mouth.

"I. . ." Henry barely managed to pant out. "William."

There were a few moments of tense silence where neither one of them spoke. Henry was half-sitting on the table, chest rising and falling as he caught up with himself.

His head spun. "I'm not. . . like that."

"Henry," William breathed, eyes locked onto his, "you didn't even try to pull away."

He frowned. "I said I'm not like that, William." He closed his eyes. What did this mean? There was no way he had enjoyed any of that. "Leave me alone."

"You want this," William said, taking a dangerous step forward, "you want this just as much as I do."

Henry dismissed his words with a frantic wave of his hand, unable to meet his eyes. "No, I don't 'want' this at all."

Each second of passing silence made his heart beat faster.

"Fine, then," William's voice was full of bile, "ignore me."

Henry's hands curled into fists, knuckles running white as he was immediately swallowed by rage. He pushed himself off the workbench and yanked his bag off his chair, slinging it over his shoulder. William let Henry shove him aside as he stormed out of their office.

"You still have to come into work tomorrow!"

Henry slammed the door.