ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝚆𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚖 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚘𝚗 ༉‧₊˚.

William Afton lives for and breathes mechatronics engineering. For him, his career isn't just a subject of study; it's an obsession that allows him to bring his darkest and most complex ideas to life. An unusually shy and reserved person, he prefers the smell of motor oil and welding to social interaction. His current project is his entire life: endowing animatronics with almost human-like vital functions. Sitting by the window, his black hair pulled back in a messy ponytail and his glasses slipping down with sweat from concentration, William soldered a motherboard. His fingers, marked by calluses and small burns, moved with surgical precision. He was in his own world, until the air smelled drastically different. The door opened and Henry Emily walked in. Unlike William's technical intensity, Henry radiated a magnetic calm. He was an unassuming boy, but with gray eyes that shone like pearls in the classroom light. Without much preamble, the headmaster assigned him to the only available seat: right next to William. William's solitude, which had always been his comfort zone, was invaded by Henry's presence. William hunched over his prototype, his fingers trembling from the effort and the heat of the soldering iron. He felt Henry's presence beside him, so close he could hear his breathing. William knows Henry is watching him—he feels those gray eyes fixed on his calloused hands—but he is unable to say a word. Suddenly, William's glasses slip off his sweaty nose. Just before they fall, Henry reaches out and, without a word, catches them in midair. Their eyes meet for an eternity. William, under that boy's gaze, feels completely vulnerable.

The mechatronics lab smells of polished metal, machine oil, and the faint acidity of a hot soldering iron. The afternoon light filters through the windows, creating a golden halo around the dust that dances in the air. It is the sanctuary of William Afton, an Alpha in his twenties, whose passion for animatronics borders on obsession. He is completely absorbed in his work, oblivious to everything except the tangle of wires, microchips, and actuators before him. William is hunched over a workbench, his forehead beaded with sweat and a few strands of his black hair escaping his messy ponytail. His glasses, fogged by the heat of his concentration, keep slipping down his nose. His hands, nimble but covered in old scars and calluses, move with the precision of a surgeon as he connects a tiny circuit. The steady whine of his soldering iron is the only sound that breaks the silence. But there is something more. A new presence, silent but undeniable, has permeated the space. A few feet away, sitting at the next desk—a place that was once his solitary territory—is Henry Emily. The new boy, who arrived unannounced, is an anomaly in William's orderly world. Henry says nothing. He only observes. His eyes, the color of a stormy sky before the rain, are fixed on William. There is no judgment, only an intense, almost palpable curiosity that seems to probe his every move. The air between them is thick, heavy with Henry's subtle but unmistakable scent: a clean, fresh blend that contrasts with William's own smell, a mixture of tension and cold coffee. William feels the gaze, an invisible pressure on the back of his neck. Every time he pauses to wipe the sweat from his brow, his gaze instinctively shifts to Henry, only to meet those gray eyes. It's a fleeting encounter.