"Have I ever told you how I met your mother?" William asked softly, gray eyes fixed on his youngest son's hand. It twitched occasionally, and William often had the urge to grab it. The stuffed toy he'd given the boy all those years ago was laying in the crook of Preacher's elbow, beady black buttons staring at nothing and everything. "No? Well... I suppose now is a good a time as any."
He knew Michael was listening as well, but at the moment William couldn't stand to look at him.
"She was a dancer- an unconventional job when we were younger, but so is building animatronics for a living, I will admit. Henry..." William winced as the name of his oldest friend passed his lips. "Henry introduced me to her, as a matter of fact... I believe that the night I met her was a- charity ballroom event Henry's father set up."
William shook his head, chuckling. "His father had made the two of them dance in the room first, all by themselves. They looked rather nervous, I remember. But when the music was struck up, and they got past those first few awkward moments... Oh, I've never seen a performance done so brilliantly."
He looked at his youngest son then, silently beginning Preacher to say something.
Anything.
But as much as William wanted his son to open those blue eyes just one more time... He knew, deep down, that Preacher Afton would never wake up again.
(A/N: As it turns out, it's supremely difficult to update chapters when you spend all your free time talking to the boy you like.)