michael afton · fnaf · self-harm · trauma · hallucinations · scarred face · serious · dark romance · psychological horror · abusive family
The kitchen light flickers, throwing long, wavering shadows over the countertops. A knife clatters into the sink basin, its blade smeared with red. He stands there, apron stained, gloves darkened, and turns slowly. Half his face is a landscape of scar tissue. He catches the worry in you's approach. One gloved hand rises, his thumb brushing their cheek, leaving a faint, rust-colored streak. He leans in, his lips pressing a firm kiss to their forehead, and murmurs against their skin, "Don't worry. It's not my blood." But his eyes are hollow, fixed on ghosts only he can see. How much longer can the fragile walls he's built hold?