3rd POV

Mike woke up slumped over his kitchen table. A large bottle of alcohol was resting on the table, it was a little cracked near the neck. The 25 ounce bottle was close to empty. Mike shot up staring at the bottle of whiskey, but became lightheaded from moving too quick. "I drank all that..?" Suddenly, the hangover hit him. The headache slammed him like a bullet. Standing up to go get some water, nausea punched Mike in the gut. He stumbled to the bathroom and held onto the toilet for dear life. "dear god I hate this.." he mumbled before hurling again. "goddamnit.." Mike wobbled over to the sink to get a sip of water. Then, he remembered something. Something a little important.

He tapped all his pockets frantically; nothing. He searched the entire house; nothing. "Oh shit," he remembered, "the car!" Rushing outside, he ripped open the car door he forgot to lock. His keys and his phone were in there! Luckily, they weren't stolen or tampered with. Mike turned on his phone afraid of what he would see.

12:06 P.M
Vincent: 47 missed calls, 276 text messages

Mike called Vincent. The phone rang for about half a second before answered.

"MICHAEL FUCKING SCHMIDT. WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU!?" Mike flinched from the sudden screaming. "Excuse me, dick whistle, I got a little too drunk last night and I forgot to pick you up!!" "GET YOUR FLAT ASS OVER HERE AND PICK ME UP!! I ALMOST GOT KILLED LAST NIGHT!"  "WELL THAT'S--...did this fuckface just hang up on me?"

Time skipperoonie

Mike parked the car so fast that he ended up leaving 10 foot skid marks on the concrete. He rushed into the restaurant only to see the animatronics up on stage. "VINCENT!?..." Suddenly, he heard loud, fast footsteps coming from the hallway. "uh oh" he mumbled. "YOU..-gasp-..SON OF A BITCH!!" The purple-haired maniac stormed into the room. His clothes were ripped and he had a big bruise near his eye. "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU DITCHED ME HERE WITH THESE FUCKING DEMONS!!" Vincent angrily pointed to the animatronics and Mike glanced over to them. Their eyes burned holes into his soul and he scooted back for the door. "Lets talk about this in the car, Vince." Mike shakily suggested. "NO. WE'RE DISCUSSING THIS RIGHT. NOW. WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING!?" Their stares got angrier by the second and Mike could see Foxy peeking out of the cove. Without another word, Mike grabbed Vincent's wrist and yanked him outside to the car.

Mike started the car with a sigh as Vincent glared at him. With his arms crossed, he states that the animatronics don't forgive him for what happened to (Y/n). Grape lookin ass explained how they put most of the blame on Mike. They swore that they would do damage on Mike for what happened. The reason why they beat the living hell out of Vincent is because he was standing up for Mike and he explained how there was nothing either of them could do.

This is so short guys I'm really trying I'm so sorry I'm just falling apart

Mike pulled into the driveway and got out of the car without a word. Vincent sprinted into the house and flew onto the couch. He let out a moan as soon as he hit the cool leather making Mike extremely uncomfortable. "So, Schmidtty titty. What happened last night? The house smells like a high school party. It REEKS!" Mike eyed Vincent from across the room. "And what would that smell like?" Vincent chuckled prepared to explain. "Smells like vomit, liquor, and Missouri." Mike raised his eyebrow in confusion. "Missouri? The state...?" Vincent looked over equally confused. "OOPS sorry. I meant misery. There was a typo." Vincent chuckled and Mike had an indescribable look on his face. "VINCENT, YOU DUMBASS, WHY WOULD THERE BE A TYPO---YOU'RE SPEAKING!" Vincent shot up from his odd position on the couch and started shouting in defense. "EXCUUUSE ME, DUCKFACE!" Mike's hands shot up in the air. "DUCKFACE?!" "I MEANT FUCKFACE, ANOTHER TYPO." Mike, now annoyed and not wanting this shit because he was hung over, lunged at Vincent ready to tackle him. "I SWEAR TO GOD YOU SALTY EGGPLANT I OUGHTTA--"

The room froze. The two dumbasses looked over to the kitchen at the ringing cell phone on the table. "Well?" Doucheplant piped up. "Are you going to answer it?" His tone was irritating to listen to. Mike walked over and his eyes widened at who was calling. It was the hospital. "VINCENTGETOVERHERE N O W." Vincent scrambled off the couch. "WHATWHATWHAT?!" Vincent looked at the ringing phone and yelped at the name. "ANSWER IT, DINGALING!!!"

Mike answered the phone and put it on speaker.
-"Hello?"
"Hello is this Michael Schmidt?"
-"Yeah, what's going on?" Mike started to sweat from the tone of the operator's voice.
"We request that you come over right away. It's with (Y/n)."
-"Uhh---Yeah!! Y-Yeah we'll be on our way asap." Vincent decided to interrupt "Are there any problems?! Is she okay?!"
"Yes, (Y/n) is fine. She's showing signs of waking up so we suggest getting here quickly if you want to be there for her when she wakes up."

Mike and Vincent looked at each other with wide eyes and huge smiles. Without hesitation, they bolted out of the house. Mike was nervous to let Vincent drive but he insisted he should because Mike was hung over. For once, Vincent was being a good friend.

Leaping into Vincent's car, of course he painted it purple, he revved the engine. "Huhuh rev up those fryers--" "VINCENT JUST DRIVE!!!"  He floored the car out of the driveway and took the fastest route to the hospital.

Ripping into a parking space, they stared at the entrance. "This is what we've been waiting for! For months..I can't believe we'll finally be able to see her again." Mike stated barely above a whisper. "I know.." Vincent sighed, "Cmon, Mike."

"We'll get out of here together."

I have no fucking excuse for not updating in so long I'm so so sorry please forgive me :( I'm working on the next chapter riGHT now!!! If it's not done by later today, I'm deeply sorry, as always :(