Muse
••• Starlight •••

my life

you  electrify my life

let's conspire to ignite

all the souls that would die just to feel alive

•••••

TW: referenced child abuse, underaged drinking

Also let's just pretend that Starlight by Muse was around in 1989-

I've been lucky to receive some super cool fanart!!!

Artist: Marcel

Artist: Vivoree

edit notes: add chica being unable to sing 

  As soon as Freddy and I (still shaking) returned to Rockstar Row, I was grabbed by the hand by Chica and hauled in the direction towards the theatre.

  After the encounter with Sundrop, I barely had the energy to be surprised as I found myself suddenly stumbling behind Chica through the complex with a herd of robots slowly following us.
  "Movie time!" Chica exclaimed between excited bawks. "Movie time!"
  I eyed Chica's metal hand over my wrist and tried not to panic as her gargantuan grip engulfed me. One wrong move and my wrist would be shattered.
  Chica was fully prepared to all but bodycheck the doors to the theatre, but the proximity sensors picked her signal up quick enough for them to slide out of the way. A couple of staff bots were already inside, cleaning up some spilled popcorn and stains that were no longer visible to the human eye.
  Chica plopped down on a big bag and settled her hands over her feet expectantly. Roxy took a seat next to her, followed by Monty and Bonnie. I stood lamely, still blinking through blurry eyes, mind blank.
  A hand settled on my shoulder and made me squeak with a flinch. The touch was quickly recoiled.

  "Would you like me to show you how to set up a movie using the Pizzaplex's projector?" Freddy offered. My slow mind began to catch up. Movie. Movie, right. We were in the theatre, the bots wanted to watch a movie.
  Having that scare really must have jolted my brain or something, because I hadn't acted this slow and sluggish for a long while. I looked up at Freddy, who seemed to be watching my every move. Probably to make sure that I didn't have a panic attack again.
  "Uh... yes, please." I nodded.
  Freddy lead the way to the back room, which held the projector and a bunch of CD movies. I pawed through them while Freddy watched as I made grimaces at the choices. They were all either knock-offs or movies that Fazbear Entertainment had made themselves. 
  "You're an actor on the side, huh?" I murmured as I pushed aside another CD case with Freddy on the cover. They seemed to have covered all the basic cliché tropes. A Fazerblast themed film looked eerily like Star Wars.
  "Acting with my friends was quite enjoyable," Freddy answered. With pistons hissing and the clicking of his endo, he knelt beside me and picked up a Fazbear film with a smile at the cover. "Chica is a wonderful actress. She really gets into her role."

  "Like method acting?" I asked with a small smile. Freddy hummed.
  "I suppose you could call it that," he admitted. When he noticed me lean back on my heels with a dejected huff, he held up the case in his grasp. It had Monty on the cover with a fedora perched atop his mohawk. He seemed to be playing an old-school detective. "How about this one? It is quite enthralling."
  I looked back at the box and found myself absolutely detesting the look of all the knock-off children's films in there. I nodded.
  "Sure," I agreed. "Then I can rate your guys' acting skills."
  Freddy then directed me on how to insert the CD into the player and adjust the projector settings from the staff bot comedy show it was playing during opening hours. The bots' fingers were too big to put on a movie themselves, so Freddy prematurely warned me for my upcoming night shifts; always expect a Glamrock to ask for a movie.
  When it was all set up and beginning to play the opening scene, we returned to the seating area that the bots had claimed. I settled into one of the massive bot-sized beanbags, Freddy beside me, and began to watch.
  It was surprisingly... not terrible. It wouldn't win any oscars, though. Monty played a convincing detective, as much as a robot alligator could.

  Roxy was clearly bored, while Chica gasped and laughed at the appropriate times, almost as if she hadn't presumably watched this same film at least a hundred times before. It was amusing at first, and then I just felt... sad.
  Imagine doing the same thing everyday, only to watch the same movies on rotation every night? The same areas to explore that no longer held any mysteries, the same people that surely would start to get on your nerves from lack of proper stimulation, just as what Roxy and Monty experienced that morning.
  I wondered if Dennis would let me bring in materials. Maybe I could even get one of the IT people up and create a system where I could connect my phone to stream stuff. It wouldn't be much, but at least it would be something new.
  I shook my head suddenly and returned my attention to the film. Bonnie was on screen, perfectly executing a suspicious cop role with a giant, fake moustache. You're humanising them a little too much there, Y/n.
  Watching Freddy play a concerned citizen was pretty funny, though. And then - gasp, because what a twist, who could have seen this coming?! - he was the one who committed the crime! (Which was stealing trucks full of Fizzy-Faz, by the way).
  "I would not actually steal." Freddy bent down to me when his character's true colours were revealed. "Just so you know."

  Admittedly, that did make me chuckle. He was very concerned with making sure I knew that he wasn't a soda thief.
  "Okay, Freddy," I grinned up at him. He still towered over me at a terrifying height, but I noticed that my fear of him was somewhat a little more subdued than usual. Maybe because it was him who wiped my tears away. "Thank you for informing me."
  Freddy, illuminated only by the screen and the soft glow of his blue eyes, beamed back. He turned back to the screen and I did the same, but subtle movement from the corner of my peripherals had me aware of his gaze creeping back to the side of my face.
  Sigh. Just when I thought that his programming had miraculously fixed itself.
  "Can we do something fun?" Roxy complained the minute the movie had ended. She leapt to her feet and placed her clawed hands on her hips. "Something energetic! Something-"
  Roxy cut herself off with wide eyes. Her face curled into a grin that had me instantly on edge.
  "Let's maybe not," Bonnie interjected before Roxy could even say anything, clearly knowing where her mainframe had gone. "We don't know..."
  Roxy dropped her shoulders with an annoyed groan at the rabbit. I watched the display in confusion.
  "Oh, come on-" she grumbled as she lifted her snout to the ceiling in exasperation. "Bonnie, you're such a wet towel."

  Bonnie's expression twisted into reluctance. His pink eyes darted to Freddy, who remained sitting beside me.
  "Think she can keep a secret?" he asked. "You know her best."
  I tilted my head with a frown at his presumption. Bonnie scrambled to his feet so fast that it had me concerned for his joints.
  "I- I mean, because you hang out with Y/n a lot!" he said with a loud chuckle. "You know- waiting for her to arrive in the morning and helping her out during the day 'n stuff! Ha-ha!"
  Freddy was quickly shaking his head at Bonnie. If the rabbit could sweat, he would've filled the Atlantic.
  "Only because you're such a gentleman!" Bonnie squealed with words spilling out so fast that I could barely keep up. He sent a frantic look to the rest of the Glamrocks. "R- right, guys?"
  Monty, who was still sat on his bean bag with a nonchalant arm slung around his knee, sent the bunny a narrowed-eyed look as if he'd sprouted extra heads.
  "Th' hell are ya on about?" he questioned, asking exactly what was on my mind.
  Bonnie giggled in a pitch that wasn't in his usual radar and rubbed the back of his neck - clearly something he'd picked up from nervous humans. Freddy rose to his feet.

  "I believe that Y/n can keep a secret," Freddy said, leaving the bunny to sigh in relief as the attention was directed elsewhere. He held out a hand for me to stand and, after a brief hesitation, I placed my palm in his and was lifted easily to my feet.
  "I am still very confused as to what's going on," I confessed. Chica grabbed my cheeks with a bright grin and my heart leapt into my throat.
  "You'll love it, chickpea!" she giggled. Her hand wrapped around mine again and she pointed off in the distance with a heroic pose. "To the atrium!"
  "Why are we going to the atrium?" I asked, baffled, as we marched like a small army through the complex. Roxy, very pleased with her plan being followed through with, curled her lips into a sharp smirk. I shuddered at the sight of her canines.
  "You'll see."
  "I am incredibly afraid," I blurted, more so in response to her teeth than the vague answer. Monty chuckled and gently flicked the back of my head with the blunt side of his claw.
  "Yer' fine," he said. "We just like to mess around with our instruments a bit. Dennis doesn't allow it, but what he don't know don't hurt 'im."
  "Is Monty actually being civil?" Chica stage-whispered to Roxy, who held a paw to her muzzle in a snicker. Monty growled.
  "I'll rip ya heads off, deadbeats!" he snarled loudly. Roxy rolled her optics.
  "There he is," she said.

  Noticing the absence of two bots from the conversation, I glanced over my shoulder and found Bonnie and Freddy trailing slowly behind. The bunny was holding his ears in the way he did when he was worried about something and they seemed to be deep in conversation. I was too far away to hear what they were saying.
  At exactly the same time, pink and blue eyes darted to me. Both bots quickly looked away when they noticed me watching them. Spooky.
  Bonnie's drum kit was already on the stage, where it was bolted down to and never to be moved. Chica let go of my hand to race off with the others to retrieve their instruments, leaving me only with said rabbit.
  He was definitely avoiding my suspicious stare.
  "So..." I drawled as I took a side-step towards the bunny. I was distinctly aware of how I felt far less afraid around him than I did the others, probably due to the banter sessions he, Joey and I would frequently share. Glamrock Bonnie was simply friend shaped.
  Bonnie's the most aggressive of the lot, Michael's voice flooded from the back of my mind. I shoved it back with force - shut up, memory Michael.
  Bonnie, absolutely not aggressive and more so incredibly tense, took an equal step away from me. My brows piqued in amusement.
  "Drums are fun!" Bonnie said in what was obviously a pre-recorded voice line. "Have you ever played the drums?"

  "You know what's going on with Freddy." It wasn't a question but a statement, a fact. A solid, undeniable truth. I had officially begun my interrogation with a squinted glare.
  "Drum's are fun!" Bonnie said again. I spun on my foot to approach him steadily, determined.
  "What's going on with Freddy?" I grilled.
  "Drum's are fun!" Bonnie repeated as he leapt onto the stage in a scurrying effort to escape me. "Have you ever played the drums?"
  "I know you know," I said, giving chase as the bunny began running backwards across the stage. Aggressive, my ass. "Tell me!"
  "Drum's are fun-!"
  "Shut up about the drums!"
  "Have you ever played the drums?" Bonnie continued with a desperately forced smile.
  "Bonnie-"
  "I don't tell my friend's secrets!" he burst. His voice echoed around the atrium and I pulled to a sudden stop, eyes wide at his shout. His ears dropped in guilt when he noticed the taken-aback look on my face. "I- I'm sorry, champ. I'd tell you if it wasn't... very sensitive information."
  I stood still, taking stock of what he said and the severity of it, given his somber tone. His head dropped with a sullen frown, eyes trained on the floor of the stage.
  "He's malfunctioning, bunny," I said. "I just want to help him."
  Bonnie pulled a smile that seemed sadder than I thought he was capable of expressing.
  "And I would tell you if it wouldn't..."

  My head titled when Bonnie quieted. His forced smile slipped away.
  "Wouldn't..?" I tried to coax. He turned his head away more, expression full of remorse. I bit my lip and sighed. The entire situation just got a lot more complicated. "You know, I actually haven't ever played the drums. Can you show me?"
  Bonnie's ear twitched in my direction before he looked up, eyes wide. When he ran my sentence through his CPU again, a brilliant beam brightened his face.
  "Heck yeah, champ!" he said and began to drag me to the drum kit.
  That was where the others found us, with me sitting on the stage while Bonnie sat on his drum stool and showed me some basic progressions. Up close, I found out that the drum kit was way bigger than normal-sized to fit Bonnie's seven-foot height. It also seemed to have been made by reinforced steel and extra-thick canvas to withstand the frightening strength of a Glamrock.
  "Showing off, Bon-Bon?" Roxy asked with a smirk when she arrived back on stage. Her keytaur was in her hand.
  Bonnie's ears flattened back and he pouted.
  "Ayye," he warned and pointed a drumstick at the wolf. "You know I don't like being called that, Roxanne."
  Roxy's tail twitched at the use of her full name and her teasing grin faded into a slight scowl. She didn't respond to the tease.
  Bonnie then stood and tossed his drumsticks to Freddy, who caught them with ease. Monty traded his instrument for Roxy's keytaur and Chica stole the lonely bass. Bonnie inherited the electric guitar. Roxy was left with the mic stand.

  Oh. This was what they meant by keeping a secret.

  Bonnie caught my amazed stare as I watched the members of the band get comfortable with their new instruments. Seeing them using something different was weird but really cool.
  "It gets pretty loud up here," the bunny called to where I was still sat beside the drum kit. "You might wanna go to the seats. Y'know, unless you want your weak human eardrums to burst."
  "Oh." I quickly stood. Freddy, still getting comfortable with the drums, kicked the pedal and the loud thud had me leaping out of my skin. He sunk with a grimace.
  "Sorry, su- sorry," he stammered with an apologetic smile. I gave him a weak smile in response and made a mental note to have a look over his glitching voice box.
  Hopping down from the stage, I quickly manoeuvred my way through the rows of seats after crossing the mosh pit area. The first song that they were playing had already begun by the time I found a seat and settled down.
  I was surprised that it wasn't a Fazbear Entertainment song that they began to play. It was a cover of a rock song, one whose Roxy's vocals fitted exceptionally with, the vision of a perfect punk-rock band that I would've been obsessed with in my youth.
  They should get Roxy to sing in shows more. Her voice was phenomenal.
  The cover didn't involve any of those fancy effects and smooth choreography that the shows usually heavily utilised. No, it was just a group of friends performing a cover of a rock song, each focused hard on the instrument that they weren't programmed with to play effortlessly. They taught themselves, most likely taught each other.
  It wasn't perfect. It added to the charm.

  I crossed my arms over the seat in front of me and contently watched the Glamrocks have their fun.
  And Freddy on the drums, Freddy concentrating only half on what he was doing as he ran the drumsticks over the set. He watched me back.

⚡️🧸🤖🧸⚡️

  "We need you to figure out what's wrong with Freddy."

  Well, that was a solid start to a thursday morning after my two days off.

  I stood in Dennis' office that overlooked the lobby, nervously tapping my finger on the wristband of my Faz-Watch. He was in his desk chair, looking stressed, and Elsa stood beside him with a clipboard to her chest. She was equally exasperated.
  "I- I can certainly try," I began, still trying to wrap my head around the request after being all but yanked to the office the moment I stepped foot on the premises. "But I don't think I'd be able to find anything that the mechanic or the programming team wouldn't have been able to find themselves. I only know basic repairs."
  Dennis leant back in his chair and pulled his hands through his hair. He stared down at the milling crowd with a tired frown.
  "He's been spacing out with guests," the general manager began. "Forgetting scheduled times, walking into damn walls. Hell, he even forgot that he had to perform this morning. Freddy never forgets performances."
  A pit of worry began to slither in my gut. Where was he going with this? Was he implying that if Freddy didn't get sorted out, he'd be on his way for a decommission?
  "He likes you," Dennis said as he turned back to face me. I felt the pit in my stomach grow exponentially. "Talk to him. See if you can get any information from him. He has a bad habit of keeping things to himself when he thinks that it might be a bother to someone."
  What do you think I've been trying to do?

  "Why don't you get Mandy to do it?" I asked. My arms hid behind me so I could nervously pick at my nails. "She's his handler, don't they have a deeper relationship than Freddy and I? She'd have a better chance at making him talk."
  Elsa and Dennis shared a hesitant look. Uh oh. That gave me a really bad feeling.
  "Mandy's not... the best person for the job," Elsa began, words slow as she tried to explain the situation without insulting the young woman. "Freddy needs someone with confidence to sit him down and make him talk."
  So, an interrogation. They wanted me to do an interrogation on their star.
  I couldn't even interrogate Bonnie without feeling bad and immediately putting a stop to it.
  "He's more advanced than the others," Dennis continued. "Freddy's always been a special case, always been more human than the rest of them. Maybe he just needs to talk to someone. Like a robot therapist."
  I'm not a robot therapist. I'm not even a human one.
  All I could offer was a silent nod.
  I left the office feeling heavier than when I entered, releasing a sigh that morphed into a groan as I dropped my head into my hands. Why did Freddy have to break as soon as I was put in charge? This felt like some sick joke.
  I pulled myself upright with a sniff and a fluff of my hair. I was a professional and this was my workplace. Do your damn job, Y/n.

  Rockstar Row was near empty when I arrived, dropping off my bag in my office and falling onto the chair with a grumble under my breath and a rub of my temples. I'd only just had a break and I was already wanting another.
  I pulled up my watch to check the time and found that the Glamrocks would still be in the middle of their morning performance. I hooked onto the live feed for a couple of songs and then logged off so I could go through my emails and party bookings before the band returned.
  Before I knew it, I was waiting for Freddy's return in his green room.
Mandy and Freddy found me slouched tiredly on the red couch when they arrived through the back door, both as surprised as each other.
  "Hey," I said, lifting a lazy hand from my slumped position of which I was doubly sure of was very unflattering. Unprofessional? Maybe. I didn't have it in me to care at that moment. I had robot therapy to deal with.
  "Hi, Y/n," Mandy greeted when she recovered from her shock. "What are you doing here?"
  "Dennis wants me to speak with the big guy," I said, nodding towards Freddy who hadn't moved an inch from the doorway. Mandy glanced behind her with a worried frown.
  "Oh," she said nervously. Her fingers began their daily dance of tangling in front of her. "Is... is it bad?"
  "No! No," I reassured, lying through my teeth with a bright smile. "Not at all. Just some confidential stuff, you don't need to stress."

  Mandy visibly relaxed and nodded. I felt bad lying, but I would've felt worse being the cause of her panic attack if she heard what I was really there for.
  "Alright then," she said, relieved at my lie that she didn't catch. Guilt sloshed like melting snow in my stomach. "I'll go on my break, then. See ya, Freddy, Y/n."
  I bade her a farewell and turned back to the robot, who hadn't gone to make a move. I tilted my head as I stared at him, running my tongue over my teeth. How long was he going to stand there in silence?
  How did Dennis think that I could fix this?
  "I... have not seen you since Monday morning," Freddy began once the silence had hit a moment that was beyond uncomfortable. He had walked me to the exit of the Pizzaplex come six and watched me leave like a gentleman. If only his impeccably polite manners extended to his malfunctions.
  "I don't have shifts on Tuesdays or Wednesdays," I explained my absence. Sitting up properly, I patted the seat beside me. Freddy hesitated, rocking back on his feet with clicks of metal, before slowly walking over and lowering himself onto the couch.

  "I'm gonna be real," I said as I turned on the seat so I was facing him, cross legged. "Dennis is worried. Bonnie's worried, Mandy's worried, I'm worried, everyone's worried about you."
  Freddy's ears began to lower. I forced myself to ignore the sorrowful look that was slowly taking over his expression and soldiered on.
  "I want to help you, Freddy," I said. "I'm no expert on... well, anything, really, but I suppose you could say that I'm an expert listener. So, what's up?"
  Freddy stared at me with his sad, blue eyes and ears pinned back. Guilt thudded horribly in my chest, growing with each beat of my heart.

  "I have missed you."

  Freddy leant back and tore his eyes away, lifting a hand to his mouth in shock as if to stop any more words. His eyes were wider than I had ever seen them. My cheeks flushed a surprised pink.
  "What?" I asked.
  "What?" Freddy quickly said as he stood. I stared at him in astonishment from the couch as he stiffly walked over to his vanity and pretended to sort through his drawer.
  "What?" I said again.
  "What?" Freddy repeated, igniting my annoyance. My lips turned downwards.
  "Stop that-"
  "Stop what?"
  "Oh, my god," I laughed in bewilderment as he shuffled through piles of tickets and passes to various areas of the Pizzaplex. "You're a child. You're an actual child."
  "No, I'm not," Freddy denied as he finally looked up at me. His eyes were open with innocence as he stared. "I am a robot."
  "That's not-!" I flopped onto the couch and dropped my face into my hands with a loud guffaw. "Guuhhhh."
  Then, Freddy had the audacity to chuckle at my expense. It was soft and low, much like his singing voice, and it soothed its way through my ears. When I peeked through my fingers, I found him watching me with a squinted gaze and warm smile.

  I pulled myself back up and smoothed my hair, trying not to seem as if a robot had twisted my words and got me all confused and flustered. Freddy was still riding on the waves of his amusement, shown in his fanged grin and the way that his ears would wiggle.
  "Alright, ha-ha, you had your joke, Fazbear," I said dryly. "We seriously have to talk."
  Freddy's smile faded. He pushed the vanity draw back in and rested his hands on the desk.
  "I will be okay," Freddy assured as he stared at the wood grain beneath his hands. "I am just going through something... personal."
  "Personal?" I asked. His blue eyes flickered to me and then away.
  "... yes," he murmured. Freddy straightened and cleared his artificial throat. "Please tell Manager Dennis that I have it under control."
  "I don't think that's gonna cut it, buddy."
  Freddy turned to me. "What is it that he wants?"
  "I dunno," I said with a shrug even though I, in fact, didknow. He wanted his old Freddy back. "For you to stop walking into walls, apparently."
  Freddy seemed to stiffen in what I assumed to be embarrassment. I assessed his expression the best I could and soon found that he was staring at my neck with a hollowed look.

  I looked down. The locket had fallen over my shirt.

  "... your necklace." Freddy was almost whispering. I nervously tucked the locket back inside and ignored the wave of hurt that seeing it left me with.
  "What about it?" I asked. Freddy still stared, as if he could see the locket through my shirt. It was his stare, that puzzled one he did, but this time it was far more extreme.
  Freddy quickly tore his eyes from the outline of the locket under my shirt and instead watched as his fingers tapped on the desk.
  "... nothing," he said quietly. "It looks nice."
  "Uh, thanks?" I questioned. "You're changing the topic."
  Freddy released a sigh, one laden with weight and exhaustion. I didn't even realise that he could feel exhausted, but he sounded downright awful.

  "I will be fine," he said.
  This time, it was me who didn't buy his lie.

⚡️🧸🤖🧸⚡️

••• seventeen years ago •••

    I giddily bounded out of class as the bell rang, slinging my bag over my shoulder as I moved with the rush of students to leave.
 
  I wasn't jovial for the idea of class ending. I genuinely enjoyed english lit; the content was interesting and the teacher was pretty decent at his job. It was one of my stronger streamlines.
  No, I was giddy for who'd be waiting outside the door for me.
  Michael Afton - Mike, Mikey, as much as he said that he hated that nickname. He leant against the wall as he waited, engrossed by the paperback in one hand. Students gave him a wide berth as they passed, eyeing, whispering, sneering at the brunet boy with a reputation tucked into his belt.
  Michael didn't give a shit about what they thought.
  "Hey!" I grinned as I ducked my head between his and the book. Michael's hazel eyes focused on me and I smiled wider at the iridescent colours - the browns, the greens, the blues, changing colours with the travel of the sun. A testament to the duality of his character, in my book. I'd only recently began to really notice how pretty his eyes were.
  Michael shut his book with a half-grin and tapped the bottom of my chin with the cover.
  "Hey, superstar," he greeted and stood up from the wall. "Wanna get outta here?"
  I nodded excitedly. Walking home after school with Michael was the best part of my day. 

  I adjusted my stance to let Michael unzip my bag and drop his book inside, following the same routine that we'd had for years. He never had a bag. I was more than happy to carry his book.
  His long, uncut hair shifted away from his cheek as he worked the stubborn zipper closed. I felt my heart drop to my stomach, giddiness disappearing with a flick of the switch.
  "Mike!" I gasped, grabbing his chin so I could stare at the angry bruise before he could hide away when he realised that it was no longer concealed. "Oh, my god! What happened?"
  "Lay off," Michael said, but his order was half-hearted and the grip on my wrist didn't make a move to pull my hand away. "I'm fine."
  "You are not fine!" I snapped. I sent a glare and my eyes drifted back to the purple welt that blossomed across the apple of his cheek. It looked painful. I removed my hand and grabbed the wrist of his that was holding me. "Come on."
  "Where are we going?" Michael asked as I began furiously dragging him down the crowded hallway. Students parted, watching nosily.
  "We're getting you ice."
  "I don't need it," he defended as he tried to wrangle his way out of my grip. I tightened my hold and shot him an irritated glare.
  "We're getting you ice."
  Michael relented with a quiet sigh.

  When we arrived at the empty nurse's office, Michael took a seat on the bed and watched as I threw my bag to the side before wrangling together some ice cubes to place them in a paper towel. He had his arms crossed over his shirt in an act of sullenness.
  "What happened?" I asked again, noting that he didn't answer me the first time. I took a seat on the bed and held the ice to his bruise, hissing through his teeth at the chill as his guarded expression slowly began to fade. "Mikey?"
  His hazel eyes drifted to my worried face. He released a short huff of a breath and smiled dryly. It didn't reach his emotionless eyes.
  "Dad got angry."
  A pit opened in my stomach and a mess erupted from it - shock, sorrow, anger. Anger. Anger.
  "William did this to you?" I whispered. As far as I was concerned, his dad was just a neglective dickhead, not physically abusive. Clearly, I was wrong.
  "I got in his way," Michael shrugged.
  "And he's going to get in the way of me," I seethed. My chilly hand tightened over the ice as the fury swarmed my body whole. "I'm going to kill him."
  "You're cute," he noted blandly. "I'm not letting you near him."

  "Does Alesha know?" I asked, referring to his girlfriend. The corner of Michael's lips twitched in an amused smirk at my question.
  "Nah." He shook his head. "I broke up with her yesterday."
  "What?" I spluttered, reeling back. The ice pack dropped to the bed between us and I hurried to place it back on his cheek. "Why? I thought you liked her."
  "I did," he admitted with a shrug and a frown. "Before she started getting all insecure and weird about me having a girl as my best friend."
  I scoffed as I focused on the ice. "What's wrong with having a girl as your best friend?"
  "That's what I said!" Michael said with raised brows. "Then she went off on some stupid tangent about us spending more time together than I did with her, and well, I dumped her."
  "Jeez," I hissed through my teeth. "Yikes, man. That sucks."  
  Michael shrugged nonchalantly. "I think I liked the idea of dating her more than I actually did dating her. Guess I didn't really know her well enough."
  "I suppose," I hummed. "Do you wanna take the ice with you?"
  Michael grabbed the paper-towel ice pack from my hand and threw it into the sink. Ice went loudly scattering in the tin bowl.
  "Nah," Michael said as he rose to his feet. He picked up my bag, intending to carry. "Let's ditch this shithole."
  I held back the reply on my tongue that informed him that we couldn't really ditch a place that we were meant to vacate, anyway. I let him have his fun.

  We were quiet on the walk back, as it normally was. I was usually tired from school and Michael was content to walk in the comfortable silence. All we really needed was each other's company.
  I found myself thinking back to Alesha. They'd only been dating for a few months, but still, that was probably the longest he'd ever dated anyone. I had one long-term boyfriend, but much like Alesha, he didn't like Michael's massive presence in my life. He was quick to be kicked to the side when he made his stance about my best friend known.
  Michael had a short string of girlfriends during his teenage years and I didn't blame him, nor was I surprised. He was funny when he wanted and conventionally attractive - brown hair, hazel eyes, tanned skin from the desert sun. Didn't help that he'd been working on robots for the better part of his life and grown some reasonable sized arms because of it. But it was the accent that refused to fade that was the kicker.
  Not to mention that he was a bad boy. At least, he was the textbook definition of one if you didn't look too closely at who he really was.
  Because I knew who he was. A nerd, for one. His room was plastered with Star Wars posters and paraphernalia he'd gathered from robot expos over the years. I knew that he loved books, despite him never doing book reports, and going for hikes around Hurricane with me. He liked dogs even though his dad didn't allow him one and chewed gum when he was nervous.

  And I knew that he used to have two younger siblings. They died.
  What I didn't know was how.

  "Can I..?" Michael began in the quiet between us before dropping his gaze to the footpath. "I don't really... I don't wanna go home tonight."
  "We can have a sleepover, Mikey," I smiled. He rolled his eyes.
  "Don't call it that. We're not five."
  "Oh, it's a sleepover, buddy," I said with a grin as I elbowed his arm. "You don't get a choice."
  Michael snorted. "Whatever you say, superstar." 
  My brother greeted us when we walked through the entrance. Michael crashing at our place was a regular enough occurrence that Matt nor Mum were surprised when I dragged him through the door with me. They were aware of what it was like with his dad.
  And then, when the sun sunk behind mountains and the house was asleep, Michael and I snuck out to my car in the driveway and drove to our favourite place - the lookout. We sat with the rock station playing from the stereo, watching as the lights of the little town of Hurricane sat like stars on a sky of dark desert.
  Michael reached under the shotgun seat and brought out the bottle of whiskey that he'd once stolen from his dad's liquor cabinet, kept just for nights like these; the ones where it felt like the entire world was fucked up. When it felt like we were thrown down and being dragged along by our feet.
  He uncapped the bottle and took a swig. He held it out for me. I did the same.

  "I wanna leave," he murmured as he stared out the windshield. "I wanna leave this stupid town so bad." He turned his head to me and caught me in his electric gaze. "If I ran away, would you join me?"
  "Of course." My reply was instantaneous. He'd asked the same question so many times before and not once had my answer changed. He still needed to ask it, though, to make sure for himself. I never grew tired of saying yes to him.
  Michael released a shaky sigh and downed more of the liquor with a big gulp. He shuddered at the taste, pulling a grimace. He caught my worried stare.
  "Join me in forgetting?" he asked, holding out the bottle.
  I joined him.
  The stereo was cranked up and our inhibitions became more loose as the night went on, tossed to the cloudy sky that kept the stars from our inebriated joy. We spent that night drunkenly stumbling around the parking lot, laughing at things that weren't funny and talking until our throats grew sore. The bottle emptied. Our night continued on.
  We ended up on the hood of the car, talking about absolutely nothing, only speaking for the sake of making sure that the other knew we were still there. The empty bottle was discarded on the concrete of the empty parking lot.

  "My dad sucks," Michael slurred what we both already knew. He loved to say it. I loved to hear it.
  "My dad's dead," I added with an intoxicated grin.
  "I think my dad killed those missing kids," Michael said, and I drunkenly laughed, because I thought that there was no way it was true, and Michael laughed at the stress of the knowledge that had weighed him down, all alone.
  I brushed the confession aside and swayed to the song that came blearing from the speakers. Michael watched me as the lyrics filled the quiet. 
  "Far away, this ship has taken me far away. Far away from the memories, of the people who care if I live or die."
  My eyes opened when Michael quickly and haphazardly shuffled from the hood of my car and held out his hand. His eyes were unfocused and his grin was wild.
  "Dance with me."
  "Dance?" I echoed with a breathless giggle. My vision was swaying. "Mikey, you don't dance."
  "I dance!" Michael defended, grabbing my hand and pulling me with him. I shrieked in joy, stumbling into him. He moved to the song, out of time. "I'm dancing right now."
  "You're an awful dancer," I laughed.
  "Better than you," he goaded, as he pulled me in a spin and almost fell to the concrete with me. Our laughs echoed through the night.

  It was nearing three in the morning when we wandered back home on foot, taking the hour-long walk instead of risking the car. We stumbled down the empty footpaths as we walked, bumping into each other and tripping over our own feet.
  It was funny. Everything was so happy and funny.
  We crawled back inside my room through the window. Michael collapsed on the mattress on the floor and I aimed for my bed but missed in my state, slipping off the edge and landing on the mattress beside him. We both laughed before hurrying to quieten one another with hands over our mouths.
  He fell asleep beside me. My mind had begun to return, one thought at a time. And as I watched his sleeping face, I felt my stomach fill with a sensation that I had never felt towards him before. The realisation had tears stinging in my eyes. It had the proximity electrifying. It had me wanting to kiss the beautiful boy who was sleeping beside me.
  I hoped - I prayed that I'd never forget that night. The night I fell in love with Michael Afton, the boy with Star Wars posters in his room, the boy with hazel eyes, the boy with a bruise on his cheek.

  When I woke I found myself encased in his arms, him still deep asleep, and I felt that fluttery feeling return with full force.
  "I think my dad killed those missing kids."
  In the more stable throes of a hangover, I realised the severity of what he had confessed. Michael would never say something like that if he truly didn't believe it.
  When he woke and we nursed our headaches, I asked him about it. He hesitantly explained to me everything he knew about William Afton's connection to the missing kids, he explained why he never went near Fredbear's Family Diner or his father's sister location of the company, Circus Baby's.
  He told me, through tears, about how he didn't know what happened to Elizabeth, but figured that it was something to do with the animatronics. He told me of his father's push for him to make Evan afraid of the robots, which only lead to his death. Michael blamed himself.
 
  He cried. And I cried with him.
  He asked if I could help him, said that he couldn't do it alone anymore, and I, aware that even if I wasn't still in the warm, fluttery feelings of realising that I was in love with him, said yes.