Dr. Dog
••• Heart It Races •••

And we're slow to acknowledge the knots in our laces

Heart it races

And we go back to where we moved out to the places

Heart it races

•••••

Artist: Salix

Artist: BoyMarcel98

  "Well, if it isn't Y/n L/n. You've grown!"

  "Hi, Mr. Kim," I greeted the elderly man that stood behind the counter of Hurricane's little local library with a smile. "You haven't aged a day."

  "You flatter me." Mr. Kim chuckled in the same gravelly, smoker voice that he had when I was younger. I used to frequent the library with Michael often during our youth, but those visits had eventually dwindled into nothing. "To what do I owe the pleasure of you popping by after all these years?"

  I tapped the pads of my fingertips on the counter edge and let my smile drop into a curious countenance. "Do you still keep past newspapers?"

  Mr. Kim had hairy, grey eyebrows that stuck out so far that you could probably braid them. They pulled up in surprise at my query, tickling his hairline. He let his hands lay atop a pile of checked-in books and tilted his head with obvious interest - not many people were requesting for newspapers, these days.

  "We do," he answered, "they're digitally filed into the computer system."

  I let loose a breath of relief and began to quickly retreat towards the direction of the computers. "Awesome. Thanks, Mr. Kim. It's good to see you again."

  "And the same to you, my dear," he croakily answered. He called out before I could escape. "That old friend of yours, the one with the brown hair. You two used to be inseparable." Mr. Kim's remark made me pause. "Afton's boy. Where's he now?"

  Fuck. I spun back around to face the old man with a strained smile.

  "... Atlanta," I replied, picking the first thing that came to mind in a brief hit of panic. "He's in Atlanta... doing... engineering."

  "Oh!" Mr. Kim gave a pleased smile. "Ah, good for him for getting out of here. Hurricane can become a bit of a deadlock, can't it?"

  With emphasis on the 'dead.'

  "... yep." My voice cracked. "It was good speaking to you!" And then I fled.

  Yikes. That was too close. Mr. Kim was probably one of the only few people in Hurricane who didn't get roped into the spiral of rumours that had erupted after Mike's disappearance and my swan dive into depression. I'd like to keep him out of that.

  I located one of the computers and quickly pulled up the articles concerning the missing kids from over the past nine months. After skim-reading the reports I located, I printed them out and stuck the papers into a folder.

  Just as I was leaving, a book caught my eye. Douglas Adam's The Hitchhiker's Guide to The Galaxy. I paused, picked up the wearied copy, weighed the heavy complete edition in my palm. Michael used to love reading these kinds of books.

  When was the last time Mike read a book?

  I checked the book out under my name.

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  "Okay." I spread the articles over the floor of Freddy's room the next morning. Michael watched from the couch, bent forward earnestly. Beside him was the book I presented him with. "These are every account of missing children's reports from the police station, newspaper articles, website journalism, and then some. Don't ask how much it cost to print these, please. It was expensive."

Michael looked over the expanse of printed evidence while I tried to set it all into somewhat of a chronological order. It felt just like investigating eight years ago, except Michael was one of the possessed robots instead of a bunch of children's souls that refused to communicate with us. At least back then kids weren't actively going missing during our investigations.

  I took a nervous sip from my coffee. And then I gulped it. The drink burnt my tongue.

"Good collection," he complimented. His eyes were narrowed as they scanned the prints and a nauseas look crossed his face. "There's... nine children missing, now?"

"They've gotten more frequent," I said solemnly. "The first six were spread out over seven months, but the last three were all reported missing within a couple of weeks of each other."

"Good god," Michael said. His gaze was locked on a recent article that had profiles of eight of the kids. "Do you think they're just getting more confident?"

"They haven't given any forms of evidence," I agreed gravely. "They taunted us the night before, even. They're getting cocky."

"Which means they're more liable to slipping up," Michael pointed out.

"Or more kids are going to get taken."

Michael quietened at my remark. I stared at the faces of the missing kids and felt a sick twist of my stomach. What if Amelia was one those kids? What if she was next? I couldn't handle losing my precious little niece. They were just kids.

Michael wiped his hands down his face in clear frustration. I couldn't blame him - for months, this copycat killer had been taking kids through the Pizzaplex under his nose, and we didn't even figure it out until about a month ago. Even if William was dead, his sick legacy lived on - this inspired killer was proof of it.

  And it was all happening right under my nose, too.

  "Fuck." I buried my head into my hands. "Fuck!"

  "Y/n?"

  "If I just hadn't been so... self-obsessed- if I had been more aware, I could've put two-and-two together quicker. I could've done something quicker." I dropped my hands and stared at the photos of the kids beaming back at me. "They're dead because I was having a massive mental patty."

  "You can't be blaming yourself," Michael said in shock. He stepped down from the couch and knelt beside me. "It is not your fault. You cannot pin it on yourself when someone else is holding the knife."

  "But if I'd pulled my head out of my ass, I could've noticed something sooner," I stressed. The eight smiles beaming back at me worsened my remorse.

  "Y/n, sweetheart." Michael gathered my hands in his. "Living with grief, with guilt... it is difficult, but you cannot let it hinder you, especially when it is not your fault despite what you may believe. We need to focus on our next steps, not be lamenting our last."

  I tore my gaze from the article and glanced at our hands before lifting my eyes to Freddy's face. I blinked at him in surprise. I think what he said was so profound that it made me confused enough to be knocked out of my guilty spiral.

  "When'd you get to be all wise and sage?"

  "Quite honestly, I think that might be Freddy's programming," Michael answered. "... but I suppose after seven years stuck in a robot, you learn to forgive yourself and release the burdens that may have never belonged to you in the first place."

  "I guess that would give you a sense of clarity," I murmured. "Then what is our next step?"

  Michael rubbed his thumb over the back of my hand and hummed in thought, peering over the evidence-covered floor. Even with all of our previous experience, it felt as though we were still too inexperienced to be dealing with this. Then again, we hadn't been investigating recent missing children's cases. Active serial cases were a lot more fragile than ones that were ten years and older.

  It was a shame that Michael destroyed the camera the other night. Getting another look at whatever that was behind the window of Freddy's room would've been beneficial.

  "I suppose it will be going down there," he said gravely.

Down there. With the endos. The endos that the copycat killer had control over. The endos we barely escaped from last time. The endow that had me mere seconds from death. My throat swelled with fear - I talked big game about going back down there, but I'd be lying if I said that the emotionless, purple eyes of the endos weren't frequent fragments of my nightmares.

The jagged scar on my calf itched.

"You're frightened," Michael said. His voice was quiet, melodic, tempered with concern. It made my throat swell further. "You don't have to do this, love. This isn't your fight."

  "It is, though," I said. I stood, slipped my hands from his, and began gathering the articles to file away. "I made it my fight when I fell in love with you. I just... don't see how to win this. The kids are being taken from playgrounds, shops, walking home after school..." I pawed through the articles with gritted teeth before tossing them to the ground and gave a frustrated cry. "They're an opportunist, Mike, there's no method to it! We can't even find a way to limit the kidnappings!"

  Freddy released a sigh before picking up the papers from the ground and begun to neatly pile them. I dropped to my knees to help.

  "I'm sorry. I'm just so scared."

  "We'll figure something out together," Michael reassured, holding out the articles for me to take. I grabbed them from him and slid them into their folder. He tapped on my knee as I tossed the folder onto the couch with a frown. "Until then, you just need to relax. Panicking will do you no good."

  "How am I supposed to relax?" I wearily asked with a smile. "You got a masseuse setting or something?"

It was a weak attempt at a joke that Michael didn't laugh at. I frowned in shame before realising that he must've been decidedly distracted if his far-off stare was anything to go by. I ducked my head to intercept his lost gaze.

"Mike?"

His eyes snapped back to me. There was a hint of curiosity behind the blue of his artificial irises and a touch of a grin was beginning to pull at the corners of his muzzle. I grew only more confused.

  "Well..." Michael carelessly turned his head aside in easy thought. He was beyond giddy, hiding behind a poker face that was failing miserably, avoiding my lost expression. "I know a few ways to relieve stress."

"Oh?" Please say massage, please say massage, please say massage. My shoulders were in sore need of one.

Michael didn't elaborate. Or, well, he didn't audibly elaborate. He let his hand do the talking as it slowly, confidently, encased my knee and slipped half an inch up my thigh. Half an inch still made it just past halfway. My leg was drowning beneath his hold.

  I stared at his hand dumbly, calculating the meaning behind his words so slowly that I could hear the cogs in my brain tick. The tips of his blunt, blue claws tapped on the inside of my leg, eliciting a spike of pleasure to crawl along my nerves.

  I was suddenly overcome with shock so violent that I felt my heart stumble. My eyes snapped to his face.

  "You're kidding."

   Michael nonchalantly shrugged and slipped his hand away. I watched it leave with a feeling of disjointedness, as though I were no longer on this plane of reality. The fault line of my decorum had fractured. God, was I even breathing?

  "It's up to you," he said.

  I dropped a heavy breath from my teeth. Was he being serious? The sly side-eye he gave me when he stood and picked up the manila folder to hide away in his vanity certainly felt serious and was eerily reminiscent of when he'd tease the suggestion back when it was a regular occurrence. Holy fuck. Did he really just suggest what I was ninety-nine percent sure he was suggesting?

  I let my eyes follow him as he walked, totally unperturbed, as if he hadn't just uprooted my entire sense of stability. I could feel my cheeks burning with wicked heat. It was only seven-forty in the morning. Not only was it early, but the 'Plex would be opening shortly. It was a bad idea from every angle.

  But the bad idea had already been planted and was germinating within my stupid little brain. I shouldn't even be entertaining it - if only for the sake of my job security (and the security of spending time with Michael) but morbid curiosity had too much of a handle over me. It wasn't as if I hadn't thought about it before.

  I swallowed against my suddenly dry throat.

  "Can you... can you feel pleasure?"

  Michael shut the vanity drawer with a low chuckle. He turned back to face me and my eager gaze, leaning confidently against the vanity with crossed arms.

  "No," Michael answered in a lilting, low hum of a tone and brought me back to earth, "not physical pleasure. But watching you come undone will be more than satisfying."

  A sharp inhale hissed between my teeth. Holy fuck.

  "The Pizzaplex opens in ten minutes," I pointed out with a croak of a voice.

  "I've worked on tighter time constraints," Michael assured with a smirk that made me recall every memory of him doing just that. My blush worsened.

  "... true," I conceded. Curiosity was driving me crazy now, sending my mind into a tizzy - what was he going to do if I said yes? It wasn't as if he was packing anything.

  Then again... he had a tongue... he had nicely sized fingers with claws that could retract. I glanced at the door and bit my lip. Time was ticking out. It was entirely my decision and I could very easily say no, if it weren't for the sudden coiling of want in my gut that kept me hesitating.

  I heard the back storage door open and my eyes jumped towards Michael, stood at the entrance to the room where we had just made out the day before. The darkness behind him was enticing, eliciting horribly wonderful thoughts in my head and offering even worse. I turned my doe-eyed stare to Michael.

  "It's up to you, superstar." He gave a crooked, warm smile. "Just tell me."

  It was a no brainer. Probably because I no longer had a working brain. It had overheated after Michael's suggestion and left nothing more than a smoking, charred crater in its wake.

I licked my lips nervously. I glanced at the room's entrance again.

"We won't get caught?"

"I won't let anything happen to you that you don't want."

Well. He was quite resolved about that, and a tinge cocky in his own abilities to top it all off. But he had always been cocky and a strain egotistical and I found that trait of his stupid enough to be absolutely endearing.

A ring from my phone interrupted the moment with such devastating shrillness that I felt my hope crash to my feet.

"That might be important," Michael said. I was resigned to pull my phone out and answer without checking who it was.

"What?" I groaned and slumped onto the couch beside me. Michael with his stupid robot hearing, listened in.

"Well, jeez," Matt greeted coolly, perturbed by my tone. "Good morning to you, too."

Fucking brothers. I closed my eyes in frustration. His timing was monumentally catastrophic.

"What do you want?"

"I'm outside, genius. You need to let me in for free with your staff pass. I'm not paying their fares."

My brow furrowed before my eyes shot open in realisation. No, it wasn't Matt's timing that was terrible - it was my memory.

"Oh, shit." I sat up straight. "I'll be down in just a second."

  I cut off Matt's response by hanging up. Michael was watching me curiously, eyes innocent despite the crimes he was willing to commit on my composure just mere seconds ago. I looked at him with disappointment as I stood.

  "We have to cut this short," I said dejectedly.

  "I heard," Michael replied. "Why is Matt here?"

  "To help," I grunted.

  "Help?" Michael cutely tilted his head.

  "Yeah," I sighed. "Henry's gone, you're stuck here and Charlie's half way around the world. I need all the help I can get with investigating outside of the Pizzaplex."

  "I suppose that makes sense," he said. "But he did not know about William's... undead state."

  "And he won't need to know. This copycat isn't William, he's gone. There's no point bringing him up."

  "Is he gone..?"

  "For his sake and my mental sanity, he better be," I grumbled. "Come on."

  As I went to step around him and exit the room, my wrist was gently caught by Freddy's large hand. I looked up at him expectantly but he was staring away, almost as if in shame.

  "I feel bad for working you up to no resolve," he murmured guiltily. A sad eye peeked at me. "Can I give you a kiss before we leave? To quell it, a little?"

  A smile pulled at my lips. He was always so kind. Maybe a little over-the-top, bleeding-heart kind which only got worse when he became Freddy; unless it was to tease me. Then he was still just as ruthless.

  "I would love a kiss," I warmly answered.

  Michael beamed before bending down to delicately tap his mouth to mine. It was so gentle and sweet, so mundane. For some reason, this small, tiny act of affection made me blush worse than before.

  "Thank you," he said. "I love you."

  That was it. I was going to crumble and melt into a puddle right here on the floor and my last memory will be of Michael's sweetheart smile on Freddy's face. I had to turn my head away, lest I forgot all about Matt waiting for us in the lobby. He still caught my flustered smile.

  We walked side by side to the lobby. I gave frequent, uncontrollable glances towards Michael and found him strolling with a content smile. At least he was happy.

  We found Matt waiting just beyond the ticket gates. On a toddler leash was Amelia.

  I felt my blood run cold as my eyes set on the little blonde girl. Why would he bring Amelia here of his own volition? Those red eyes haunted me. What if Amelia was one of the faces on the newspapers? I noticed Michael falter in his pace beside me before glancing down at my worried look.

  "Y/n?" Michael's call was quiet, almost inaudible. He subtly tapped the back of my hand with a finger tip to gain my attention. "Are you okay? I can feel your tension from here."

  "Yeah. Yeah." I nodded, breath thin and strained. "Yeah, I'm good."

  I was about as convincing as mouse trying to be a cat. Michael sent me a concerned look but he didn't get time to press for the truth.

  "Freddy!" Amelia gasped in delight before jetting it towards the bot. Her toddler leash dangled behind her as she raced as fast as she could, slipping between the gates like an eel. Michael scooped her up as naturally as a seasoned parent.

  "Good morning, Amelia," he greeted in his standard, upbeat Freddy voice. Amelia, with one hand occupied with the leg of a weathered stuffed dog toy, threw her short little arms around him in the best hug she could manage to give him.

  "Hey, Matt," I greeted while Michael and Amelia got reacquainted. I swiped my card and let him through. He was watching Freddy the entire time, eyes bulging, face pale. Ah, right. It was his first time seeing Freddy after learning that Michael was possessing him.

  "Hi..." Matt replied in almost a whisper. He was clammy. He was sweating. He was beginning to cause a scene and draw unwanted attention from other early bird patrons and staff members. I grimaced and hooked a hand around Matt's elbow.

  "Let's go somewhere more private," I suggested. Michael followed closely behind, Amelia comfortably sat on his arm and telling him all about her adventures at kindergarten. He was raptly listening, attention unwavering.

  "Matt," Michael greeted once we had stepped into the privacy of my office. He set my older brother with a warm, sad smile. "It's been a while."

  Amelia patted Freddy's chest to be let down. She scattered around the room upon her wish being granted, poking her nose into every nook and cranny.

  "... yep," Matt managed to choke out. "You're really..?"

  Michael solemnly nodded. That was all Matt needed to then punch Freddy square across the face.

  It was a bit of a height, but he did it. It gave the hollow clank of skin and bone hitting hollow metal. And then Matt curled in on himself and cradled his fist with a pained howl.

  "Matt!" I admonished in absolute shock at the writhing man. Michael stared at him, unsurprised and unharmed. "What the heck!"

  "Bad idea," Matt whimpered. He lifted one shaky finger towards Michael with a stare like poison. "That's for hurting my sister you..." He glanced at his daughter before turning his glare back to Freddy. "You big meanie."

  "I deserve that," Michael said. I gave a helpless groan and examined Matt's hand. It was only a little red. He'd live.

  "Why the heck did you bring Amelia here?" I seethed under my breath. Matt was still glaring daggers over my shoulder at Michael so I clicked my fingers in front of his eyes. "Hey! Answer me."

  Matt turned his attention to me. His steeled expression softened.

"I was going over the articles you sent me, and none of those kids went missing from within the Mega Pizzaplex," Matt replied, equally as quiet. "I assume the copycat killer doesn't want their base to be found out, so, ironically, this place is probably the safest for her."

  "I don't know about that one," Michael interrupted. "Y/n saw them."

  Matt was too panicked to send Michael a bitchy look. He stared at me with a pale expression. "What?!"

  I backed into Freddy's chest and held my arms. His hands on my shoulders did little to comfort me.

  "... yeah."

  "What did they look like?"

  I looked away. I wasn't ashamed or too prideful to admit that I was fucking terrified by the other night's encounter or that the terror still held onto me with a vice grip. My throat knotted as red eyes taunted me from within my own head.

  "Y/n said that they had red eyes," Michael replied when it became apparent that I couldn't. "We think they were wearing a mask... we also think that they are an employee here."

  Matt's face paled further. "Oh, fu-"

  "Daddy!" Amelia chirped and held out a drawing she'd made of Freddy on one of my spare notepads. "Look!"

  "Fudge!" Matt finished in a chirp. "Wow, Mellie, that looks fantastic! Do you wanna show Freddy?"

  Amelia proudly showered off her masterpiece to Michael and I. We gave enthusiastic responses and she retreated to my desk to make more.

  "I read the articles you sent me," Matt said as he took a seat on the couch, returning to the topic at hand. "There's a pretty solid timeline. They're getting more active."

  "We figured that out, too," Michael said. "But there's no method to what kid they take. It's simply opportunistic."

  "Do you guys have a plan yet?"

  "Not yet," I replied. My gaze strayed to Michael, who was staring at the ground in deep thought. "We got distracted."

  I didn't even say it in a suggestive tone, but Matt's face still twisted and blanched.

  "Oh, gross." He clapped his hands over his ears. "I don't need to know what my sister gets up to."

  I rolled my eyes. "Don't be such a child."

  "Whatever- maybe we can gather enough evidence on this copycat to go to the police," Matt suggested. "Y'know, maybe we can catch them in the act?"

  "But the endos..." Michael said. "If we send anyone down there, they'll get slaughtered." I didn't miss his pointed stare my way. I ignored it.  

  I had a steeper worry begin to bloom within my chest. It was something that hit me out of the blue, something I hadn't even considered before. The stakes were a lot higher than I initially thought.

  "If we get the police involved, they'll shut this place down."

  "But that's good!" Matt said eagerly. "Fazbear entertainment deserves to be shut down!"

  I winced and glanced back at Michael. He seemed to be following my train of thought. If that happened, I wouldn't get to see him anymore, and even worse;

  "Mike might get dismantled if this place closes down," I wearily argued. "They all will - and the others aren't just robots, they're people, Matt. They're my friends. I can't let that happen."

  Matt's cheer faded at my observation. "Oh, right... no police, then. No sending anyone down there." His expression fell. "What do we do?"

  "Alice is still on the neighbourhood board, correct?" Michael asked. When Matt nodded, he continued; "make a contingency plan. Send out an alert as soon as a child is assumed to be missing. Get all businesses and homes to put cameras up."

  Matt agreed.

  "And us?" I asked.

  Michael set me with a look of tired determination. He was exhausted of fighting this fight and yet he still pushed on. But this time, he had numbers on his side. This time, he had me. I refused to sit out like I did before and he was well aware of that.

  "We weed the killer out," he said.

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  With Matt gone and a plan in the motion of refining, I had nothing to distract me during the day.

Well, except for the fantasises that played vividly from behind my eyelids. Every time I shook my head to purge the thoughts of Michael finishing what he promised, they returned worse than before.

Dammit, I thought to myself as I leant my arms on the railing of the atrium's second level. I'd given up on doing my work, too flustered and frazzled, but watching Freddy energetically dance across the stage just invoked even more imageries. I didn't realise I was so repressed.

I dropped my chin to my arms and closed my eyes. His voice echoed around the arena and bunched around me, accompanied by the band. Freddy had been performing greater than usual so at least my job was secured for the most part.

By the time the show drew to a close and I was waiting below the stage to escort Freddy back, I was near sweaty. Michael raised a brow at my averted gaze.

"Are you okay?" he asked, dropping his head low while we trailed after the rest of the band and their handlers.

"No," I snapped. I'd reached my threshold. I was at the cruel mercy of my own imagination. It was taking no prisoners and I was target number uno.

Michael's nose brushed against the tip of my ear. His affection was subtle, nonchalant, nothing too obvious if we were to be spotted. What he said was an entirely different story.

"We have half an hour until the meet and greet," Michael reminded in a taunting, promising whisper. "Why don't we finish what we started?"

"You need to charge."

"My battery's at an optimal level," he reassured.

  "You didn't even get to finish what you started this morning."

  "I promise that this time I'll be faster." He slipped his hand into mine. "Please, love? I've been thinking about it all day."

  I glared at him. I didn't need much convincing at all. I was wrapped around his finger, but at least he seemed to have been as tortured by our session being cut off as I was.

  "Fine."

Michael grinned and, after wounding his arm around my waist, hauled me down another maintenance tunnel. I gasped in surprise, stumbling after his quick pace. His footsteps echoed heavily in the dark but there was no one wandering the tunnels to alert.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Somewhere with no cameras." He shoved open a storage closet's door with a bump of his hip. He ushered me inside the dark room with the eagerness of a puppy and my shoes hit endo parts that had been scattered carelessly across the floor. The door was shut and a dull, near-useless light flickered on overhead.

Rows and rows of shelves greeted me, filled with every kind of miscellaneous object I could imagine the Pizzaplex needing. It was disorganised and chaotic, and I wondered how anybody found anything in here.

I jumped as a screech of metal on concrete made my ears ring and turned to find Michael pulling a shelving unit across the door. My heart gave a giddy leap - he was being thorough. No distractions. No unwanted visitors. This was a Michael I knew well; a Michael that meant business.

"It's not exactly romantic," Michael admitted as he stepped over the trash on the ground towards me. He caught my hungry stare with his and I felt my knees wobble. His hands came to rest at my waist. "But it'll do."

"It's perfect," I sighed. Michael smiled gently before his hands drifted up to my cheeks and he bent down for a kiss.

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Cat-Mike glared at me from the entrance of the kitchen.

It was loud in my house for once. It was uncharacteristically vibrant. My music blared from a speaker and I sang along while cooking dinner, off-key and getting the words wrong, but it didn't matter nor did I care. I was dancing with a wooden spoon in hand like a child, I felt like a child, and it was as though quite literally nothing could dampen my mood. The world could end and I wouldn't bat an eye.

  I wasn't preprogrammed or skilled in performing like the band but I was sure that Cat-Mike would've hated the commotion either way. I kissed the top of his head. He blinked with slow ire.

I couldn't help it - I just felt so happy, like my brain had finally released all the serotonin it had been withholding from me. I was a ball of energy. I felt as though I had embodied the sun itself.

When I laughed, the sound bounced off the walls of the small kitchen. When I sang, my own words encircled me fully. Cat-Mike didn't appreciate the performance, but I was in love with Michael and Michael was in love with me and I didn't care about all the little things that used to bother me anymore. They were all so trivial. Why did I let them worry me in the first place?

I was cooking on autopilot, daydreaming about Michael and his kisses and the affection each movement of his held. Daydreaming about his lidded gaze, his perfect kisses, the way he made me see stars so effortlessly. I had been enraptured by him before, when he was human, but now I was enraptured in a different sense.

I loved his big, blue eyes that held so much emotion that it startled me when I first met him. I loved his voice, a deeper timbre and more gentle than before, the comforting lull of Freddy's accent with Michael's inflections. I loved the way he interacted with the kids and with the rest of the bots and how he loved to perform just to make people smile.

  More importantly, I loved how he towered over me and kept me safe, even when I didn't know who he was. Even when I might have yelled at him or hurt his feelings back when I didn't know any better. He'd always tried his utmost to keep me safe, even if one of his methods was... idiotic, at best.

  I could hardly believe that I once thought of him as no more than a robot.

  So I danced and I sang and I made an absolute fool of myself in front of a feline who judged far harsher than any human ever could. And I daydreamed. They were silly daydreams, impossible ones, visions Freddy crouched under the low ceiling of our home, nights no longer spent apart, of coffees in our kitchen rather than the lobby and of Michael reacquainting himself with his old Hurricane haunts.

  I was stuck in the midst of one of these sweet-tasting daydreams when I subconsciously dished up two plates, one for me, one for Michael, and turned to greet the human that wasn't there.

  My smile vanished. I was haunting a barren house.

  "Oh," I said into the emptiness.

A crushing wave of loneliness body slammed me out of nowhere and I was promptly winded. Cat-Mike stood and rubbed his head against my calves and I stared at the desolation of the kitchen. I glanced at the two plates in my hands, ready to be eaten by two people, and that lonely feeling was matched by sorrow.

... how could I feel more lonely than before?

I felt stupid as I scraped the second dish back into the pan. That fluttery feeling of hope and love from before had completely disappeared on me, and Taylor Swift playing from the speaker felt as though it were a personal attack. Cat-Mike watched from his spot on the floor as I grabbed my plate and dolefully began to eat my dinner alone.

Sleep that night was fitful. My bed was too cold, too empty, the silence of absence like thunder to my ears. I put on the radio to beat back the empty space but it was ineffective.

  My poor mood poured into the next day.

"Are you okay?" Michael asked when I took a beeline into Freddy's stomach and planted my forehead against him. My reply was a noncommittal whine. He shifted my morning coffee cup into his other hand so he could hold me, though confused. My arms hung listlessly at my sides. "Superstar?"

"It's nothing," I mumbled into his stomach hatch. I buried my head into his body so he wouldn't have to see the weary look on my face and fret over my tiredness. "Don't worry about it."

"I will worry about it," he countered. "What's going on?"

"It really is stupid."

"Y/n."

I sighed and pulled myself back from him. One large, clawed hand dwarfed my cheek in an affectionate hold and his brows knotted at my inability to hold his gaze. Concern melted over him and slid into me, and I writhed uncomfortably beneath his attention. I wanted to tell him what was going on but I also couldn't think of anything quite possibly worse.

"Did something happen?" he prompted.

"Not really," I said. At his pinched expression, I caved. "I made dinner last night and dished up two plates. Then I got sad."

Michael was taken aback. I took the coffee from his grasp and turned to head to the elevators so I could hide from his face that was quickly melting into a look of sympathy. He stepped into pace beside me easily. His heavy footsteps pierced my ears.

"See?" I said. "Stupid."

"You're lonely," he noted quietly. I winced. "That's not stupid, sweetheart. I get lonely, too. It just makes our time spent together more precious to me."

  I silently, slowly nodded, though shame still crept up my neck. I'd spent too many hours of the night prior kicking myself for being so pitiful and lame that a single sentence wasn't going to eradicate it all, no matter how sweet the sentence was. The elevator opened for us.

"I didn't want to tell you," I muttered. The elevator rattled on its cables and in its privacy, Michael rested his chin atop my head.

  "Why not?" His voice was so close that his cadence traveled through my body. I shivered for not entirely unpleasant reasons.

  "Because there's nothing we can do about it?" I said in a voice that was an accidental pitch higher than intended. The doors slid open. "Because I know that in the grand scheme of everything else going on here that it's minuscule and I probably just... sound whiny-"

"You do not sound whiny." Michael cut me off with stern disagreement. He pulled away only to set me with a frown that matched his tone. "Do not invalidate your own feelings."

I stared at the floor as we walked across the row, brows furrowed. I understood what he was talking about, but it still didn't feel right. My miseries were so inconsequential in comparison to what we had to face here. So what if I was lonely when I returned home with only a cat for company? It didn't matter.

The door to Freddy's green room slid shut behind us. I was startled when Michael suddenly turned to me; his face was bright with an idea. I didn't know whether to feel cautious or intrigued.

  "Give me your watch."

"What?" I asked. He insisted with his outstretched hand, so I unclasped it and gave it to him with a confused frown. "What are you going to do with it?"

"A surprise." He grinned and tapped the side of his muzzle. It made me pull a small smile in response. Michael turned around his room with a thoughtful hum, gaze scanning. "As for a quick-term solution... aha."

He stepped up to his couch and snatched one of his oversized plushie replicas. I raised a brow as he offered it to me.

"To fill the bed," he explained.

"I'm thirty-three, Mike," I reminded with a crooked smirk. "I don't need stuffed toys."

"Oh," he said, and innocently pulled it away. I watched it go with wide eyes. "Do you not want it-?"

"No!" I leapt for the teddy. "Gimmie!"

Michael snickered and relinquished the teddy to me. I squeezed it tight - it was almost as tall as me - and buried my face in the plushness. I almost fell asleep in its softness right then. I wasn't sure how this was going to stop me from feeling so lonely exactly, but a free massive teddy was a free massive teddy. I wasn't daft enough to decline it.

"Better?" Michael asked with a soft smile.

"A little," I admitted. I peeked up at him. "Thank you."

  "Good," he hummed and tapped his nose to my hairline. "Now, lovely, drink your coffee. We have a long day ahead of us."

  I rolled my eyes at his order in good nature. "Yes, sir."