Frankie Rose
••• Pair of Wings •••

show me your scars

i'll show you mine

perched out of the city

on a pair of power lines

•••••

Artist: werifesteria

Artist: Al

Artist: BoyMarcel98

Artist: zekudoge

Artist: verbaciouspunster

and I finally found the motivation to draw the new cover :') thanks to Skyler Sunrise who made the temp cover! <33

can y'all believe there's like. eight chapters left? crazy dawg LMAO

but then we'll have the sequel so don't stress, I haven't forgotten about Gregory or the security breach plot! It's definitely coming :)

Speaking of, there's now a title for the sequel! It's been annoying me for MONTHS but I just couldn't find a right fit, but now we've got one! When aimmn is finished, keep your eye out for Blood in The Wires. It'll start directly where aimmn ends!

And, of course, there's always more information and spoilers on my discord! There'll be a post on my message board when this chapter comes out because wattpad doesn't like keeping up my bio, which has the link in it :// modern issues require modern solutions

Enjoy the chapter! <3

  "So, like... he's my boyfriend?" I said with a confused scrunch of my nose as I chewed on my toast. "But not really. I mean - we didn't exactly break up, right? He called us friends, but does that even count? Do I even want that?"

  I dropped my toast onto the plate with a loaded sigh. It was gross toast. It was disappointing toast. There was nothing satisfying about it at all, and it was driving my mood deeper and deeper into the dumps.

  "I don't know," I continued wearily. "There's so much I still need to process, but this one's been bugging me for a while, you know? Like - he still likes me, I think, if his past actions are anything to go by. But he's a robot now, and I don't even think we have the capacity to become... something serious again." I turned to my audience with a frown. "Do you get me?"

  Cat-Mike mewed and bumped his soft head against my leg. I don't care. Get me my food.

  I glanced down at him with an unimpressed frown. His tabby coat gleamed gold in the morning sunrise as he brushed himself against me, begging for food in his already-filled cat bowl.

  "You know, for a cat who relies on me for making sure you're warm and fed, you're really disrespectful."

  He bit the flesh of my ankle and meowed louder, something shrill and whining. His gaze was insistent, demanding. I groaned.

  "Dude, you've got food!" I gestured towards his bowls in the corner of the kitchen that were almost overflowing with biscuits. "Now can you listen to my dilemma, please?"

  Cat-Mike didn't want to listen to my dilemma. He turned and stalked into the living room with a lowering of his head and a flick of his tail in annoyance. I rolled my eyes at my aggressive roommate and turned back to my breakfast. At least Michael didn't bite me when he was hungry.

  Well. Sometimes he did, but that was a different kind of hungry.

  Okay. At least he asked before biting me.

  I planted my elbow on the bench a little harder than necessary at the stark direction my brain just went in. My nerves jumped, spiking up my arm and making it numb for a second. I dug my mouth into my palm and closed my eyes.

  God. I had sex - multiple times, countless really, over six years of it - with Freddy Fazbear. Because they were just one in the same now, right? Michael was Freddy, Freddy was Michael. The same bot that performed songs for kids had once shared my bed. He'd bit me. He'd give me hickeys. I gave him hickeys.

  Every sinful bit of biological ravaging we did back then, I had done to who was now Freddy Fazbear.

  I dropped my forehead onto the bench with burning cheeks.

  "This is fucked," I sang as swung myself back up and closed my eyes against the morning sun. I forced myself not to fall into tears of confusion. "This is so fazfucked."

  I had promised myself that I'd be crying no longer after I got home yesterday. I was in my hot girl spring arc - because it was spring, not summer, yet - so I decided; fuck it! My not-ex is a robot, now! I used to have sex with not-Freddy Fazbear! That's cool! Great! Perfect! I am cool and calm and good. This is all okay. This is fine.

  This was not fine.

  I took a doleful bite of my toast and stared out at the shed that had plagued me for eight years. Spring was here and you could see it in the budding daises on the lawn, washed over the green swathe like white freckles. The scene almost looked pretty as they glowed pink in the sunrise.

  I gave the shed the bird as I chewed.

  "Fuck you, Mike," I declared to the shed. My nose scrunched again. "And now I feel bad. Ugh."

  I finished my breakfast and put my dishes in the sink to be dealt with later (hot girl spring arc entails procrastinating on household chores and that means you're sexy and I make the rules) before heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Cat-Mike reappeared with revenge on his little cat brain, weaving between my legs and almost sending me to the ground. 

  My reflection hesitated as I did when I stopped before the mirror above the sink. I looked raggedy, tossed through a mental ringer, and Jesus Christ, could the bags beneath my eyes get any darker? But I was in a hot girl spring arc and I'm sexy as hell and - Fuck it, I can't keep this up anymore.

  I was in shock and depressed, okay? Is that what you wanted? The bitter, ugly truth that I hide with humour? Fine. You can take it.

  My eyes dropped to my neck as I brushed my fingers against the empty spot where the locket should've sat. In all the mess that was the previous night, I'd forgotten to grab it from Freddy's vanity and its absence was felt just as fierce as before. I felt incomplete without its weight.

  It was my thing, you know? My special little thing. It survived being thrown at walls and being drowned by tears. It'd survived a night out on the lawn before I guiltily went to retrieve it the morning after having tossed it out the window in a fit of rage. It was my emotional support item, and I'm pretty sure it should've broken at least seven times by now, what the hell was it made from? Fucking vibranium?

  Anyway, it was gone and I missed it. I would like it back, pretty please and thank you.

  I brushed my teeth and wiped some concealer over my eye bags (I'd gotten pretty nifty at covering them from over the years). Cat-Mike watched me from the bathroom doorway with a scathing, narrowed glare and a twitch of whiskers. I sent a shitty look right back at him.

  Then I got into my car, turned the volume of my stereo up all the way, and blasted my eardrums deaf all the way to work while navigating the near-empty roads of too-early Hurricane. I was pretty sure the last thread of my sanity had snapped some time while I was asleep.

  I pulled into the parking lot and took my keys from the ignition. And then I just... sat for a bit. I took in the slowly lightening morning as the clock on my phone ticked closer to seven-thirty. I tried my best to calm my mind. There was no point in bursting inside the Pizzaplex and having another mental breakdown.

  When I felt myself adequately calmed in the tiny sliver of time I had, I stepped out of my car and greeted the chilly spring morning with a shiver. I stared at the Pizzaplex's entrance as I locked my car. I stared at Freddy's neon face gazing down at me. I was okay. Everything was okay. I was calm.

  Nope, never mind, sorry. I flicked the bird to him, too. But for the company, of course. Not Freddy. Fuck conglomerates and all that. Eat the rich or whatever the teenagers these days were saying (god, am I old? Is thirty-four old?).

  Okay, I give. Maybe half of the bird was for Freddy. Like a fraction. A fraction of it was for Freddy.

  'I'm allowed to be mad,' I assured myself as I shoved my keys into my bag and briskly crossed the cold parking lot. And maybe I was going through the five stages of grief or something, but I felt that was unimportant.

  I swiped my card at the scanner and took a deep breath to steady my nerves. I didn't understand why I was still nervous. I mean, really, we'd done all the hard stuff. We had the big boy talk. Now all we had to do was sit back and ride the waves to see where this fucked-up maritime of a ship sailed us.

  I pushed open the door. Warmth hit me and I sighed in relief as my goosebumps were swept away. Fazbear Entertainment might've been a money-grabbing, scody business at best, but at least they didn't make us freeze. Sometimes you just had to be content with the little victories.

  My eyes crossed the empty lobby before noticing the bot leaning against the guest gates with his gaze pointed at the tiled ground. Freddy was waiting for me like how he usually would with a coffee looking comically tiny in his grasp.

  Michael? Michael was waiting. Freddy-Michael. Fredmike? Frike? Glamrock Mike? Glammike? God, this was going to be confusing. I was already getting a headache.

  His ears perked at the sound of the door opening before his gaze lifted to find me and the brightness that enveloped him whole melted away the rest of my cold-morning chills. But those nerves from before hit me square in the face. He held out the coffee for me to take, still hot, bless him. Fuck him. Bluck him.

  Please, someone. Make my brain stop abbreviating.

  "Good morning," he greeted as I approached and god, I wanted to crumple to the floor and let the stupid sinkhole take me. He was using his voice again, Michael's one, and it had my knees buckling in I-don't-know-what.

  I hoped it wasn't out of attractiveness. I'd wanted to stay a little bit mad at him for a while longer before dealing with the shitshow of having a romantic past with whom was now a ghost. But, dammit, his voice had always been so pretty. It had always been the toppling of my Roman Empire.

  "'Morning," I replied. I took the coffee from his outstretched hand and spared him a small smile. The heat in my palms relaxed me, but only a little. "Thank you."

  I felt... oddly shy as I stood there before his towering figure. I felt like I shouldn't speak, that I didn't know how to. That, paired with the knowledge that this was Michael; the man I almost married, the man who'd seen every vulnerable side of me imagined, the man who I'd grown up with and loved - it had my ears turning red and tongue growing tangled.

  It was still confounding, of course. It felt like I was walking in a lucid dream and that none of this was quite real. My entire world had been upheaved for the second time, and I was still stumbling from the movement. My feet couldn't find grip. My stomach had been left behind. My brain was entirely frazzled.

  We were both quiet, searching for what we wanted to say. We used to speak so easily, conversation flowing from our lips like a hose we couldn't stop, but now... it all escaped us. And it was awkward. I was definitely not in my hot girl spring arc after all. 

  "We should head up," I suggested with my face half-hidden behind the coffee cup. Freddy nodded.

  "How was your night?" he asked as we ascended the stairs. My cheeks blushed in shame as I took a sip of my coffee.

  In reality, I binged the entire first season of The Immortal and The Restless as soon as I stepped inside - a show I hadn't let myself even think about after Michael died. And I got takeout delivered when I had enough food at home to cook something easy. And I definitely didn't get enough sleep.

  "It was fine," I murmured. What sleep I did get was fitful and coveted by dreams that were empty but left me feeling uncomfortable. I had woken feeling less rested than before. "Yours?"

  Michael was quiet for a moment and I wagered that, like me, he was omitting less-than-desirable information from what he wanted to say. His eyes slid to the side. "Good," he answered.

  We both knew the other was lying.

  "Did the others give you a hard time after I left?" I asked.

  "As soon as you were gone," Michael grumbled as we stepped into the elevator. His expression was pinched in annoyance and I could only imagine the lengths the others had traversed to have made him take on such countenance.

  "That bad?"

  "Worse."

  I gave a thin smile. "You poor thing."

  He grumbled something under his breath as the Row opened up before us. Chica and Bonnie were sitting on one of the benches with their heads bent together, all conspiracy-like. They both glanced over and stared with greedy eyes.

  "It's like they're starved for amusement," I murmured.

  "They are," Freddy said with a disappointed sigh. "Their AI is too complex to be stuck in this place twenty-four-seven. We're all short of going stir-crazy."

  A small pebble of guilt that had been sitting in the bottom of my stomach erupted then, consuming me whole and entirely. I'd always felt bad about the bots having such high emotional intelligence only to never get to really see the world outside of the 'plex, but now that I knew it was Michael behind Freddy's blue eyes, it just made it all the more worse.

  Bonnie's words came back to me from the day before; 'I don't have anything from the outside that I miss.' But Michael did, and it would be narcissistic of me to think that I was the only thing he missed.

  We waved to Bonnie and Chica, who returned the greeting. They watched as we crossed towards my office with gazes that pierced. I pressed my I.D against the door and we stepped inside. Privacy, finally.

  "I... can try bring in some stuff," I offered as I dropped my bag onto the couch. "Dennis takes ages to approve things for you guys, but... what he doesn't know won't hurt him, right?"

  "That would be very nice of you," he smiled gently. I turned away to hide my face and dig out my phone from my collection of stuffs in my bag.

  "What should I bring?" I asked. My voice was tight. I didn't like the way he smiled at me, but I did. I really did.

  "The others like movies," he suggested. "Though, I must admit, the movies we're given are... B-listed, at best."

  I grinned to myself. My fingers found my phone and I pulled it out. A text from Matt greeted me. "Or they're starring you."

  "I'm a very good actor," he defended as I passed by him to get to my desk. "The scripts are terrible."

  I had to laugh - his ego was just as amusing and charming as it had always been. I took a seat on my chair and spun me around to send him a raised brow.

  "Whatever you say, big guy." I unlocked my phone to reply to a text to my brother. My thumb tapped against the side of the device as an idea came to mind. "I can... bring in Star Wars."

  A sharp intake of breath was my answer. "You don't have to," Michael replied, but the seed was planted and the longing was as clear as day. He was itching to watch those little lightsabers go at it on the silver screen again.

  I wondered how many times there had been passing conversations about Star Wars that he couldn't butt into. Michael knew Star Wars, but Freddy didn't. I wondered how many times he'd had to play naive.

  "Tell me honestly," I began, "who did you miss more? Me or Star Wars?"

  "... I can't answer that one," he averted after a silence that carried for just a tad too long, though his eyes were teasing. I shook my head and turned back to my desk with a smile.

  "Nerd," I said. "Nerdchael Aftnerd."

  "Hey-"

  "Faznerd," I said over his voice. "You're a Star Wars Faznerd."

  While Michael complained about my name-calling, I searched my desk for a spare charger. I must've forgotten to put my phone on charge the night before in the middle of my mid-life crisis, because it was almost going into danger zone in terms of time it had left.

  I pulled open my bottom drawer and I froze. Evan's note stared back at me.

  Evan. Suddenly, it seemed a lot heavier to keep this little bit of proof about William in my drawer. At first, I was going to attempt to investigate the note and William on my own, but now that I knew that Michael was here...

  I glanced back at Michael. He was still rambling, turning to a different topic that was still related to Star Wars, I don't know, something about kyber crystals. I slowly closed the drawer.

  He looked so happy talking about Star Wars. I didn't want to ruin that just yet - for my mental sanity more than anything. I don't think I was ready for the kind of talk this note would entail.

  And what Roxy had told me; 'a rabbit, but not.' She must've been referring to William - who else could it be? Did Michael know about him? If he did, surely he'd tell me?

  It's not like he hasn't told me important shit before.

  A knock on the door interrupted my bitter thought before it could spiral. Michael stopped rambling and we both glanced over just as Bonnie stuck his head around the door. Chica was behind him with a hand on his shoulder, eyes wide.

  "Hey, crazy kids," he greeted with a twitch of his long ears. "How are you two doing?"

  I glanced at Michael, but he seemed to be equally taken aback but our sudden guests. He opened his mouth to reply.

  "Uh-"

  "ARE YOU GUYS IN LOVE AGAIN?" Chica loudly burst before squeaking and hiding her beak behind her hands. My cheeks went red. Bonnie hissed for her to be quiet.

  "How did you guys get into my office?" I asked while struggling to quell the blood flow to my face. "You need a keycard for that."

  "Your security is... not very secure," Chica replied with a meek smile and a shrug. "I think this door is faulty." She perked up. "So? Are you?"

  "Chica!" Bonnie elbowed the chicken with an emphasised look to tell her to stop.

  "Out," Michael demanded. Bonnie swung his head back to Freddy with a pleading look. "Now."

  "We just want to know if our best friends are okay," Bonnie defended. Chica nodded so fast that her feathers bounced.

  "Then do it more subtly," Michael said. He began pushing the bunny out with a hand to his chest. "Out."

  Bonnie groaned and relented, letting the door shut on him and Chica. Freddy released a breath and rubbed at his forehead when the pair of heavy footsteps faded down the Row. I nervously tucked my hands underneath my thighs and swung my seat back and forth with the tips of my shoes.

  "They're eager," I murmured. Freddy shook his head and sighed. My feet swung my chair back to my desk and I turned on my monitor. I heard him approach, I felt it in the way the hairs on the back of my neck stood in reaction to his proximity.

  "Y/n." Freddy's large frame had kneeled beside me and I risked a peek, only to get vertigo from having such a usually tall bot be at eye level with me. He furrowed his brow in deep concentration as he looked for the words he needed to say. "I... want to ask you something."

  I turned my chair a little more towards him. It was an unspoken urge for him to continue.

  He sucked in a deep breath he didn't need. "You have a night shift tomorrow, correct?"

  "... I do," I replied, in suspicion.

  Freddy's blue eyes darted away. "Would you like to... have dinner with me?"

  My brows raised and a bewildered smile crossed my face. "What?"

  His shoulders tensed. "Din- Dinner with me-"

  "No, I- I heard you, I just-" a shocked laugh slipped from my lips. I genuinely couldn't believe he just asked me that. "Wow."

  A full look of regret had begun to take him hold. "You don't have t-"

  "Sorry, no- let me get this straight-" I raised my hand to stop him from speaking. "We had the conversation yesterday about how you didn't tell me shit plus I had to come to terms that my ex is possessing the robot who made moves on me, and now you have the gall to ask me on a date?"

  Freddy's ears slowly folded backwards and looked away, clearly trying to save face.

  "... well, I-" he shrugged, panicking, playing it cool and failing miserably. "I mean, sure, yeah, if- if that's what you want to call it, y'know- it doesn't have to be a date, it could just be us hanging out, together, alone, as a couple of friends or a couple-" his eyes found mine briefly before darting away "- or as friends, it's really not-"

  "Mike- Mike," I cut him off. He stopped abruptly and found my dry look. "You're doing that thing to the girls you used to ask out who weren't interested. You know - rambling. Trying to look cool."

  "I- I am?" He furrowed his brow. "No, I don't- I don't think that's what I'm doing."

  "God, this is so sad." I wiped a palm over my face and shook my head at him. "If I say yes, will you shut up?"

  "Yes." His eyes were wide and bright.

  "Fine," I said. "Yes."

  "Really?" he breathed. I could hear the mechanical little tail of his start to wag. I turned back to my computer with a scowl and began going through my emails.

  "Don't make me say it again," I muttered. "I can't believe I'm even entertaining this. You're so lucky that I'm into stupid men."

  "I just- you know, I think it would be a great way to catch up and-"

  "Please, stop talking about it," I begged. "Sit on the couch until I'm finished or go talk to Bonnie or whatever. Just don't make me regret coming in today." My mental state already was stretched thin enough as it was. If it was anybody but Michael who did that...

  I closed my eyes in exhaustion. Just as the same as it always had been; I couldn't say no to him.

⚡️🧸🤖🧸⚡️

  It had hit me while driving on the way to my nightshift; Freddy can't eat. Why the hell would he ask me to dinner? Where are we going to go? El Chips?

  This entire thing was baffling at best. I don't know where Michael got the confidence from, but then again, he always was more confident than he should've been. It definitely got him slapped in the face more times than success in landing a date.

  I should've slapped his face. It would've hurt like hell, but I should've.

  It was dark out when I pulled into the parking lot for my shift. I spent the rest of my half-day at home, wondering why on earth I accepted his proposal. I must've been the world's dumbest moron.

  "Hey," I greeted when I stepped inside and was met by Freddy.

  "Hello." He was excited, way too damn excited, and I had to pinch myself to keep me from succumbing to his cuteness. "Are you ready?"

  "... sure." I narrowed my eyes. "Where, exactly, are you taking me?"

  "A surprise," Michael grinned. "Now that you're off the clock-"

  "Technically, I am working right now-"

  "Semantics," he waved off. "We can finally have a proper talk."

  Oh, great. That could either mean he had more bombshells for me or he wanted to murder my ass by ways of flirting. I wasn't sure which one I preferred.

  "We haven't had a proper talk already?" I nervously asked.

  "Not really," he disagreed. "Not about, y'know, life."

  "Life?"

  "Yeah," Michael nodded. He pressed the button for the elevator and turned back to me with a smile. "What have you been doing since? What's the world like now? Tell me everything."

  "Everything?" I echoed unsurely. "That's... gonna take a while."

  His smile grew a touch weary. "I do have an eternity."

  Ah. Right. I bit my lip. "Uh, well... I have a cat, now. But you already knew that." I take therapy. I shouldn't say that. I don't have much in the way of a social life anymore. I shouldn't say that, either. "Oh, Caleb's got twins, now. He married Jessica. Do you remember Jessica?"

  "I remember going out with Jessica. She dumped a milkshake on me." His gaze was dry as we rode the elevator. "I guess she didn't like how much I talked about robots instead of her."

  I gasped. "I remember that!" I'd helped wash it from William's car seats, of which Mike stole for the evening. It was a full day job and I spent every minute of it making fun of him.

  That was before I started catching feelings. We must've been sixteen back then. I marvelled at how different I lives were now, how much had changed. I don't think either one of us back then ever imagined us like this.

  The elevator stopped at the atrium. I raised my brow as he placed a hand on the small of my back and began leading me towards where he wanted us to go.

  "Caleb's got kids, huh?" Michael lowly hummed. He stared ahead, but his ears were aimed at me, hearing everything single breath I took. "Do you... still want them?"

  My breathing stopped. Yes, I did. Of course I did. I wanted kids every time I saw a happy child with their content parent, but when I saw that parent, I saw them as Michael. It was a constant reminder of both what I lost and what I had almost gained.

  "I'm not really in a position to..." I murmured. "I don't think I could do it-" I winced and avoided his face. "... alone, if I went down that route."

  His silence was a tangible thing, plaited through with guilt and twisting with regret. It hung heavy in the space between us. We both knew what we had wanted back then and what he was now implying, and we both knew how impossible it would be.

  And I knew some people could do it alone, but I just... I didn't think I was strong enough for it. Or stable enough. I didn't trust myself to be a parent anymore, and not just because getting a donor would be a lengthy process. Cat-Mike was enough trouble as is, and he's a cat.

  "Sorry," he whispered. His hand left my back and I felt cold without the contact. "I shouldn't have brought it up." 

  Things grew more tense the longer the silence lingered. I recognised where we were headed, now - Fazerblast. My cheeks burned at the memory of when I was last within the arena.

  Freddy lead me towards an employee-only door, which took us up to the small, decorated room that looked out over the arena. I'd never been there before.

  "This your secret hiding place?" I asked as I approached the glass and stared at the large rocket decor that hung from the ceiling. The view stretched over the whole arena. I could only imagine what it would be like to watch a game from here. "It's cute."

  "Something like it," he replied. "The others don't go up here. But-"

  I heard the click and hiss of his chest cavity opening. When I turned back around, a burrito was being held out for me.

  "We don't need them to," Michael smiled bashfully. "Just the way you like it, of course. No beans."

  "Thanks," I said quietly and took the tinfoil-covered item from his hand. He took a seat at one of the tables and I copied, slowly eating my dinner. The tinfoil had kept it nice and warm.

  "How's your mom?" he asked.

  "Oh... good. Yeah, good." I nodded awkwardly. I clipped my fingers over a fold of tinfoil and peeled it away from the bread. "She got remarried a couple of years ago to a guy named Rick."

  "Do you like him?"

  I shrugged. "He's alright, I guess. I don't see him very often, so it's hard to say." I glanced up at Michael. "They moved to Wyoming."

  "... does she hate me, too?"

  Too? And then I remembered; ah, Matt. And then I remembered the argument we had about Michael, in front of whom I now knew was Michael. I'd completely forgotten that, overshadowed by the afternoon of the same day; when I learnt about who Freddy really was.

  My cheeks burnt. Yikes.

  "No, she doesn't," I instantly replied, only to backtrack when he set me a look with a disbelieving raise of his brows. I grimaced. "Yeah, I don't know know why I said that. She does."

  Michael glumly nodded in understanding. I took another bite of my burrito. What to say? What to say? Topics all but eluded me. I didn't want to sit here in silence - him asking me on a date was awkward enough.

  "Um- they made new Star Wars," I said. Michael perked up, intrigued.

  "Really?" he asked. "After the prequels?"

  "Mm." I nodded and peeled free more of my dinner. "They got mixed reviews. The series, though - they made some new series, too - I think you'd like them. I think you'd like The Mandalorian."

  "They made a show about a Mandalorian?" Michael leant forward with an invested gaze. "Is- is it set after the Great Purge? 'Cause if it is, then-"

  "We can watch it together," I offered, cutting off what I knew would become an unstoppable ramble. A thought finally connected in my head and I glanced out the windows with a bemused smile. "Is that why your stuff is space themed? Because of Star Wars?"

  "It was a coincidence, but a happy one," Michael replied with a fleeting beam. "Mandy once pressed for us to get lightsabers in the arena. I think we'd get sued for copyright if we did."

  "That'd be a sight," I snickered. Freddy Fazbear with a lightsaber. Who'd he be? Luke? Obi-Wan? The sight brought a genuine smile to my face. He'd be so cute.

  I wonder if Evan and Lizzy would've liked Star Wars. Suddenly, my dinner felt a lot more full in my stomach. I couldn't put it off any longer.

  "Mike," I said. "I need to tell you something."

  His smile faded a little at the look on my face. "Yes?"

  "It's about that night downstairs, with the endos," I said. I nervously balled the tinfoil tightly in my palm. His expression greyed at the mention of it. "There was the room down there, it was- it was weird. Covered floor to ceiling in sticky notes."

  "Sticky notes?" he asked. I nodded. "Is this about that voice you heard down there?"

  "Kinda, but... that's not the weirdest part," I continued gravely. My calf began its phantom sting again, reminding me of the feeling of metal claws dragging through my flesh. "There was a... a note with-" I swallowed tightly. Stared him in the eyes. Say it. "It was about Evan."

  His entire demeanour shifted - first distraught, then in disbelief, before finally landing on sheer terror.

  "What?" he breathed.

  "I don't know," I rushed. "It's in my desk. But- Mikey, Roxy said something to me a few weeks back and- and I don't like what it might mean, especially with all these kids going missing, and-"

  "What did she say?"

  I paused. My throat began to feel thick, as if William's spirit itself was stealing my composure. I forced the words into the air before me.

  "I don't think it's a copycat," I said. My hands nervously squeezed the tinfoil tighter and the sharp little folds dug into my palms. "I think William's here."

  His expression didn't change, but Michael stood without saying a word. I watched him pace to the window, tense, quiet. He ran a hand down his face and held his chin as he stared out at the arena. I could taste his stress. It was ashy.

  "Roxy said she saw something through the walls," I informed, voice tight. "She said it was like Bonnie, but not. And- and these missing kids-?"

  "No," Michael said with a finalising shake of his head. His turned back to me, determined in his doubt. "No, that's impossible. I walked that asshole to hell myself." 

  "Who else could it be?" I pressed.

  "It's not him," he insisted. He approached where I was sitting and knelt before me, blue eyes piercing mine with confidence he hadn't held for a long time. "He's gone. He can't come back."

  I tilted my head in sorrow. "... you came back."

  Michael flinched. An apology was waiting on my tongue but it melted away when he cradled my hands with his own atop my lap. His hands had always been larger than mine, but Freddy's were far larger than that. He stared at my smaller fingers and brushed his thumb over my knuckles.

  "That's different," he mumbled.

  "Is it?" I questioned softly. His ears folded back tighter. "There must've been a reason, Mikey. Maybe this is why."

  "I came back for you," Freddy breathed with a vivid sense of finality in his tone. His gaze flicked to mine and the intensity of his stare almost had me winded. "I understand it now, why I kept living. It was for you. It was so I could be here, with you. I stayed for you."

  Tears stung at my eyes. I forced myself not to cry.

  "Charming as that is," I observed while sounding on the verge of tears, "what if you're wrong?"

  "No, no." He shook his head fervently, desperately. That intensity of his crumbled to dust before me and his head fell to our tangled hands. "Please, I can't do it again. I can't keep doing this. Isn't what I've done enough?"

  That wall I held to keep my tears at bay broke just as easily as he did. I pressed my cheek to his head.

  "Oh, Mike," I whimpered. "I'm sorry."

  "Why can't it be over? Why can't it ever be over? It's never ending," he slurred into my lap. "I don't need hell if this is my existence."

  I squeezed my eyes shut. "I'm so sorry."

  "Henry died so he could put those souls to rest - so we could finally stop William, but it didn't work. What if none of it did?" Michael lifted his head and I slipped my cheek from him. His agonised expression was torturous to look at. "What if Lizzy's still out there? She wanted the end so badly, and I couldn't even-"

  My hands instinctively found his cheeks. He was warm beneath my palms, hot like the body of a car sitting in the sun for too long. His systems were overworking in his stress.

  "We'll fix this."

  "We've been trying to fix this," he reminded. "Nothing's worked."

  "Then we just have to keep trying until we find something that will," I said. "And we will. I promise."

  Michael sunk into my hands with a defeated, exhausted look. It killed me that there wasn't more I could do for him. It also killed me that I didn't have a clue on how to permanently stop William, let alone put an end to the missing children. How many had there been, now? Six?

  My watch buzzed and we both jumped. I took a deep breath in and gave Freddy's sad eyes a gentle smile.

  "That's my cue to do a round check," I said as I got to my feet. "Walk with me?"

  He gave a little nod and stepped out of my way. When we hit ground floor and I began my patrol, Michael quietly walked beside me.

  I was glad he came with me. Ever since the incident with the endos, I'd hated walking around the Pizzaplex this late on my own. I didn't know how Vanessa could do it nearly every night - even without the lingering memory of being chased to almost certain death, the place was plain spooky.

  It was just too large to be this empty. The ceilings were too tall to be this quiet; and still, it felt as though every bit of sound echoed throughout the entire complex. We were each weighed down by our thoughts.

  We were passing through Bonnie Bowl (devoid of bunny in question), my flashlight sweeping over the tiled flooring and the powered-down bar staff bots, when Michael spoke up.

  "I have a question that's been lingering on my mind," he began, "and please, tell me if I'm overstepping."

  "Go on."

  "What are we now?" he hesitantly asked. I paused and he stopped beside me, though stared at the floor. "I- I know it's crass of me to ask so soon, but... I'm unsure."

  I forced myself to keep walking my route. Michael followed as we exited Bonnie Bowl and entered the arcade.

  "I'm not sure, either," I answered. My voice bounced in the cavernous area despite my best attempts at being quiet. I had the same question bouncing around my head ever since he told me who he was.

  "It's not like we... broke up."

  I swung the flashlight to his face when his words ignited a sudden burning in my chest. He blinked against the brightness.

  "You left for eight years without telling me anything," I reminded. "I think that means a break up."

  "Oh." His shoulders dropped as the light fell from his face and I resumed walking. "Right."

  A security staff bot cut in front of us, following its predetermined route. My light searched the gaps between arcade units, as if they could be hiding a bunny-corpse monstrosity in their shadows.

  "Is... is there a chance?" Michael asked. "For us?"

  He said it so slowly, so carefully and cautiously, as if I would break if he worded it a tone stronger. But I wasn't going to break. At least, not any more than I already had.

  "It's been three days, Mike. I'm still processing things." My eyes jumped to him. The blue of them glowed softly in the darkness. "I miss you, but you hid from me. You chose that. And I know that you thought I'd move on..."

  "But you didn't," he finished quietly.

  "Would I be at a Fazbear's if I did?" I said with a weak smile. "You were my whole world. But maybe I just lived too much for you."

  His gaze turned away. "Maybe we lived too much for each other."

  I chewed my lip as a harrowing feeling scooped out any warmth in my body. I didn't like the strain that was born between us, but what else could I do?

  And we were right, really; we'd gotten so used to living with each other as permanent residency in our lives that when he left, I didn't know what to do. And without me, Michael threw himself into stopping William - which might not have even worked.

  "Hey." I nudged his arm with my elbow. The fibreglass softly clunked. "Just because we're not passionately making out doesn't mean we can't still be best friends."

  "Friend zone," he sighed forlornly. I snorted at his despondent disposition.

  "Now you know how it feels."

  "How'd you do it for so long?" 

  "Patience," I replied. "Perseverance. An undying, debilitating fear that I'd ruin what we had."

  "Never," he murmured.

  "Dude, you were sleeping around with almost everyone our age in Hurricane," I recalled. "I didn't want to make you feel forced or tie you down. You were happy like that. For a while, at least. That's why-" I cleared my throat when it began to tighten again. "That's why I thought you found someone else."

  "You really believe that?"

  "'I'm sorry, don't look for me'?" I pointed out the words he had wrote down all those years ago. His frown deepened. "Are you kidding me? What else was I supposed to think?"

  "It was stupid of me to write that," he muttered.

  "Yeah," I agreed bitterly as I began to descend the stairs to the bottom level of the arcade. "It was." 

  Michael went quiet again, probably falling pray to the vices of his guilty conscience. I struggled between being apathetic and sympathetic to his struggles. Just because he had his own miseries doesn't mean that could invalidate my own, and I had to remember that.

  I had to put myself first, for once, and then extend my hand for him when I was ready to.

  "We should come up with a plan," I said as we began the patrol of the bottom level. "And I think we should tell the others about William possibly being here."

  His exhale was slow, heavy. He didn't want to believe it, but it was staring him in the face.

  "Good idea," he mumbled.

  "And we should go back down there to do a proper investigation."

  "'We?'" Michael skidded to a stop as he echoed me with wide eyes. I halted and sent a confused look. "You're not going back down there." 

  My eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

  "Look what they did to you!" He gestured to my leg. "It's too dangerous, Y/n."

  "No shit it's dangerous," I argued. "That's why I'm not letting you go down there alone."

  Just the idea of Michael facing off against William and the army of endos alone had my stomach turning far more viciously than I thought possible. It made nausea crawl up my neck. He was already shaking his head.

  "I'm not human anymore, but you are!" Michael reasoned. The nausea blossomed. The panic erupted, whitening the edge of my vision. "He might- he might target you-"

  Him, down there, alone. Even his new, strong body wouldn't be able to withhold forever against the endoskeletons. And William - he was smart and resourceful enough to last this long. What would he do to Michael?

  I could picture it now, his body torn to pieces, blood instead of oil, an amalgamation of metal and flesh born from my incoherent brain. It made my breath shorten in fear.

  "No, no, stop! Just stop, stop it!" The flashlight slipped from my fingers and loudly hit the ground. Its circle of light spun across the arcade units wildly. My fingers curled into my elbows, nails sheathing flesh. My fear poured from my lips like acid. "You're not going down there without me! You're not leaving me alone again!"

  The flashlight stopped rolling. Its illumination rested against Princess Quest. Michael had paused, frozen by my outburst that had echoed throughout the arcade. My eyes lowered in shame.

  "Y/n..." He reached out a hand, only to recoil it when I turned my head away. "I'm not going to leave you alone."

  "You already did," I accused. "Let me help you this time."

  Freddy's expression tightened in conflict. He bent down to scoop up the flashlight and stepped closer to hold it out for me to take.

  "Superstar-" I grimaced at the nickname "- I'm walking proof of what you're getting yourself into. Please, for my sake, stay where it's safe. I won't be alone. I'll have the rest of the band with me."

  He held out the flashlight; a peace offering. I knew that if I took it, it would be me accepting to stand down. He was so hoping that I would take it.

  His hopeful smile faded when I didn't move. I was always more stubborn than he was. He conceded this with a forlorn sigh and held the torch ahead for us both.

  "Just... let me come up with a plan first," he murmured as he began walking.

  I nodded. I was satisfied with that.

  The rest of the patrol was spent avoiding the topic of William and the missing kids. Instead, we spoke of our lives that had carried on while being apart. Michael spoke of his first show and having stage fright, but his programming making him perform anyway. I showed him my favourite songs from recent years and clips of the new Star Wars content from my phone.

  Despite the earlier tension, we seemed to melt easily into conversation. It was as it always was; conflict resolved and smoothed, carrying on with our friendship like no big deal.

  It was fascinating to me how fast I could fall back into a routine with Freddy, even though he really wasn't Freddy. Because he was just the same guy I'd spent the past year with, and then the majority of my life before even that. We clicked. I didn't even think we could click again.

  We stumbled across the others in the West Arcade Dance Floor, hanging out with Manny and Moon like a group of teenagers after dark. It seemed as though both Moon and Manny now knew about Michael and I, if the bashful look Manny had pulled when we entered the room was anything to go by.

  We sat with them for a while (Michael refused to go near the dance floor despite Bonnie's begging) and it was fine. It was fun, even, talking to them all without the time constraints of upcoming shows or birthday parties or having to watch my tongue around young ears.

  I apologised to them about not doing my job in keeping them entertained for the evening, and they all waved it off. I blamed it on Michael stealing me away. He took the responsibility for it gracefully.

  "So..?" Bonnie shuffled closer to me while the others talked about something I didn't catch. "How's things going?"

  "Um... fine," I answered. Bonnie's ears drooped.

  "Just fine?" he asked.

  "Just fine so far, Bon," I said with a hint of sternness to my voice. He understood the cue and backed off the topic.

  "Management's making us film a new movie," Bonnie said as he leant back to look at the designs on the ceiling of the dance floor. "I overheard it from Elsa. It's a western, can you believe it? I think they took my suggestion to heart."

  "That sounds like fun," I smiled. "You like westerns."

  Bonnie turned to me with wide eyes. "I do, champ, I really do."

  I snickered. "Yeehaw."

  Bonnie raised a fist to the ceiling. "Yeehaw," he said in quiet reverence. My grin grew wider.

  After a few hours I began to feel the effects of my poor sleep, inadequate rest before my shift and the late hour of three in the morning. Michael suggested a nap when I yawned for the seventh time.

  "I like getting paid to nap," I murmured with a wobbly smile as he helped me up.

  "What Dennis doesn't know won't hurt him, as you said yourself," Michael said with soft amusement. "I'll be your alarm clock and wake you before he arrives. He will be none the wiser."

  "Thanks, big guy."

  The rest of the group's eyes remained on our backs until we had left their view. I yawned into my arm again. I really needed to have a proper rest and then, somehow, maintain that proper rest. Easier said than done.

  "There's a blanket in the backroom," Michael said as the door to his room opened. "I'll grab it."

  I entered slowly after him, dragging my feet over to the vanity. I tried not to notice the bags under my eyes, but they were impossible to miss.

  A glint of silver in the not-quite-closed vanity drawer caught my eye. I curiously slid it open just a tad and a wave of surprised relief almost swept me off my feet.

  It was my locket. Of course. I'd largely forgotten about it, aside from the instances where I'd instinctively grasp at my bare neck and be hit by yearning.

  I picked up the small pendant resting on its black cord and brushed my thumb over its glossy sheen. It was more shiny than when I last had it. Michael must've cleaned it, or Mandy, or someone.

  After brief deliberation, I popped the clasp and Michael's hazel eyes stared back at me. It didn't bring forth confusion and frantic insecurity like it usually did, but rather a deep-set state of injustice and sorrow. It had hit me so hard that I almost toppled from how strong those feelings were.

  I closed the locket after burning Michael's smiling face into the backs of my eyelids and latched the cord around my neck. The metal was stinging and cold against my skin, but it was comfortably uncomfortable. It was right.

  I took a seat on the couch just as Freddy returned with the same thick blanket that I used the last time I napped in his room. His smile was tentative, awkward. We were both standing on an iced-over lake, listening for the distant cracks before we fell.

  He caught sight of the locket around my neck and faltered just slightly. My hand had flown to it already. I'd missed its ability to ground my emotions into something scarcely this side of manageable.

  "Thank you," I said quietly as I took the blanket from his outstretched hand. Now that I was letting myself unwind, the full force of the lack of rest from over the past two and a half weeks had hit me with the force of a nuclear bomb. I could barely keep my eyes open.

  Michael smiled gently as I lethargically burrowed myself into the blanket. "I'll be with the others."

  I nodded sluggishly. He turned to leave. "Mike?" I called.

  He stopped at the door and looked over. I slowly blinked, half-hiding myself in the folds of the warm blanket.

  "Fifty-five."

  "... you've lost me."

  "You're... fifty-five percent forgiven," I mumbled.

  Michael quietened and I stared at him, eyelids heavy, heart even heavier. His gaze rested on the carpet wearily.

  "Well," he began faintly. "It's more than what I deserve."

  He left before his words could cycle three times around my tired head and then land in coherency.

  I sunk my head into one of the plushies, acting as my makeshift pillow. The locket lay in my palm and I stared at it through my slowly closing lashes.

  He deserves more, was the last thing I thought, before falling into another fitful sleep full of fires and not-Bonnies and missing children. Confusing abstracts, panic, the smell of blood and smoke. Nightmare after nightmare, circling like vultures, waiting for me to fall to the ground so they could tear the meat from my body. 

  And Michael, in the centre of this perfect storm, always unreachable.

  He was always unreachable.