Maggie Rogers
••• That's Where I Am •••

no, i'll never find another, no one else can do it better

when we're together it feels like heaven

you're the only one I ever wanted

all i ever really wanted was you

•••••

Artist: BoyMarcel98

Artist: zekudoge

Artist: mittensketchycotte

Artist: LivinForTheLore

Artist: Lady Flame

Artist: Yeet_Flan

  My shoe tapped absentmindedly on the concrete as I sat outside one of Hurricane's better cafes, scrolling through instagram with an iced drink before me. My shoe rolled a stone beneath its sole.

  The sun was thundering its rays down as it usually did. It was one of the hotter days during spring, bringing with it an intensity that forewarned the incoming summer. It also brought forth the perspiration of my forehead, which was less exciting. I drank desperately at my cold drink - the shade I was sitting in wasn't enough. I should've asked him to meet up at the public pool or something, anywhere that was cooler. Or had aircon. 

  I blinked tiredly, drawn to sleepiness by the heat, as I swiped my way through my feed in a zombie-like state. I was definitely getting targeted ads, if Freddy Fazbear's face promoting the Pizzaplex was anything to go by. Or God just despised me. Who really knows. Either way, every time that his blue eyes would find mine through the screen, I'd get a mini jump-scare. I kept expecting it to start speaking to me in a British-Utah accent.

  "Y/n!"

  I peeked up from my phone at the call and found the person who addressed me for attention. Him, with his pale skin that could never seem to hold a tan and his neatly-combed blond hair that hadn't changed in style for over a decade, if only thinner. His bright blue eyes were unchanged, if a tad more grown-up. My heart felt abruptly weighed down with nostalgia.

  Caleb.

  Caleb and Michael had become good friends after their little skirmish, which was only awkward for me for about five months. In extension, Caleb and I grew to hold a nice friendship, too. One that I had severely neglected after Michael's whole shtick went down. And now I felt nervous about seeing him again after all this time. Shit.

  Caleb had gained a little bit of a dad-bod since the last time I'd seen him. It made me smile a little. How endearing, domestic life suited him. He took a seat on the opposite side of the table.

  "Hey, Caleb," I smiled. Talking about him with Michael the other day made me realise just how much I missed my friend (who I still couldn't believe was now a father. To twins!). I regretted the years I spent ghosting him - but he didn't seem to hold a grudge. "It's been forever."

  "Too true," he chuckled. His corporate stick-up-the-ass, anxious-intern persona had faded after time, leaving him an all-round jolly guy. It was all Jessica, in my eyes. He went soft for her on the turn of a dime. "How've you been?"

  Well, your old best friend didn't actually desert me and is now possessing Freddy Fazbear and our years of radio silent  - for all three of us - could've been avoided. "Good. How are you? Your family?"

  "That's great!" Caleb grinned. "Yeah, we're all good. The boys are starting preschool soon."

  "Oh, wow." I blinked. "That went fast."

  "Tell me about it," Caleb said with a weary smile as he picked up the menu and gave it a quick scan. "One day, they couldn't walk, the next they're running around the house and chasing after the dog!"

  I hoped my face wasn't tinged with a sour little taste of envy. At least Caleb got to have his family life, and I was happy for him. His two boys for sure were a handful but adorable all the same. If only that could be my reality with Michael, but alas, it would forever only be a fate in my yearning.

  Caleb spent the rest of our catch-up spilling about his children. I spent it wishing I could talk to him about Michael without sounding insane. He had always been exempt from the Fazbear's section of our lives - it was why we treasured him so. Caleb was our breath of fresh air and normality. It was nice to pretend to be normal and that my biggest concern were taxes and rent.

   I listened with a smile. I found it more genuine than it had been for a long while.

⚡️🧸🤖🧸⚡️

  It was late afternoon by the time I returned home. Cat-Mike welcomed me from a sunspot on the patio with a flick of his tail.

  I unlocked my front door and entered and for once, my head wasn't spinning with all these heavy thoughts that had burdened me for years. Catching up with Caleb made a sense of ease settle over me. He always had this grounding reality about him that settled my anxieties. There was a clarity about him that I couldn't quite explain. 

  I dropped my keys in the kitchen bowl and wandered down the hallway. A square on the ceiling tempted me, beyond it being the attic. I had been an expert on avoiding it from over the years and I assumed that staring at it directly would be like trying to look into the sun, but Caleb's ease continued to carry through me.

  My fingers caught the tough cord. I gave a tug. The square opened and the ladder unfolded before me with a squeal of wood. It groaned against my weight as I climbed up and the mustiness of the small, forgotten space hit me like a punch to the nose.

  Cardboard boxes had been crammed into every lick of space the attic had been able to give, piled and squashed and balanced on top of one another. It was all of Michael's things that I was unable to get rid of (ie. most of everything he owned) and it looked like the better part of a war zone. Maybe part of me hoped he would return for them, and me in extension. The larger part of me knew that I was too weak to part with the only reminders I had left of him.

  That left me with an embarrassing amount of boxes that had been hiding in my attic and gathering dust for the past eight years. 

  I brushed some dust off of the box closest to me and tugged on its lid. A gaming console greeted me, the Sega Master from Michael's youth. It was surrounded by all his favourite games we used to play together, labels faded and rubbed with age.

  Beside it was a box full of clothing. It'd long lost his scent, instead smelling like aged dust and mothballs. I remembered that black shirt folded along the side there - it was the shirt he wore to Matt's and Alice's housewarming party. I remembered that button-down. It was the one he was wearing when we shared our first kiss. And I could recall that horrifically patterned tee that had long gone out of fashion from even before he bought it; he wore that one day and Charlie had teased him relentlessly. He wore it more often just to spite her. 

  The boxes spilled from where I dropped them out of the attic's opening. Clothes tumbled across the floor. Cat-Mike stared with wide eyes, equally startled and bothered by the ruckus.

  "I know he can't wear his old clothes," I answered Cat-Mike, as if he'd spoken. As if he could speak in the first place. I stuck my head out from the attic with a smile. "But I can. And then I can watch his reaction."

  Maybe something about the lunch I had with Caleb had niggled an idea in the back of my head, but suddenly I wanted to wash out the dust from all of Michael's old clothing and swipe off his belongings. It didn't hurt to go through them now. I could finally get rid of the things I really, truly didn't need and work through what was still worth keeping. 

  Like a very specific brown leather jacket of his that I used to frequently steal.

  "Whoa," Matt said when he arrived at the hallway. I jumped from where I was surrounded by Michael's things. I hadn't even heard him enter. "You weren't kidding about doing a spring cleaning."

  "It's time," I said with an exhale and a proud smile. The attic was cleared and the hallway was a total chaotic mess, but it was progress. Cat-Mike was long gone. "What're you here for?"

  "Just wanted to check up," Matt answered with a squinted look my way. "Are you sure you're okay? You seem... rather happy to be going through this kind of stuff." 

  My hands paused in the middle of sorting through Michael's old robotics books and a cool, prickling sense of fear began to settle over my shoulders. Shit. He doesn't know about Michael. I couldn't keep something like this from him, not again. Just look at how that blew up in my face last time.

  "Um..." I bit my lip as I dropped a heavy encyclopaedia onto my lap. I stared at the cover. "How's your... mental state right now?" 

  Matt's confused expression deepened from the corner of my vision. "... it's fine, I guess."

  "It needs to be better than fine, Matty."

  He was truly bewildered now. "It's better than fine, then. What's going on?"

  I inhaled through my nose and risked a peek. He stared me down, urging me to continue. My nails dug into the soft, old cover of the book.

  I weakly smiled. "You remember, uh... how the robots were possessed in the old locations?"

  Matt's face instantly paled. "If you're implying that those robots are possessed again-"

  "No! No, no." I rushed to calm him down. I winced. "Well, yes, but-"

  "Y/n!"

  "Just listen!" I plead. Matt fell into an uneasy silence but remained quiet as requested. I pulled a deep breath to steady myself.

  "So, uh..." I nervously smiled. "I may have learnt that Freddy's possessed. ByMike." 

  Matt, who had ears like a bat's, caught my quick burst of words. His jaw dropped.

  "Mike?" he repeated in disbelief. "As in Michael? Your Michael? Michael Afton?"

  I slowly nodded.

  "He's... possessing Freddy?" Matt asked. "... how?" But then he snapped his mouth shut, because there really was only one way for someone to possess one of those robots. I sent him a weak smile.

  Matt leant against the wall, staring at the floor with wide eyes as he processed this new slap-to-the-face of information. He dragged his hands down his face and gave a breathless laugh of shock that turned to a stunned whimper.

  "I know," I mumbled.

  Matt's hands dropped to his side as he turned his gaze to me. "Are you okay?"

  "Yeah! Yeah, I'm fine," I said tightly as I stared the encyclopaedia's cover. My thumbs dug deep enough into it for it to start being painful. My throat grew thick. "I think. Maybe... not really."

  A tear dropped onto the cover. I sniffled in surprise and wiped it away with my sleeve. Maybe I wasn't as eased after catching up with Caleb as I'd believed.

  "Oh." Matt came shuffling his way through the pile of things and found space on the ground beside me to squeeze against my side. I dropped my cheek onto his shoulder. "Oh, squirt, this must've been..."

  He couldn't find the words but I nodded. I knew what he meant.

  "When did you find out?"

  "Almost a month ago," I murmured. I blinked through my tears. "I wanted to tell you sooner, but... it's been so hard to just process this, so... I'm sorry-"

  "No, no, don't apologise." Matt shifted his arm so he could pin it firmly around my shoulders. He stared out at the mountains of Michael's things that surrounded us from every angle. "I understand. Is this why..?"

  "Well," I gave a sniffle of a laugh, "he didn't exactly choose to leave me, so... I want to go through his things. Properly." 

  Matt slowly nodded. "I think that's a damn good idea." 

  When he stood and began rifling through one of the haphazard hills of clothing, I frowned.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Helping, obviously," Matt said. He turned back around with a familiar garment in his hand. "I believe this used to be your favourite."

  I picked up the leather jacket from his outstretched hand. My heart leapt as the familiar material, stiff from the box but just as homely as it had been all those years ago, weighed down my palms.

  "Yeah," I said with a teary-eyed smile. "This one's my favourite."

⚡️🧸🤖🧸⚡️

  It was funny, pulling up into the parking lot of work. I didn't have that feeling of apprehension and reluctance that usually dragged me down to my fingertips anymore.

  Cleaning out Michael's stuff seemed to have had a conjunction affect on my head - as though by going through his things, I was scraping out the past eight years of negativity. And, you know, it actually almost completely worked. I don't think it ever would in its entirety, but it was the small victories that eventually translated to larger wins, right?

  I guess people were really onto something when they say that fixing up the space around you helps fix your mental state, or something like that.

  I tugged nervously on the jacket's too-long sleeves as I crossed the near-empty parking lot. Now that I had woken up a bit more, a subtle sense of shame began to linger. Who was I to wear Michael's old jacket? Between this and Cat-Mike's name, he must've thought I was obsessed.

  Was I? The fact I had to ask myself that was worrying in its own right.

  I tightened my arms around my stomach as I briskly walked towards the entrance. Too late to change, now. I just had to grit and bare my terrible, terrible idea that suddenly was even worse in retrospect. God, why didn't I ever think anything through? Why didn't Matt slap some sense into me while he still could?

  I dug my chin below the neckline and inhaled the scent of old leather. It was a little musty still, and it smelt like oil from me scrubbing the stiffness out of the garment the night before, but the interior had kept its old comfort. It still held the little scribbles Michael had drawn on the inside with black marker.

  It may have looked ancient.

  That was it. It did. It was an old jacket. I bought it for Michael for his seventeenth and then I turned around and stole it when I wanted to, anyway. I refused to buy a seperate one, not when his old brown jacket that smelled of him was right there and available whenever I so wished it.

  I exhaled heavily as I reached the entrance. Time to face my own undoing and be laughed at until the end of time. The bullying was about to be relentless and I would never, ever live it down.

  I sniffed in mental preparation for the ensuing teasing as I swiped my card and pushed the door open with my shoulder. I knew he was there, waiting in his usual spot with the usual coffee and the usual goofy smile on his big, dumb face.

  A crack of plastic made me jump. My eyes jumped to Freddy. Michael. Fuck.

  He was staring with eyes that had seen a ghost, or something of equally surprising value. The reusable coffee cup in his grasp had splintered like paper and the brown, caffeinated liquid was slipping between his fingers and dripping onto the floor.

  He was gobsmacked. No, not gobsmacked - befuddled. Taken aback. Confused. He looked as though he'd seen a star on earth.

  I pointed at his hand with burning cheeks. "You split that."

  He didn't respond. My embarrassment skyrocketed. Shit shit fuck balls and shit. This wasn't the response I was emotionally preparing myself for. Where was the name-calling? Where was the bullying? The teasing? This was supposed to be like Cat-Mike and Michael was supposed to laugh at me for still being so stupidly and wickedly head-over-heels for him.

  "It's just a jacket," I defended. "Don't lose your balls."

  "You look amazing," he breathed.

    "Shut your trap, man whore." My accusatory pointing turned to his face. "You're meant to be bullying me."

  "I missed you wearing that," Michael murmured fondly. I dropped my arm with a scrunched frown.

  "Stop," I demanded, but it came out breathless and strained. My heart was fluttering and the feather-light feeling had me spinning at mach ten.

  Michael's starry-eyed gazing was cut short when a staff bot all but careened into him, mopping at the split coffee with a terrifying fury. Michael stumbled to the side and glanced at his large hand, still dripping and getting liquid between his joints.

  "Ah," he said in distant surprise. His voice sounded foggy with its distracted British-Utah accent. "I've made a mess."

  I sighed. I didn't even get to have my coffee before things started getting weird. This wasn't fair (though it was entirely my fault. Maybe. Not that I would openly admit that).

  "Come on," I muttered as I sidestepped the cleaning robot and ignored how Michael's gaze locked onto me like a fox to a bunny. I also ignored the tingle in my stomach it gave me. "You need to clean that before it congeals."

  Michael listlessly followed after me as I strode in a walk a tad too fast to be normal towards the nearest bathrooms. He entered after me, still staring. My cheeks refused to lessen in heat.

  "I'm surprised you kept that," he said quietly as I held his hand under the tap and ran the water through the indents. Another reason why the Glamrocks were superior - the company made these guys waterproof, which made cleaning and maintenance so much easier.

  "I just- I didn't have a clean jacket to wear, so I wore this one," I lied. My eyes narrowed as I wiped his large hand down with my fingers beneath the tap. "It's not a big deal, okay? So... stop freaking out."

  "Y/n." His dry fingers touched the bottom of my chin and eased my head up. My hands paused over his coffee-stained one, cold under the flow of the tap. I was locked like a deer in his gaze. "I can tell when you're fibbing."

  My face was burning ridiculously hot now from under his gentle affections. I shifted my chin out of his grasp and continued cleaning the divots of his hand. His hand was so big in mine as I washed it. I could barely wrap my hand around one finger, and I tried my best to not think about how my entire hand could disappear into his palm. 

  "What, you got a lie detector in that head of yours?" I grumbled.

  "No," he answered slowly, "but you're the person I know best. I know how to read you."

  My hands stopped entirely and I was winded by his words, flustered to high hell and back and leaving me breathless. My shoulders tensed, rising to my ears. He recognised my discomfort and slipped his hand from the sink, depriving me from his contact.

  He did know me best, and I knew him. And yet we were still so out of sync.

  "I'm sorry," Michael murmured. "I shouldn't be so forward."

  "It's okay," I whispered while shutting off the tap. I cleared my throat to continue a little more clearly and pulled a weak smile. "Are you really Mike if you're not forward like this all the time?"

  He huffed something short in amusement. "You used to be fond of it."

  My smile faded. "Yeah." Used to. I still was, wasn't I? Wasn't I? I'd grown affectionate towards Freddy from over the months working at the Pizzaplex and he was forward all of the time - more than I thought possible. So wasn't I still fond of it? I couldn't tell.

  My throat was dry as I reached for a paper towel and began drying my hands. His gaze was heavy, laden with weight.

  "I apologise again," Michael muttered, a disgruntled grumble at himself from under his artificial breath. "I am... unused to restraining myself around you."

  My hands slowed. My eyes trailed up to meet his.

  "Is it difficult?" I asked.

  "It was one of the hardest things I ever had to do," he confessed in a breath. "Playing this- this act, yes. Not being able to sweep you into my arms the moment you stepped foot in this wretched place, even more so. And it is difficult now, even still."

  A feeling like lead settling in my chest consumed me then, as though it were dragging my ribs down to my knees. My legs trembled beneath it. I had to look away.

  "It's no matter." Michael straightened and set me with a small, calm smile. I blinked at his change in attitude as he nodded at my empty hands. "I suppose we should go and get you a new coffee."

  "Oh," I said lamely as I struggled to keep pace with the change of topic. I glanced around the bathroom, lost and suddenly dim-witted. Had it always been this cold in here? "I- I guess."

  He left first, stepping past me and smile dropping when he thought I couldn't see it anymore. I went to take a step after him but that brief glimpse of his expression glued me to the floor. I was winded again. The longing on his face was profound enough to send a bolt of torment through me.

  I lifted my face to the ceiling and clenched my eyes shut. I inhaled. I exhaled. I steeled myself and stepped out after him, falling into pace beside his tall body. I combated the tension by going on my phone - it didn't work.

  Michael's hand swung beside me as we silently crossed the lobby towards Faz-Pad and I eyed it from the corner of my vision. My grip tightened over my phone. It would be so easy to reach up and clasp onto one of his large fingers. It was so tempting, calling me, beckoning me, like a playground to a young child. I could almost feel the comfort that it would bring. 

  I sunk my teeth into my bottom lip and looked away. The last thing I wanted to do was make things more awkward.

  We entered Faz-Pad and I ordered my coffee. Michael and I took a seat at one of the tables while waiting.

  "I meet up with Caleb yesterday," I said. I watched the staff bots mill about the lobby below but caught Freddy's ears perk from my peripherals. "I haven't spoken to him in... ages. Years, I think."

  Michael leant forward with wide eyes. "And is he well?" he eagerly asked. "I've missed him."

  I smiled sadly. What else had he missed? So close to his old life, just outside the doors, but tethered to this place?

  "He's good," I answered. "Here, I'll-" I pulled out my phone and brought up Jessica's Facebook to find a photo of their twin boys. Upon success, I turned the screen to him. "Jackson and Daniel."

  Michael carefully took the phone from my hand and peered closer. A number of expressions crossed his face like a zoetrope, carrying sadness, joy, amusement, guilt, yearning. They switched so fast that I could barely keep up.

  "Wow," he murmured. His eyes were locked on the photo of the twins. "They look... just like him."

  "Yeah," I agreed softly. "Spitting image, right?"

  He gave a hum of agreement before finally tearing his eyes away. He handed the phone back to me and the tips of his fingers brushed mine for just a second. My heart leapt up my throat.

  Oh god. My tongue grew dry and heavy. Oh god. My heartbeat was so loud that I was sure he could hear it over the sound of the staff bot making my coffee. I tucked my head away and dropped my hands to my lap, nervously bouncing my knee.

  Bumpbumpbump. My heartbeat ran incessantly in my ears, loud and ringing and there was nothing I could do to calm it down. My fingers that touched his had been dipped in boiling water, burnt and scalding and stinging and impossible to ignore. I tucked them under my thigh. They burnt through my jeans.

  The staff bot brought my drink over but neither Mike nor I made a move to leave. I sipped on my fresh coffee dolefully, one hand still pinned under my leg. If he noticed, he didn't say anything.

  "Oh." I reached for my bag. "I found something while going through your things-" I cringed for admitting that I still had a bunch of his stuff before I could stop myself. I sat back up and handed him a photo frame. "Here."

  "Ah..." came softly from his mouth as he took the frame from my grasp. It was a photo of Michael, Lizzy and Evan, all baby-faced and smiling. One of the rare photos that was ever taken of them all together. Michael fell into a bittersweet, longing smile. "Thank you, superstar."

  I lifted the coffee to my lips again. "S'okay." The steam from the coffee warmed the tip of my nose.

  After my coffee was finished, we continued on with our day. We didn't speak of the photo frame tucked neatly in Freddy's drawer, slid in beside the two crumpled balls of paper. We didn't speak of the too-large, well-loved jacket I wore. We didn't speak about the way he touched my chin in the bathroom or how our fingers had brushed.

  And I definitely didn't talk about how flustered this all made me feel. Or how it felt so nice to wear his jacket again. Or about how I wanted him to hold my chin again. And to hold his hand. And to kiss him.

  My fingers tightened into my palms as I stood in the corner of a party room and watch him be in his element, entertaining the children with sweet easiness and playful inflections. He was so invested in keeping the kids smiling that his glances my way were few and far in between.

  I want to kiss him. My cheeks heated while I stood in the corner of the room. How would it even work? Would it feel nice? I really wanted to kiss him to find out. And also to just kiss him, goddammit.

  I blamed the jacket.

  Shit. Was it weird to want to kiss the robot that my ex-boyfriend was now possessing? Scratch that, it was entirely weird, but that didn't stop the want. Michael smiled and laughed and his muzzle lifted with each chime of a child's giggle, and I was losing my sanity over it in the shadows.

  Ugh. Kissing. Kissing with Michael. Our first kiss. The kiss he gave me that first morning after we slept together. Every anniversary kiss. Kisses. Michael's kisses. My composure was fraying, thread by fragile thread. I was slowly going insane, neuron by neuron, cell by cell. 

  I inhaled deeply through my nose and scrunched my hands into fists. I didn't know where this sudden, primal need to smack my lips against my ex's robot mouth was coming from, but it was excessive in its own right. Maybe it was because I saw Caleb yesterday and all he did was speak about his children (which I couldn't blame him for). Maybe I just wanted to lose myself in a domestic fantasy with the man who I had devoted my entire heart to.

  I wanted to turn around and bang my head into the wall hard enough for a hole to break open, and then I wanted to crawl into said hole and disappear. This was just as bad as the time when he fucking licked my neck like a fucking popsicle in Fazerblast and I had to spend the next two weeks fantasising about it non-stop.

  Oh, god. He has a tongue. Now I was thinking about robot kisses with tongue, and the other things I knew that he knew how to do with a tongue. I had never suffered more than I had in that singular moment.

  Jesus, Y/n, stop. I was a grown-ass adult. I shouldn't be getting all blushy-faced and flustered over the idea of kissing while at work and in front of children. I should've been focusing. I should've been paying attention and making sure the kids weren't getting into places they shouldn't. Not daydreaming like a teenager with their first crush.

  I buried my white-knuckled hands into the pockets of Michael's jacket. My fingers twitched with the urge to curl around his fibreglass face and press my lips to his. My heart was fluttering. My stomach was warm. My head was buzzing.

  I wasn't supposed to be liking the idea of kissing him. I was still supposed to be... I don't know, not mad, but... a strike. A Mike-Strike. We were still treading water. 

  He glanced over. My face lit up like christmas and I turned away. I could feel his gaze linger still, confused at my acute reaction. 

  "All your fault," I muttered from under my breath to the jacket.

⚡️🧸🤖🧸⚡️

  "So, will you?"

  "What?" I asked as I looked up from my very interesting bowl of fries.

  "Kiss him?" Mandy pressed. She leant closer over the table with a grin that was equal parts mischievous and bewildered. My cheeks flushed with heat and I busied myself in pulling my milkshake closer to me and resting my lips on the straw. Saying anything around these guys was a mistake.

  "... I dunno," I mumbled.

  "I think you should," chimed Bonnie from the other end of the table. He was sitting opposite Joey and the two were playing a game of table football with a balled-up napkin. Bonnie was winning, obviously, but Joey was determined that his luck would change. I personally digressed.

  "That's because you're his wingman and Michael getting ass is the equivalent to winning the olympics," I said sourly.

  Bonnie jolted with a squeal and grimaced away from me. The look his face folded into was so repulsed that I was sure the physics of his actual faceplate must've broken to twist like that.

"I don't want him to- to-" Bonnie lowered his voice with an inconspicuous glance around the fast food joint we were sat in "- to get 'ass.' That's gross!"

  "You're such a prude," Joey snickered as he flicked the 'ball.' The napkin tapped against Bonnie's chest and fell to his lap, ignored, as he set a disgruntled look on his handler.

  "Humans doing things that involve... crossing human liquids grosses me out," he defended. "It's not a crime to dislike something, Joey."

  "Kissing involves crossing human liquid," Mandy piped up. She poked out her tongue at the appalled rabbit. "Spit-swapping," she slurred.

  "Why would you say that?" Joey asked just as Bonnie began clasping at his long ears and emitting a high-pitched whine. I was pretty sure he began to blue screen. "Now he's traumatised."

  "Not my fault Michael didn't teach him sex ed," Mandy justified. I was watching the exchange with the straw of my drink between my teeth before the blonde-haired woman turned to me. "Does he know?"

  I dropped the straw. "Know what?"

  "That you want to kiss him, Y/n!" Mandy reiterated in frustration. "Please! This is a romance novel come to life."

  "He's a robot stuck in an entertainment complex and there is no hope for a discernible future," I corrected glumly. I shrugged a shoulder and swirled my straw around the thick drink from between my fingers. "It would be better for the both of us if we just stayed friends. This is far from being romance novel."

  Mandy's eagerness dimmed at the reality check and she slumped back into her seat with a frown. Joey fiddled with the paper plate his burger came on. Nobody piped up with ideas for solutions - there were no solutions.

  Bonnie let go of his ears and slowly roved his wary eyes around the humans at the table. He looked like a little kid at his first day at school.

  "Is... kissing really that nice?" he tentatively asked.

  "My boyfriend seems to think so," Joey said smugly. Bonnie rolled his eyes and turned to Mandy. She shrugged.

  "Give or take from the few I've experienced," she answered. "Y/n?"

  "Yeah," I sighed dolefully. "Yeah, they're nice if you know how to do them."

  Bonnie's brow furrowed in thought, eyes scanning the table beneath his hands. He glanced up at me with a frown. "Then... I give you my blessing to kiss Mike."

  "Bon!" Joey kicked the bot's leg from under the table. Bonnie yelped and shot a shitty look to his handler. "Were you not just here for the conversation?!"

  "I was, but-!"

  I snickered and dropped my head forward. The straw poked through locks of my hair. I lifted my chin with an amused sigh and picked up a fry, biting off half of the salty snack. Mandy was still frowning in disappointment.

  "Thanks, Bon," I said with a smile and cutting the boys off before they could begin an argument. "I'll keep that in mind."

  "See?" Bonnie pointed out. "Y/n's fine with it!"

  Joey shook his head in disbelief. "How are you so smart, yet so dumb?"

  While Bonnie and Joey began to bicker like the old married comedian duo they were, Mandy ducked forward to catch my attention again. Her expression was serious.

  "I'm not trying to push you, I swear on my life," she began, "but you lost him and you got him back again! And he loves you! Doesn't that say anything?"

  I smiled sadly at the younger woman and tapped the tip of my finger over the straw's top. While her encouragement was charming and appreciated, it didn't make the truth any sweeter. I wished I wasn't so weighed down by logical thoughts and was more of a straight-shooter that Mandy seemed to be.

  "It's not that simple." I stared at the milkshake's cardboard straw as I tapped it. The paper was beginning to soften and tear beneath my finger. "Believe me, I wish it was."

  "You love him, right?" Mandy asked with a tilt of her head. "Even when you thought he was just Freddy, you were beginning to love him." 

  My stomach was torn open and ashamed butterflies flew into the air before me. I sunk a little into the sheet. "... maybe."

  "Then go for it, Y/n," Mandy said. She placed a hand over mine and I glanced up at her, stuck in her stern, blue gaze. "You'll never get a chance to be with him again. Won't you take this chance?"

  My throat closed up and I pulled my hand from hers. The boys had seemed to have settled, and now Bonnie was curled in the corner of the sofa with his arms crossed and sporting a pout. Joey was listening to us with his chin in his arms.

  "You're not seeing the bigger picture," I murmured. "This isn't a second chance to be happy. It's a spit in the face. It doesn't matter what I do now or what we do together, Mike's stuck here. The best I can do is find a way to help him pass on."

  Mandy's mouth popped open in surprise before she stifled herself with her hand to her lips. She cleared her throat. Bonnie's gaze was indiscernibly sad.

  "Right," Mandy managed to say, "of course."

  "Does he want to pass on?" Joey asked quietly.

  "I don't know," I answered. I pushed my milkshake away and placed my cheek onto my arm. "I don't even know how to help him pass on in the first place. I was never hands on with the ghost stuff." I rolled my face over so my chin hit the table. "I suppose that's just another conversation we're going to have to have."

  I heard Joey sigh.

  "What would happen to Freddy if Mike..." Bonnie quietly spoke up. "I mean, 'cause he... is Freddy, you know? He has been ever since we woke up."

  "I guess he'll be like how you were when you first woke up," Mandy murmured. She turned her milkshake cup in doleful circles. "New, I guess. A baby."

  Bonnie looked absolutely distraught. "I don't want Mike to go."

  "Neither did I," I muttered. Three pairs of eyes turned to me, each a varying degree of pity that sent a bitter taste to settle on my tongue. I stood with a sharp huff and adjusted my jacket. "I better head back."

  The three gave their brief farewells and I felt their gazes as I made my leave. My hands buried themselves into Michael's jacket again while I watched the floor as I walked. I couldn't grasp a single one of the thoughts flittering about my cluttered head. They flew by too fast for me to snag one.

  What would it be like to kiss him? Cold, unyielding plastic? Would it be anything like how we used to kiss? No, of course not, don't be stupid. It would be nothing like before.

  ... but would it feel like them? Internally? The flutter of my stomach, the feeling of floating? Or would it be as dead as it felt when I kissed the pitifully small number of other lips after he'd disappeared?

  My fingertips lifted to my lips and hovered there, just a whisper of contact, tingling, ticklish and spreading a spark of sensation across the bitten flesh. Would he want to kiss? Would it do nothing but hurt the both of us further? Surely he had the same thoughts as I; a relationship was impossible, a laugh in the face of sensibility.

  I reached his room. The curtains were drawn across the glass. Michael looked up from where he was stepping out of the charging chamber and my heart ached. Everything ached and called for him. 

  I always had to be the sensible one. I was tired of being sensible. 

  "Mike," I quietly called. His brows raised at the small determination of my call and stepped forth, holding out his arms for my fingers to latch on to. Everything within me was surging like tidal waves, driving me with a force unstoppable, indiscernible. I was teetering beneath it all. "Mike, tell me I'm stupid. Tell me to stop."

  His eyes searched mine. They were no longer hazel as they had once been, but I found that I loved the blue just as much. "What?"

  "Tell me to stop," I ground out. I could gain no grip on the casing of his wrists, fingers slipping around the studs of his obscenely punk-rock cuffs. My nails scrambled to keep hold. "Tell me this is foolish. Tell me I've lost my mind."

  "What are you talking about?" he asked with the warmth of concern. The waves crawled higher in response, drowning me from the inside, reaching for him. My grip tightened.

  "I want to kiss you," I said hopelessly, "but I know I shouldn't." 

  Michael stilled. I kept forgetting how tall he was, how far I had to crane my neck back to stare him in the eyes, and the closeness only made the ache in my arched throat worse. My lashes grew wet with troubled frustration and his visage blurred.

  Maybe I could see him through my tears; the unstable image of unruly brown hair and lips ready to smile at the drop of a hat. Maybe I could feel him beneath my hands, the soft warmth of his tanned arms, the familiar scars I'd trace with kisses during slow mornings.

  My Michael. Michael as he was before.

  He caught my cheek with one hand and I flinched at the coolness of his palm; I'd been expecting the softness of blood under skin, believing this twist of reality that my eyes had cruelly cursed me with and was brutally surprised when confronted with reality. I blinked the tears out with a clench and the face of Freddy greeted me again, sterilised by the stinging lights of his room.

  My hand clawed at the back of his. "Mike," I whimpered. Make this right. Fix this for me. I was so tired of fighting the world for a simple breath of peace. I was tired of fighting alone when everything was set against me.

  "I'm here," his soft voice murmured through the tumultuous thudding of my heart. He guided me to the couch and the plush of the seat swallowed my legs. "I'm here, love. Don't cry."

  But that had the reverse effect. More tears procured forth, trailing cool down my feverish cheeks. I was tired of fighting and crying and being wearied by life's misgivings. I was tired of being afraid of the future and of treading on glass. Who the fuck broke the glass in the first place? Why was I the one who had to cross it?

  "Mike." I dug at his hands. The blunt, blue claws grazed the bone of my wrist. "Mike. Kiss me."

  His brows creased. I peered up at him in hope, in yearning. I didn't want to have to carry myself anymore. I'd done it alone for too long.

  Michael pressed his muzzle to the top of my forehead. I closed my eyes in lament.

  "That's not what I mean," I wearily begged.

  "Not when you're like this," he murmured. He pushed back some hair from my face and touched the underside of my chin to tilt my head back. "Where did this come from, superstar?"  

  My eyes shut at the pet name. More tears fell with it but I didn't have it in me to wipe them away. Michael swiped at them for me, dispelling them with one deft drag of his thumb.

  "I'm tired, Mikey," I wearily said. "I'm so tired. I'm tired of being sad. I'm tired of watching life move forward for everyone but me. I'm exhausted of being alone and listening to logic when I all I want is you."

  Michael released a breath. I glanced up at him as he looked away, his face a conflicted, pained twist.

  "You said you have trouble restraining yourself," I whispered. I shuffled closer, knees knocking his. "I do, too. It's only gotten worse."

  "There's no future for what you're asking for," Michael murmured with a slow, despondent shake of his head. "There's no future with me. Not in a place like this and not when I'm stuck in here."

  "I've already stressed enough about that to warrant a lifetime and then some," I said. "I don't care anymore."

  "You would give up your future for me?"

  "What future?" I tearfully scoffed. "There's nobody out there like you. I'd be miserable with anyone else, trust me, angel, I've tried."

  Michael's expression folded with guilt. "Y/n-"

  "Are you going to say that it's insane?" I questioned bitterly. "Sad? Pitiful? I know, Michael, I've lived it, and I have to live with it still."

  "... I was going to say that I'm selfish for being relieved that you still want me," he quietly corrected.

  I faltered. "What?"

  "You're right," Michael continued. He gathered my hands in his and stared at them while a conflicted knot grew between his brows. "This is a bad idea. It would be stupid. And it would be difficult, and I can't see a future here where we're both happy."

  My gaze fell in defeat. He was only repeating what I told myself and what I told him, but his words made it all the more set in stone. Concreted, unattainable.  

  "But." He pressed the backs of his fingers to my jawline and dipped his head in close. "I've missed you too much to not try. I love you too much to turn you away."

  "Oh." I blinked a couple of times in surprise. I was too taken aback to feel relieved just yet. "... what do we do now?"

  Michael pulled his head away with a frown. It was a legitimate question - what do we do? It wasn't as if there were a guide on how to date a Fazbear robot in secret. I could really benefit from having one right about now, though. 

  "I'm not sure," he confessed with a rub of the back of his neck. "I never expected that you would still want me after all this."

  "Then you don't really know me all that well, do you?" I said with a small smile, a gentle tease. "You've forgotten."

  "I guess I'll just have to get to know you again," Michael replied with warmth. A glint returned to his gaze. "I'll help you through your robot fantasies."

  The comforting relief I was feeling was ripped out from under my feet. I gaped at him in shock. Did he really just say that?

  "My what?!" I exclaimed when I was coherent enough to speak again. "I don't-! What are you talking about?"

  "Oh, come on," he snickered before hoisting me into his lap. I scrambled for balance with a flustered yelp. "I saw the way you looked at me. It was the performances, right? Got your brain thinking just a little too much."

  I froze as my face burnt a terrible shade of red. I pushed his face away with a high-pitched scoff and averted my gaze. Michael chuckled.

  "You're misremembering," I sniffed. I crossed my arms, digging my fingers into my arms with a combination of shame and giddiness. "I never had a thing for Freddy."

  "Actually, my CPU makes it impossible for me to forget," he said and tapped the side of his head. I glared at him from the edge of my vision. "Robot benefits. And you definitely did."

  I rolled my eyes at his smug grin. This was the Michael I remembered - a total dickhead.

  "You're so full of it," I huffed.

  "If I'd known what your preferences were earlier, I would've made you something back in that shed."

  "Oh my god." I slapped my hands over my eyes. "Shut up."

  "Oh, the tragedy," Michael sighed and leant his head back in mock woe. "My sweet, innocent little lover is not so innocent at all."

  My face burnt bright from behind my fingers. I couldn't stop the giggle that came forth and Michael dropped his chin to send me a successful smirk. I released a disbelieving exhale. He should've done theatre as a kid.

  "You're such a dork."

  "Whatever shall I do?" he continued his act. His blue eyes had lidded in amusing torment, watching me writhe in embarrassment before him. I stilled myself with a determined frown and planted my hands on his cold chest.

  "Kiss me," I answered.

  "And the robot fetishisation strikes again," Michael declared with a weary shake of his head. "Should you really be working in a place like this?"

  I dropped the strength of my shoulders with a groan of exasperation. Leave it to Michael to prolong this just to get on my nerves. 

  "You're an ass," I grumbled and began to clamber down from his lap. "Bye."

  "Waitwaitwait." Michael caught me around the waist before I could leave with a snicker. I shot an annoyed look his way. "I'm done. I promise."

  "I genuinely cannot take you by your word anymore," I said as he hauled me back towards him with ease.

  "Then take me by my actions," he countered. I pursed my lips to the side and raised a brow in doubt, untrusting. My expression faded when his large hand cupped my cheek and I found his face was completely serious. His blue eyes had zeroed in on my parted lips.

  Oh. OH. OH, ALREADY? WHAT THE SHIT!

  I licked my lips nervously, heartbeat thundering in my ears. He was going to slow but at the same time far too fast, which was a concept exhilarating in itself, let alone the reality behind it. Existence was limbo and I was floating in its mind-boggling plane, teetering between realities and tearing my hair out. Kiss me! Give me time to mentally prepare!

  My eyelids fluttered as his silicone nose tapped mine. I'd suddenly forgone the ability to breathe. My hands lay on my lap, limp and useless. It seems I'd also forgone the ability to move, waiting impatiently and terrified and all sweaty-like. It felt as though I were having my first kiss all over again.

  "I just want to point out that this isn't me having a thing for robots," I managed to murmur.

  "Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart," Michael replied, before closing the gap.

  He couldn't exactly kiss. His big muzzle wasn't really made for kissing. It was soft, though, and squishy from the cold silicone. It was truly bizarre, both exactly what I had expected and nothing at all at how I'd imagined it. It seemed to have taken my bearings and scattered them entirely to the wind. I felt nautically lost.

  Michael pulled back. I stared at him with wide eyes, genuinely lost in how to feel. He stared right back at me, equally stunned.

  "Um." I began to speak, only to forget that I didn't know what to say. Words were lost on me. My brain was total mush. "Nice."

  Michael raised his brows. "'Nice'?" he echoed.

  My face darkened. "Yeah. What?" My eyes narrowed in confusion. "Wait, what?"

  Michael snorted at my baffled expression and I could only watch him. Everything behind my eyes was fuzzy and disoriented. I had only the vaguest sense that he was teasing me, and the tiny bit of me that was still aware yelled for vengeance for my dignity.

  It came in the form of the sound of repetitive, creaking metal. "Is that your tail?" 

  Michael immediately stopped smiling. "No."

  I grinned. Finally, a chance for revenge. "Simp."

  "Ha-ha," he chided. I squeezed his nose and it loudly honked, bouncing against the walls of his room. His ears fell to the sides in apathy. "Very funny."

  "You're right, it is funny," I said proudly. My smile softened into something more affectionate and I reached up to cradle his cheeks. He sunk a little into my hold. "I love you, Mikey."

  Michael, a little too excited by my declaration of love, pushed himself in for another kiss. His muzzle hit my face on the side of just a little bit too hard and I flinched back with a yelp.

  "Ow!"

  "Sorry!" he fretted, hands jumping up to guiltily caress my cheeks in apology. "Sorry, sorry, superstar, sorry."

  "Easy there, tiger," I giggled. My nose throbbed but only slightly. It was more amusing than it was painful. "Take it slow. I know you're impatient."

  "Sweetheart," Michael groaned and gently donked my forehead with his. "I haven't been able to kiss you in eight years. I'm a little more than 'impatient.'"

  "And you won't be able to again if you break me," I reminded. He grumbled under his breath and pulled my body into his for a grumpy hug. I cradled his head affectionately. "Slowly, Mikey."

  His eyes glared up at me and a grin curled across my lips at his expression. He looked like an angry cat. I'd squeeze his cheeks if it were physically possible.

  "You know I've never been good at going slow," he muttered. I rolled my eyes.

  "I know that one all too well," I snickered. I brushed my hand down the side of his large face and he leant into my touch with a huff. "But you're a metal behemoth and I'm squishy, so you're going to have to learn."

  Michael buried his face into my chest with a groan. He was clingy now that he was allowed to be and I was more than happy to accomodate. I laid my head atop his and he scratched that spot on my head that I loved. I rested against him, boneless and akin to goo. This was the contentment I missed.

  With my heightened emotions fading and my head screwed back on, I recalled part of the conversation I had with the others at lunch and frowned. Do I ask him and risk ruining this rare moment of peace?

  But I had to know. It was gnawing at me.

  "Mikey?" I quietly called for attention. He hummed. I pulled my head back to watch his waiting face. "Do... you want to pass on?"

  He stilled, taken aback by the question that seemingly came out of nowhere. His brows furrowed in thought, gaze drifting to the side as he considered.

  "Eventually," he answered. "Not before we figure out what's going on here. And not while you're here."

  I smiled small, sadly. Of course that would be his answer. He wouldn't search for peace for himself without ensuing other souls had theirs first. He continuously called himself selfish, but how could he be when he was so selfless?

  I bent down to kiss his forehead. His lids fell halfway.

  "I love you," I murmured.

  "I love you," he breathed. "Even with your robot fetish."

  I pulled myself back with a disgruntled scowl and was met with a familiar shit-eating grin. Michael was unapologetic in his humour and it was a struggle not to smile with him. He was exasperating at the best of times.

  "You just had to ruin the mood, huh?"

  "I'd like to believe that I lightened it, actually."

  "You're a menace to me and all of society," I said as I untangled myself from him and bounced on one foot after I dropped to the ground. "And you have a show in half an hour."  

  Michael reclined further into the couch with a pout. I turned to retrieve my tablet from the vanity and scrolled through the emails I'd received during my break. I heard him shift behind me.

  "What if we just-" he began, and I yelped when a metal arm was coiled around my waist and I was pulled back into him. He pressed the side of his muzzle against my temple. "Hide away?"

  "'Cause I'll get in trouble," I reminded. "And you don't want me losing my job."

  Michael sighed, responding in defiance by stooping lower and absolutely encompassing me with a hug. I succumbed all too easily.

  "I don't," he grumpily agreed. "But it is tempting to steal you away and-"

  The door opened with a loud beep. We froze.

  "Oh- oh." It was Mandy, standing in the entrance with a face that immediately burst red with embarrassment - though I'm sure my face was leagues worse. Michael hastily pulled his arms away. "Hi. Jesus. Hi. Wow, I- I'm sorry. I should go-"

  She took exactly three steps before turning back around to us and rushing inside the room. The door slid behind her.

  "Did you get together?" she asked with a bright, frantic gleam to her eyes. "Are you guys dating again?" 

  I was startled by her sudden explosion of energy. Michael looked away, flustered. Neither of us spoke up to deny it.

  "You ARE!" Mandy cheered. She grabbed my arm with joyous laughter. "And after you were so sad while at lunch! Oh, Y/n, Mike, I'm so happy for you!" 

  Michael, who had years more experience with Mandy than I did, turned back to her with patient warmth. "Thank you, Mandy. Your friendship and support goes unmatched." 

  "Heh!" Mandy giggled with overwhelmed gratitude. Her expression dropped. "Wait. Did you guys kiss while the security camera was on?"

  Michael and I shared a look. Fuck. Fuck. We did. How could we forget about the security camera?

  That was enough of an answer for Mandy. She laughed a groan and wiped her hair back with a sigh. When she looked at us again, her expression was stern.

  "Okay. You guys are useless," Mandy stated, and it sounded as though she had been waiting for this to happen. "Look, just - don't worry about it. I've got security clearance now so I can go in and erase the files. Just don't do it again where cameras can see, okay? Or at least move them out of the way."

  "Yes, ma'am," Michael answered. I was still too embarrassed to reply.

  Mandy gave a nod before hiding a delighted sequel behind her hands. "I'm gonna tell Joey and Bonnie!" And then she was off.

  Ah, well. They were gonna find out eventually, anyway.

  "Your fault," I said. Michael sent me an offended look.

  "How?"

  "Because you have a robot CPU, remember?" I reminded with a tap to my head, grinning up at him. "You can't forget anything, but you definitely forgot about the camera, so - your fault. Not my fault. Not a bit."

  The look he sent me was so outwardly disgraced that I had to stifle a giggle by biting my lip. He shook his head in disbelief before turning towards the back room to begin making his way to the stage. I bounded up to his side. I took that hand I'd wanted so badly to hold. 

  "Tyrant," he grumbled as he carefully wrapped his fingers around mine. My gleeful smile only grew. "Why do I love you again?"

  I shrugged with a laugh. "Beats me."

  "Beats me, too," he muttered, though the softness in his gaze betrayed him wholly.