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Another night of stalking the night guard. Mangle made their way along the ceiling, mismatched limbs twisting around to support their weight as they made their way to the nearest vent.
It was almost annoying, the game they played with him. It was more of a dull routine at this point. Sometimes he’d shine bright lights in their eyes and they couldn’t see him anymore, so they had to wait until it went away. Other times, he’d have Freddy sit in his spot.
Mangle could never figure out where he went — did he go under the desk? And why was this mystery Freddy helping him out? He must shine the flashlight in his face, too, to confuse him. But how did they switch places so quickly?
They were so caught up in their thoughts that they didn’t notice a familiar orange beak discarded on the floor, nor did they notice its bright yellow owner starting to stomp towards Mangle’s favored vent.
Chica looked up, blinking a few times. “Oh, hi, Mangle!”
They froze. “Oh. S-sorry ... “ Their voice cut through the ever present static noise they made, like a spirit speaking through a radio. “Were you going this way, t-too?”
“No worries!” She said, cheery as always, and stepped back to give Mangle some room. “Didn’t see you there!”
They scrambled back down to the pizzeria floor, ears flattened and hands curled to their chest. “You can go first.” Mangle said, almost wanting to run away. They avoided the others as much as they could, and this situation was the worst possible situation. Out of everybody … of course, it was her .
Chica tilted her head. “Are you sure? I mean, you were here first!”
They curled into themselves further. “No, I don’t mind. It’s okay. I wouldn’t w-want to inconvenience you. I am ... always in the way, hahah.” They laughed nervously, wringing their hands together.
“What do you mean?” Chica stood back up, making Mangle retreat further into themselves.
“I … I always get in the way of Bonnie when he’s going through his vent, so now I try going from this one.” They flinched, realizing they had repeated the cruel joke he made. Oh, Mangle, you’re always in the way! No wonder they moved you back here.
Back here. Away from their friends. It was a cruel joke that was played on them — the day shift would put them back together to stand up and smile, but they would be destroyed as soon as the kids put their grubby little fingers on them. At some point, they had given up gathering all of their parts at the end of every night. Then, they gave up on trying to fix them entirely.
Now they were this. The Mangle. And everybody, no matter who it was, looked at them differently. As if they were disgusted by their exposed endoskeleton, their loose wires. Mangle didn’t blame them. They were disgusted by themselves, too.
“I’m not like … you guys.” They mumbled, looking away.
“Sure you are.”
“I’m different.” Mangle insisted, their gaze still averted.
“We all are!” She retorted right back.
Chica’s deflections frustrated them. Why couldn’t she just … drop it, and leave them alone? She acted like she cared. If Mangle could cry, they would — the sensation of tears burning at the corners of their eyes made them blink a few times before speaking again.
“But I don’t look like the others. I can’t stand up, I c-can’t sing on stage anymore, I …” Mangle trailed off, dual voices tinged with sadness.
Chica’s eyelids drooped. “You think any of us care about that?”
Both heads whirred to look back up at her, almost afraid.
“Because … I don’t. We’re all stuck here. It’s not fair, but at least we have each other, and that’s better than nothing.” Chica slowly crouched down to Mangle’s level, her smooth, plastic fingers carefully reaching out and tilting their head up towards hers so their eyes met. “I — We, miss you, sometimes. Just you. Not your body.”
“Y-you really mean that?”
“Yeah.” Chica’s fingers lingered there for a few extra moments, and she looked away, letting the silence between them grow.
“Thank you.” Mangle finally said, softly, twisting themselves back upright.
“Why don’t we go together?” She asked, gesturing to the open vent. There was still a job to be done, an office to get to.
“I’d … I’d like that.”
For once, they were smiling.