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Gregory isn’t sure how to feel.
When he and Freddy first stole the car, he felt adrenaline. Hot, fiery adrenaline, coursing through his veins and setting his soul ablaze. His hands shook atop the wheel with nerves, his knee bounced erratically in his seat, and his face flushed with something warm that brightened his cheeks with a reddish glow.
As the drive continued, he felt happiness. The Mega PizzaPlex diminished into nothingness behind them, the future increased to boundless possibilities before them, and all Gregory had to do was keep his hands on the wheel and foot on the pedal and drive. A smile grew upon his lips, his eyes crinkled in glee, and butterflies fluttered in his stomach. Yes, he was actually happy.
Once he figured out how to keep Freddy powered despite the lack of a recharge station, he felt relief. He wasn’t sure it would work, suddenly feared that the decision to leave was an awful mistake he’d forever regret. But then Freddy’s eyes popped back open, life bloomed into them in an instant, and all was okay again. They were truly together now. Nothing would stop them. It was all okay.
But now, as the sun starts to reach its peak in the sky, signaling that it’s somewhere around noon, he feels…
He doesn’t know.
Something.
Maybe he’s tired. He didn’t get to sleep at all last night, after all. He’s also been driving for several hours now—without any breaks, nonetheless. He could always ask Freddy to drive, but he isn’t sure if he has the programming to do so, and besides—Gregory’s been doing a fine enough job so far. Well, for a kid his age, at least.
Or, maybe he’s just not sure where to go from here. Though, he has Freddy with him now, and truth be told, that’s all that really matters to Gregory. They could be on their way to Antarctica right now and as long as he has Freddy by his side, he’d be right on board.
But, still. They have no plan. No course of direction. Right now they’re simply driving aimlessly on back roads, watching the vast world stretch miles and miles before them with no end in sight. Maybe he is just concerned for the future?
…No, that’s not it. His future has never been one very bright, and right now, it’s looking brighter than it’s ever been.
Then, what’s—?
“Gregory?”
“Hm?” Gregory snaps his head to the side, stunned out of his tumbling thoughts, and finds Freddy staring directly at him from the passenger’s seat.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I—“
“You’ve been quiet for some time now,” Freddy says, cocking his head to the side like some 8-foot-tall robotic puppy.
Gregory tears his gaze away. It lands somewhere back on the road before him.
“I’m okay.”
A moment of silence passes by, and Freddy doesn't seem convinced. Well, if the continuous stare Gregory feels burning on his side is anything to go by. It’s terribly intense, and he feels like his own soul is being stared at. Can Freddy scan his vitals or something? Is that some mode he was never made aware of?
“Are you certain? You appeared deep in thought. What’s on your mind?”
Gregory breathes out a laugh. “Nothing, Freddy! I’m fine. Just zoned out a little, is all.”
That convinces him—well, seems to convince him, for Freddy finally pulls his eyes away and looks back out the windshield.
And Gregory decides, right then and there, to just keep quiet for now. He’s probably just tired, that’s all. He’s not feeling something in particular. What he’s feeling is just plain-old fatigue like any other 12 year old child running on zero sleep. Everything is okay.
It’s all fine.
It’s…
It’s all fine, right?
Gregory sneaks a glance at Freddy and then stares back out the windshield. He does it again. And again. And again. He bites his lip, shifts a little in his seat, tries to ignore the strange feeling in his gut that grows and gurgles and swells into something that he can’t understand, just can’t put his finger on. And it’s bothering him so much, so much that he just wants to speak out and say something, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to talk at all. Not to anyone, not even to Freddy, but maybe he should because Freddy’s always been so supportive, probably the first person ever in his life to be such a way towards him, but maybe he really can’t help here and Gregory is just overreacting and everything really is fine and—
Gregory sighs.
He shakes his head, clearing the mess of rambling thoughts.
“Freddy?”
“Yes, Gregory?”
“I don’t…feel so good.”
Freddy’s head snaps in Gregory’s direction, so fast that it creaks. And when Gregory chances a glance over, he finds Freddy’s eyes to be saddened. Crinkling in worry. Shining in the sunlight with a spark of something so full of life and feeling. Who programmed an animatronic to have such humanlike expressions, anyway?
“Is it your head? A limb? Your stomach?” Freddy begins, words frantic. “If you have a stomachache, I know exactly what to do in case of vomiting, so there’s no need to worry. I’m programmed to aid children who have eaten too much pizza or carbonated—“
“No, no, it’s not that,” Gregory says, waving a hand in front of him. Freddy snaps his mouth shut, almost looking dejected for a moment, before that expression warps right back into one of concern. He furrows his brow, and his ears twitch a little as he leans in towards Gregory.
“Then, what is it?”
Gregory‘s gaze falls to his lap. And all words catch in his throat because he doesn’t know what it is, that’s the problem here, and he has no clue on how to go about all this. No one in his life has ever asked such questions with so much care in their eyes, with so much genuine concern lacing their words, and it’s as if Gregory’s brain has short circuited at the foreign experience.
“I…”
He shakes his head.
“I’m gonna pull over.”
Freddy doesn't protest, so Gregory drives the car off the main road and into the grass beside it. It’s not perfect or a smooth pullover by any means, but truth be told, he doesn’t care, and the wasteland around him probably won’t care, either. He hasn’t seen a car or building for miles, so who’s really going to judge his subpar driving skills?
He puts the car into park, and for a moment, they just…sit. No words. No movement. Nothing. Gregory keeps his eyes trained forward, it seems that Freddy does the same. The air becomes heavy between them both, so thick that it almost feels hard to breathe. Or maybe Gregory can’t breathe well because there’s a sudden lump in his throat.
…When did that get there?
“Gregory?”
Only then does Gregory notice that Freddy’s turned his body—best he can in his seat, anyway—to face him. And there it is again—that expression of concern, painted all over his shiny features. His ears do that little twitch thing again, and he leans closer to Gregory, eyes crinkling all the while.
“What’s the matter?”
Gregory opens his mouth, yet no words come forth. It’s that stupid lump in his throat, clogging up all words and not allowing a thing to squeeze past. Not that Gregory knows what to say, anyway. His mind is in a fog, all thoughts jumbling around and bouncing off the walls, and there’s not a coherent sentence he can think of to speak out.
“I…” He tries, voice painfully low. “I…”
Suddenly, the image of Freddy before him wavers. It’s as if the car had dipped into a lake instead of the grass, the world around Gregory now swimming like his head was put underwater. And with that comes a sensation of warmth—warmth in his eyes, right along the rims. And before Gregory knows what’s happening, that warmth starts to trail down his cheeks, though he soon realizes that it’s not just warmth anymore. It’s a wetness as well, creating a steady stream below each eye—streams that flow and flow and never seem to run dry.
“I’m…” Gregory tries again, and a choked sob escapes his lips. Is he…?
“Oh, Gregory, it’s alright. Come here.”
Gregorly barely gets a chance to register what’s going on before Freddy’s two large paws settle on his sides and heft him out of his seat. And then, without another word, Freddy settles Gregory on his lap and pulls him close, both arms wrapped around his small, now shuddering frame.
Gregory freezes at first in shock, but just as quickly, he clings back onto Freddy.
“I’m…I’m sorry,” Gregory manages to spit out between sobs. “It’s just…It’s so much, w-what happened. I was so scared but—but now it’s all over, and—and I—“
“It’s alright, Gregory. I understand. There’s no need to apologize.”
And so Gregory shuts his mouth and instead allows himself this moment of peace for once in his life. He buries his head against Freddy’s chest, reveling in the warmth that generates from within his innard components. And Freddy holds him even closer, his pressure light enough not to harm Gregory but strong enough to administer comfort. He uses a light paw to rub circles on Gregory’s hitching back—whether it is done on instinct or because of some sort of “Soothe Crying Child” protocol he has installed, Gregory isn’t sure, but he sure is grateful for it now.
And for several long moments, they simply stay that way. Gregory’s sobs gradually become quieter with time, now a little less intense, and his chest stops heaving with each sharp inhale. All the while, Freddy just keeps rubbing circles on his back, whispering soothing nonsense into his ears, and Gregory focuses all of his attention on it. Tries to direct his focus to words of comfort he’s never heard, touches he’s never felt, care he’s never truly experienced.
Eventually, Gregory’s body fully tires itself out, and the cries completely diminish. With one last shuddering breath, he slumps against Freddy’s frame with red-rimmed and somewhat teary eyes half-opened. His body still shudders ever-so-slightly, but it’s much more calm now.
The storm has finally passed, it seems.
They remain in silence for a few seconds like this—no more tears, no more labored breathing, none of that, just…silence. A nice silence, too. A peaceful one. Gregory doesn't want to break it, and neither does Freddy, for he remains quiet as well.
Though, Gregory knows he has to say something at some point. And finally, with a short sigh, he shatters the quiet like a hammer struck against glass.
“I…I’m sorry, Freddy. About, uh…um. About all that,” is all he manages to say. He knows he’s never been the most well-spoken child, that’s for sure, and the embarrassment creeping upon him sure isn’t helping matters.
At that, Freddy leans forward to peer down at him. His gaze is awfully fond, like he’s looking at a sleeping puppy instead of a weak child with tear-tracks staining his pudgy cheeks and snot running helplessly from his nose. “Like I said before—there’s no need to apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong. You are simply overwhelmed from all that happened today, and you have not fully processed it yet.”
Gregory nods and wipes his face with a sleeve, ridding himself of the tears and snot as best he can though feeling ashamed at the mess he must look like all the while. He hates crying, hates the vulnerability it brings, and of course Freddy of all people had to witness it. But, leave it to Freddy to help him not feel so bad about it. Leave it to Freddy to say just what he needs to hear when he’s at his most low.
And leave it to Freddy to understand his emotions long before he could figure them out himself.
“Yeah. That’s…probably it.”
Gregory opens his mouth to add something else, but a yawn cuts him off instead. He knew he was tired before, knew he should probably get a little rest at some point soon. But now, having cried everything out of him and curled up in Freddy’s lap, it sure is hitting him hard.
And as always, Freddy seems to read his mind.
“Gregory?”
“Yeah?”
“Would you like to take a break from driving?”
Gregory nods. “Yeah. And hey, Freddy?”
“Hm?”
“Can I stay here?”
Freddy pulls him close once more in answer, his large arms surrounding Gregory and keeping him right in place against his chest. He feels a smile brush upon his lips as his heart bursts with a sensation of warmth—never has Gregory ever felt so cared for, so secure. He rests his head against Freddy’s chest and closes his eyes. There’s no heartbeat there like a human would have, but there’s the thrum of his systems, the faint buzz of electricity, and it’s soothing to Gregory in ways he never would’ve expected.
“Of course, superstar.”