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"Haha, look at what I found, Michael," Henry says, holding up a record sleeve. It was a Led Zeppelin album that Mike remembers saving up for months for. Even seeing the worn spine and small tears and scuffs sends a mushy wave of both good and bad memories into his head.
Henry's distant eyes sightlessly scan over the well loved sleeve as a bittersweet expression plays on his face. Jeremy's head pops up from the couch where he's been conspiratorially whispering at an increasingly awkward Stanley. The older feels a rush of relief at the ending of the onslaught of insane theories.
His eyes sparkles as he quickly recognizes the band and album.
"Oh, cool! I love Led Zeppelin! I didn't think you'd be into that kinda music, Mr. Emily!" He was never able to stop his ingrained manners from showing up in everything he did. Henry had told him on numerous occasions that he could simply call him by his first name, but the blonde never did, and eventually he gave up trying to change it
"This is Michael's, actually. There's quite a few more in the attic and Charlie's room. I'd always find those two singing along to them," Henry chuckles fondly at the memory of his daughter and the boy he came to see as a son belting out some lyric or another.
"You never told me you could sing! That's so rad, man!"
Michael can only picture in his mind's eye just how red the illusion of his face - "What did I-.... I can't remember what I look like.... Fuck, just- make something up, dammit!" - is becoming. He didn't tell anybody he could sing! It always was another thing he was terrified of his fa- of William - finding a way to somehow turn against him.
Call him paranoid, but he knew it was always a colossal risk to allow that monster into his life and heart. He'd learned fairly early on that William would use any and every piece of information he collected as devastatingly powerful ammunition to tear down Michael to nothing but a husk.
"You've gotta let us hear you! Come on! I'm sure you sound great." Michael is powerless to stop the feeling of nauseating fear from rising to his throat. Even as an animatronic, it feels like he's suffocating - he can see the wild eyes and gleaming snarl with a freezing hand constricting around his throat with crushing pressure - even without lungs. He does his best to stop his mind from making him pointlessly simulate gasping for air.
"N-no... I'm not.. all that good, really. It's been almost a decade since I last did. Sorry to disappoint...."
Stanley has been able to pick up on some key signs of past abuse throughout the time he's known the man-turned-machine. He'd nearly leap out of Lolbit's shell when somebody raised their voice at him, and he was always seen hunched over and curling in on himself when others would confront him with anger despite the fact that he is a staggering six and a half feet tall now and exponentially stronger than any human out there.
He was also aware of the fact that William was a truly awful monster who slaughtered children, including leading his last living son to his gruesome death. His lack of any compassion brings flames of rage searing through Stanley every time he thinks about how Michael's mental state has been irreversibly damaged thanks to the vile wretch he was stuck with as a father.
Stanley is a lot more observant than most would think, and especially so since he almost died the last time he failed to notice a small change in details. With how hard it was to read the two hurting victims of William's who Stanley has now sworn to help and protect, he'd worked harder than ever to pick up on minute body language, word choice, and vocal tone.
"Now, Michael, you know that's not true-"
Michael stands abruptly, his head down and tightly bunched hands shaking. He doesn't see the traces of guilt being replaced with concerned confusion on Jeremy's face.
"Please, just.... drop it, Henry....." he whispers in a strained tone. His jaw is clenched tightly, and he is more reminiscent of a too-wound spring than the still-young man. His eyes are squeezed shut and his illusion's breathing is unsteady.
Stanley waits for a second before moving over to Mike and laying a hand on his upper arm.
"Let's get you some fresh air."
His words are soft, but they seem to reach Michael at least slightly as he allows Stanley to lead him through the back door. He doesn't take his hand off Michael's arm, even as they get further into the woods behind the house.
Henry's gaze follows them and lingers on the last place he could see them.
"I know it's not my business, Mr. Emily, but.... d-did something happen to Mike when he was younger? He never talks about himself, and whenever I find something out, he usually freaks out or gets really quiet..." Jeremy fidgets with his hands shakily as he stares at the floor. There's tears welling up in his remaining eye, and his face is pinched in uncertainty and guilt, a look that Henry finds wrong on the usually happy young man's face.
"I'm worried about him..." The admission is nearly silent, but the choking silence within the room makes it sound like it's being spoken through a sports stadium speaker. Henry wastes no time setting the record down and hurrying over to Jeremy as the first tears slip out. He hesitantly places a soothing hand on the boy's back, his other hand laying atop and holding the quivering hands.
"Michael's been through quite a lot in his life. He's done things he regrets, and blamed himself for things he couldn't have changed. He would have been crushed under the burden he was forced to bear to make things better if he never met you and Stanley." Henry feels his heart stutter at the thought of losing the last piece of his godson. Jeremy's eye widens in surprise at that last sentence.
"You're the only friends he's had in a very, very long time. He's been too... angry.. and scared... to let anybody in. Even before it completely went to hell, he kept almost everybody at arm's reach. The need to keep himself locked away had been something he developed early on in his life. If I had known it had been this bad, I would have done more to stop it before it ever got to this point. But... Michael doesn't say much about himself because he's scared it'll be used against him."
"It seems I've got my work cut out for me, huh?"
Henry looks back to the blonde, confused by the determinated grin. Jeremy must pick up on Henry's confusion as he continues.
"If there's anybody who can help Mike learn to love himself, it's gonna be me! And what kind of person would I be to turn a blind eye to somebody in need of cheering up?" Jeremy proclaims, snickering at his own joke. His beaming smile gets somehow wider when he sees Henry relax and give him a grateful look.
Henry doesn't quite expect the sudden embrace from the other, but he returns it after a second. The guilt he'd felt from stressing Mike out feels like a distant memory as Jeremy lets the man go and starts animatedly talking about random things. Henry doesn't know how he'll ever be able to thank Michael's friends for all they've done for not only Michael, but Henry himself.
Michael doesn't fully register the moment they stop. He feels like he's stuck in a sea of roiling storm clouds. He isn't sure whether the haunting flashes in his mind so eye are better or worse than this all-encompassing numbness that's come over him.
Everything his two remaining sense tell him are just as hazy as his mind feels, and not even the ever-present feeling of Lolbit that's always hovering around him could break through the fog.
"-e? Y- -n -ere?" Snippets of a worried voice start filtering in, and Michael finds himself desperately grasping at the sound in his mind. A phantom sensation of a large, warm - kind - hand grabbing his and pulling him out of the storm helps the blanket of fuzziness enveloping his senses start to fade. He can barely feel a jolting from something, but he can't figure out what it is.
"-it.. I do-t -ow if y- can hear m-, -ut I nee- -u to foc-s on -y voice. Ca- you d- -hat for me?"
He recognizes Stanley's low voice after a few seconds. His vision strains to focus on the hazy shape in front of him, and the gentle - not to mention concerned in a way that sends unfamiliar, though certainly not unwelcome, sparks of happiness through his body - face of Stanley starts to clear up.
"Michael? You're okay. I swear to you that you're okay. You're safe here. I promise."
As if he was splashed with cold water, the static instantly disappears. Michael's slightly overwhelmed by the burst of sensory input, but Lolbit's softly cradling him in a phantom hug that fills him with feelings of calm and safety.
The odd tingling of something touching his strangely sensitive faceplates - "Of all the places to actually have highly responsive touch sensors, why the face and not the hands or body?" - finally processes in his head, though he can't say he even minds the feeling.
The illusion had either been shut off or was struggling to show itself since he could see Stanley's hands on his cheeks and snout, though the flickering would suggest the later.
He goes to pull back from Stanley with an apology on his metaphorical tongue, but Lolbit stops him before he can even utter a word.
"I will not allow you wallow in self-pity, young man, when you have somebody who would do anything to help you cheer up," he hears the caring fox's voice pipe up in his head, "And I'm not just talking about me, Mikey!"
A bubbling warmth swells in his soul as Lolbit's reassuring presence gives him a gentle squeeze before mostly receding to allow for a semblance of privacy between the two humans.
He looks Stanley in the eyes as the man rubs his thumbs on Michael's cheeks. It's smoother than he expects it be, and he notices the black fluid dripping down the tan skin.
"There we go. I was worried I have to try the good ol' "turn it off and back on again" trick," the man jokes with a watery smirk. It smooths out to a relieved smile.
"If you wanna talk, I'm here for you, Michael. And that goes for whenever you need somebody. Even if it's the ass-crack of dawn, if you call me, I'll be there." Mike eyes flicker with his conflicting emotions and thoughts.
"Uh-uh-uh! My body is a temple, and I am cleansing it of all this sadness!" The man can't hold back his amused huff, drawing a puzzled and slightly hurt look from Stanley.
"It was something Lolbit said," is all his hoarse voice - he doesn't even question just how his mind fills in and translates the effects of what would happen if he were still human - can croak out. Stanley's face softens before he starts speaking again.
"Listen, Mike, I know you're a tough fuckin' kid, but you're still human, and it's not good for you to bottle all these emotions up. It's gonna build up more and more until it explodes, and that's not gonna be good for anybody."
Michael soaks up every word, though he still looks like he's about ten seconds from bolting if he believed his legs capable of supporting him at the moment, which they probably aren't.
"I'm probably gonna get chewed out for telling you, but, fuck it, you need this... I love you, Mike. So does Jeremy. Maybe not in the same way that Henry does, but we both still do. You're like a kid brother to me. You might drive me crazy up the fucking wall sometimes, but at the end of the day you're still like family to me and I'd still take a bullet for you without a second thought. I want to help you reach your goals and live as much of a semi-normal life as you can." The oily tears kick back up, but they seem to be more of a mix of the black fluid and something much lighter, if not clear.
Michael didn't know just how much Stanley cared about him. He finally understands just what the feelings that'd been piling up in his heart had been.
"Michael, you saved my life, and I'll never be able to tell you just how much that means to me. I might not have been able to save your life before this whole shit fest, but I can help keep your soul from destroying itself. So, anything you ever need to get off your chest, I'll be there for you. I swear on my life, I will be there, Michael."
Michael can't form the words to show the brunette just how thankful he is, and Lolbit gently nudges him to show his feelings through action.
So he does.
Stanley is taken by surprise as the steadying image of Michael unexpectedly tackles him, latching onto him. He doesn't think as he wraps his arms around Michael in return and holds him close. The boy's gentle sobs are punctuated with half-unintelligible babbles of thanks. He has a wide grin splitting his face, and the former guard's worries of Michael despising him for admitting his thoughts instantly fade.
Michael does his best to bury his face in the crook of Stanley's neck with the metallic snout and avoiding nicking him with any of the sharp teeth. They sit together on the earthen ground for a while. He might not have hair - that was one of the only few downsides of this whole situation because he absolutely loved his hair and misses it so very much - to card through, but Stanley makes due and pets the back of his head.
Even with the illusion active, Stanley can feel the rhythmic swishing of the hidden tail as it brushes against his leg. The relaxed look on Mike's face lets him know that Mike was entirely okay with the affection.
"Thank you, Stanley." He barely catches the airy whisper, but his heart sings in delight.
"Any time, Mike," he hums back, eyes slipping closed with a content sigh.
They stay that way for a few more minutes before Michael releases Stanley, and he tries not to groan aloud at Lolbit's gushing over how he was so reluctant to do so.
"You feeling good to head back? If not, that's perfectly fine."
"I think I'll be alright, plus I wanna get this shit cleaned off. It always feels weird when it dries..." Michael shudders slightly, but his expression returns to the slight smiling one it'd seemed to be defaulting to since Stanley said he thought of him as a brother.
"No clue what this shit is, but I agree." Stanley gives a chuckle as he stands and holds a stained hand out to help Mike stand, and he's given a doubtful eyebrow raise.
"I know you said you could lift me, but that was before you knew I was a haunted animatronic," Michael's amused voice drawls out before his gaze darts to the side with an unseeing glare. "And that's not an insult about your weight, Lolbit, so don't go playing the wounded animal card."
That pulls a faux-offended scoff out of Stanley, and a wheezing - he chooses not to question why something that doesn't even have lungs would know how to wheeze or feel the need to simulate it - cackles from Lolbit that he fights valiantly to contain when they realize the joke that Michael willingly made.
"Are you calling me a weak little bubble blowing baby?" the brunette asks in a silly tone that gets progressively more ridiculous.
Snrk
Stanley gives an overdramatic gasp and clutches his hands over his heart. He knew he was being over the top, but he didn't care and hoped Mike would find it amusing.
Pffft hehehehe
"Well, you did say you joined in with your nephew when he was last week."
Stanley's face wilts into a mirthful deadpan as his posture droops. "Point taken." He instantly is back to his previous energy level as he places a hand on his hip and puffs out his chest in over-exaggerated pride.
"As a night guard, I've dealt with my fair share of drunk ruffians trying to break into places. If I can carry out a human wall that's flailing around, I can help you to your feet, Mike."
He puts his hand back out to the boy. He gets an eyebrow lifted towards him before Mike sighs with a shake of his head and grabs the offered hand.
With a surprising amount of brute strength, Stanley hauls Michael to an unstable stand. If Mike had any doubts of the man's physical capabilities, they certainly were gone now.
The unexpectedness of even being able to be yanked up takes him by surprise, and he almost ends up falling forward. If it hadn't been for the one who got him up, he would have made himself fast friends with the floor.
When Michael regains his bearings after a second, he looks over to the owner of the arm over his torso and the firm hand on his shoulder. The kindness in Stanley's eyes gives Michael another wave of semi-incomprehensible positive emotions.
"Every time you fall, Mike, I'll be waiting right there to catch you. I've got your back."
Michael has to force down the soaring emotions threatening to bring him back to blubbering tears. He finds himself grinning against his will and nods.
The two of them proceed to haul ass back to Henry's house before either of the two still there get the idea to form a search party.
By the time they get back, they find Henry explaining something to Jeremy. It looks like he's telling the boy about how some of the mechanics within an animatronic's arm work.
As the back door opens, both turn - Henry can only wince at just how quickly Jeremy's head whips over, amazed the boy didn't give himself whiplash - to look at the only slightly worse for wear giants. He can feel Jeremy's confusion upon seeing the black residue on Stanley's hands, but any thoughts of that are washed away upon seeing the relaxed smile on Michael's lips.
He can't even bring himself to feel awful about probably bringing up bad memories when Mike's grin widens slightly, his silvery lavender eyes showing a deep appreciation that Jeremy can't even begin to unpack.
Without a word, Mike steps over to the two on the couch and wraps an arm around each.
"Sorry for worrying you," he says before letting them go.
Jeremy is rendered speechless as he tries to figure out if he's hallucinating this or not. He can't tell just what the new look in Michael's eyes as he looks at him is, but it's not one he has any sort of complaints about.
"You have nothing to be sorry for, Michael. You should get some rest. You look exhausted."
"I'll be-"
"You weren't okay last time, Mike." Stanley's face is as flat as his tone, though he can see the concern pulling at the ash brown brows.
"Mr. Emily's right, man. You look pretty dead on your feet." Jeremy's gaze flashes to Stanley and the taller appears to suppress an exasperated groan. Thankfully, Michael was unable to see his expression.
With the four sets - two and a half, technically, since Jeremy only has one eye and Lolbit's are unseen even if he can feel it as though the fox were standing right in front of him - of eyes on him all radiating various amounts of caring warmth and familial love, Michael caves almost instantly, though that might just be the fact that he's actually just as tired as Henry could clearly see.
He puts his hands up with a sigh and he ducks his head to hide the way his imaginary heart flutters at all the positivity being sent his way.
"Alright, alright, you win," he huffs out. A couple gentle pats on his back get his walking off towards Charlie's room as he waves his farewells to the three humans, wishing them all a good night.
Once he's out of sight and the closes, Stanley glances at the two he didn't even notice had migrated away from the couch. Jeremy has an excited beaming smile on his face at the new milestone he's reached with Michael.
"So, Jeremy, I have to tell you something, but I need you to promise not to kill me first..." The grin falters for a millisecond as the blond tilts his head in question.
"If it has anything to do with why Mike gave me a freaking hug, then it's all good in my book. How often can somebody say that a vampire's hugged them!?"
Henry gives a confused noise as he looks back at the ecstatic kid, but he doesn't voice his bewilderment when Stanley weakly puts a hand up and shakes his head. The man believes that if whatever the vampire thing is can bring such a haunted look from the one who literally had dolls crawling into his body, perhaps it truly is safer to not know.
"You're gonna regret saying that, but, uh," his dark orbs refuse to meet the bright one as he brings a hand to his neck and continues, "I might have told Mike exactly what we promised we wouldn't tell him..."
Henry, who had no idea what that even meant, watched in uncertainty and mild amusement as the two friends' faces were overtaken by darkening shades of red and pink.
"You..." Jeremy's small voice trembles slightly.
"YOU WHAT!?" The squeaking cry was quite noisy, and Stanley blanched as he cringed with a, "not so loud..."
"He was freaking out, and I said the only thing I could think of to keep him from shutting me out! If I could have avoided saying it, I would have!"
"Oh, God, he's gonna hate me-"
"If he hated either of us for thinking of him like that, he wouldn't have hugged you, Jer."
The panic evaporates and the blonde blinks a few times before thinking about it.
"And what, exactly, were you so afraid of Michael knowing?"
The two apparently forgot the man was capable of hearing or just weren't even thinking about others hearing them. Jeremy's cherry red face is quickly buried in his hands.
"Well… w-we've come to see Mike as something like a brother, but we never told him because… you know…" Stanley stutters out. "I mean, I know it's probably weird to hear it as his actual family, but I really do see him as a little brother, of sorts."
Emerald eyes widen in surprise, then his features settle in a fatherly joy as he chuckles.
"And here I thought he'd tell you something like that first."
Jeremy jolts and looks up with unshed tears in his eyes. Stanley attention, however, is drawn elsewhere as he sees a flicker of movement by the shelf next to the television from the corner of his eye, but he can't catch what it is. He ignores it and looks back at Henry.
"When you two aren't here, he talks about you with the same look in his eyes when he talks about his brother." Jeremy seems surprised that Mike talked about them, as well as the fact that he has a brother since Mike said he didn't have any living family left.
Another hint of motion draws Stanley's eyes back over to the shelf, but he still can't see what could possibly be moving.
"You didn't hear that from me, though," Henry adds as he stands. Jeremy laughs brightly at that. He gathers the few tools and parts from the demonstration and looks at the golden bear plushie on the shelf for a second with an incomprehensible look.
"Woah, I haven't seen one of those ones before!" Jeremy squees in child-like glee, apparently having followed Henry's gaze.
"It was the prototype for the Fredbear plush toys, I think? I found some concept sketches and notes on the security desk at the old rental place, so I skimmed through them every now and then." Henry has an impressed look, and Stanley almost jumps as he swears the plush's eyes turn to him. He didn't even notice how there was a white dot in the eyes appearing to peer into his very soul.
"Looks like we've all taken the graveyard shift at some point," Jeremy points out with a snicker.
"Speaking of work, I've gotta get going so I'm not late," Stanley says, ripping his eyes away from the stuffed bear and checking the clock. "Need a ride home, Jeremy?"
"Oh- yeah, thanks!"
Stanley grabs his jacket from where he'd left it draped on a dining room chair before fishing his keys from the pocket and tossing them to Jeremy, the young man not even fumbling in the slightest to catch them thanks to Stanley's exemplary aim.
"I'll meet you out there in a second."
Jeremy doesn't think twice before nodding and heading out. "See you later, Mr. Emily!"
The second the door closes, Stanley turns back to Henry, but he's stopped part-way there by a head of brown hair ducking into the hallway.
He's instantly on edge, and he goes to dash after the intruder. When he gazes into the hallway barely even a few feet from him, he sees nothing. Whoever that was couldn't have possibly been moving fast enough to duck into any of the rooms.
"Is everything alright, Stanley?" Henry asks, drawing the other's tense gaze to him.
"I could have sworn I saw someone-…"
A shiver runs down his spine when he spots the dark eyes of the plushie. Henry's sight follows and notices the same with an understanding hum.
"Evan uses the plush as a tether so he can talk to Michael easier. I'm not really sure how the whole thing works, so I can't really explain anything."
"I hope he isn't mad at Jeremy and I… I really don't wanna piss off any more dead kids. The little girl was terrifying enough…." He shudders, and Henry gives him a sympathetic look.
"I don't think he would be mad, especially with Michael so alright with it. Now, go on before Jeremy thinks something happened."
"Right. I'll let you know if I find anything." He checks the hall one last time, doing a double as he sees a blood covered - he doesn't even acknowledge the impossibility of that with the boy's unfortunate current state - Michael holding hands with a young boy, crimson coating half of his head and face.
He swears both pairs of eyes widen before the two disappear when he blinks.
Before he can allow himself to even begin thinking about it more, he shakes it out of his head and hurries out of the house. Before he even gets off his shift that night, he's already forgotten to think about it again, and Michael assumes the man thought it was a hallucination and dismissed it.
Over the next few weeks, the memory of those events fade from the three humans' minds. The only indicators to anything having happened was that, instead of the background noise of some show, quiet moments in the house were filled with music.
Jeremy looked like a kid in a candy shop when he saw the box full of records, cassettes and CDs - almost all of which were Michael's and at least a decade old - that Michael had spent a couple hours scrounging together after he'd woken up the previous night. Stanley was pretty impressed - and moderately envious of a good few - with just how much there was, and how similar their tastes were.
The change from a program to music eventually grew into something normal, and they put the knowledge of Michael's hidden singing talent out of their minds.
Most of them, anyway.
Lolbit, as one would expect from the fox, was persistent the whole time in hearing Michael sing without it being created by their voice mimicry ability.
Michael was equally as persistent in never singing ever again.
They'd been at a stalemate for the last couple days.
It was a calm day, and they're all over at Henry's. Jeremy is continuing to be the morale boost everybody there cherished. He's doing his best to listen to anybody who just wants to ramble - Henry tended to go into what they'd started calling "Mechanic Mode" and would go on and on about whatever he was working on, and it was all very fascinating and gave an intriguing insight into the animatronics, but it seemed only Jeremy's hyperactive mind was ever able to keep up - since that usually helped them to get their thoughts and ideas sorted out.
Stanley was recruited as Henry's assistant - that'd been happening a lot more recently - as he worked on getting more of a new animatronic built. He might not have as much of a technical prowess as the older man, but he could take orders and instructions better than any soldier, and he wasn't afraid to ask for clarification. Unbeknownst to Michael and Jeremy, Henry was also showing Stanley how Lolbit's body functioned and how to make temporary repairs if Michael was ever hurt. The father worried greatly for his godson whenever he would go out to investigate something alone - Michael's impulsive decisions and tendency to not completely think things through were a major contributor - and Stanley told Mike that he'll join him whenever he goes to do so.
Michael is quietly working on designs and blueprints for a small bear figure. He doesn't hear Jeremy walking up to him and speaking to him. The only things his mind is filled with are potential pros and cons of one part over another that would give it the functionality he's looking for, and the flowing rhythm of the song currently playing.
"It's nine o'clock on a Saturday
The regular crowd shuffles in
There's an old man sittin' next to me
Makin' love to his tonic and gin"
He continues carefully sketching with the pencil, unaware that everybody had stopped their work.
"He says, "Son can you play me a memory?
I'm not really sure how it goes
But it's sad and it's sweet and I knew it complete
When I wore a younger man's clothes","
Lolbit's quiet and eager curiosity gently prickles at his right hand, as though the bot is holding his hand. It feels weird writing while it feels like somebody's got their hand around yours, so Michael mindlessly switches to drawing with his left.
"La, la-la, di-di-da
La-la di-di-da da-dum"
He feels the hidden tail behind him swaying a little in time to the song, and he lets himself focus more on the lyrics of one of the first songs he'd ever bought himself.
"Sing us a song, you're the piano man
Sing us a song tonight
Well, we're all in the mood for a melody
And you've got us feelin' alright,"
Before the next verse starts an excited squeal from in his head breaks his laser focus. He feels himself nearly start to teeter to the left off his chair as a sensation of being pounced in a hug jerks him fully back to reality.
He looks up and catches the starstruck look of the youngest - well, Michael doesn't count himself since he can't age, and he'd be older if he could - person there. Jeremy is basically vibrating in place with pure giddy energy.
A low whistle from the main workbench in the shop has him glancing over at the two there. The taller is the one who whistled from what he can tell, and bark brown eyes shine with pride and pleasant surprise. Henry appears to be thrilled - although he's much more subdued in his expression of it - with something.
"Hell of a voice, Mike. If I'd known you were that good, I might've pushed to hear it sooner," Stanley compliments. Instantly, Mike realizes what happened, and he's never been so thankful and simultaneously horrified by how he can't feel just how bright his face would appear to be burning.
"You can sing, and write with both hands!? You're just a talent machine, dude!" Jeremy exclaims. Mike's face contorts in amusement - it certainly isn't his - with a few snickers slipping out before he clears his throat unnecessarily and pounds a fist on his chest.
Henry and Stanley share a knowing look. At the same time, Lolbit takes the opportunity to replay his own voice to him. He's surprised at just how different, yet not, his voice sounds compared to the last time he heard it.
"Th-thanks, but I wasn't exactly meaning to…"
"I'll let you in on a little secret, Mike. There is nothing in the world that could ever make your old man sing in tune. It infuriated him to no end, I tell you. I think I would rather hear nails on a chalkboard than that horrible excuse for singing again." Henry can barely keep himself from laughing at the ridiculous amount of grumbling and downright childish pouting his former business partner did over his inability to sing.
".... Wot?" Michael lilts, stupefied. An amused grin spreads further over his face as he tries to see if he can ever recall his father singing, only to recall him pretty much avoiding all forms of music. "He hates music because he's tone deaf?"
"Is that why he hated the radio playing when he was home?"
"I wouldn't be surprised," Henry pauses, diving deep in thought for a moment before continuing, "Now, your mom could make angels cry. She had one of the best voices I've ever heard. She'd be glad to see you inherited her talent and not the broken bagpipe of a voice William has."
While the topic of his mum was always touchy, he loved to learn more about the woman. Michael didn't even have the ability to be bittersweet as Henry's final sentence finally registers.
While Jeremy was grabbing onto every detail about his friend's super secret past he rarely ever got to hear about, Stanley watches with thinly veiled apprehension, ready to stop things before they got too much for Michael to handle.
That is, he would have if Michael didn't burst out in a damn near cackle. It wasn't an unnatural one like Lolbit's sometimes came out as with the illusion active, either. This was all the boy.
Jeremy joins in with enthusiasm. He might not have known anything about the man, but he'd been quick to catch on to Michael's unease when it came to talking about his dad.
Stanley can't help but feel immense relief at how the eternally nineteen year old who used to pretty much have a panicked breakdown when talking about his father in more than just passing is now laughing openly at him.
A few tears run down Michael's face as he struggles to get his laughter under control. Stanley can faintly make out the soft orange shimmering in the clear fluid - he'll take this over the sticky tar-colored oil any day - but doesn't mention anything since the others don't.
Henry's whole person appears to gain a slightly more youthful look, almost as though hearing his godson so gleeful lifts some of the deep rooted grief from his soul that had been slowly sapping his dwindling life-force away.
From that point on, Michael no longer makes an active effort to stop himself from singing. While it does take a few months for him to purposefully start singing without a spear of fear stabbing through his heart, it does eventually happen.
At some point, Stanley notes one day, it has become quite common to hear Michael humming while he works, and it always brightens the mood. And when Jeremy found out Stanley could sing as well - "YOU DIDN'T TELL ME YOU COULD, EITHER!?" "YOU DIDN'T ASK!" - the two ended up finding they could make a pretty good duo. If Mike were able to drink - and not just the fact that he's stuck at nineteen - Stanley would have dragged him to a karaoke bar at some point.
Given the situation, though, he's more than contempt with the impromptu sing-a-longs they sometimes start, especially since Michael starts showing just how broad his vocal range is after a while. Everyone seemed lighter, too, and that was the greatest feeling to them in their dark fight.