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It’s been 7 months since that night at Freddy Fazbear’s, and Gregory still gets nightmares from his stay there.
It’s ridiculous, that he gets scared to this day. He’s visited the Plex plenty of times when it’s normal and crowded, and he’s interacted with the animatronics enough to know that they’d never, ever hurt him intentionally. When he’s there, spending time with Freddy and Chica and Roxy and Monty and Sun or Moon and DJ and Music Man, he feels safe. Really, he does. Plus, dad and aunt Ness are never too far away, so he has no reason to fear that place anymore.
And yet, he dreams of Chica’s hands tightening around his throat until he can’t breathe. Of Moon or Monty piercing him with their sharp claws or long fingers. Of Roxy chasing him and taunting him endlessly. Of Vanny holding the knife to his throat and finishing the job this time.
Or - or of his dad trapped underneath the beam, limp body burning in the fire and never returning. He’s waiting for dad to walk out, to tell him that he got a second chance and he’s staying, but he never does, and the Plex collapses but his dad is still in there-
He should be over it, but he isn’t. It frustrates him to no end.
Dad and aunt Ness have told him countless times that he’s welcomed to wake them up if he ever needs them. The thing is, he hates doing that. They both suffer from nightmares as well, which means they need their sleep just as much as he does. And their nightmares are infinitely worse than his are. Aunt Ness was literally brainwashed to be a killer, and dad has lost so many people in his lifetime all while dying not once, but twice, and almost a third time. Their trauma, their stress - it makes sense.
His doesn’t. He doesn’t want to bother them with his silly little dreams.
So he deals with them himself - by staying up and hoping his body will just collapse in exhaustion. Tonight is one of those nights, and so far, no luck. He even decided to sneak into the living room and sit beside the pull out couch, hoping his dad’s presence will calm him down. He didn’t wake him, and he doesn’t want to. Dad doesn’t need to be awake to comfort him - his presence alone makes Gregory feel safe. His snoring soothes him and the way his chest falls up and down reminds Gregory that he’s alive and well and not dead, like he is in his nightmares.
He’s just happy that his dad is a heavy sleeper on his good nights. It gives Gregory the chance to find some peace.
“…Gregory…?”
He flinches and turns around, seeing his dad’s blue eyes open thanks to the night light he keeps in the living room. Gregory slumps against the couch. “M’sorry…I didn’t mean to wake you up…”
“You didn’t,” his dad yawns, “was having a bad dream anyway. Why are you up bud? Couldn’t sleep?”
He turns away from dad and ducks his head. “Maybe,” he whispers. He hears dad sigh behind him.
“Come on,” dad says, patting the bed, “I’ll stay awake until you fall asleep.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“But I want too, so no complaining.”
He sighs and gives in, not feeling like fighting his dad on this. He is very tired, and he does sleep better when dad or Aunt Ness are with him. It’s pathetic that he’s almost 11 and needs to be held to sleep better. He wonders if he’ll ever grow out of it.
The pull out couch isn’t as comfortable as his bed, but it’s not bad. He uses his dad as a pillow anyway. He sighs and rest his head against dad’s chest, clenching his shirt tightly in his fist. One of dad’s hands is placed on his back, while the other runs through his hair in a soothing manner. He yawns, already feeling the dregs of sleep drag him in.
“Comfortable?”
He hums in response. Dad doesn’t say anything else as his relaxes his dreams return to him.
“D-Dad,” he coughs, smoke filling his lungs to the brim, “p-please…get u…up…”
Dad smiles at him, soot covering his face, half his body hidden under the beam on top of him.
“Live a l-long and…happy l-life…”
He feels two large hands pick him up and take him away from his dad. He kicks and screams in the hold, but it’s no use. Dad gets smaller and smaller, and the fire gets bigger and bigger. Dad’s head drops, and he stops moving completely. He can’t stop crying.
“DAD…DON’T L-LEAVE…M..ME…P-PLEASE….!”
He gasps awake, his breathing erratic and quick. There’s a weight on his head and a soft bumping sound under his ear. He focuses on that instead of his own rapid heartbeat.
“There you go bud…deep breathes.”
That’s dad voice. Dad is here, which means he’s alive. It was another nightmare.
“It’s ok now,” dad whispers, “you’re safe, at home. I’m here, Aunt Ness is just down the hall. Everyone is ok.”
He sucks in a hasty breathe and immediately regrets it when he starts choking. It’s a similar feeling to that night, when smoke filled his lungs and he could barely keep himself from passing out. Not only did the smoke compromise him, but the anxiety attack he was having did little to help him breathe.
The lack of air just brings him back to that night, and suddenly he can’t breathe for real and he’s so scared.
“-hear my voice? Listen to my voice.”
Gregory gasps and tries to focus on his dad’s whispering.
“Take a deep breathe for me sweetheart…1…2…3…”
He tries to take a deep breathe, but his intake is short and choppy.
“That’s good…now exhale…1…2…3…”
His dad spends God knows how long talking him through his breathing. At first, it’s hard for him to find a rhythm, but dad doesn’t stop encouraging him. He’s patient and quite and calm throughout the whole attack. Even once he’s found a soothing rhythm, dad doesn’t stop coaching him. It’s only when he whines and slumps against dad fully that he stops his counting.
“There you go love,” dad whispers, “you’re ok now. It’s ok.”
“D-Dad,” he whispers, “m’scared…”
“Did you have another nightmare?”
He nods.
“What was it about?”
He sniffles. “I-I saw you, u-underneath the b-beam again.”
He lifts his hand up to wipe away his tears. Sadly, it doesn’t work, since new ones just replace it. “Me ’n F-Freddy were leaving y-you behind…and you were j-just laying there m-motionless. I-I couldn’t do a-a-anything t-to help y-you.”
“Gregory,” his dad whispers, his voice sounding pained, “do you…have this nightmare often?”
He nods again. It’s his most frequent nightmare. Even if he starts dreaming about something else, like being chased or choked or injured, they’ll always end the same way: his dad dying in the fire. It tells him that his biggest fear isn’t dying: it’s losing his dad.
“I’m so sorry sweetheart,” dad soothes, “I wish there was more I could do…”
“I-I just hate feeling s-so helpless. I hate remembering t-the fear.”
“I know,” his dad says. Then, he begins running his hand through his knotted brown hair. “Y’know, one nightmare I get often is seeing Monty attacking you again.”
He sniffles and looks up at his dad. “Really?”
“Really,” dad smiles sadly, “I tend to get nightmares after tragedies happen. Evan, Lizzie, my fathers various victims - when they died, the nightmares would plague my sleep almost every night. And now it’s happening with you.”
Dad takes a deep breathe, and closes his eyes for a brief moment, almost like he’s gathering himself. He opens them after a few seconds. “The difference this time is that you’re alive. While my nightmares are horrible, I can remind myself that my life is going great, because I have you, and that makes me feel better. So maybe I can’t help you with your nightmares, but I will always help you after them. Please don’t ever be afraid to wake me up and ask for comfort. I’ll always be available to help you through whatever is making you feel bad, ok?”
He sniffles again and lays his head against his dad’s chest, right over his heart. He wishes he could make the bad dreams go away, but his dad is right. His life is the best it’s been since he was four. He has a family and friends for the first time in years. Maybe his dreams make him miserable, but his life tells a different story.
His dad isn’t dead. He’s alive and ready to help him with whatever demons haunt his mind.
“Thank you dad,” he whispers, “I love you.”
“Love you too,” he feels dad kiss the top of his head, “I love you more than anything. Never forget that.”
He nods and sighs, closing his eyes and listening to his dad’s heartbeat.
“Feeling better?”
“Mmm,” he hums. He feels his dad chuckle.
“Good. Better enough to sleep?”
Sleep means closing his eyes and seeing his dad die again. He shakes his head, not wanting to sleep just yet. His dad sighs. “Ok…that’s ok.”
It’s quiet for a few minutes after that. His eyes begin to droop, but he snaps them open, refusing to go to sleep and subject himself to nightmares once again. Unbeknownst to him, Michael notices this, and frowns.
“Y’know…when I was younger, my mom would to sing to us if we ever had nightmares. I’m not the best singer but-“
“That sounds nice,” he whispers. Listening to his dad is more comforting than the silence. He feels his dad take a deep breathe.
“Baby mine
Don't you cry
Baby mine
Dry your eyes
Rest your head
Close to my heart
Never to part
Baby of mine”
It’s true, his dad isn’t the best singer, but his voice is enough to get him to relax. He finally closes his eyes, and for once, he doesn’t snap them open.
“If they knew
All about you
They'd end up
Loving you too
All those same
People who scold you
What they'd give
Just for the right
To hold you”
What a nice lullaby. This is what grandma sang to his dad when he was younger? She must’ve loved him a lot. She must've been nicer than William.
“From your head
Down to your toes
You're so sweet
Goodness knows
You are so
Precious to me
Cute as can be
Baby of Mine”
He drifts off after that, feeling safe and warm and loved.
The next time he wakes up, the sun is shining outside and he doesn’t remember any of his dreams, which means no nightmares. He yawns and sits up, looking around the living room. It must be early, because aunt Ness usually wakes up around 10. He looks to his left and giggles at the sight of his dad lying on his back with his mouth wide open, snoring up the whole room. He’s surprised the loud noise didn’t wake him up sooner.
He unlocks his dad’s phone and sees that it’s 8:16 am. Not wanting to go back to sleep, he opens the phone and goes to Tiktok. He puts the volume on the lowest setting and scrolls for a while.
At around 9:37, he hears a groan beside him. He looks to his left and sees his dad turn over on his stomach and bury his head in his pillow. Gregory smiles and puts the phone down. He moves over and climbs on his dad’s back, lying down flat against it. Dad groans again.
“S’too early…and you’re too heavy…”
“Too bad,” he says. He places his chin on top his dad’s head. “Good morning.”
“Let me sleep…”
“I’m hungry.”
“Ness can handle that.”
“But you’re up now.”
Dad groans again. “Fine. Let me up.”
“I’m comfortable.”
“Can’t you make things easier for me?”
“No.”
“Geez, you’re in a lovely mood this morning.”
“I slept good. For the first time in weeks,” he whispers, “no nightmares.”
His dad hums. “That’s good.”
“Yeah,” he pauses, “thanks for helping.”
“No problem. I’m happy to help, and always will be.”
“Ok,” he whispers, “can I have breakfast now?”
Dad chuckles. “Alright.”
His dad slowly sits up, Gregory staying on his back to entire time. He rearranges himself so he can piggy back comfortably, his dad following along with his antics and letting him wrap his arms around his neck and legs around his waist. “You gonna koala hold me all morning?”
“It’s comfy.”
“You’re lucky I love you,” he grumbles, “parenthood is so wonderful, they said. Your child will be your pride and joy…meanwhile my pride and joy makes me deadlift them at 10 am.”
“But I’m still your pride and joy?” he giggles. His dad scowls at him.
“Again, you’re lucky I love you.”
“Love you too dad."