Chapter Text
‘Wait, hold on, I spaced out, what’s happening? ’
“We’re going to the overgrown chuck-e-cheese for overpriced pizza, and if we’re lucky, NOT strep throat.”
You chuckled to yourself, mumbling into the palm of your fuzzy glove as you did a little speed walk in the nippy winter cold. The voice in the back of your head - you lovingly refer to as the other half of your braincell - gives a sound akin to a nasal huff as he immediately questions your choices for ‘self care’ splurging.
‘When you said you wanted pizza for dinner, I reasonably assumed you meant you were ordering something. Pizza usually means you DON’T want to leave the house.’
Though you can’t exactly turn and look at your invisible counterpart, it’s not hard to feel the intended expressions and gestures when he’s actually up to communicating with you. Right now, he’s all playful sass, not one to stop you from dragging the flesh vessel out of your dimly lit gremlin cave you call a studio apartment, but equally so never one to pass up an opportunity to make a teasing remark or two as a conversation starter. The playful banter keeps the mood light, and over the years of having actually gotten to know him, you’re pretty sure it’s just how he expresses he cares.
“Well, sometimes in life, we must take risks, make sacrifices. And I WAS going to order delivery, but apparently their system’s down, something about technical difficulties. I took that personally.” You grin, hiding your quiet one-sided voice behind a sly wipe of your nose on your sleeve. People didn’t really stop or stare when you got caught ‘talking to yourself’ anymore, thanks to just wearing a handy dandy pair of wireless earbuds and pretending to be in a phone call.
It’s basically a phone call, if phone calls include every so often letting the other person take the wheel and steer your body around while the other white knuckles the back seat armrest and prays to whatever god or gods are watching that if they aren’t going to save you from the chaos, they ought to at least make it funny to watch.
It’s almost always funny in hindsight.
‘Welcome to the furry convention, may I take your order?’ Your companion grins internally, and you roll your eyes to hold off the smile as you pause in front of the, frankly, gargantuan establishment. You thought Chuck-e-Cheese was enormous as a kid? That pales in comparison to this glorified monument to capitalizing on childhood fancies and the human craving for junk food in times of plenty.
The Pizzaplex. A mega-corporation’s interactive self awarded trophy for their achievements, both in technology and ridiculous legal battles. While the details were always hush-hush or left to rumors and speculation, you knew enough about sketchy company practices on even a small scale that if it’s bad enough for there to be a need to hush it, hoo boy. Always be skeptical of the details in your Non-disclosure agreements, and don’t entirely write off the grumpy burnouts that have been at the company for a decade too long but have found job security in being one of the only employees left who can find it in their exhaustion to keep tolerating that which should never be tolerated.
Upon entry, you squint to adjust to the neon lights, the sudden bursts of color and difference in lighting being a little straining for someone who wasn’t expecting it. “Ugh, ow, my eyes. I should have left these at home.” You joke, to no one in particular.
‘Sorry, chief, you can’t inspect your money vacuum pizza for rat toenails and tears of underpaid college students if you don’t use your eyes.’ Your rent-free passenger jests, leaving you to look a little strange as you snicker at no outside stimuli, but the other visitors seem to write it off as you just being amused by some of the childishly over the top decor or advertisements. The galaxy is in danger, you better sign up to help Freddy and his friends fight off the alien invaders and save humanity and beyond after you pick up that entry pass and go through the hoops to pay for an actual entry pass. Wandering the front gates and looking at gift shops could be fun on a particularly boring day when you have not a penny to your name, maybe, but not today.
You would wager money (if you had extra) that the place explicitly set up to circulate the smells of fresh cooked dough and melty cheese through the whole darn building, just to remind everyone they totally crave some dinner right about now, and it should obviously be pizza related. The big mouse theme park did that, you were certain, having passed the smells of fresh foods only to cave and look for the source, finding the darn cafe to be shut down for one reason or another. Masters of deception, armed to the teeth in money magnets, all aimed for your underweight wallet.
“That’ll be 19.99, have a Faz-tastic stay.” You hear a disinterested teenager huff as a mother tries to calm her hyperactive little boy down from the precipice of delighted shrieking. As noisy as kids could be, you couldn’t always blame them - the world could be awful exciting sometimes, and they didn’t have to worry about things like embarrassment, peer judgment, or worst of all, cringe, to dampen their joy about getting to run around a pizzeria and look for the nigh local legends of star attractions.
The place was never famous for their pizza, not in your lifetime. They were certainly not famous for their gift shops, or their light pollution, or their scooby-doo esque cartoons. No, the brand of Fazbear entertainment made their name and claim to fame on what once used to be mechanical puppets, but with a suspicious amount of investment and time into improvements, perfections, tweaking the aesthetics and the movements and by golly, downright simulating human social behavior, they brought to life their characters in what everyone dubbed Animatronics.
You’d have to keep an eye out for them, though if to admire, or awkwardly avoid, you weren’t sure yet. Talking to human people could be awfully intimidating at times, with how unpredictable social interactions tended to get the longer you were tangled in them, so the idea of something so comfortably consistent as a robot programmed to recite lines in accordance to basic cause-effect stimuli being obliterated by complicated, nearly organic thought processes?
‘Horrifying, a conversation. I’ll be sure to make sure nobody thinks you’re safe to engage with, hang on, where’s the nearest megaphone?’ Your companion teases, breaking some of your social anxiety related tensions.
“No thank you. Now, where’s the..” You trail off, looking down at the upgraded Pizzaplex pass in your hand. “...Hello??”
With a smug grin, you swear you feel your built in friend wiggle his fingers mysteriously in the air. ‘Magic, sorcery, perhaps even wizardry.’
Given your best attempt at a deadpan glare is just you standing in the middle of an open area at the base of a staircase, he gives you a little sympathy. ‘You zoned out, so I kept us moving before someone asked you what year it is and what planet you’re on.’
Oh, you spaced out again. Oh well, it wasn’t long, and this is what friends are for, right? Well, friends who kind of exist as you, but not you, but you face the same consequences so it’s in each others’ best interest to cooperate and try to not stick out like a sore thumb who needs to be shipped off to a psychiatrist who’ll charge 50x the cost of your upcoming pizza and probably not tell you anything you haven’t heard before about… whatever’s going on in your head.
“Cool, thanks.” You smile, just a little, as you head up the stairs and stop to look around from the higher vantage point. Seems there’s a sort of coffee shop in one direction, you might actually look into that later if the prices aren’t out for your blood, and a daycare in the other. Huh, you might walk by that at some point, just to scope it out. Once in a while your little cousin comes to town with your Aunt and Uncle, and they might appreciate a little reprieve from constant vigilance over the loveable little menace.
‘Pizza time? Pizza time.’ You hear, and it drags you back to the task at hand: Your last meal was breakfast. Today? Might have been yesterday. And so no matter how crummy this greasy cardboard might turn out to be, it would be long awaited calories - calories you only really realized how bad you were avoiding acknowledging the need for as you step through the doors to go off into the plex itself.
Cut off immediately by your startled desire to scream, stifled only by your hand being slapped up to your mouth quicker than you could process who was actually moving it.
“Hi, take this map.” A robotic voice requested (demanded?) in a rather monotone pitch. A little brochure style map was being held in your way, not quite in your personal bubble, but on the pixel perfect edge of it, if there was such a way to measure. “Please, take this map.”
You tentatively reach out, catching up to the jolt of adrenaline, and carefully accept the glossy paper, not taking your eyes off the politely pushy piece of machinery. This seems to immediately satisfy it, as it rolls back a few feet and states, albeit quieter than the initial greeting, “Thank you.”
‘Don’t say it.’ He warns.
“Oh, that’s a funky little dude. You’re my friend now.” You grin, giving the bot a thumbs up and a much more chipper bounce to your posture. “Hang on, do you do autographs?” You ask, rifling through your pocket for the ballpoint pen you ‘accidentally’ stole from the desk at your day job.
The bot doesn’t acknowledge you verbally, but keeps their eyes trained on you behind large, lensless glasses. You offer out the pen and the map, feeling like you were grinning ear to ear. Now this, this you could engage with - it was short, sweet, to the point, and it wouldn’t make fun of you if you said something stupid.
The bot turns their head slightly to look down at the map, and then pen, and after a moment of silence, almost… hesitantly speaks up?
“...Take a map?” It asks, looking at the map it just handed you that you seem to be trying to give back. You shake your head, uncapping the pen and offering it more forwardly. “No, no, I took the map, can you write your name on it for me? Sign the dotted line, autograph, uhh…”
You slow down as you try to come up with whatever other words or phrases there might be to prompt the autograph from a robot who probably didn’t know many ‘commands’ as it were, but then you feel the pen being carefully, but stiffly, removed from your fingertips, followed by the map with almost tense hesitation, the sound of the robot’s arm suddenly reminding you of old remote control cars trying to push forward with a way heavier toy stuck on top of them than they were ever made to carry. Map bot gives out maps, not takes them away.
With a little more tense staring and hesitation, you watch the staff-bot make very calculated, inorganic movements with the pen on the map, before handing both back to you, much faster than they were taken - an action that actually lined up with his programming. In perfectly ruler straight lines, not a single curve, and in exactly straight orientation without any of that tilt or stray that came with your own handwriting when you lacked guiding lines, was the word “MAP BOT” in that slightly off black bluish ballpoint ink.
You look up to smile and thank the robot, but it’s already turned to the next guest and begun trying to offer them a map - said guest very uncomfortably skirting around them and picking up their pace to not quite a jog to get away. Shaking your head, you take a step forward, only to feel the familiar sensation of fogginess tickle at your fingertips, a detachment from your body clouding your fine motor skills despite you continuing to move as normally.
‘Mind if I stretch out? No shenanigans today, scout’s honor.’ He does a quick gesture to cover his heart and swear on good behavior, but it’s all theatrics, he doesn’t have to ask you twice. Your signed map is tucked in your shoulder bag, and you let yourself zone back out to process some of the plans you have to get basic housekeeping done at home later, sift through all the autopilot work you did on shift earlier, and try not to drift off too far into space cadet territory.
To any onlookers, the only thing that’s really changed about you is a little stutter in one of your steps, a roll of your shoulder, a straightening of posture and your walk carrying a little more purpose. Most assume you just got a little more comfortable with the environment, and are more focused now, no longer slow to glance around and take in the borderline overwhelming amount of stimuli, recalling your true purpose: something to cram in your face so you aren’t running on day-old fumes and memories of having a nutrient or two. Nobody ever really notices when you trade off, outside of a few long term friends happening to catch a few subtle cues and the weird gaps in your memory, though after a handful of disappointed friends waking you up with phone calls wondering why you’d bailed out on your hang-outs, the two of you have tried not to make social arrangements without being positive you were both paying attention.
This was a much better arrangement than it used to be.
Vague, fuzzy memories of arguments, struggling to remember where you even lived, half the time. What’s my name again? Do I need to eat? Did I skip that doctor appointment? Wait, why is my friend mad at me, did I say something wrong- Oh, we got in a fight? Over that?? I’d never be mad about that- but he would. Late nights without sleep, taunting each other like chained dogs just inches from each others’ faces. A shaky, not even technically truce being held up only by the mutual desire to stay in one piece.
‘You good?’ The concerned, but forgiving tone catches your attention, bringing you back to earth as you blink involuntarily and process that you’re holding a little cardboard box, decorated with the Pizzaplex logo and a receipt taped to the edge.
“Yeah, sorry, got lost in the sauce.” You shake off unpleasant memories - things long in the past, if a few years counts. Things you’ve worked out since then, apologized to each other for, shake hands and make nice, though.. Not as superficial as it always felt to do so with other people. You suppose it helps that when you weren’t chomping at each other’s throats, you could pretty easily parse the actual intentions behind each others’ words, unseen but felt gestures and smiles and pangs of genuine guilt when wrongdoings were addressed. It kind of made making new friends harder, in a bittersweet sense, to realize you lacked that kind of connection with other physical people.
‘Well, scoot over, it’s my turn. Got you your favorite, didn’t know where you’d want to sit and eat.’ You smile at that, he could have just as easily got his own favorite, and only waved for your attention on the way home, but he almost never did.
Scanning the crowded area, you couldn’t even spot an empty table, every corner looked packed to near capacity. Ugh, and you didn’t really want to stand up to eat, either, that just felt weird, and a little too much like highschool when you again, couldn’t seem to find a seat.
‘You think they mind if we wander off?’ Your companion yawned, the ghost sensation of arms crossed over the back of your shoulders making you shiver. “No, I don’t see any signs about it.. You have a spot in mind, captain?”
‘It’s a little late, the daycare’s probably closed by now, I bet it’s quieter over there.’ He hums, and you feel yourself pivot to retrace your forgotten steps out of the pizzeria and back out to the entrance of the plex. Eh, sure, why not? You didn’t have to mumble so much if there wasn’t anyone around, and while you could just use your inside voice, it felt more natural to talk out loud to each other.
You stroll off, half being led by your other half who actually walked this way in the first place, tempted to check your map, but no, that was a new treasure. You would be getting that set up neatly on your shelf of silly knick-knacks and memorabilia when you got home, and you didn’t want to touch it with greasy pizza fingers, anyways. It doesn’t take you but a few minutes (and a few times of being told you really shouldn’t have wandered off to satiate the ‘ooh what’s that shiny’ curiosity) before you find yourself planted in front of the doors to the Superstar Daycare pick up/drop off.
‘How much do they charge? I might have to leave you here for a few hours, I’m sure you’ll make plenty of new friends.’ Your companion teases, which you do your best to ignore, but he can feel your amusement just as well as you can feel his smug aura, mocking you. Or maybe it’s the pizza starting to burn the palms of your hands from holding it too long.
“I would make a terrible influence. I’d tell the kids the moon landing wasn’t faked, the return trip was.” You ignore the rebuttal quip, stopping at the oversized garage doors that led into the little space full of tables and chairs, the expected soft array of colors to appease nervous children, a whiteboard with faded schedules written on it, and an.. Unsettlingly large pair of statues. You stayed close to the wall and went around that part to go take a seat, setting down by a plexiglass window that overlooked the now empty daycare, and turning your attention to dinner.
‘So, after dinner, are you up to stayin’ out for a little while, or do you wanna just call it and go home?’ You feel a hum in the space just over your shoulder, silent to all but yourself, not that anyone else was around to listen.
“Hmf-” You catch yourself with a mouthful of the kind of cheese that never seems to stop pulling, having to break the strand with your other hand, “Depends, you have something on the agenda?”
‘We haven’t gone on a walk in a while, but I get it if it’s too dark out for you.’ That earns a grumble from you, never really a fan of being alone in the dark. It’s just unsettling, not being with another tangible person, out on the streets at 2am, hyperaware of every little noise.
“Ugh, maybe another time? I’d rather have a flashlight before I tempt the universe to leave me to the wolves.” You roll your eyes, talking at a much more comfortable volume, keeping your phone face down on the table next to you, just in case you need a quick excuse for who you were talking to.
Little did you know, the sudden speaking volume did, in fact, catch someone’s attention.
Below where you sat, on the other side of the plexiglass, a rather lanky animatronic stopped with an armful of the daycare’s resident plushies, looking up and swiveling his head to search for the source of the unfamiliar voice. That definitely wasn’t a little one who’d managed to hide out after closing, no, but it didn’t sound like one of the few human employees, either. Was a parent here trying to drop off their child? Did they not know the daycare was after hours? No no, that wouldn’t do, he couldn’t just keep them waiting there, that would be rude, he’d have to tell them to come back tomorrow!
Setting down his bundle of stuffy charges, standing up to full height, the attendant smoothly skipped over to the ball pit, the slight ruffle or hollow plastic causing the talking upstairs to cut off abruptly as he made his way to the slide, his only real path upwards to make his apology.
‘What the fuck was that?’ Your companion whispered, as if his own voice would give away your not very hidden position behind your table.
“Dude, shut up, I don’t know, probably a janitor? Kids’ stuff has to be cleaned all the time, don’t get me all freaked out.” Your hush rivaled your silent partner in crime, hunching a little to keep your face behind the open pizza box. No signs told you to stay out, you weren’t making a mess, you were just sitting down to have the dinner you paid for here, and then you would leave. No trouble here, officer.
“Heeelllloooo! Sorry friends, the-” A new voice cut in, loud, with a similar robotic overtone to your idoled map-bot from earlier, but stopped itself short. “...Hello?” It said, quieter that time. It didn’t sound far from you, like it was by the desk - nothing to worry about, certainly, it was just the bot assigned to the desk, surely.
“Oh, sorry, I was just sitting here to-” Your apology stops in your throat as you look up over the edge of your cardboard barrier, not seeing one of the smooth faced and nonthreatening staff-bots, but instead seeing a frozen smile peering out of the tube slide, snapping to face you as it leaned out like something out of a horror movie, one hand on the floor to brace itself and the other on the rim of the slide. It was hard not to yelp, but you stayed perfectly still. If you don’t move, it can’t see you!!
The machine seemed to hold still, facing you without a word for a moment, the only sound being the tiny shift of a well oiled joint shifting that you’re certain you would never hear had you not been holding your breath and listening to even the hairs on your arms rustle as they stood on end. You watch the head turn a little one way, then the other, and then spring back to motion, swiveling to look around the otherwise empty room. You swear to yourself to just stay still, it totally worked, it lost track of you, and as long as you didn’t move-
“Are you here all alone, friend? Sorry, the daycare’s closed for the night! Oh, wait, unless you’re here for a sleepover?” The voice chirps up, significantly closer than it was just seconds ago.
You flinch, jumping in your chair and banging your knees on the underside of the (thankfully, hollow plastic) table, cursing how much you could miss of the world around you just because you got stuck in your own head for a few seconds.
“Oh- Oh no, I’m sorry, did I scare you? I don’t bite, promise!” The tall robot took a little step back, holding up his palms in a posture of passive surrender before tapping his fingers to his teeth, which looked more like a permanent fixture of his face than a deliberate expression now that you were actually up close. “Couldn’t if I tried!”
He holds the pose for a few long, drawn out seconds, almost as if stuck waiting for you to respond before he could continue with any further actions. You, however, were a bit stuck, yourself. Hi, hello, nice to meet you, you’re a lot, lot bigger and more engaging than my new friend, Map Bot, and you kind of scared the BEJESUS out of me with that slide stunt, maybe-
“You sure? Seems I’ve got the upper hand, buddy. Watch yourself, I’m dangerous.” You hear your voice - not quite, not the register you usually use - slip out with a smirk of confidence you never carried, either. With a shaky exhale of relief, you realize that your trusty social lifeguard stepped in to save your sorry ass from whatever enigma of a situation this was when you went totally radio silent. Your own finger comes up to your face, tapping your cheek as you take a quick bite of your pizza as if to display.
“Oh! Now, I’ll have you know, there’s no biting in the daycare, no no, that’s very bad behavior!” The robot stands more upright, putting his knuckles on his hip and tutting his finger in the air, the posture enough to convey the playful air even without the bright smile. “If you’re going to be a rulebreaker, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave!”
Your shoulders twitch with a single, refrained chuckle, careful not to sputter out your mouthful of food. Once the offending saucy dough is out of the way, your elbow props on the table, wiping your fingers clean (well, clean-ish) on your pants. “Wow, I haven’t even gotten into trouble, and you’re already tellin’ me to get out? Terrible day, oh miserable evening, I’ll make sure to tell my diary all about my new not-friend.”
The bot gasps (or, sounds like it and puts their hands over their mouth) and you notice the triangles bordering their disk shaped face retreat just a hair. “No no, that’s not what I meant! My apologies, I only meant if you DID get into trouble! Oh no, we can still be friends!”
It’s by now that the tension has eased enough for you to really feel present in the conversation, your guardian angel of a secret companion easing back to just watch the rest of this play out. You’re still a little uncertain, but… Practice makes perfect? And at least if you get kicked out of the daycare for saying something stupid, you’re not really missing out on anything you actually intended to participate in.
“Okay, okay, calm down, I get it. So, uhh… New friend, what should I call you? Oh - wait, don’t answer that.” You get an idea all of a sudden, and the bot before you leans forward a little in curiosity as you turn to rummage through your bag. Hijacked ballpoint? Located. Your pocket sized notepad you use for work? Obtained.
“How about this - do you do autographs?” You smile, this having worked well enough on the staff-bot that handed out maps, so this didn’t seem like a stretch to give a shot.
The tall robot seems to freeze up for a moment, staring at the objects in your hands, and you only stave off the feeling you’ve done something wrong by the precedent that the Map-Bot did the exact same thing. You watch as they silently sort of tilt their head a little this way, a little that, the sunny rays on their head clicking softly just the teeniest bit inward, then back out.
“Oh. Oh! Oh!! Of course, friend!” He snaps back to reality, moving fluidly to take the two items from your hands and scribble away on the empty page, which looks considerably tinier in his hands than yours. In a flash, it’s handed back to you with the pride of a toddler who’s just come home from school to show off their very first handmade name plaque.
You say a quick Thank You as you accept it, looking at the addition to your newly started Fazbear Autograph Collection. Unlike your prized first piece, his writing is like big bubble letters with little swirls and squiggles and quick stars around it, shaped a lot like the Superstar Daycare’s logo with a little rainbow arc and a sun and moon.
Sunny & Moony.
You raise a brow without thinking, and look back up to the bot, who’s not so subtly wringing his hands in anticipation for your reaction. “Is it good? I’m a little out of practice, I can try again!” He chirps, voice still chipper with no auditory cues of nervousness, despite his posture and the implications that he thinks he may have done bad somehow.
“No, no, it’s perfect!” You wave, your anxiousness about the robot having mostly vanished now that it feels like he’s more afraid of you than you are of him. “Sunny and Moony?” You add your question nonchalantly, knowing he’s clearly themed around the sun in his design, so Sunny makes sense, but you haven’t seen a counterpart anywhere outside of promotional posters and those big statues.
“Oh, sorry, force of habit!” He playfully bonks his head with his palm. “Silly me, I’m just Sunny!” His plastered grin never changes, but you can’t help but imagine it a little more tense, now, with the way his posture seems less smooth, less loosey goosey.
“It’s all good, I used to give people the wrong name by accident all the time.” You snicker a little sheepishly, glancing around to make sure nobody else was listening. Because, you know, you’re having a conversation with a glorified baby-cam stim toy combo, not because you’re casually straying a little too close to talking about personal secrets. This seems to perk his interest almost immediately, to your regret.
“Why would you give people the wrong name? Lying isn’t very nice, either, you know!” There’s that rehearsed tut of his finger, with a cross of his arms and disappointed shake of his head. You roll your eyes, subtly closing your pizza box to save your leftovers.
“I could ask you the same thing, bud. Force of habit, I guess?” You pick up your phone to check the time - ack, you’ve got just less than half an hour before the plex closes. Which tells you it’s already dark outside. Your walk isn’t long, but that doesn’t reassure you.
You look back up to see the height-blessed animatronic leaned forward to see what you were doing, and you tilt your head. “Uh, you good? We both kind of-not really lied, I think we’re even.”
He shakes his head, standing back upright with a nervous wave of his hands. “My apologies, friend! I was just wondering if the little one in the photo is yours!”
You pause, having to check your phone again to figure out what he was talking about. Your lock screen was a photo of you and your little cousin, one your Aunt took while you were over for a visit. You try not to snort. “What? No, no, that’s my cousin, I see them a couple times a year. I just promised them I’d make this my phone screen, y’know, so I don’t forget about them. Li’l guy gets worried about that a lot.”
The animatronic almost looks… disappointed for a second? His shoulders slump just slightly, but he stands back up quickly as he spots you paying attention again. “I’m sorry, I just thought you might be bringing them to play sometime! We don’t get as many visitors as we used to.”
It is in that moment, you lose control of your mouth.
“Why don’t I just come visit sometime, instead?”
As the animatronic stops short of whatever else he was about to say, you hope your internal companion is thanking his lucky stars you can’t strangle him without facing equal consequences, that little bastard.
“Oh, that would be so fun, new friend! You could meet all our other friends, we could play games, we could watch movies and make collages from old magazines!”
As much as you wanted to comment that it sounds like this place is reasonably catered to entertaining children, not adults, you can’t help but admit that it might be nice to just.. Hang out with some folks who aren’t so judgy or critical of your social awkwardness for once. But you shake it off.
“Ah, I might have gotten ahead of myself, Sunny. I have to go to work, y’know, the boring grownup kind, and I don’t think I’m even allowed in the daycare. That’s kind of for little kids, right?” You try to offer an apologetic smile, hoping this is enough to get you off the hook, but the animatronic has his hands on the opposite edge of your table and looks like he’s about to bunny hop bounce out of his shoes.
“Oh, that’s so boooring! I’m sure we could let you in, though, if you have time! Nobody’s too old to have fun!! As long as you follow the rules, I’m sure it’s fine!” His head spins a full rotation now, apparently too excited to contain himself at the thought of another visitor. Or is that just his programming, considering he’s supposed to be making little kids feel wanted and welcome?
You reluctantly glance at your phone again. Running out of time to get out of here, 20 minutes left. “How about.. I come back next week, same day? I can’t afford to come every day, it’s a little expensive here, but uh…” You look up from your phone and feel an unexpected pang of guilt as Sun seems to have emotionally begun deflating at your polite attempt to escape the situation.
“...It gives me time to learn the rules?” You curse your desire to please others, but the backtracking seems to have given him a new breath of life.
“Really? Oh, Oh we would love that! What’s your favorite color, we’ll make sure to have lots of paints and markers and crayons and construction paper and SAFETY scissors, can’t have any more incidents-” He nods excitedly, tapping along his fingers as he counts off an improvised supply list, as if this is the party he’s been waiting to be invited to for years now and everything has to be just perfect.
‘Tell him my favorite color’s blue!’ You hear chime in, Mister troublemaking observer finally getting back in on the conversation. You scoff, only realizing after Sun flinches that you did so out loud.
“Sorry, not you, I had a funny thought, is all.” You try to save the situation and stop the emotional whiplash riddled robot from wilting into himself. He looks so, so nervous about even the slightest hint of rejection. “Favorite color, uh, we like blue.”
Sun pauses.
“We? Oh, are you bringing a friend?? The more the merrier!” He throws his hands upwards, and you’re certain if he had access, there would be a blizzard of confetti suffocating the room right about now.
“Ack, sorry, slip of the tongue. I. I like blue. But I mean.. I like red, too. Purple sound like a good compromise, if I have to pick one?” You shrug, awkward and feeling very caught red handed, but with a quick shake of his head, Sun seems to accept your answer easily.
“That’s okay, we can get all the colors!” He offers, and you realize this was likely on his agenda the whole time, anyways. He’s probably used to asking preferences, but having prepared to just cover all the bases regardless- kids change their minds all the time when their neighbor has a different answer, after all.
You open your mouth to speak, and you both flinch as a booming voice hits the plex-wide intercom, alerting all guests that the Plex will be closed in 15 minutes, and to please gather your things and your children, and be sure to come back tomorrow.
Sun instead looks at you then, posture.. More tense.
“Well, you should get going home, new friend! We have lots of cleaning up to do for tomorrow, and then the next day, and the next day, and the next day- Everything will be nice and clean by next week! You can bring friends, if you want, but you don’t have to!” Before you know it, the strained chipper voice is already picking up your pizza box and trying to hand it to you, getting out of your way to leave a clear path to the door out. Wow, you really are getting kicked out of the daycare.
“Uh- Yeah, I’ll see you.. Next week.” You stumble over the words, accepting your food and trying not to feel threatened by the 8 foot or so robot hovering inches over your shoulder as you walk out the big garage style door, waiting for you to cross the border before immediately putting his hand on the door and waving a quick ‘Bye-bye!’ as the door is slammed downwards with a surprising amount of force.
‘Huh. Guess even robots need time alone, huh?’ You snort, using your shoulder to wipe a little stray pizza grease off the corner of your lip. “He was still working when he came up to chit-chat, we probably slowed him down. We’ll have to come earlier next time.” You hummed, stretching out your back from having been hunched over in your chair, and stroll back out to the entrance and through the front doors, walking home just a little faster than you’d like to admit with the feeling of the basement demons that chase you up the stairs hot on your heels.
Behind the gate, Sun stands very still, tilting his head to process as he could still very clearly hear you talking, as if someone else was with you. Something about that made him both.. Concerned for your mental health, but at the same time? Strangely very hopeful you’d actually keep your word and come visit. He couldn’t ask you about it if you never came back.