Chapter Text
The same motions, over and over again. Check the bed, check under the bed, run to the closet, check the closet, run to the door, check the door, if you hear breathing close it until it isn’t there anymore, run back to your bed, repeat, duck under your blankets when it reaches 6 AM and pray you fall asleep.
What was his plan for if they got him? He didn’t know.
Michael awoke, sitting up and sweating like he had so many nights before. What he’d seen had scarred his mind, and all he could do about it was just live his life with these nightmares waiting for him at the end of each day.
He followed his new morning routine: check the flashlight he kept by his bed to see if it still worked (if it didn’t, he’d replace the batteries ASAP), check under the bed and in the closet one last time, get dressed, and go to brush his teeth.
He looked at himself in the mirror. Dark circles were starting to form under his eyes. Was he sleeping, or were those nightmares real? It was hard for him to tell as a child, and it will be just as hard for him to tell when he’s older.
Michael sleepily walked his way to the kitchen for breakfast. His dad was already there, making himself a cup of coffee.
“Hey, Mikey! Good morning!” His father cheerily waved to him. Michael grumbled a “good morning” in response. His dad furrowed his brow and frowned.
“Are you alright, buddy? You look tired.”
“...I had a hard time sleeping,” he said, getting a cup of water.
“Did you have that nightmare again?”
“I’ve been having them,” he mumbled into his cup. A look of worry grew on his dad’s face.
“Do you wanna talk about it, buddy? Anything new happen?”
Michael thought for a moment, “...They’ve been getting meaner. They’re trying harder.”
“Have my ideas helped at all?”
“Yeah… thanks, dad.”
His dad smiled softly, setting his coffee down and walking over to Michael, ruffling his brown hair, “That’s good to hear, buddy,” he said, “Stay strong and they can’t get you.” Michael smiled a little.
“Now, I’ve gotta head off to work,” his dad continued, “Try to have some fun outside, okay? Enjoy your summer to the fullest. I’m sure either of the neighbor’s kids would like to play with you.”
“...I’ll try, dad.”
“That’s good to hear, buddy,” he said, waving him goodbye at the door, “I’ll see you later today! Love you!”
“I love you too.”
Michael didn’t go outside that day. The furthest he got was just standing in the doorway.
————————————
It was late. Both of his parents had gotten home, and they were talking about something. Michael was eavesdropping on them.
“He said he’s been having them,” his dad said, “It’s been… weeks now.”
“I know, but we can’t afford therapy!” his mom said, “We can barely afford living here!”
“I know, I know,” his dad said, starting to pace around, “But this is a kid we’re talking about! Our kid! Who knows how much that incident’s affected him?”
“Phil, I want to get him therapy as much as you do, but I just don’t know if we can afford it!”
“L-Look, look, I’ll do whatever it takes for our boy, alright? I’ll take up a second job, I’ll work late, I’ll do whatever, I just… I want him to be okay.”
His mom hugged his dad, and he hugged her back, “Phil, you’ll work yourself to death!”
“It’ll be worth it for Michael, Maria.”
His mom let go of the hug, grabbing his shoulders and looking into his eyes, “…I know I can’t convince you not to, Phil, just… promise you’ll take care of yourself.”
He kissed her cheek, “Of course I will. I’ll ask around and see if anyone in the neighborhood wants to help out… though, most of them are focusing on their own kids or Dave, which, I mean, I can’t blame them…”
“…If we can, we should get something for him,” his mom said, “It must be hard to lose your child, especially in such a brutal way.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he’ll appreciate it. I’ll go talk to Michael, alright? You can get the bed ready.”
His mom kissed his dad’s cheek, “Alright, dear. I love you.”
“I love you too,” he said, kissing her back.
His dad began to walk towards Michael’s room, and Michael silently ducked back into his room, going under the covers. He’d gotten better at sneaking around in his nightmares.
His dad knocked on the door, opening it, “Mikey, buddy?”
Michael peeked his head out the blanket.
“Can I come in?” he asked. Michael nodded, and he sat down on the bed.
“Me and your mother talked, and we decided we’re going to try and find someone to help you out with your nightmares. How does that sound, buddy?”
Michael was silent for a moment, “…That sounds nice.”
His dad smiled, “Good. I might… have to work a lot more to afford it, but it’ll be worth it, alright? You just have to trust me.”
“I trust you, dad.”
“Good.”
They were both silent for a moment, Michael looking at his lap and his dad looking at the floor. He took a deep breath and looked at his son, “How about I get you a lock for your door, buddy? Would that help?”
Michael nodded, “Yes, please…”
His dad nodded, standing up, “I’ll ask around the neighborhood and see if anyone has one they can spare. If not, I’ll buy one myself, and you’ll be safe, buddy. Your mom and I won’t let anything hurt you,” he said, tucking Michael in and kissing his forehead, “Want me to leave the light on?”
Michael nodded, and his dad nodded in turn, walking to the door, “Goodnight, buddy,” he said.
“Goodnight, dad.”
“Stay strong and sleep well,” he said, closing the door.
Michael grabbed the flashlight, clicking it on and off a few times to make sure it was working.
————————————
The clock ticked. Michael sat alone in an office on a chair that was just a little bit uncomfortable. He was sitting up straight, his hands on his knees, staring at his lap. He waited, and waited, and waited. He could hear vague, muffled voices approaching the door, the only one he could make out being the last thing said, “Don’t worry, Mr. Schmidt. I won’t force him to talk about anything he won’t want to.”
Finally, the door opened, and a man with a clipboard stepped in.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, sitting down. He clicked a pen, “Let’s start with introductions. You can call me Dr. Hawthorne, Michael.”
“…Please call me Mike.”
Dr. Hawthorne nodded, writing something down on his clipboard, “Of course, Mike. Now, your father tells me you’ve been having nightmares. Can you tell me about them?”
Mike simply looked at him. He was unsure if he wanted to tell him anything.
“…Mike? If you don’t feel comfortable, I can get your mother or your father here with you. Would that help?”
Right. His dad’s paying for this. His dad got this guy specifically, and anyone his dad trusted, Mike could trust.
“…No, I can… I’m okay.”
Dr. Hawthorne nodded, “Right. Can you tell me about your nightmares, Mike?”
“It’s… um… it’s the same thing, every night… those two anim… anima…”
“Animatronics?”
“A-Animatronics, yeah… they’re, um, the ones from Fredbear’s… they’re trying to get into my room and- and I have to get them away by closing my door and flashing my flashlight at them until 6…”
Dr. Hawthorne nodded, writing on his clipboard, “And these animatronics, what do they look like?”
Mike stared at his lap before looking up at him, “Could I- I have something to draw with?”
“Of course,” he said, pulling out a notepad and a spare pen out of his desk, handing them to Mike.
“Thank you,” he said, tucking his knees into his chest and drawing something.
Mike handed the notepad and pen back to Dr. Hawthorn. He’d made drawings what he saw in his nightmares. They were crude and scribbly, but they got the idea across. A worn-down animatronic bear with sharp teeth, bloodshot eyes, sharp claws, and a large, intimidating figure. There was what looked to be blood coming from his mouth.
Next to the bear was a lanky animatronic rabbit, similarly worn-down with sharp teeth, sharper claws, piercing eyes, and a wide, wide smile. There was what looked to be blood on its claws and pouring out of every seam and crevice of the rabbit. The bear was labeled Fredbear, and the rabbit was labeled Spring Bonnie.
Dr. Hawthorne studied the drawing, ripping the page off the notepad, “May I keep this?” Mike nodded, and he put it on the clipboard.
“So,” Dr. Hawthorne continued, “What do they want with you? Why are they trying to get you?”
“They wanna bite my face off.”
“And why do they want to do that?”
“…I don’t know. They just do.”
“Right. And you said you wait until 6 AM in these nightmares, yes?”
“Yeah. 6 is safe.”
Dr. Hawthorne thought for a moment before writing on his clipboard again, “You were in Fredbear’s Family Diner when the incident involving Evan Miller happened, yes? Can you tell me what you saw?”
“…You know what happened. Everyone does.”
“Yes,” he said, lowering his clipboard and looking Mike in the eyes, “But I want to hear what you saw.”