Chapter Text
When you were a small child you loved Chica. Maybe it was that the color yellow reminded you of happiness in some way or that she was a chubbier girl that got to be in the spotlight even if it wasn’t much. You remember sneaking in one time at night and she was completely different. Personally and more noticeably voice. Looking back she was quite childish but in the way an older sister way. In the way adults talk to kids. You never minded though.
She knew little to nothing about the world and didn’t have any experience with anything besides a large interest in acting. She would look though lost in found to find fun clothes to dress up in with you. Why somebody would leave so many clothes and not look for them baffles you til this day.
You live so close by that it was a mere walk away. A part of you knew you should have told your parents but they were the busy and lazy type.
One day you walked to the Pizzeria only to find it wasted away within a day of being gone. A part of you felt like your very being was suffocating under the same flame that killed your friends. you were for a while more even after the event.
Speech training and some years later you talked but it was never anything meaningful.
Today you’re young but older than you were and sitting at your kitchen table like every other unemployed person your age does at night. You sipped coffee and looked thoroughly at the countless job listings offering despite none of them having realistic expectations for potential employees.
When you saw it, you knew that it was a dumb idea. Why would you delve into something fully knowing you would be hurt by it. You called the PizzaPlex up anyway and you thanked whatever Devine being out there that Fazbear entertainment had low standards.
“Yes, talk to you soon.” The phone felt heavy in your hands and even heavier when not. Being a Janitor is fine especially when it was just 5 rooms (including the Daycare robot’s room) to clean. Seemed actually too easy but
Oh well.
So um… it’s not actually easy to look at a different version of your previously dead childhood best friend in the eyes. “Hello, I’m hear to clean your room, your Chica right?” She opened the door with glee as she stood before you “Oh! OMG it’s SOOO nice to met you, I read all about you! Come on it!” Despite the empty pizza boxes in the corner it was perfectly clean. Chica leaned into my ear “I keep them of decoration!” Pointing at the pizza boxes.
“Why not… um… hang them on the wall?”
A loud gasp was let out from her despite the lack of lungs. “That’s genuinely genius! WHY DIDN’T I THINK OF THAT?” She thumbtacked it to the wall and stepped back doing the classic artist square pose with her hands. “Lookin’ good?” I look at the greasy box on the wall.
“Perfect.”
All night we talked about the happenings in each other’s lives but that feeling always came back. I always saw Chica with hair when remembering her but her now ACTUALLY seeing her with it was different, cool but it felt different.
“I like your hair.” She paused and pondered a bit “Thanks.” She twiddled her thumbs. “I brush it often as I can and wash it too with conditioner but don't tell anybody because I dug though the lost in found for the conditioner, why somebody had that on their person is beyond me.”
I nodded noticing the worry in her tone. “It’s nice.” She sat there “nice”
The tone shift worried me. I had this one change to fix my relationship with Chica. “I’m sorry if I came across as, a lot.” Confused you look at her. She turns “I get it, it happens.” You blink “why do you think that?” She rises an eyebrow “Why I think it happens? Um-“ you wave your hand “No! I mean, why do you think you’re a lot?”
She stares at the picture of children on the wall. “I mean my persona, it’s a lot.” Arms crossed you laugh. “Better than mine.” She doesn’t say anything. “Yours is nice.” You nod “Nice.”