Archive of Our Own

We met in college. Had I known then what I know now, I would never have taken that evening class.

Too bad for me.

“To make you guys learn to collaborate, I’ll be assigning your partners,” Dr. Nguyen said. “Emily and Jaden, you two will be together. Michael and Lillyan…”

I hadn’t really listened to the rest of the pairings after that. Michael came right over, introduced himself, and started drawing something in his notebook.

“I’m guessing you have an idea, then?” I asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Maybe. Sort of. Yeah, actually,” he said, pushing the notebook over to me. “I know it’s a bit more than what Nguyen’s asking for, but I think we could make a little automaton.”

“I’m going to be honest with you, Michael,” I said. “ I’m in this robotics class because I needed a science credit, and this was the only time that fit my schedule-”

“I’m in the same boat,” Michael interrupted. “Well, maybe not the same boat, but a similar one. I work graveyard shifts and need to sleep during the day. This class lets me keep my weird sleep schedule and still get college credit.”

“That’s fair. My point is, though, that I’m not actually an engineer. At all. I don’t know if I could make an automaton.”

“Oh,” Michael said.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I love the idea, I just… don’t think I’m the partner for it.”

“Well… maybe we can divide the work in a way that lets you flex your strengths and lets me use mine?” He volunteered.

“Maybe. What do you propose?” I asked.

Over the course of a week, he had me get supplies for him and write all of our reports. Meanwhile, I watched him work, asking him what he was doing and listening as he patiently explained. Admittedly, I was impressed with his handiwork; the small robotic fox he made was almost lifelike. I actually enjoyed writing about our little project, and I soon found myself enjoying being with him, too. 

We got an A on the project. It wasn’t a competition or anything, but I think we had the best robot in class. Even after the class moved on to the next assignments and partnerships were re-shuffled, we still stuck together in class, sitting right next to each other during every lecture.

**************************

I was delighted when he called to ask me out on a date. It was December then, and he invited me to dinner and a Christmas light display on the third. I agreed immediately, even though it meant I had to cancel game night with my roommates. 

When he came to my dorm, my roommate answered the door before I could even get there. I walked into the room to find her asking him about his job.

“Hey, Michael!” I said, interrupting Carli mid-sentence. 

“He brought you flowers, Lillyan,” Carli said, winking at me.

“I’m sorry, Lillyan, I didn’t know you were allergic,” Michael said, looking down at his feet.

Shocked, I turned to Carli. “You did not tell him that.”

“I thought he ought to know!” Carli exclaimed.

“I’m not that allergic!” I replied. 

Carli shrugged.

I picked up the bouquet of purple flowers  from the small table by our door.

“They’re beautiful!” I said. “Thanks!”

“I’m told they’re called ‘Dahlias,’” Michael said.

“Fancy,” I replied. “Should we head out?”

“Not until Michael tells me when you’ll be back,” Carli said.

“Gosh, Carli, you don’t gotta act like you’re my mom,” I said.

“I’ll have her home before midnight,” Michael said.

With that, we left my dorm and headed out to his car, making a bit of small talk along the way. He opened the passenger-side door for me and everything; I was flattered.

“So, I never did ask, where do you work?” I said once he’d joined me in the car. 

“Eh, nowhere cool,” Michael said, starting the engine. “It’s just a part-time job keeping an eye on my dad’s old restaurant overnight, nothing too exciting.”

“Fair enough,” I replied. “What restaurant?”

“You’re gonna laugh if I tell you.”

“Try me.”

He sighed and then mumbled, “Freddy Fazbear’s.”

“Really?” I asked, incredulous. “As in the abandoned one on the other side of town?”

“That’s the one,” Michael replied.

“You don’t sound too excited about it,” I commented.

“It’s a graveyard shift, Lillyan,” Michael said, glancing at me briefly before turning his attention back to the road. “Nothing ever happens, and I’m supposed to stay awake anyway. There’s literally nothing to be excited about.”

“Okay, I guess that might be a little miserable,” I said. “Is the pay at least good?”

Michael chuckled. “No, it’s pretty bad. Being the owner’s son doesn’t help me one bit.”

“That’s rough,” I said. “Hey, could you turn on the heater?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I should’ve done that sooner.” He fiddled with a dial and the air started blowing out of the vents. “Where do you work?”

“I’m a substitute teacher,” I said. “School keeps me pretty busy, so I only really work on Fridays and over the breaks.”

“That’s cool,” Michael said, rounding a corner. “What do you teach?”

“Mostly elementary. They call me every morning I work to give me an assignment, and it’s usually to an elementary school in the district.”

“Sounds fun.”

“It is,” I said, “but it can be exhausting, too. Don’t get me wrong, I love it, but kids can really burn me out sometimes.”

“I can only imagine,” Michael commented. “Are you planning to continue teaching after you get your degree?”

“Maybe,” I said. “If I do, I wanna teach high school English. Elementary school is great, but I’m really more suited for older students.”

“Really?” Michael asked. “But teenagers are menaces!”

“Yeah, but they’re menaces I can write more advanced lesson plans for. Listen,” I said, “teenagers can think logically, they just often choose not to. That, or they act too quickly instead of thinking first. Anyway, the point is, I can have a logical conversation with them. You try to have a conversation like that with a kindergartner, and it’s a lot harder. They’re still learning the basics. They’re sweethearts, but they’re not really at the level I want to teach at. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, it makes sense,” Michael replied, pulling into the Sparky’s parking lot. “I hadn’t really thought about it like that. It’s different for me; kindergartners don’t try to break into the restaurant. Teenagers do.”

“If kindergartners could bring themselves all the way to Freddy’s, they would absolutely try to break in,” I countered as he put the car in park.

Michael put his hands up in mock defeat. “You’ve got a point.”

“Teenagers would be a pain for you, though. I get that.”

He got out of the car and walked around to open my door for me. I let him help me out of the car, but I held the door to Sparky’s open for him. I didn’t want to let him do all the work.

Apparently, we’d chosen a busy night to eat at Sparky’s. The only open booth was right next to the door. We decided to take it, but I knew I’d freeze every time someone walked into the restaurant.

“Welcome to Sparky’s! Can I get you folks any appetizers?” The waiter asked once we’d gotten settled in.

“Hey, Ness,” Michael said. “Could we get some mozzarella sticks?” He looked at me, and I nodded. 

“Sure thing!” Ness said cheerily. “Anything to drink?”

“Do you guys have hot chocolate?” I asked.

“We do!”

“I’ll have some hot chocolate, please.”

“Alright,” the waiter said, writing down the order on a small notepad. “And you, Michael?”

“I’ll have the same,” Michael said. “Thanks.”

“No problem!” Ness said. “I’ll be right back with those.”

As the waiter walked away, I turned to Michael with a small smile. “So you’re on a first-name basis with the owner’s son?”

“I come here a lot,” Michael explained. “It’s a good place to get dinner before work. They supply me with caffeine.”

I laughed. “Honestly, if I was in your shoes, I’d do the same.”

Dinner was lovely. We talked a lot, and I learned that he was studying to be a mechanic like his dad was. That field of study is very different from mine, and it was fascinating to hear all that he’d learned thus far. Not only that, but the passion he had for everything robots and engineering was contagious. I found myself hanging on to his every word, enchanted by his enthusiasm. 

When I told him about what I was studying, he listened about as eagerly as I’d listened to him. I was surprised; not many people even within my major were that attentive when I talked about post-structuralism. Michael, though, listened to every word and asked clarifying questions every now and then. 

“You really would be a good teacher,” he said after Ness had brought us our meals. 

“Aw, thanks,” I said, blushing a bit. “You’ll be a great mechanic.”

“Aw, thanks,” he said, mimicking me. I laughed and took a bite of a chicken tender.

When we got back into his car after dinner, he noticed I was shivering and gave me the sweater he wore. 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” I said.

“I know,” he replied. “But I want to.”

“Well, thanks,” I said. I pulled it over my head and realized as I put my arms in the sleeves that it was too big for me.

“I think it’s a bit big,” I noted, getting into his car once he opened the door for me.

“I think you’re a bit small,” he said and then closed the door.

I gave him a shocked look as he walked all the way around the car to his seat. He just smiled at me, and eventually I smiled, too.

When he got in, he asked, “Is it warm?”

“It is. Thank you.”

When we arrived at the holiday lights display, we found out that it was closed. Michael apologized, but I assured him that it was no big deal. He insisted that he wasn’t going to end the date early, and I allowed it. Soon enough, we were driving around the neighborhoods, looking at the decorations people had put up. Occasionally, we got out of the car to get a closer look or take a Polaroid, but we never stayed out for very long since he would start shivering within a few minutes.

At the end of the date, he let me keep the sweater.

**************************

We went on a couple more dates before I asked him out on The date. During that time, we got to know each other better and better. He was surprised to learn that I was a college senior already thanks to some summer classes I’d taken, and I was impressed to know that he already had a career planned out for himself. Work aside, we talked about our families and childhood memories. It turns out that we’d grown up very close together, but he lived just outside of my childhood school district. 

During these conversations, I learned that he had never seen The Nightmare Before Christmas. According to him, his father had never been a big fan of Tim Burton’s films, so he’d never had the chance to watch it in theaters or at home. When I heard that there’d be a special theater screening of the movie on December 20th and 21st, I invited him to watch the movie with me as a sort of Christmas-themed date. He agreed, so on Saturday the 21st, I picked him up from his little townhouse and drove to the theater.

Around halfway through the movie, he took my hand. By the time Sally sang her lament, we’d moved the arm rest between us up so that he could hold me to his chest. I don’t know if he really watched the rest of the movie, but I honestly don’t really care. It was the most I’d ever enjoyed Tim Burton’s masterpiece.

That night, cradled in his arms, I felt so safe, so complete. It was as if I’d found what I’d been missing. When the movie was over, and we walked back to my car, I told him I wanted to be more than friends. He said he did, too, and that was that. He and I became “us,” a couple holding hands wherever we went.

I wish I’d had the foresight to let go.

**************************

“Can I call you ‘Jack Skellington?’” I asked Michael the next time I saw him, a few days after Christmas.

“What?” Michael asked, caught off guard.

“Sorry,” I said, looking down. “I know it’s random. I was just thinking about it over Christmas, and I think it would be a cute nickname.”

“Why ‘Jack Skellington,’ though?” Michael asked. “I haven’t impersonated Father Christmas or… well, you know, a lot of things he did in the movie.”

“Well, because you, uh, you have the same physique,” I stuttered.

His eyes widened in shock, and I panicked, thinking I’d offended him. He looked himself over as I apologized, then covered his face with his hands and, to my relief, laughed.

“No, that’s an accurate comparison,” he said once he’d composed himself. “I’ll let you call me that.”

“If you don’t like it, I can drop it,” I said. “Really, it’s okay.”

“No, no, I like it,” Michael said. “It’s funny. But I get to choose a nickname for you based on the next movie we watch.”

“Oh no,” I said with a chuckle. “Fine, I guess it’s only fair.”

About an hour later, while we were playing on a snow-covered playground well past sunset, he came face to face with me and asked, “Have you seen ‘Gremlins?’”

“I haven’t, actually,” I replied. Then I remembered. “Oh, no, that’s not what we’re watching next, is it?”

“Yes it is!” He replied. “When will you be free to watch it?”

“Well, since classes don’t start back up for me or my subbing job until after New Year’s, I’m free anytime,” I said.

“Tuesday?” He asked.

“That works,” I replied.

“We’ll plan for that, then,” he said. Then, he tapped my shoulder and told me I was it.

“You wanna play?” I shouted the challenge as he ran off. I jumped off of the ladder I’d been standing on and chased after him.

**************************

The evening he showed me Gremlins was the first time I went inside his house. I was surprised to see how often purple popped up in his decor; I knew it was his favorite color, but I hadn’t realized that he liked it that much.

“I’ve got popcorn in the microwave and soda in the fridge,” Michael said, walking past me into his small living room. “Did you tell your roommates you were coming?”

“Yeah, I told ‘em I’d be back before midnight, as per usual,” I replied, following him into the kitchen. “What kind of soda do you have?”

“Sprite, Coke, Mountain Dew, and Barq’s Red Cream soda. Any of those sound good?”

“Red cream soda all the way,” I replied. He handed me a can and I thanked him before walking back to his living room.

“I haven’t had guests over before, so I’m sorry about the limited space,” he said while I placed my drink on his coffee table. “Sorry about there being no couch as well. The bean bag was cheaper, and I wasn’t really expecting to need anything else.”

“I like it,” I said to him with a smile. “Bean bags are more fun anyway.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he said, walking into the room and heading straight for the TV. 

“How’s work been treating you?” I asked while he worked the VCR.

“Oh, you know,” he said, inserting the tape. “Staying up all night staring at a screen. Could be worse, but not really the dream.”

“Makes sense,” I replied. “You said before that you work at your dad’s old restaurant, right? So is he your boss?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” he responded, hand on the side of the TV to find the “on” button.

“What’s that like?” I asked.

“Honestly? It’s kind of awful.”

“Oh,” I said, surprised. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he said, coming over to sit on the bean bag with me. “I just don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” I said.

“How’s work been treating you?” He asked.

“I haven’t worked since Christmas break, so I guess it’s been good!” I said.

“Oh, right!” Michael said. “I forgot that you’ve been off for a bit. Sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it!” I replied.

We didn’t talk much during the movie. It was my first time watching it, and I wanted to take it all in. Michael understood that, so he only interrupted occasionally to ask if I wanted another red cream soda. I’m sure that, by the end of the movie, the sugar in my bloodstream could be detected on a drug test if anyone had tried.

“So, can I call you ‘Gremlin?’” Michael asked as the credits rolled.

I looked up at him. “You’re serious?” I asked.

“Completely serious,” he replied.

“Sure, you can call me ‘Gremlin.’ Why, though?”

“Because you’re small, hyper, and maybe a little mischievous,” Michael replied matter-of-factly.

I turned away from him and settled back into his embrace. “I’ll allow it.”

He kissed the top of my head. I allowed that, too.

**************************

To start off 1997 strong, we spent January 2nd together. Having learned that he’d always wanted to visit Marvin’s Marvelous Mechanical Museum in Michigan but had never been that far from home, I’d decided to do the next best thing by bringing him to a small mechanical exhibition in our local mall. I’d rarely ever seen him so excited; he explained the mechanisms of each automaton to me, pointing them out the best that he could. It was hard for me to keep up, but I was just happy to see him this joyous.

The next day, I woke up in pain. I quickly discovered that I’d started bleeding, and I dreaded the next few days.

As I dragged myself through my dorm’s miniature kitchen to get some cereal, the phone rang. Grudgingly, I picked it up.

“Hey, this is Michael. Is Lillyan there?”

“Hi, Michael,” I said. “You’ve reached Lillyan.”

“Good morning!” He said brightly, a bit too brightly for someone who’d been up all night in my opinion. “Would you like to go out today?”

“I’m gonna be honest with you, Michael,” I said, putting my elbow on the counter and my face on my palm. “I feel like trash and don’t want to do anything with anyone at the moment.”

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “Just… Ah, screw it. You’re my boyfriend, so I’ll just be blunt. My period started and everything sucks.”

“I see,” Michael said on the other line. “Hold on tight, Gremlin. I’ve got just the thing for you.”

“Michael, I’m not really in the best mood right now, and I’m not dressed nice or anything,” I said.

“I don’t care how grumpy you get or how down you dress, Lillyan. I love you, and I’m coming over to make your day a bit better.”

I stood there, frozen in shock for a second. That was the first time he’d said “I love you” to me.

“Did I say something wrong?” Michael said after I’d been silent a bit too long. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude or anything, I just meant-”

“No, no, I get what you mean,” I said hurriedly. “You’re fine. I just… well, that was the first time you said ‘I love you.’”

“Oh,” Michael said. “Too soon?”

“No,” I said, a bit more quickly than I meant to. “No, not at all. Um, I’ll see you soon then?”

“See you soon,” Michael said. He hung up, and I put the phone back.

“He said the ‘l’ word to you?” Carli said behind me.

I turned to her and smiled. “Yeah, he did.”

“That’s so exciting!” Carli squealed, running up to me and giving me a hug. I hugged her back, blushing.

“And do you love him?” She asked.

“Yeah, I suppose I do,” I said.

“The heck do you mean you ‘suppose’ you do?” Carli asked, holding me at arm’s length.

“We’ve only been dating for a couple of weeks, Carli!” I exclaimed. “I’m a bit hesitant to use a word as strong as ‘love’ in such a short period of time!”

“I guess that’s understandable,” Carli said, deflating a bit. “You at least like him, though?”

“Definitely,” I replied. Then I winced as a cramp hit me. “I’m gonna go sit down.”

Carli nodded, handing me a box of Cheerios. 

About half an hour later, Michael showed up at my door with a tea kettle, purple electric heating pad, and small cheesecloth pouch. While I let him in, he asked me where he could find mugs in my kitchen. I pointed out the cupboard to him and sat down.

“How was work?” I asked him while he filled the kettle up with water.

“Same old, same old,” He said. “Did you sleep okay?”

“I slept just fine,” I said. “It was waking up that sucked.”

“I’m sorry, Gremlin,” he said, turning on the stove. 

While he worked, I plugged the heating pad into an extension cord and hugged it to my stomach. Before I knew it, he was in front of me, offering me a steaming mug of tea.

“What’s this?” I asked, accepting the beverage.

“Raspberry leaf tea,” he replied, sitting down next to me. “It helps with cramps. Does better than ibuprofen, or so I’m told.”

I gave him a skeptical look, but took a sip of the tea anyway. By the time I’d finished the mug, I actually did feel better.

“Man. Where’d you learn this stuff?” I asked Michael.

“I have an older sister,” Michael said, leaning back into the couch. “Once I was old enough to understand why she had cramps every month, I paid a lot of attention to what she did and pieced it together.”

“Clever,” I said. “Did your mom give you any insights, too?”

Michael shook his head. “She wasn’t exactly around for Vanessa’s – my sister’s – teenage years.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, putting a hand on his knee. “That must’ve been hard.”

“It was rough,” Michael agreed.

We sat in silence for a bit before Michael turned to me and said, “I should go home and get some sleep.”

“Sleep’s important,” I agreed. “Thank you for this.”

“Any time,” Michael said, getting to his feet.

“I’ll be buying some raspberry leaf tea in the near future,” I told him.

“Do you want to keep the kettle, or do you have your own?” Michael asked, picking up the things he’d left in my kitchen.

“I can just boil water in a saucepan,” I said. “You should keep your kettle.”

“Are you sure? I’d be happy to let you keep it, honestly,” He replied.

“I’m sure. Thank you.”

He nodded and finished cleaning up his stuff. “You’re keeping the heating pad until you get your own, though.”

“Fine,” I said with mock exasperation. He flashed me a smile as he walked past me toward the door.

“Oh, Michael?” I called as he opened the door.

“Yeah?” He asked, turning back to me.

“I love you,” I said. He smiled, blew me a kiss, and left.

Maybe, if I hadn’t meant what I said, I wouldn’t be what I am now.

**************************

One Sunday in February, after Michael and I had been dating for about a month and a half, I got a call from my cousin Leila.

“Hey, Lillyan!” She said over the line. “I’m throwing a cousin Valentine’s Day party at my place on the 8th. Do you and your boyfriend wanna come?”

“I’ll have to ask him,” I said. “What time?”

“We’d start at 4 like all our family parties usually do,” She replied.

“That might work, actually,” I replied, mostly to myself. “Here, let me call Michael and ask him. I’ll call you back in about 10 minutes.”

“Sounds good!” Leila replied. “Hopefully Mike says yes so we can all hang out!”

“Alright,” I said. “Bye.”

When I called Michael, he didn’t pick up. Since it was noon, I figured that he was probably still asleep after his shift, so I just left him a message.

“Hey, Skellington. My cousin’s throwing a Valentine’s Day party on Saturday. Would you want to come? It’s at four, but we can show up late. I usually do anyway. It’s okay if you say no. Anyway, call me back when you’re up!”

I called Leila back after that to let her know that I’d have to wait for Michael to call me back, then left to spend the rest of the day with my family. When I got home later that night, I listened to the message Michael had left me.

“Hi, Gremlin. Sorry for missing your call. Sounds fun! Count me in. I’ll swing by your place tomorrow morning so we can get a carpool plan together, or whatever we need to work out. Talk to you then!”

**************************

Leila gave each of us a hug when she answered the door.

“I’m so glad you guys came!” She said once she’d finished. “We have some snacks in the kitchen and we’ll have pizza coming in about an hour. Help yourselves!”

“Thanks!” I said. “Leila, this is Michael. Michael, this is Leila.”

“Nice to meet you,” Michael said, shaking my cousin’s hand.

“Likewise,” Leila said. Just then, the doorbell rang again, so we left Leila to her hosting duties.

Most of my cousins had arrived before me and were playing Poker in the living room. Remington was the first to notice me, saying, “Oh, hi, Lillyan!” and immediately handing his cards to Tracy to play for him.

“Hey, Remington!” I said, giving him a hug. He’d somehow gotten even taller since the last time I’d seen him.

“I’m guessing you’re Mike, right?” Remington asked Michael once we’d separated.

“Michael,” he corrected, extending a hand to my cousin.

“Your boyfriend’s got a good grip,” Remington said to me after the two had shook. 

“I’m not surprised,” I said, looking between the two.

“I WIN! HAHAHA!” Tracy yelled from his place on the floor.

“You guys wanna play?” Gem called to us.

I looked to Michael, who nodded, and joined the group on the ground. “Deal us in, Denver.”

As per usual, we did more talking than playing. I caught up with my cousins, learning that Avery had just dumped her boyfriend, Gem had gone on her last date before leaving for Oregon, and Kira was engaged. Of course, their attention soon turned to Michael, one of the few new people in the room.

“So, tell us about yourself, Michael,” Leila, who’d recently joined us, said.

“What would you like to know?” Michael asked, pushing some chips into the growing pile in the center.

“How’d you guys meet?” Gem asked.

“What do you do for work?” Remington asked before Michael could answer.

“How long have you guys been dating?” Britain asked.

“Guys, slow down, goodness,” I said, raising Michael a chip.

“Well, we met in a robotics class at the G, I work graveyard guard shifts for my dad, and we’ve been dating for almost two months,” Michael said. “Did I miss a question?”

“You’re a night guard? Where at?” Tracy asked.

“My dad’s old restaurant, nowhere cool,” Michael replied.

To my surprise, nobody pushed Michael for more information on that front.

“How much can you bench?” Remington asked.

“Dude,” I said to him.

“What? It’s a genuine question. I’m curious.”

“If he’s a night guard, I’m sure he works out,” Denver commented. “I fold.”

“I’ve never checked to see what my benching max is,” Michael said. “I do a lot of heavy lifting at my job, so I guess it’s probably a good amount.”

Brooke snorted. I shot her a glare.

“What? He’s skinnier than Leila, even skinnier than me,” Brooke said.

“Hey!” Leila said.

I stood up. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to come to this party. Michael stood up with me, but my cousins weren’t done.

“I bet you can't even pick her up,” Avery said, looking up at us.

Michael raised an eyebrow at her, then turned to me. In one fluid movement, he crouched, wrapped his arms around my knees, and lifted me off the ground. I folded over his shoulder as he straightened up and made eye contact with my cousin, whose face had turned red by then. 

“I have you now, de la Noche,” Michael said with mock menace, stepping away from Avery.

I faked a gasp. “Oh no! Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere where no one will hear you,” he replied without missing a beat, walking out of the living room and into the hallway. I waved at my cousins with a snide smile before asking Michael another silly question.

“And what are you going to do with me?” I asked, widening my eyes in mock alarm for my cousins as Michael and I rounded the corner. 

He stopped and looked over his shoulder, making eye contact with me as I turned to look at him. The look on his face made me blush. 

Once we were down the stairs and in Leila's basement, he gently set me down. Without a moment to spare, I pulled him into a kiss, linking my hands behind his neck to pull him down a bit while I got onto the tips of my toes. He complied, putting one hand on the small of my back to pull me up and the other in my hair. 

“Are you enjoying the party?” I asked after the first kiss, staying close to his face and holding his gaze. 

“Eh, not really,” he replied, “but I'm enjoying being with you.”

“I suppose that'll do,” I said, “I'm surprised my cousins haven’t bombarded you with questions about your exes yet.”

“I wouldn't have much to tell them,” Michael replied, guiding me backwards. “My love life was pretty boring before I met you.”

“Count yourself lucky,” I replied, my eyes wandering to his lips. “Mine was a comedy.”

He laughed. “And what is it now, Gremlin?”

“Positively perfect,” I replied as my back found the wall. 

He kissed me again, and I melted into it. If I didn't have the wall behind me for support, I probably would've crumpled to the ground as my knees went weak. 

After a few minutes of pure, innocent romance, I pulled my face away from his. 

“We should go back upstairs before we get in trouble,” I said, using my serious tone of voice despite wanting to giggle. 

“Okay,” he said, letting go of me and backing away. 

“Can I try to carry you?” I asked. 

He raised an eyebrow at me. “You think you can?”

I gave him a small glare. “Come here and find out, Skellington.”

“As you wish, Gremlin,” he said, walking over to me. 

After a bit of trial and error, I had him cradled in my arms. He clung to me like a spider to its web, doing part of the lifting for me by holding himself up, and I kept my arms firmly under his knees and back as I climbed up the stairs. 

“Can you get the door for me?” I asked once we reached the top. 

He let go briefly to twist the knob and push the door open, then resumed holding onto me.

As we stepped through, one of my cousins shouted at us, “Baby when?”

“You're disgusting,” I said back, walking past the girl who'd said it.

“We're not doing that until she's ready,” Michael said as we walked past. 

“And that won't be until after we've had an awesome wedding,” I added. 

Once we were in the living room, I looked at Michael and asked if he wanted me to put him down. 

“No, please don't,” he said with a smile. “It's not every day I get picked up by a fine, strong woman. Hold on to me as long as you want.”

So he stayed in my lap while we shared my uncle's old recliner. 

It would not get much better than this.

**************************

About three weeks later, he invited me to go dancing. I’d taken him to a Latin night club back in January, not really expecting to go back any time soon, so I was pleasantly surprised by the invitation. Since I loved dancing, I agreed immediately.

We arrived at the club only 20 minutes after they opened, a new record for us. Holding hands, we showed our IDs to security, paid for our entry, and walked in side by side.

I heard Michael’s voice, but couldn’t make out what he said over the blaring music.

“What?” I said.

“Is it always this loud?” He said, raising his voice.

“Yeah, most parties are pretty loud, Skellington!” I replied with a smile.

“Can we stay near the back?” He asked.

I nodded, pulling him gently past a few couples that were clumped closely together. Since it was still pretty early in the night, there was still plenty of space for us. Distancing us from most of the groups, I stopped in an empty area near the back and turned to face him.

With a smile, he offered me his hand. I took it and waited for him to start.

Apparently, he’d been practicing. Compared to the first time we’d danced about six weeks ago, he was suddenly a strong, confident leader. He guided me through some fairly basic Bachata steps, even managing to throw in a few more complicated ones. I had to lead him through Salsa, but even then, he kept up like he’d been doing it for a while.

Frankly, I was impressed.

Then, about five songs in, something happened. 

We’d been maintaining eye contact practically the whole night, but as “En Barranquilla me Quedo” played over the speaker, his gaze wandered away from me. I wasn’t worried until the color drained from his face.

“Are you okay?” I asked him.

He startled, stepping on my toes as he misstepped.

“Yeah,” he said. “Sorry. Yeah. I just, uh, gotta use the bathroom.”

“Oh,” I said, stopping mid-step. “Do you know where it is?”

“What?” He asked.

“Do you know where it is?” I repeated more loudly.

He shook his head, and I pointed to the door across the floor behind him. “It should be over there.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

He wandered away while I picked back up where I’d left off with the song. In his absence, I had to turn away a few men who asked me to dance with them and kept an eye on the door he’d walked through, waiting for him to return.

When four full songs had played and he hadn’t come back, I figured he might be lost and decided to go find him. I maneuvered around the dance floor until I got to the door he’d gone through, then made my way toward the bathrooms. Making my way down the hallway, the music gradually faded.

Once I got to the bathrooms, I could make out voices just down the hall. Curious, I headed towards them.

“Father, for all these years I have done everything you’ve asked. I’ve never said no, never complained. But this? This is too much.”

Was that Michael’s voice?

“You’re my son. This is barely sufficient.”

Who was that?

“I can’t do it. I can’t.”

“You can’t? Did I not raise you? Yes, you can, Michael. And you will.”

I picked up my pace and rounded the corner, just as Michael shouted, “I love her, father!”

In front of me was Michael leaning forward to face an older man whose hand was lifted. Instinctively, I yelled “Hey!”

The man immediately dropped his hand and faced me, Michael turning to look at me, too. I held my ground, walking over to Michael and standing between him and the man.

“What’s going on here?” I demanded, facing the man who’d nearly hit my boyfriend.

“Michael, is this her?” The man asked, looking over my head at Michael.

“Lillyan, we should go,” Michael said behind me.

“You’re not even going to introduce me to your girlfriend, son?” The man asked, stepping aside to block Michael from leaving.

I put myself between the two of them again, covering Michael as he walked away. 

“If you’re Michael’s father,” I said, staring the man down, “then you should act like it. Lay a finger on him, and I will make sure you pay for it.”

Without waiting for a response, I whirled around and jogged up to Michael’s side. I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the next room I found.

“What are you-”

I shushed him as I opened the door and guided him into the room. Once I’d closed the door behind us, I turned to face him and the space. I’d managed to pull us into a small room with a couple of armchairs.

I sighed, moving away from the door and letting go of Michael’s hand.

“Thanks, Lil,” Michael whispered. I looked over at him and for the first time realized he was shaking.

“What just happened?” I asked, matching his quiet tone.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “I’m fine. You don’t need to worry.”

“Michael, you’re shaking,” I said gently, reaching up to put my hands on his shoulders. “I’m worried.”

“It’s fine, Lillyan,” he insisted, shaking my hands away. “It’s just my dad being my dad, that’s all.”

I watched him for a moment, trying to decide how to respond. Finally, I simply said, “Okay.”

We stayed in that room for a bit, just breathing and decompressing, before I spoke again.

“Do you want to go back to your place?”

Michael nodded. “Yeah, that’s probably the best option. Sorry to ruin your night.”

“Michael, look at me. You did not ruin my night,” I said. “Let’s get you home, okay?”

We left within a few minutes. He lent me the keys to his car, and I drove him home. I made sure he was inside before I left.

That night, I lay awake, only occasionally getting a blink of sleep before waking up again. I thought then that I was just worried about Michael, worried about what he might have gone through as a kid. 

Now I know better. What kept me up was not concern for him. It was foreboding.

**************************

After that evening, I decided that it was time to visit Michael at work. It was a Friday night, so I didn’t have to worry about waking up for any classes the next day. With the money I’d saved up from the past few shifts I’d taken, I was able to arrange a “graveyard shift survival” basket. It included Mountain Dew – empty cans of which I’d noticed copious amounts of in his house – grape candy, a bag of chips, a turkey sandwich, and a chocolate bar. With the basket complete, I got into my car and drove to Freddy Fazbear’s.

I don’t think I’d ever been to Fazbear’s. I’d seen advertisements on TV while growing up, but by the time my parents had enough money to take us, both I and my brother had lost interest in the place. I wondered what it would look like, now that it was closed down.

I arrived at the restaurant within half an hour. The parking lot was almost entirely empty, except for one car. I noticed that it wasn’t Michael’s, which I found strange, but shrugged it off. If I’d come to the wrong place, I figured, I could always turn around and go back home.

I didn’t want to trigger any security alarms, so I circled the perimeter of the building until I found a doorbell. I rang it and waited.

I heard something move behind me, but I didn’t see anything when I turned around. I turned back to the door, holding on more tightly to the basket I’d brought, and listened closely to my surroundings. Once again, I heard something approaching, but only barely. Whatever it was, it had quieted its footsteps. If I could just bait it into coming a little closer, I could catch a glimpse of it before it ran out of sight. 

It was getting closer.

The door opened, and I was pulled inside the building. I wrenched myself out of the person’s grip and stepped back into a fighting stance when he spoke up.

“Lillyan, it’s me,” Michael said, putting his hands up.

“Oh. Sorry,” I said. “I thought you were whatever was stalking me out there.”

“Stalking you? What do you…” Michael trailed off, dropping his hands and leaning against a wall. “Wait, what are you doing here?”

“I came to visit you!” I said enthusiastically. “I brought you a survival kit, too!” I held up the basket for him.

It took him a moment to respond, but Michael soon uncertainly said, “Thanks. That’s, uh, that’s very sweet of you.”

I narrowed my eyes. 

“Lillyan, listen. You shouldn’t be here,” Michael said. “It’s dangerous.”

“That’s what you’re here for, though, isn’t it?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood. “To guard?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean that I can do everything and prevent every issue,” Michael replied. “What if m- the thing out there had gotten to you before I did?”

I took a deep breath. “You’re right. It was reckless of me. I’m sorry.”

He sighed. “It’s okay, Lil. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

I stood there awkwardly for a moment. “Um, I don’t think I want to go back out there for a bit, so would it be okay if I stayed with you here for a while?”

“That’s probably for the best,” Michael said. “Just stay close to me, okay?”

That was an odd request. I agreed anyway, though, assuming that he just wanted to protect me. 

He took my hand and led me through the abandoned pizzeria, letting me set the pace. I gazed in wonder at the place, impressed by the remaining decor. 

“They have stained glass here?” I asked in disbelief when I saw the Fazbear mosaics. “That’s wicked!”

“My dad pulled out all the stops,” Michael said flatly.

Right. Michael’s relationship with his father was complicated at best, and he worked for him. I’d forgotten.

“You know, I really try to keep my work life and the rest of my life separate,” Michael said, leading me backstage. From there, I could see the animatronic characters, standing as if they could start performing at any moment. It was eerie.

I loved it.

“It’s why I don’t talk about my dad much,” Michael continued. “He’s part of my work, and I don’t want to think about that while I’m with you.”

“I feel like there’s a bit more to it than that,” I prompted.

“My dad gave me a job, a purpose,” Michael said, stopping to face me. “We may not be too close, but I have to give him the respect he deserves.”

I wanted to say to him that he didn’t need anyone else to give himself purpose, but his expression made me hold my tongue. I didn’t think either of us were in the right place emotionally to have a discussion about his complicated relationship with his father just then. Though, I noted to myself, he’d probably need to have that conversation at some point, even if it wasn’t with me.

“Thanks for the gift,” Michael said, the edge leaving his tone. “It was very thoughtful of you.”

“No problem,” I said. “It was the least I could do for you.”

He led me into a small office. Against one wall was a locker, and a desk with security monitors stood on the opposite side. Between them was a swivel chair that Michael offered to me.

“Is this your office?” I asked, getting my bearings.

“Yep,” Michael said. “This is where I spend my nights. Suuuuuper boring.”

I looked at the screens on the desk, recognizing a couple of the rooms we’d passed through on our way to the office. “It’s kinda spooky.”

“Yeah, this place can really mess with your head if you let it,” Michael replied, joining me in front of the monitors. “Try not to stare at the screens for too long.”

I turned away from the desk and walked over to the locker. “What do you keep in here?”

“Just my jacket,” Michael replied. 

I nodded and turned to lean against the lockers.

“So what do you do to keep yourself awake?” I asked.

He held up the Mountain Dew and lightly shook it. I laughed.

“Seriously, though, I also take walks around the pizzeria,” He said, putting the soda back down on the desk. “Moving around helps.”

I nodded. “They advise us to do the same while teaching. It’s not nearly as grueling, though.”

For a while, we stood in the office chatting. Then, he looked at one of the screens and started towards the door.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back,” He instructed.

“Yes sir,” I said, sitting down on the swivel chair.

For a while, I spun in the chair, trying to entertain myself in Michael’s absence. When he didn’t come back as soon as I’d hoped, I decided to check the monitors to see if I could spot him.

I figured my eyes were playing tricks on me, but it looked like some things had moved around since the last time I’d checked the cameras. For example, it seemed like one of the three animatronics on-stage had left, and only the bear and chick remained. I decided not to read too much into it and continued looking for my boyfriend instead.

Soon enough, I spotted him on one of the screens. He was looking at something behind the camera, and he seemed to be yelling. I watched for a while, wondering who or what he could be talking to, but nothing ever came into view. I looked for a way to hear the audio, but there was none to be found. The footage was too blurry to read Michael’s lips as well. I would just have to ask him what that was about when he returned.

Some 15 minutes later, Michael came back into the office.

“Did I see you yelling at someone in this room?” I asked, pointing to the screen.

“No, I wasn’t in that room at all,” Michael replied. 

I looked back at the screen. That was so odd. I could’ve sworn he’d been there, locked into an argument with an invisible opponent.

“Lillyan, as much as I love having you here, you should probably go,” Michael said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

“Okay,” I said, breaking my gaze away from the screen. “I hope the food makes your shift a little easier.”

“It will,” Michael assured me, taking my hand again and leading me out of the office. “Thank you.”

“This place is so creepy in the dark,” I commented as we made our way out of the building.

“Some people think it’s haunted,” Michael replied.

“Awesome,” I said. Michael gave my hand a small squeeze in response.

Just as he said he would, Michael walked me to my car. “Hey, whose car is that?” I asked, pointing to the mysterious car in the lot once we were there.

“That car?” Michael asked. “I don’t know. It’s been here for ages.”

“You parked around the back, right?” I asked. “Or am I just blind?”

“I parked around the back,” Michael said, opening my car door for me. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Of course,” I told him. I gave him a quick kiss goodbye, then climbed into my car and started the engine. Michael stayed outside until I was out of the parking lot.

I kept an eye out for Michael’s car while I drove back home, but I didn’t see it. In fact, I didn’t even see a back parking lot at Fazbear’s.

***************************

One morning in March, he made me a surprise visit. My roommates all had classes at that time, so I was the only one home when he came. Since I hadn’t been expecting anyone, I’d spent a couple of hours watching TV before getting ready for class and was in the middle of doing my hair when the doorbell rang.

“Good morning, Gremlin,” Michael said when I opened the door. He offered me a purple rose, but I barely had time to register that as I noticed the swelling around his left eye and the dark stain on his purple shirt. Instinctively, I pulled him inside.

“Good morning, Skellington,” I said, trying to keep calm as I took the rose from him. “What brings you here at this hour?”

“Rough shift at work,” Michael replied. “I’m hoping you can make it better.”

“I was going to ask about that,” I said, walking into the kitchen to grab an ice pack from the freezer. “What happened? You look like you were attacked by ninjas or something.”

Michael scoffed light-heartedly. “Ninjas? No, it was just some teenagers that broke in.”

I handed him the ice pack I’d retrieved and turned to grab my roommate’s first aid kit. “What did they do?”

“Well, we, um, got into a scuffle,” Michael replied. “It’s my job to keep them out, you know.”

“Of course,” I replied, pulling a chair away from our small table in the kitchen and gesturing for Michael to sit in it. “They escalated it?”

“You could say that,” Michael replied after a thoughtful moment. “Father was with me, though. He… Well, let’s just say that he took care of it.”

I shivered. “I would not like to be them right now.”

“No, you most certainly would not,” Michael said. “Hey, I’ve never seen your hair like that. Is it a new style?”

“Yeah, you like it?” I said with a smile, putting a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a bunch of cotton swabs on the table. I pulled a chair away from its place so I could sit across from him. “It’ll be in all the magazines, you’ll see.”

He gave me a grin, and I decided to get down to business. “You’ve got blood on your shirt, Michael,” I pointed out.

“Oh!” Michael said with a nervous laugh. “I didn’t notice.”

How had he not noticed that? “You’ll probably want to get a look at it and clean it up,” I said, sliding the materials I’d brought out over to him. “Hopefully it’s not as bad as it looks.”

He nodded, then carefully lifted up his shirt. The wound was hard to miss; it was a large gash running across the right side of his abdomen and, to my horror, it was still bleeding a bit.

“Okay, you’re gonna need stitches,” I said, getting up to grab some gauze. “I’ll drive you to urgent care, but we need to put pressure on that first.”

“It’s not that bad,” Michael said as I hurried around the dorm.

“It’s bad enough to need stitches,” I replied, dashing back to my seat with a roll of gauze in my hand. Before I could say anything, he took the roll from me and, with his other hand, put his hand on my knee.

“Lillyan, listen. If I have to go to a clinic and explain what happened, they’re going to make a whole legal mess about the incident,” he said, looking me in the eyes. “If that happens, Father will get in a lawsuit that he can’t afford a lawyer for, and he’ll fire me. That can’t happen.”

I took the roll back from him, ripped a bundle of gauze off, and pushed it against the wound, making him wince. “Sorry. You weren’t taking care of it.”

“It’s fine,” he said, putting his hand over mine.

“Michael, I understand that it’s a mess, and I’m sorry that you’re stuck in the middle of it, but you need to get that taken care of,” I said, carefully pulling my hand away and putting it over Michael’s to make sure he was adding pressure.

Michael shook his head, then stopped and looked at me, an idea shining in his eyes. “Can you stitch it?”

“What? Michael, I’m a substitute teacher, not a doctor,” I said.

“But can you stitch?” He asked.

“Theoretically,” I said, “But I won’t do a good job.”

“That’s a yes,” Michael replied.

I looked him in the eyes and let out a frustrated groan. “Fine. Okay. If it’s the only medical help you’ll accept, I’ll sew it up for you.”

I stormed off to find a sewing needle and, since my dad had always told me it was good for stitches, some dental floss. When I came back, Michael was still there, holding the gauze to his wound with one hand and the ice pack to his eye with the other.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this right now,” I grumbled, sitting down in front of him and pulling some dental floss out of its case.

“Thank you,” Michael said softly. “I owe you.”

He lifted his shirt to expose the gash, and I got to work. I could tell as I sewed that Michael was trying to hold still for me, even though I was sure I was hurting him each time I pulled the floss through. I couldn’t think about that, though. I’d worry later when I wasn’t trying to fix an injury. 

Shaky as my hands were, I managed to get a rough, janky stitchwork to close up Michael’s wound. I carefully tied a knot and cut the floss, then leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling.

“You did great,” Michael said. “Thank you.”

“Michael, I swear, I’m just taking you to urgent care if this ever happens again,” I said, not even looking at him.

“Okay,” Michael said. “I’m sorry.”

I looked at him, then walked over to the kitchen sink to wash my hands. “It’s okay, Michael,” I said after a moment. “I’m just worried about you.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.

“I know,” I replied, putting soap on my hands for a second time. “You’ll want to clean up the blood with that rubbing alcohol and those cotton balls, by the way.”

After a few minutes of silence as we cleaned up our respective messes, Michael asked me, “When does your class start?”

“It doesn’t start until 10,” I replied, looking at the clock. “I’ve still got about an hour before I gotta go.”

“If you’re not too mad at me, can I spend that hour with you?” Michael asked.

“Skellington, I’m not mad at you,” I said. “You can stay as long as you want.”

“Thank you,” he said, getting to his feet and heading over to the couch.

After I’d finished getting my hair up into a ponytail, I joined him in the living room to watch Sabrina: The Teenage Witch. I didn’t dare lean against my boyfriend like I usually would, afraid that I’d open the wound I’d stitched up, but we made up for it by holding hands.

“Hey, by the way, where’d you get that rose?” I asked. “When did you even have time to go flower shopping?”

“Oh, yeah,” Michael said sleepily. “It’s a gift from my dad.” 

***************************

I didn’t see Michael for a little while after that. We’d decided to postpone our shooting range date until his injury healed, so we only really talked over the phone until I came up with an idea.

“Do you think it’s warm enough to go star-gazing?” I asked, sitting down next to the phone cord.

“When would we do that?” Michael asked. “I work graveyards, silly.”

“Surely you don’t work every night?” I asked. “Especially with the stitches?”

“I don’t work Sunday nights,” he replied. “But aren’t you with your parents those days?”

“I’m not there all night, Skellington,” I said. “I usually leave between seven and nine.”

“In that case, I think we could make it work,” Michael said.

“Great!” I said enthusiastically. “I’ll pick you up from your place this Sunday at 8:30, and we can find a place in the canyon to stare at the sky from.”

I was about to leave the phone to make a note on my calendar, but then something struck me, and I picked the phone back up. “Hold on. Michael, is your dad not giving you time off after your incident?”

“It’s fine, Gremlin,” Michael said. “The job is mostly sitting around anyway, so there’s really no reason for me to stay home.”

“What if those teenagers come back for revenge, though?” I asked. “I’ve met some real punks while subbing, and I wouldn’t put it past them.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Michael said. “They can’t come back, even if they tried.”

“You guys got some better security measures?” I asked.

“Yep,” he replied.

“About dang time,” I said. He laughed. “Alright, I’ll plan for Sunday night. Don’t let your dad work you too hard, okay?”

“Okay, Lillyan,” Michael said. “Have a good night.”

“Good night, love.”

***************************

So, there we were, laying side by side in the mountains on a Sunday near the end of March with a fire burning by our feet and a blanket separating us from the ticks I suspected were hiding in the grass.

“How are your classes going?” Michael asked me.

“They’re going,” I responded. “We just got through mid-terms, so things are either going to slow down for a bit and then get busy again or just go straight to busier.”

“Sounds about right,” he said. 

“How’ve you been doing?” I asked.

“I’ve been alright,” he said. “Father’s transferring me to a different location, though, and I’m not really looking forward to it.”

“May I ask why not?” It wasn’t often that Michael talked about his job without me directly asking him about it.

“It’s further away,” Michael said. “I’ll have to leave earlier to get there on time, and I’ll get back home later. I’ll practically be working a 10:30 to 7.”

“Man, that does suck,” I said. “Will the work itself be harder?”

“Probably not.”

We laid there in silence for a bit, looking up at the night sky. Here, in the mountains, I could see it clearly, Milky Way and all. It was beautiful.

“I think our fire’s dying,” Michael commented. I sat up to look, and he was right; the fire was running out of fuel. “I got it,” he said, getting up.

He grabbed the small hand-axe my dad had lent me and started chopping one of our remaining logs into smaller pieces. I almost told him that he didn’t need to do that, but I decided to let him be. I told myself that, as much as I loved tending to the fire myself, I’d have to let him participate.

“Do you ever think about where you’re going?” Michael asked suddenly, dropping the splintered wood into the fire.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Like after you die,” Michael said, throwing the rest of the log in.

“Hmmm,” I responded. It was an odd question, but I didn’t want to say so. “Honestly, I try not to think about it too much.”

“How come?” He asked, sitting back down next to me.

“The more I think about it, the less I think I’m going to make it into heaven,” I replied.

“What? But you’re already practically an angel!” Michael replied.

“Thanks,” I told him, “but it’s hard to think that when my mistakes are easier to remember.”

“I guess that’s fair,” Michael said.

“Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know,” he said, putting his hands behind him and leaning back. “I’ve just been thinking about it a lot. Wondering what makes a person good or bad, ya know?”

“As a humanities major, yes, I know,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

“What if you do bad things because you have to?” Michael asked as if he hadn’t heard me.

“Well, I think that gets really complicated,” I said, lying back on the blanket. I hoped its lovely purple color wouldn’t be marred by grass-stains. “It’s usually considered nobler to sacrifice your own needs to avoid doing something evil, but it’s hard to make that decision. When you’re in the moment, you usually don’t have much time to weigh your options. Plus, how can you tell someone that it’s better for them to starve than to steal a loaf of bread? Or, worse, to let their child starve? I mean, stealing is still bad, but there’s got to be some grace given to those who only do it because they have to.”

“I guess,” Michael replied. He fell silent then, and I thought we were done with the topic.

“I’m a bad person, Lillyan,” Michael confessed.

“No, you’re not,” I said, sitting up to face him. “You’re one of the most wonderful people I’ve ever met.”

“You don’t know that,” he said, looking at me with tears in his eyes.

“I do know that, Michael,” I said. “I don’t know who told you that lie that you’re evil or whatever, but it’s not true. You’re a good person.”

He looked at me, then pulled me into a hug. I let him cry into my shoulder, putting a hand on his back and rubbing it in small circles. I had no idea what was causing him to feel like this.

Or maybe I did. The longer we sat there, the more I thought that maybe it had to do with his father. After that night at the club, I was sure that Mr. Afton had been pretty horrible to his son, and I fumed that he might still be mistreating him. I almost asked Michael then and there if his father had inspired this conversation, but I changed my mind when I looked down at him. 

This was not the time. I’d ask him another day.

***************************

For a while after that night, Michael acted differently. I could tell that something was off, but every time I asked, he assured me that he was doing just fine. Frankly, I didn’t believe him, but there really wasn’t much I could do about it. I just had to trust that eventually he’d talk to me about whatever it was that was bothering him.

During the first week of April, he invited me to have dinner at his house. Of course, I accepted. The following Friday night, he welcomed me into his dimly lit home and chivalrously escorted me to the dinner table. He had dressed up in a white button-down shirt, purple tie, and black slacks; I was glad I’d decided to dress up, too.

“Wow,” I said, sitting down and looking at the lavender-scented candles in the center of the table. “This is all so fancy.”

“Do you like it?” He asked, walking past me to grab something from the kitchen.

“I love it,” I assured him. 

He came back with a large salad bowl and placed it between us. Then, he offered me a pair of tongs and invited me to serve myself as much as I wanted.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s the occasion for such a fancy, home-made dinner?” I asked after I’d passed the tongs back to him. 

“I know I’ve been a bit… distant lately,” Michael said, serving himself. “I wanted to make it up to you, and I’ve always wanted to cook a nice dinner for my girlfriend, so I decided to kill two birds with one stone.”

“Aw, well thank you,” I said. “You didn’t need to make anything up to me, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited to have you make me a meal.”

We caught up a bit while we ate the salad he’d prepared. His new job at his father’s other restaurant was far more interesting than his first one, or so he told me, and he wanted to give me a tour sometime. Aside from that, he’d recently taken up a hobby in computer programming, although he noted that he was still learning the basics. He was surprised when I told him that, for my undergrad thesis, I’d be writing a 20-page paper about the growing interest in paranormal investigation shows and the impact it could have on the public’s historical literacy.

“That’s incredible!” He exclaimed as I finished my plate. “How do you even write something like that?”

“A lot of research, and a lot of time with a pencil in my hand,” I replied with a smile. “You know, when you look at literature, paranormal events can be found just about everywhere. Humanity’s been fascinated with it practically forever, so it’s really just a matter of tracking its - tracking the evolution of interest in it and predicting where it’ll go.”

“I can see that,” Michael said, finishing up his own salad and standing up. “Have you ever done a paranormal investigation yourself?”

“No,” I said. “I’ve always wanted to, but I can’t really get into any haunted places after dark.”

“Yeah, most places don’t want people wandering around in the building after closing time,” Michael said. 

“Or after closing for good,” I noted.

“That too.”

He came back and placed a plate of pasta in front of me. My face lit up. “Alfredo’s my favorite! How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess,” Michael said, grinning as he walked away. “It’s one of my favorites, too.”

I waited for him to sit down before I started eating. I have no idea what he did, but that pasta was one of the best I’d ever had, better even than my dad’s. I was beyond impressed.

“Hey, Lillyan?”

“Yeah?”

“You asked me a few times what was bothering me,” Michael said, putting his fork down and looking across the table at me. “Do you still want to know?”

I put my own fork down and straightened up. “If you want to talk about it, I’m happy to listen.”

“I want to talk about it,” Michael said. “It’s my dad.”

Of course it was.

“He wants me to take over the family business, re-open Fazbear’s,” Michael explained. “The problem is that, to do that, I’d have to sacrifice you.”

“Like dump me?” I asked, shocked. “That makes no sense. Why wouldn’t we be able to stay together for that?”

“It’s complicated,” Michael said, “But the basic explanation is that my father doesn’t want you in the picture.”

I stared at him, stunned for a moment. Anger was boiling inside of me, but I pushed it down.

“Michael, I think your dad is being very cruel to make you choose between him and me,” I said evenly. “Far be it beyond me to tell you who to choose, but honestly, I don’t think your father deserves that much control over your life.”

Michael looked down at his plate and sat silently for a moment. I hoped I hadn’t said the wrong thing, but, at the same time, I’d meant every word I said.

“No matter what I choose,” Michael said after a moment, “I’ll lose.”

We sat in silence for a while longer. I didn’t really feel like eating anymore. Unsure of what to say, I watched the candles melt, waiting for inspiration to hit me or Michael to say something else.

“Let’s talk about something else,” Michael said, finally.

“Okay,” I agreed. “What should we talk about?”

“Hmm…” Michael hummed, picking his fork back up. “Did you know that the original mascots at Freddy’s were both wearable suits and animatronics?”

“Really?” I asked, twirling some pasta around my fork. “That’s incredible!”

“Yeah,” Michael said. “They were engineering masterpieces, way ahead of their time.”

“I’d love to see those in action,” I said, “See how they work.”

The rest of the evening went a lot like this, the two of us chatting easily again. Underneath my smile, I was still aching over what his father had told him, but I didn’t want to think about it just then. That evening, I just wanted to enjoy the moment.

After all, it would be one of my last, although I didn’t know that then.

***************************

Over the next month, things largely went back to normal. Michael and I went out at least once a week, and every now and then we had cozy dates at his or my place. We kissed and snuggled when given the opportunity, and my roommates practically adopted him as one of their own.

Once the semester ended, my roommates deserted our dorm. I stayed behind to keep our lease, but I barely spent any time there. Most days were spent at Michael’s house or out on the town with my friends, boyfriend, or both.

It was mid-May when Michael invited me to visit his work.

“I thought you wanted to keep work separate from the rest of your life,” I said.

“A tour of my workplace isn’t going to destroy that balance,” Michael replied. “Plus, wouldn’t you like to look around a haunted pizzeria?”

A smile spread across my face. “It’s haunted?” I asked. Before he could answer, I exclaimed, “Of course I want to explore it!”

“Then explore it you shall,” Michael said.

I jumped up to give him a hug. He caught me and twirled me around. “I figured after your massive essay that you’d like to experience what you wrote about for yourself.”

***************************

“This is the original location,” Michael told me as I walked through the door. “It’s been closed for over a decade now.”

“And I thought your first workplace was cool,” I said, taking it all in. “This one had a river?”

“There was a boat ride,” He answered.

“And now it’s just still water,” I noted. “How do you not have a mold problem here?”

“My job description includes some cleaning,” He replied.

I sped across the floor to the stage and peeked behind the curtain. “The animatronics are still here?” 

“They never left,” Michael said, sitting down at one of the party tables. 

“Were these guys suits, too?” I asked, examining their plastic shells.

“These ones are just robots,” Michael replied.

I backed away from the stage and looked around before making my way over to the tunnel. “Well this is just plain creepy,” I said, looking in at the Marionette dolls scattered in the dark. 

“It was less so when the place was open,” Michael said, coming up next to me. “But yeah, it’s pretty unnerving now.”

Together, we explored the rest of the pizzeria, Michael occasionally telling me fun facts about the things I found most interesting. After a while, though, we found ourselves right back at the entrance.

“Is there any area you want to revisit?” Michael asked.

I thought about it, but then said, “No, I think I’ve spent enough time in every room already.”

“Let me show you the basement, then,” Michael said.

“This place has a basement?” I asked.

“Well, yeah,” Michael replied. “Where else would the Marionette’s trap door lead to?”

“Oh, yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

He showed me to a door that led to the restaurant’s back rooms, then led me down the hallway to a staircase. Offering me his hand, he led me down the stairs and into the creepiest hallway I’d ever seen. I could hear music playing, but when I asked Michael about it, he said that he didn’t hear anything. Even so, I could’ve sworn it got louder as we made our way down the corridor.

“I managed to get one of the original springlock suits,” Michael said as we neared the end of the hall. “Do you want to see it?”

“Of course!” I said, almost unable to contain my excitement. 

“Alright, Gremlin,” Michael said with a laugh. “Follow me, then.”

Soon enough, he opened a door on our left and followed me inside.

There, slumped on the ground, was a deteriorating Freddy Fazbear animatronic. I gaped at it, completely awe-struck that I was coming face to face with something so advanced yet so old.

“I know it’s not the prettiest since it was scrapped to make the newer animatronics,” Michael said, “But it’s the most intact one I could find.”

I crouched to look it over better, examining the ribcage-esque metal within the animatronic bear’s chest cavity. It was surprisingly clear of mold and rust, but the outer suit showed that it had undergone some serious wear and tear.

“Did you clean the inside?” I asked, turning back to him.

“Yeah,” Michael said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wanted it to be nice for you.”

I smiled. That explained the bucket of water on the ground next to it. “That’s really sweet. It’s really impressive how much of it is still here considering that it was, as you said, used for parts.”

Michael nodded, then gestured toward the suit the way he would a seat or door.

“What?” I asked, not really understanding.

“Would you like to try it on?” He asked.

“Oh! Umm…” I looked at the suit again. The rods in the mechanism were clean, sure, but they looked rather sharp. It made me think of an iron maiden.

“I’m not sure if that’s safe,” I said.

“Okay, that’s fair,” Michael said. “It is, though. I made sure to tighten the springlock mechanisms so that they stay in place. You’d have to really try to loosen them to get hurt.”

I looked at his face, trying to understand what he meant.

“Here, I’ll show you,” he said, walking up to the suit.

“Oh no, you don’t have-”

He punched the metal endoskeleton before I could finish. I rushed toward him, pulling him back, but he only laughed.

“Look at the suit, Lillyan,” he prompted.

I looked back at it. Nothing had budged. It didn’t look like he’d done anything at all.

“I told you,” he said as I relaxed, “It’s safe.”

Honestly, I didn’t trust it. I hadn’t lied when I told him I was curious to know how Fazbear employees wore them back in the day, but I didn’t mean I wanted to learn through experience. When I looked at him, though, and saw the way that he waited for me expectantly, I caved. He’d put work into moving it over here, cleaning it, and setting the springlocks for me. I didn’t want him to feel like it had been a waste.

So I sat down, backed into the shell, and let him help me get the rest of the suit on. Once he’d secured everything, Freddy’s head and all, he took a step back and looked me over.

“Well? How does it look?” I asked, standing up.

He stepped forward again and took the suit’s head off. 

“Like you’ve been stuffed inside Freddy…” he said distantly.

I tilted my head the best I could, but he didn’t notice.

“Michael?” I asked. His gaze snapped back to meet mine. “Are you okay?”

He gave me a pained look, then looked off to my left.

“Talk to me, Michael,” I said, taking a step toward him. “Please. Whatever’s going on, I want to help.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to do this,” he said, his voice cracking as his gaze shifted to me and then away again.

“Do what?” I asked.

He didn’t respond for a moment, and I waited. Foolishly, I waited, instead of trying to get his attention. After a bit, he looked at me again, tears in his eyes.

“Lillyan, you know that I love you, right?” He asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Of course,” I replied. “I love you too, Michael.”

He looked away again. I turned to see what he might be looking at, but there was nothing there besides the dusty camera in the corner.

“Michael, please tell me what’s bothering you,” I tried again. “Whatever I can do to help, I’ll do it.”

He rushed toward me, wrapping his arm around the back of the suit, and pulled me into a kiss. I put my arms around him instinctively, holding him as close as the suit would allow me to. 

He pulled away, whispering an apology.

“For what?” I asked.

Then I felt the water being dumped into the suit, soaking me. Within seconds, I felt a stabbing pain on either side of my abdomen, followed by another, and another.

I gasped, crumpling to the floor as my kidneys ruptured under the pressure. 

“Michael, it’s loose,” I managed to hiss as I clutched at the top of the suit, trying to pry it off.

“I know,” he said quietly.

“Help me get it off!” I yelled, trying fruitlessly to loosen the side clasps keeping the suit together. 

“I can’t,” he replied.

My vision blurred, and I toppled forward, the suit keeping me from hitting my head on the floor. 

“Michael!” I pleaded, struggling to prop myself up on my hands as the metal dug deeper into my body. “It’ll kill me!”

He helped me sit up, crouching down to be at eye-level with me. 

“I can’t help you, Lillyan,” he said, putting a hand to my cheek as blood soaked the ground around me. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I have to do this. It’s my purpose.”

I shook my head, afraid that any words I said would be my last. I could barely make him out at all now, and I didn’t know how much longer I’d be alive.

“I’m sorry, Lillyan. I’m sorry that it had to be you.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a yellow blur enter the room.

“Finish the job,” a familiar voice spoke.

“Father,” Michael said, not breaking my gaze. “Isn’t this enough?”

“Put the mask on, and it will be,” he replied as I tried to make out who was speaking.

“Please,” I whispered my final plea as I finally recognized Mr. Afton’s voice. 

“I won’t ask again, Michael,” He said, his footsteps amplified by the suit he wore as he stepped toward us.

With a final apology, Michael got to his feet, leaving me on the ground. I tried one last time to pry the suit apart so I could escape, but it was no use. I could barely lift my arms anymore.

He placed Freddy’s head on me, and I surrendered. 

As the world faded to black, I heard William congratulate my traitorous lover.

“Well done, Michael. Perhaps I can make something of you after all.”

**************************

It still hurts. Michael’s betrayal still cuts like a dull knife. I hate this vessel I inhabit. I hate the man who brings new victims to the restaurant, dropping the bodies in front of me. I hate the screams, the agony, the smell, the blood.

But most of all, I hate that I was so gullible. That I didn’t dig, didn’t search for an explanation, didn’t foresee my murder. Every kiss we shared, every talk we had, every event that led up to my last moments replay in my head as I rot, locked away in  an abandoned building whose magic has died. My wounds are still fresh, my blood still stains the ground, and I am still, eternally, bleeding out.

It hasn’t been long.