Work Text:
Another lonesome day.
Fredbear hadn't really taken anything well since that fateful day. It had been a while since he had last saw Spring Bonnie, probably just a few years before Fredbear had to take little Fredrick under his wing. The pain was still there... The ache of wanting his friend back after ages of no contact. Fredbear had yearned for the return of Spring Bonnie, a reunion brought upon the two with fond laughter, warm smiles, and maybe a hug or so. But as of recent? There had been no sign of the sunglow lagomorph that Fredbear had once known and loved so dearly. His heart had been lonely. With the lack of his closest friend, so dear and true, Fredbear didn't know what to do.
Within the warm hours of the morning, Fredbear had felt the cold of the house wash over him, the small cottage felt quiet and lonesome within the weary woods he reside in. A sigh had left Fredbear's lungs, as he looked to an image placed upon a shelf. It was a photo of him and Spring Bonnie, during their first gig. Ah, the good ol' days. He recalled how Springy looked in that vest, with that sparkly-star pattern against the purple fabric... And that adoring smile on his face, bright and shining like the sun itself.
Shaking his head, Fredbear slogs over to the radio on the kitchen counter. He fumbles with the controls... And soon, the radio sputters to life, incomprehensible at first with the static storm having drenched any audible words, but with the knobs being turned and taught, eventually something came up of the radio. Something rather grievous. For when he heard the words on the radio, Fredbear frowns, as it had utterly broke his heart to the fullest extent possible.
"And yet, we have no further sign of Samuel Bunnitson, or more better known as 'Spring Bonnie' to his friends. Bunnitson is still missing as of right now, and searches prior as of the last twelve hours have shown unsuccessful. If there is any information about Bunnitson's whereabouts, please call-"
The radio's life was snuffed out just as soon it was turned on, as Fredbear looks at the radio. His sapphire eyes looked despondent as he stares at the Radio, blank yet sentimental. A foregone conclusion to most, but a world's end to Fredbear. His world, to put it lightly. It was more than just Spring Bonnie being his world, but rather his everything. Spring was the sun to his moon, the jelly to his peanut butter. Now with him gone, Fredbear was just stuck with memories in his head that replay, perpetual with each hour, and at length with such detail that a novel could be written.
"C'mon, Freds! We're gonna be late for our first gig!"
"Gimme a second, Springy! I'm trying to get this darn bowtie on..."
Spring Bonnie sighed, rolling his eyes as he lets out a stifled giggle. He walks up to Fredbear, grabbing the tie within his yellow paws as a smile formed under his bushy moustache; down and out, up and over, and out. Just like that, Fredbear's tie had been formed, pristine and neat. It seemed that this wasn't Spring Bonnie's first time doing this for Fredbear.
A warm tinge of fire singed underneath Fredbear's skin and fur, the inferno of affection having rose up all the way to his ears which were already flicking about. Following suit, a smile of pure adoration splits Fredbear's features, soft yet loving. Nobody really made Fredbear feel like that. Nobody. The feeling was wrapping all around him, a mother dove encasing its squab within its downy, fluffy wings. It burned, but not in a harsh manner like that of a building being taken by the hands of a fire... Rather, it was that of a gentle fireplace, calm yet ongoing.
Was this what love was? Truly? No, no it couldn't be, but Fredbear couldn't deny that there was something deeper betwixt him and Spring Bonnie, for the emotions were too strong. It was potent. These emotions that stew within him were much more big than he could have anticipated. But Fredbear knew that he couldn't really say anything just yet. No. He couldn't, for he feared that if he shared these secret feelings, that it would drive his true blue friend of yellow fur away from him.
"Wait, Freds! Before we get cracking on that stage, I wanted to give you something rather, uh, special... Got them myself from my garden!"
Spring Bonnie's ears flick, as he turns around, reaching to grab something. What could it be? Fredbear tilted his head as an attempt to sneak a peak at what Spring Bonnie had kept so discreet. But his attempt was fruitless. Spring Bonnie did mention something about a garden, and that the gift came from there. Could it be fruit? Vegetables, maybe? Herbs?
But the answer had came as soon as the questions. The gift wasn't a basket of fruits, delectable and sweet. Nor was it vegetables, a healthy treat. No, the gift was something far more sentimental, with far deeper meanings than any of the prior guesses. The gift was a bouquet of flowers, arranged in a manner that was artistic, pulchritudinous to any eye that had landed on the flowers that had been so well kept. The scent was also hypnotizing, captivating Fredbear almost instantly.
It was a special assortment of plants, unique in each manner. Red and blue hyacinths, lavender, orchids, and a few roses, ranging from a clear white, formal burgandy, to a light and delicate pink. But one flower stood out from all the rest, a sore thumb of sorts that would have not been noticed by anybody else: a singular rose that was a fruitful and bright red, perhaps the most beautiful out of all of the flowers.
"I want you to have these. I saw them and I thought you would really like them! Promise me you'll take good care of them," Spring Bonnie spoke softly, his cotton tail wagging behind him in a manner that was coy, as if his actions were speaking louder than his words.
Fredbear felt the heat burning away at his face, his own tail moving in unison with Spring Bonnie's as he accepted the bouquet of flowers, holding it within his paws. Looking at his close friend, he felt that they were something far more, but was too afraid to be outright with it. He set the flowers down on his vanity, before pulling Spring Bonnie into a close hug, a swear of silent promise.
"Woah-ho! Freds! I didn't know you were so sentimental today... Love you, too, big fella," Spring Bonnie hummed, giving Spring Freddy a gentle kiss to the cheek, one that lasted a second longer than average. "Now c'mon, let's go break a leg, shall we?" Spring Bonnie questioned, his tone as playful as he was, as he grabbed his banjo, heading out to the stage.
"Right behind you, old friend!"
It was no use to cry over spilt milk. Fredbear knew that. But the disappearance was so sudden, as if it were at the drop of a pin. There was no rhyme or reason for why Spring Bonnie had went missing so out of the blue. But it hurt. Deeply. Fredbear could only ruminate on that day, where he was gifted those flowers by the man he adored, held close, the man that he loved. And with him gone... Emptiness. That was what stayed.
His eyes linger over to the same shelf, the one with the framed photo of him and Spring Bonnie together. Fredbear's eyes meander to what was directly adjacent to the photo. A vase. It was a charcoal black vase, patterned with white doves and light blue ribbons painted on. And the contents of the vase, the very contents within that vase, was the same bouquet of flowers that Fredbear was given. They were in a condition that was subpar than what he was initially given, but still well cared for, even after all those years and after his dear friend's incomprehensible disappearance.
But abruptly, a ginger tug at the sleeve of his sweater causes Fredbear to draw his attention elsewhere. His gaze turns downwards, now observing the cause for his attention to shift, so swift and so sudden. Fredbear's expression changed to a grin of kindness, as he soon realized that it was merely his grandson, Fredrick.
The young brown bear looked up at his grandfather, his cyan blue pupils still sparkling and full of hope, full of life. Oh, how Fredbear wishes he could be young again... Fredbear picks up his grandson, holding him close and cradling him in his arms, his hold strong yet gentle, as to not drop his grandson.
"Heya, kiddo! You're up rather early," Fredbear greeted Fredrick, his eyes beaming from behind the shining glass of his specs. "What's up?"
"Grampy?" Fredrick asked, pointing to the photo, "Who's that in the photo with you?"
Fredbear looked to the photo, a condensed sigh leaving his lips. He wished to explain who was in the photo with him, but the pain was tearing away at his heart, a gradual tear-away at the bear he once was and making his emotions null, dimmed down. He snaps back to reality after a while, looking back at Fredrick. He should at least explain to his grandson, without having to make him worry over someone he hadn't even met.
"Oh, just an old friend of mine, sonny..." Fredbear reassured Fredrick, putting him back onto his feet gently, and ruffling the fur on the top of his head. "Maybe you'll meet him one day, if he comes back into town." Fredbear spoke vaugely, smiling still, but aching deep inside from the lack of his close friend.
"Was he famous like you, Grampy? Is he gonna come back into town soon?"
Fredbear recalled the past once more, as a solemn frown teased at the sides of his lips. The chance of Spring Bonnie ever returning to their small town seemed to have been relinquished, on account of the disappearance. But as of being famous, the two were well known within the area. Why, some people rumored the two to have been dating! Which might have been the case, but nobody really knew...
Spring Bonnie smiled, interlocking arms with his performance partner, particularly pleased with how the movie had went. He wouldn't stop talking about it, really! About the romance between the love interest and the main character, the battle against the rival, even the comedic relief sidekick was something that Spring Bonnie had recollected from the film and enjoyed thoroughly.
Although, and he may not wish to ever admit such a thing, Fredbear had fallen asleep halfway through the movie. It was a good film! But he couldn't help it with how the night rode high and how his eyelids grew heavy. Knowing how close of friends they were, and not wishing to break his heart, Fredbear more so went along with whatever Spring Bonnie aforementioned, attempting to capitulate with whatever was incoherently brought up.
Spring Bonnie noticed how congenial Fredbear was acting. Why... He had never been so accordant before in his life, and his behavior had been rather odd. An idea had crept into Spring Bonnie's mind, having festered up until this moment where he could test a thesis out to establish something in a rather solid manner.
"... Who is my favorite character?"
Freezing up, Fredbear had felt beads of sweat racing down his neck and rest on his paw-pads. His fingers flex at his sides as he averts eye contact for half of a split second. He couldn't recall a favorite character for the life of him. Maybe an archetype? There were a few archetypes in that movie that he could go off of. The main character? The love interest? The sidekick? Yeah! Yeah, it should be the side-kick.
"The side kick?" Fredbear inquired, his tone sheepish yet genuine.
Spring Bonnie shakes his head, a smirk appearing beneath his moustache as his thoughts were letter-perfrect: Fredbear hadn't watched the movie at all, and had fallen asleep. He stands on his tip-toes, just enough so that him and Fredbear were now eye-to-eye. A titter, followed by Spring Bonnie's finger trailing circles along Fredbear's chest.
"Wrong," Spring Bonnie purred. He leans up further, his mouth just an inch or so apart from Fredbear's ear. His voice, a fond whisper of playful adoration, now echoes in Fredbear's ear. "It's the main character... He reminds me of you."
Fredbear quickly gets his head back to Earth once he hears his grandson yet again, shaking his head rapidly before turning his gaze to Fredrick. Oh, the memories of the old days were getting to him. Why, they were getting in the way of his day to day life, practically steadfast and unrelenting. A living ghost that wouldn't leave.
"Why, he was very famous. As for returning... Maybe one day, he will."