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Gregory was constantly under the enormous pressure that everybody at this party knew he was a fraud, and that he didn’t belong here, and should just go.
Perhaps it was his gaunt, pale complexion or more so the fact that he looked one missed meal away from a charity case. The kids in here ranged from mild to wild, yet all remained the appearance that when they went home that night, they would be under a roof.
Gregory looked like he might live on the roof.
His unruly hair swished back and forth as the wind battled against it to graze his forehead and remind him of where his home truly was. He waited outside the gigantic entry way of the Pizzaplex with only one thought in mind, food.
Fazbear entertainment brought in large gaggles of pre pubescent children with the joys of singing animatronics and full family fun. For Gregory, it brought the opportunity of free food, if he was careful enough.
A bus pulled up in the designated area, and children streamed steadily onto the pavement while two frantic adults began again and again to count heads. So while the mustache man began his third count, the kids ran out of patience with the rigorous, herd counting, and in protest began to ever so sneakily veer off to the entrance.
Bingo.
Gregory followed the last few stragglers and kept his head down in fear of being caught. Nobody paid him any heed as both adults had strode ahead to take lead of the unsupervised charge at the front.
The group stopped at the front desk, where Gregory snuck off into the distance towards the smell of food loaded with stuff that would send any dentist into a frenzy. The occupied receptionist didn’t even spot him.
The first time Gregory had snuck into this place, he was like a rabbit on the run. Scared shitless of any noise that even hinted at the word danger.
Now, he strolls into the place as if he belongs, because he does in a way. He comes here once a week on Saturday, where business buzzs from every nook and cranny of this joint. He doesn’t go unnoticed, as he gets lingering stares from parents and children alike.
He knows coming here rinse and repeat is bound to get him caught, but, majority of the staff are robotic. They have millions of safety protocols instilled into them but have the lack of care for spotting children who seem vulnerable.
Gregory skips under their noses each Saturday with the knowledge that the robots are not programmed to target the homeless.
The place is packed with people for such an early hour but then again, it’s normally never not busy round the food court.
He scouts his options and zeros in on a table of boys around his age. They’re currently in the midst of a food fight, so Gregory strolls pass and saves the slice of pizza that would inevitably end up as shoe food.
He mingles for a while and manages to secure three slices of pizza and even a drink. He knows it’s not the most nutritional meal but sue him, it’s a Saturday.
Paranoia creeps up on him and he knows his overstayed visit is over. A wave of disappointment washes over him but he knows it’s time to go.
He makes his trek back towards the Atrium, moving past the animatronics show rooms when something catches his eye.
Freddy’s door was wide open and yet, nobody seemed to notice. Gregory couldn’t care less about the robotic sing squad but Gregory was curious at heart. Some say nosey but he preferred the term inquisitive. Well, at least that’s what the old woman at library had told him.
He swivels his head back and forth, the improbable thought that this was a bad idea being played with in his mind before his feet made their move.
Upon further inspection, there was a flimsy rope held up across the entry way with the firm message, NO ENTRY, printed across it.
Gregory ducked underneath after taking a peak in and seeing that no one occupied the space. His jaw was left loose as he took in the scene.
Orange, blue and red, the notorious colours for Freddy Fazbear were strewn across the room in harmonious and chaotic fashion. Gregory stood still in the threshold before carefully making his way inside.
Coming up closer to the dresser, he spotted that pictures from various fans were hung up. He viewed himself in the mirror and nearly took a step back. He knew he looked rough but damn, no wonder he was getting more stares than usual.
His reflection was a stark reminder of how coming here would only inveitably end him up at the cops or a foster home. As of this, his stomach did one fell swoop and he no longer felt the need to have a good snoop.
He turns on his foot when the door slides shut abruptly. His heart leaps into his mouth as he runs towards it. It’s a sliding door, so the only thing to tug is the indents of the lightning bolts blazing down the sides.
He’s not going to bang on the door, as that would draw far too much attention and he can’t exactly sweep open the blinds and shout for help. Nobody would come for him except the authorities.
He quickly scans the room and sees another door just a few paces away from the vanity. He makes his way over and slams the button, only to reveal the one and only Freddy Fazbear looming over him.
Gregory wouldn’t admit it, but he may have screamed a little.
The animatronic lifts his hands, or more so claws, into the air with only minor tweaking sounds.
“It is alright. I did not mean to startle you.”
“Asshole.” Gregory spit out, heart beating out of his chest. Then he remembered his bearings and the deep pile of shit he had currently dove head first into.
The bear frowned, if that was even possible.
“That is not appropriate language to be using.”
“I know.”
Silence settled over them, Gregory eyeing up Freddy intensely as Freddy tried to make up his mind on what to do.
“This area is off limits to children, how did you manage to come in here?”
Gregory averted his eyes as he scuffed his foot against the carpeted floor.
“The door was open, so I took a peek inside. I was just going to take a quick peek but then BAM, they closed.”
“My door was open?”
Gregory nodded vigorously.
“That is strange.” He said in a contemplative matter before shifting more so in the direction of Gregory.
His eyes beam out this low, level light that travels up the length of Gregory. He doesn’t even get the chance to complain before Freddy interrupts
“It appears you are broken. I must take you the Med Bay Area immediately.”
Gregory shrinks back and shakes his head viciously. “No fucking, I mean frickin way. I’m not broken and I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Well then I must alert a member of staff to help with this incident.”
Gregory suddenly leapt up and grasped onto Freddy. “You can’t do that!”
“What not?” Freddy asked, genuine concern oozing from his mechanical tone.
“Uh, listen, my dad brought me here and he is super strict so let’s just avoid the whole security and parental thing.”
“That is not part of my protocols.”
“Well what isn’t part of your protocols.” Gregory snapped before realizing he had to win this beast over. “What if I just go with you to med bay now and then we can go meet with my dad.”
If Freddy could, he would be pursing his lips right now.
“I-I suppose that aligns with our safety procedures. Alright Super Star, let us go.”
Gregory was all okie dokie with this until Freddy manoeuvred his way over to the door Gregory came through.
“Woah, woah. We can’t go through there. We’ll be spotted straight away!”
“The back of the building is not designed for guest.”
Gregory thinks before a lightbulb practically plonks itself above his head.
“I’ll hide—“
“Then how will you get to the med b—“
“—inside you.”
Safe to say that idea was not well received but after a few minutes of back and forth, with some amount of pleading on Gregory’s side, Freddy’s stomach hatch rolled open.
He heaved himself inside and squeezed every limb into a semi comfortable position. The hatch closed and they were on the move.
Freddy couldn’t exactly talk as he traversed across the Pizzaplex. He was constantly stopped by over eager children and parents who claimed the right for a photo.
Gregory didn’t mind, it gave him time to think. The only possible break Freddy could feel would be his ribs, but Gregory has assumed them to be more so bruised than cracked.
Afterwards, when he got checked out, he’d have to dupe Freddy, which would be easy enough. He was far too trusting. He’d have to lose him in Roxy Race Way or Gator Golf, a place easy enough to slip through.
After a good half hour, Freddy came to a halt and his stomach hatch opened. Gregory scooted his arse halfway out when Freddy straightened up and a torch was shone directly into his face.
A man, who wore a shocked expression, stared back at him. By God, and here Gregory was thinking he looked rough. His skin had an uncanny look of a purple hue underneath, his eyes glowed and yet they were dark pools of black. His hair was shaggy and had seen better days, that goes for the rest of his attire too.
Gregory then kicked back into gear. He scrambled back into Freddy while screeching, “ CLOSE YOUR HATCH.”
Freddy did just that before the man barked out, “DON’T YOU DARE.”
Conflicted, Freddy kept it partially open. A hand reached into wretch it all the way down while Gregory kicked wildly at the man.
He manages to drop Gregory on his ass which, ouch. Gregory leaps back up with a second wind, distancing himself from Michael and Freddy.
The man rakes a hand down his face. “What—“
“He needs medical assistance.” Freddy answers straight away. The response only makes the man’s face fall further.
“Why would he need medical assistance?” The guy asked, voice cold.
“Maybe because someone dropped me on my ass.”
The guy narrowed his eyes at him. “I didn’t mean to drop you on your arse, but you were inside a place no child should be in.”
Gregory shouldn’t, but a snort lets its way out of his mouth none the less. This guy is British. Not that there’s anything wrong with that but like, who says arse?
“What? You find this funny.” The guys barks out accusingly.
“Arse.” Gregory gives him as a reply before laughing again and barely covering it up.
The barest of smiles graced the guy's face before his typical scowl replaced it.
“Seriously kid, what are you doing in there. And no Freddy I don’t want an answer from you.”
Freddy clicks his mouth shut while Gregory rolls his eyes.
“Like Freddy said. I needed medical assistance.”
The guy looks him up and down, searching for external wounds but coming up short. Gregory’s not going to take pity on him and tell him that it’s because of his ribs that he’s here. He’s going to let this guy battle it out.
“Can we just hurry up and leave? My dads going to get worried.” At the mention of the supposed parental figure, tension breaks free from the guy's frame.
“Yeah, yeah ok. Hop up here but first of all, why did you go inside Freddy?”
Gregory scooched himself up onto the examination table as Freddy began a more in depth scan.
“It’s a long story and you’re a stranger.”
“I’m not a stranger.” The guy let out indignantly.
“Well what’s your name then.”
“Michael Schmidt."
“Why do you sound English?”
“Because I’m from there.”
“Huh. How long have you been in the states.”
“Long enough.” He huffed out in a sense that read; far too long.
“It seems Gregory is more than ok.” Freddy said while clapping his hands together.
“Your name is Gregory?” Mike asked in disbelief.
He stuck his tongue at him. “Does this mean I can go Freddy?”
“Once I go locate your designated guardian then yes. Way to go superstar. You were very brave.”
Gregory flushed under the attention, quickly darting his eyes to Michael, defences already rising.
Michael said nothing about the praise, only rolled his shoulders and let out a sigh. “Ok kid let’s find your dad.”
In the end, all three of them walk back to the main hall. Gregory doesn’t let them linger long, darting out into the crowd with vigor.
“DAD!” He shouted in a blind direction and ran. He heard no follow up behnind him. He reached towards an adult that could pass for his father and tugged at his shirt, asking him directions for the toilet.
The man was kind enough to point towards the very clear sign that showed them exactly where they were.
Gregory showed gratitude with a quick nod before heading off towards the exit. He didn’t look back once. When he made it outside the Pizzalex, he ran towards the familiar alley before collapsing against the wall.
How could he be so stupid? God Gregory, you’ve really done it this time. He can’t, under any circumstances, go back there.
It saddens him but it’s only choice he has.
Gregory knew that he swore he would never do this again. He knows he shouldn’t be here, yet, a week without food has left him no other choice.
It was as if the universe was laughing at him, leaving him no other choice but to go back here. His dumpster diving had turned out to be fruitless, and no kind stranger, even though they were far and few, had showed up.
Because of this, here Gregroy was. He had infiltrated the Pizzaplex once more, only this time, he was more cautious than ever.
He kept his head down, while actively blending into the shadows. Gregroy strained himself for even the slightest mechanical movement.
Although his luck had been shit this week, it seems to have turned around. A group of kids wander away from their table, as a mother cajoles them towards the exit. In their sloppy wake, they don’t clean up after themselves.
Gregory has hit the jackpot. He snags two slices of pizza, shoves the half empty packets of onion rings into his pockets and yanks the drink. He’s about to turn away until his eyes leech onto the scattered tokens half hazardly strewn across the table.
He shoves them into his pockets before he slinks off to eat his goods. Once he’s finished, he takes out the tokens and examines them, he has ten to spend.
Ten precious tokens that will expire the very next day. It’s the Fazbear policy that all tokens must be used up within the day or else they go bad and can’t be used again. It’s supposed to be a marketing strategy or something. He’s a little hazy on the details. All he does know is that he has to use them now.
Gregory knows his way to the SuperStar Arcade, but is it worth the risk? He weighs up the pros and cons and decides, fuck it. When will an opportunity like this every present itself to him again? The answer is never, so he’s already making his way towards the arcade room.
His eyes grow about twice their size when he steps foot into the arcade. It’s massive, colourful and everything Gregory could ever wish for in life. Machines line the halls, gaggles of children swarming each of them, swatting at each other in the hopes of having a turn.
He knows the deal, a token per machine, but what does he pick first? He scans the area and his eyes land on an unoccupied spot. He snatches it before anyone else can spot it.
The game is called Princess Quest. Gregory has never heard of it before but turns outs he’s a natural at it. He’s always been good at video games, well, the few he’s had access too.
He’s about to finish the final level when two boys beside him start to snicker and point.
At first Gregory thinks it’s about him, but then he sees that they’re not even looking in his direction.
“Look at that freak.”
“I know. He shouldn’t be in charge of security. He looks like he takes kids.”
“Would’nt be surprised with this places reputation.”
Both boys chuckle to themselves as Gregory leans over to the side to take a good look at who they’re gossiping about. He freezes in his tracks as he sees the security guard from last time.
He leans against the wall, keeping his head low. Both boys continue to gush and giggle over Michael and little by little it gets to Gregory.
He doesn’t even know Michael, so he’s doesn’t know why he cares what they’re saying about him. Yet, a feeling of protection washes over him. That security guard was half decent and hadn’t handed his ass to the authorities. Who gives a fuck what he looks like, he doesn’t look half bad. He just has no confidence.
Gregory couldn’t stand the nastiness a minute longer, so he braces himself before he quietly walks over to Michael. He leans against the wall beside him in the shadows, leaving a wide berth of space.
“Hi.”
Michael gives a bit of a jump, eyebrows jumping up when he sees his face.
“Oh, it's you.”
“Well don’t sound so overjoyed.” Scowled Gregory.
A smirk lit up on Michael’s face. “I thought you weren’t going to come back here.”
“Why not.”
“You’ve got a list of crimes attached to your name, kid.”
“A list?” He cries out indignantly.
“Mhm,” Mike hums, holding out his hand as he begins to count, “Trespassing, violating safety standards yadda, yadda. I could go on.”
“Well aren’t you supposed to ‘take care’ of people like me?”
“Yup.” Mike says, popping the ‘P’ but making no move to do such thing.
Gregory eyed him up, ready to dash at any given moment. When he realised Michael was just going to stay still, he relaxed once more.
“You’re a shit security guard.”
“Eh.” Mike shrugged, his fingers itching around themselves. “I still have the job. Just about.”
“That doesn’t inspire confidence.”
“I wasn’t going for that tone.”
“Can you at least try.”
Mike angled his head towards him, throwing him a dazzling smile before proudly saying, “Nope!”
Gregory rolled his eyes while trying to down play the smile tugging at his lips.
They stay like that for a while, before Michael shifts his gaze towards him.
“Why did you even come here?”
Gregory looked at him like he was stupid. “Because I have tokens.”
Mike let out a sigh. “No, I mean like why come over here.”
Gregory, who had previously been looking at Michael, whipped his head away from him, avoiding immediate eye contact.
He snubbed the top of his shoe against the worn carpet floor while deciding what to say.
“Some kids were poking fun, and I don’t know….” Gregory trails off.
Why did he come here in the first place? It was a stupid decision that Gregory sorely regrets. He’s about to relay as much when Michael shifts a bit.
“Oh. Well I can’t blame them.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gregory snaps.
“Well, look at me.” Michael gestures up and down at himself. “I’m not exactly easy on the eyes.”
“What are you, sixty? Nobody says easy on the eyes anymore. Also, that’s not true.”
“Mhm. Sure.”
“Ok well if your fishing for a compliment, you don’t look ugly, just a little funny looking.”
Michael burst out laughing and Gregory could feel his cheeks going red.
“What? It’s a fucking compliment!”
“Sorry, sorry, it’s just—“ Michael let out another wheeze. “I’ve gotten a lot of things said about my looks but no one’s ever said I look funny.”
“I take it back. You’re fugly.”
Michael let out a mock gasp. “Does that mean I’m funny ugly or fucking ugly?”
Gregory flipped him off as he stomped away to make use of his tokens. That guy was a douche, so why was Gregory grinning all the way to his next machine. He didn’t dwell on it for too long, simply slotted in his next token and lost himself in the fun.
An hour or more had passed when Gregory had used up all his tokens. He had tickets overflowing from his pockets, which he was quick to stuff down.
He made his way up to the prize counter, when his mood soured. They were all Fazbear themed. Of course they were going to be, he didn’t know why he thought any different. Still, he was determined to pick at least something he may like.
He scanned his options, a plush teddy on the streets was not a good idea. A fucking hippo magnet? Gregory would rather keep the tickets. Through much thought and consideration he decided he would take the Freddy Fazbear hoodie.
He handed over his tickets and was given his prize within a bag before promptly being told to shoo. He had held up the line enough.
He makes his way out of the arcade, full intention of going back to his alley way when he sees someone waving at him.
Freddy Fazbear is standing in the middle of the corridor, just coming out of one his shows.
Gregory, caught like a deer in headlights carefully makes his way over to the side lines, content to ignore the very obvious animatronic. Freddy obviously has different ideas as he comes trotting over.
That’s it, Gregory bolts back into the arcade. Shit, what if Freddy decides he needs to bring Gregory to the authorities. He did sneak into his room and chest cavity.
He ducks behind one of the machines, wearily peaking above the top of one before he hears a cough behind him.
Michael stands behind him with an amused expression. “Whatcha doing?”
“Playing hide and seek.”
“Gregory?” Freddy calls out from far too close by.
Gregory yanks Michael down beside him.
“What are you hiding from Freddy?” Mike asked, all amusement gone from his tone.
“I need to sneak out and he’s too obvious.” Gregory hissed out before a slapping a hand across his mouth.
Michael only smiled at him. “Kid I don’t care if you sneak in here. Is that the only reason you’re hiding from Freddy?” He pressed.
Gregory nodded his head fervently. Michael nods before making a move to stand up.
“I’ll distract him and you run past. Got it.”
Gregory was starting to like this guy more and more.
“Yeah.”
Michael marches his way over to Freddy before he barks out, “FREDDY, you’re supposed to be back stage.”
Freddy looked a taken back. “Officer Michael I didn’t mean to harm I simply….”
Gregory didn’t need to hear the rest as he sneakily snuck away from the arcade before legging it to the exit. He’s heavily panting before he’s made it back to home sweet home.
What he did today was irresponsible and totally should not be repeated.
Next Saturday morning Gregory sneaks in yet again.
It became a little routine of Gregory’s. Well, he already had a routine, now it just kind of expanded.
He makes his way in, grabs food and then heads to the arcade to bother Michael.
Every Saturday morning, Michael is there and slumming it against one of the machines, fingers always itching for something. A cigarette is Gregory’s best bet. That or weed. It would kind of explain Mikes…demeanour, and overall attitude sometimes.
He likes Mike. He thinks he’s cool but he’d rather cut off his own tongue than admit that. He doesn’t ask questions and he doesn’t snitch. That’s more than most adults do, but can he really count Michael as an adult? He's like a pre-adult.
Gregory spends the guts of an hour chatting with Mike before going on his merry way. This has been happening for two months now. Gregory would even consider him a friend.
“Why do you look like that?” Gregory gets up the courage to ask one day.
Mike looked over at him from the corner of his eye.
“Don’t ever drink and drive Gregory.”
“That’s such bullshit.”
“Believe what you wanna believe kid. That’s the story I’m sticking with.”
“Why’d you choose this job?” Gregory asks. He wants to know more about Mike, sus him out a bit.
“I’ve got experience that others lack.”
“Such as….”
“I can kick animatronic ass.” Mikes grinning as he says it, which leads Gregory to smile back at him.
“Hey I’ve got a question for you, would you rather drink that Monty lime shit they sell for the rest of your life or…eat the chica powder dusted doughnuts.” Michael finishes off with a flourish.
Gregory looks at him disgusted. “I swear they get the monty stuff from the sewers.”
“Probably do.”
“I’d have to go with Chica.”
“Brave choice considering those things are bordering on edible.”
“Don’t tell me you’d go Monty?”
“Look at me, acidic sewer shit wouldn’t make me any worse. That Chica stuff would probably block an artery.”
“I don’t know what’s worse, the fact you chose Chica or that you actually think you have a heart.”
Mike snickers while Gregory throws him a shit eating grin. He likes this.
This Saturday is going to be different, Gregory doesn’t know that until he breaches his and Michael’s spot and lays his eyes on a different guy.
He is of a tan complexion with a blonde bleached, mullet. He has a slit down his eyebrow and whistles an obnoxious tune. As Gregory got closer he spotted a nasty looking scar, almost like a bite, that perturbed down from his head to his forehead.
“Who are you?” Gregory demands, as he stalks closer.
The guard is quick on the alert at the accusing tone aimed in his direction. He startles as if he isn’t used to being addressed.
“Pardon?”
“Who. Are. You.”
“I’m Jermery, I’m the day time guard.”
“No you’re not. Mike is.”
“You know Mike?” He asked, surprise evident in his tone.
Gregory frowned at him. “Yeah, I do.”
He began to look at Gregory in a new light. “Huh, he never mentioned you.”
Uh, ouch.
Jeremy, catching his face falling slightly began to back track. “He never really opens up. He’s a bit weird like that.”
“Mike's not weird.”
“Wow you’re like his little guard dog. So what, you think Mike's cool?” He asked incredulously.
Gregory grew warm and looked down. “I didn’t say that and don’t you say that to him either Jeremy."
“Yeesh. You’re definitely an Afton alright.”
“A what?”
“Eh nothing. Hey, Mike is sick so he won’t be in for a while. You want me to give him a message?”
“Uh. Will you be here tomorrow?” Gregory asked cautiously.
“Yup. Kinda stuck here until he gets better.”
“Ok. Meet me here tomorrow.”
“Perfect.”
They both stood still. Right this isn’t Mike. He shouldn’t hang about.
“I’ll be seeing you then.” Gregory shrugs before slowly shuffling off to the side.
“See ya Gregory.”
The next day, Gregory arrives at the same time, except now he has a gift in tow. The strange man is standing in the same position, except this time more alert.
Once he spots Gregory, he gives him a short wave.
“Sup Greg.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Rory?”
“Worse again.”
“C’mon I’m a nickname guy and you’re name is long and boring. G-man?” He asks hopefully.
Gregory can’t help the snort that lets itself out. He’s quick to snuff it out but he sees the Cheshire cat grin that lingers on Jeremy's face afterwards.
“You can call me Rory as long as you promise to never utter G-Man in my vicinity again.”
“Deal.” Jermerey snickers. “Oooo, you have a present.” He questions, pointing to the reused arcade bag.
“It’s for Mike. So no peeking.”
“Aye, aye captain.” Jeremey says while mock saluting him.
“So, are you a friend of Michael's?” Gregory questions cautiously. Michael doesn’t seem like the type to have friends, yet here we are.
“I am. Are you?”
“Sorta.” He answers vaguely before shifting himself so his back is against the wall.
“Well I’m glad Michael has someone to keep him company. Do you come here often?”
“Sometimes on a Saturday. Do you do the night shift.” At the mention of the night shift, something flickers across Jeremey’s face.
“Nah. Those days are long gone. I’m too old for that now.”
“Exactly how old are you?”
A shot of white teeth is aimed at him. “Guess.”
“Nope.” Gregory has learned that this game never ends well for any participant.
“Come onnnn. Guess.”
“Thirty-three.”
Jeremy lets out a choked gasp. “Thirty? Fucking thirty. Oh my God, it’s my roots isn’t it?”
Gregory is too busy laughing to answer. He continues to panic until Gregory takes pity on him.
“I’m only messing. You look about late twenties.”
“That’s more like it. Phew, not everything is about looks but I don’t even have a grey hair yet.”
“Probably because of the dye.”
“I’m gonna ignore that.”
Michael simultaneously felt like he was going to throw up and yet, could eat a five star buffet. His head was pounding and his tethering on tattered curtains were tightly closed. If any light did stream through the cracks, he was sure he’d turn to dust.
He got sick, he’s missing half his fucking organs and yet he gets sick? What kind of a cruel joke is that. He probably caught it from one of the crusty kids he had to sift through the ball pit for the other day.
When Michael first heard of the pizzeria opening, however this time bigger and bolder, he couldn’t leave the house for a week. Then he steeled himself and marched his excuse of a body to the mega PizzaPlex, in the request to become a security guard.
He was approved.
His dad was safely burnt to a crisp, or so he had assumed. If Michael was able to claw and drag himself from that burning hell hole, with the only thought of Jeremy keeping him going, then that monster would sure as fuck a find a way too.
So long as William Afton had a conscience, he would rein terror in the name of sadistic pleasure. It sickened Michael to his core, he couldn’t let it happen again. He just couldn’t. So he signed up. Jeremy wouldn’t speak to him for three days afterwards. On the fourth day Jeremy said he had propositioned for the day time shift.
Mike could’ve killed or kissed him in that moment. He did neither. He simply pat him on the back while the remnants of his heart craved for more.
Michael was so lonely. Some days he didn’t think it was worth it, only thinking keeping him going full steam ahead was that if he left, Jeremy would be alone too.
He wouldn’t let him down again.
He took night shift, and Jeremy took in daytime. Simple and easy. Then Jeremy got sick, and since Vanessa was already the night shift guard, he was shoved into Jeremy’s place.
He hated it. Made his skin crawl with the dirty looks he recieved from parents, clearly show casing how little trust they would have in him for protecting their child. Michael should be the least of their worries in this establishment.
Apart from that, everything was going surprisingly smooth. Then he met Gregroy. Seeing Gregroy inside Freddy’s stomach hatch has been prime time nightmare material for Michael. The fear clung to him long after the altercation.
Gregory was an interesting kid. He doesn’t mix, he prefers to stay by Michael’s side during his time on Saturdays. He’s loyal and funny, he’s also a fucking genius.
A buzz echoed through Michael’s walkie talkie, cutting through Gregory’s rant on why he hates slime.
“Vending Machine #12 is not performing properly. Please perform routine maintenance on it.”
“Fucks sake.” Michael muttered out. He was hired for security guard, not for mechanic purposes. “Alright Gregory, I better go get that.”
A frown graced his lips. “Can’t I come with?”
Michael inclined his head, a silent invitation to get walking.
Michael does often wonder about Gregory’s parents and what they think about him hanging about Michael. He would never do anything to him, but he knows he doesn’t look the most appealing.
At first he thought Gregory was homeless, but Freddy had informed that Gregory did return to his guardian. Michael hadn’t seen the man, as Gregory had shot off at such a speed that Michael wasn’t willing to risk his dodgy leg to catch up with him.
His next thought was that Gregory came from a troubled home. Not troubled as in he was hit, as he never came in with bruises or anything of that sort. He only looked one meal from blowing west with the wind, so Michael always brought snacks with him when he knew he’d meet Gregory.
Michael couldn’t help Gregory with a financially troubled home, he could only ease it. That’s why he never snitched on him when the boy so obviously snuck into the Pizzaplex.
He found it strange that Gregory didn’t bond with the other kids, or never brought a friend with him on these expeditions. It wasn’t like he was shy, he had more than enough to say.
Michael thought back to himself at that age. There was no way in hell would he slum it with some security guard every Saturday. That would just be absurd in his mind. He’s glad Gregory isn’t like him.
They went down several escalators until they reached the vending machine. It was one that was tucked away quietly in the corner, very little contraband was taken from it.
Michael let out a sigh before digging through the back of it. Gregory stayed quiet the entire time, which was unusual. After ten minutes he concluded that he hated Fazbear more and more with every passing second. He tried to fiddle with this hunk of junk and found out that he ultimately needed a piece of equipment from parts and services. Another trek and half in itself.
“Ok. I’ll be back in five minutes, just wait here. Don’t look too sketchy.”
Gregory scoffed at him while Michale whistled away. Turns out parts and services is a tip, which meant Michael had to go rooting around for a solid twenty minutes before he found his part.
He was cursing everyone and everything when he made it back to the cause of his annoyance. However, when he left, the light was undoubtedly turned off in the vending machine, and now it burned brighter than it ever had.
He must’ve been dreaming. Except he wasn’t, as those featured creepy animatronics with several rows of teeth. Beside the machine, Gregory was grinning ear to ear at him.
“I fixed it.”
“No way.” He said in disbelief. This kid….
“Mhm. Look.” He brought Michael to the back of the machine, where the panel was secured back in place once again, no longer hanging wires out its backside.
“Huh. Would you look at that. Nice job kid.” Michael praises as Gregory batted away his hand, yet, he still kept that gigantic smile plastered on his face for the rest of the day.
It was afterwards, when Michael was home and alone he realised how much he had fucked up. He had gotten attached. To a kid, who wasn’t his own or who he had no ties to. He was absolutely and unbelievably snookered. Eventually, Gregory would outgrow both him and the Pizzaplex and then what? Michael could only watch him leave.
The only solace was that Jeremy would soon be back and on his feet, leaving Mike to go back to his old position. He’d leave first, but it would still hurt.
So Mike wallowed in his own misery until Jeremy came home Sunday. His head was jammed under his pillow, when the soft click of his bedroom door filled the silence. Jeremey came in with a takeout container under one arm and a scuffed up paper bag in the other.
He lifted his head cautiously. “What’s in the bag.” His voice caught on every word, seriously, nails on a chalk board had nothing on him at the moment.
Jeremy shrugged, with a faux innocent look on his face. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“It’s not from me.”
That got a reaction out of Mike. Asides from Jeremy and Dolores down the road, all human contact is sparse between him and the outside world.
“Who?” He croaked out.
Jeremy looked at him blankly before a shark like grin replaced his face. “Guess.”
Michael groaned and tossed himself back down into the bed. If it was turned into a game, the bag didn’t come from anyone from their past.
“I hate these games.”
“Yeah, but I love them.” Jeremy flung himself down on top of the bed, narrowly missing Mike.
He tossed the covers over his head, which were promptly thrown off him by Jeremy a second later. He gave Michael a pout, which brought colour to Michael’s already flushed cheeks.
Him and Jeremy weren’t anything. They were just best friends, and well now, roommates as well. Sure, there were moments, but they were fleeting. Don’t get him wrong, it’s not like Michael didn’t want, because he did, God did he want, but he couldn’t have.
Michael’s not a super religious person. How could he be when he’s a literal walking corpse, stuck between the balance of life and death itself. His mother was, his siblings too. Every Sunday, no matter what, they would join hands and pray. It was the closest his family had gotten to peace and unity and all that jazz. Then, everything happened.
Michael prays every now and then, not to a God, but to his family. Who’s souls have hopefully left this earth once and for all. He doesn’t hear from his mother, she distanced herself from everything that reminded her about her late husband. It was only a shame that included him too.
He met up once with her, she couldn’t look him in the eye. He stills loves her, just a little less.
His family wasn’t accepting of anything that was different. That meant homosexuality was a firm no-no in his parents eyes. It shouldn’t sting, but ultimately did. Throughout his teenage years, he would regard girls like all boys his age did, except, his eyes would always fall back to certain guys too. Jeremy was a prime suspect of this behavior.
Every time he even thought about Jeremy in that light, a nervous nauseating wave would wreak havoc upon his stomach, causing him to run to the nearest bathroom.
He couldn’t taint Jeremy like that. He’s done enough damage to him already, he won’t let himself succumb to foolish notions and spoil the one good thing he has left in life.
A finger snapped in front of his face, wrenching him from his never ending whirlwind of thoughts.
“Come onnnn. Guess.”
“Hmmmm. That nasty bastard from the supermarket.”
Jeremy choked on a laugh. “Can you imagine!? God, he’d probably give you poison. No, it’s not him. It’s from my good pal Rory.”
A spark of jealousy lit like a match inside his cavernous space where his soul should reside. “Who’s he?”
“A friend of mine. We met at the Pizzaplex.”
“Do I know him?”
“Oh you know him very well.”
With his face half torn between scowling and puzzled, Jeremy decided to take mercy on him and let out a loud wheeze.
“Your face! I’m sorry but dude, you look like you have polyps!”
While he was too busy laughing his arse off, Michael ripped the bag from him out of spite. He reached into it and was a bit stumped to find that it was surprisingly light. What on earth?
A card, which featured a purple guy next to a weird looking thing…was that supposed to be Foxy? He opens the card up and here’s what it read;
Dear Mike,
Get better.
From G
His heart swelled to about three times the size. Gregory had missed him, he knew he would notice his absence but he didn’t think he’d actually be missed.
“Awww, you’ve gone soft Mike.”
“Shut it.” He snapped, flustered. Jeremy only grinned wider.
“Sooooooo? Why did I not know about this kid?”
“Cause there is nothing to know.”
“Mhm. That’s why he made you a card and also why you’re tucking it into your special drawer.”
Michael, who was just about to do that, quickly retreated his actions and shoved the card behind his back.
“I do not have a ‘special’ drawer.” He cried out indignantly.
“Hate to break it to ya bud but you do.”
“Don’t call it special.”
“Special is a perfectly adequate choice of description.”
Since Jeremy made his voice that high, Michael had no choice but to shove a pillow in his face.
“It makes it sound weird.”
“What, adding special implies that you keep sex toys in there but it’s actually where you keep your most cherished memories, cause you’re too emotionally constipated to look at them?”
Michael burned crimson. “Don’t say that!”
“What? Sex toys or the truth? Don’t tell me you own a dildo?” Jeremy prodded with mirth in his eyes.
He had one last cackle before Michael gave a good shove, which resulted in retaliation until they were both breathless from it.
Even though Michael felt like shit, this was the most content he’s been in a long time. He doesn’t say that to Jeremy, who’s begun to lightly doze already, in case he jinxes it.
So he just quietly lies there, and for once has a dreamless sleep.
Michale did jinx it, as a week goes by and he’s left to recharge at home, he somehow manages to get Jeremy sick too. Jeremy doesn’t complain, even though he’s just after coming out of an illness.
At the end of the week, a knock sounds from their front door, and Michael being the better of the two, went to go check on it.
His eyes land on Gregory, who has tear stained cheeks and a gash at the top of his head. His heart falls about five feet all the while Gregory swoops in for a hug. What the fuck happened.
Gregory sat on the worn couch as he surveyed the room. His head still couldn’t wrap round the events that played the previous night. He had been trapped in the Pizzaplex, as he had stayed far too long looking for Michael. Seriously, he had searched every inch of that place in the hopes of catching a glimpse of him. By the time he emerged from the back rooms, the time for visitors to make themselves sparse had long since passed.
That led to him sneaking into Freddy’s room, where he was sure the animatronic would help him. Of course, Freddy would. Unfortunately, everything spiraled out of control. Three crazy, killer animatronics down, Freddy dismantled in parts, a once freaky rabbit no more and one long, limbed creature lurking in the basement, smashed to smithereens.
The horrors circled round and round in his head until he blinked away the flickering images. Freddy, poor Freddy. Even thinking about him made unwanted tears spring up, daring him to release them. He sniffed them all the way back.
Once he managed to escape onto the street, he knew he needed to find Michael. Luckily, while having a good nosey through the security system, he had wandered upon Michael’s profile. It produced a whole list of boring information. However, it also revealed his current whereabouts. He had scribbled the address quickly on his arm, as Chica’s shrill, “Gregorrryyy,” filled the halls.
He walked for an hour until he finally made it to his abode. The house was small, with crumbling plaster falling off the walls. The garden was unruly and wild, with a watering can held captive with ivy in the corner.
The path was only short, but Gregroy went up to it at such a pace, he tripled its distance. He stayed at the door for what felt like hours, before he gave it a feeble knock.
One, two, three seconds later he heard shuffling feet on the other side of the looming entrance . He braced himself for Michael’s anger, but he hadn’t been prepared to see him worried.
He looked up at Michael, whose jaw was hanging off, and leapt towards him. Maybe it was the leftover adrenaline, or maybe it was because he hasn’t seen him in two weeks, but in that moment, he needed a hug.
Launching himself at Michael seemed like a good decision at that moment, three seconds later and he wished he never set foot near the estranged security guard.
He untangled himself with a mumble, before wrapping his arms around himself. Michael snapped out of whatever daze he was in, before ushering Gregory inside.
So here he was now, on the couch, clutching a cup of tea. He has never felt more like a child in all his life under Michael’s worried gaze. He was done explaining everything to him, and Michael hasn’t stopped pacing since.
The other security guard lived here too, he just sat on the chair of the arm and gazed out into the distance.
“Ok. Ok. Christ. Ok. Kid, I mean, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what else to say. Fuck, I promised myself, I mean I promised nothing like this wouldn’t happen again and fuck!” He kicked his foot against the couch. Gregory flinched at the noise and Michael looked even more guilty.
“I’m sorry.”
Michael let out a manic laugh. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for, kid, nothing.” He reiterated before rattling out a hollow cough.
Gregory winced, no wonder he was M.I.A. for two weeks. He looks like he could keel over and he sounded even worse. Gregory immediately feels bad about bothering him, about bothering both of them.
He takes the opportunity to have a quick scan around the living room. It seemed empty, practically unlived in. No pictures graced the walls, there was a threadbare rug and the coffee table looked one strong wind away from toppling.
He returned his attention to Michael, who had recovered from his coughing fit. “We need to call your parents immediately. What’s their number?”
Gregory was caught on the hop, so much so, that he couldn’t even formulate a reply.
Michael looked at him, really looked, and it seemed as if the missing puzzle pieces had just slot into place. “Oh.”
Jeremy threw his eyes between both of them before understanding hit him too.
“Ok. That actually makes more sense, now that I think about it.” Michael said, as he placed a hand on his head. As he took away his hand, clarity clouded his eyes. A determined look set deep into his face.
“Alright. Here’s the plan. We’re going to get this sorted, but for the time being, I’m not letting you go back to wherever you’ve been sleeping.”
Gregory leapt off the couch, heart in his mouth. “I’m not going to the police!”
Michael shook his head and held his hands out. “No, no kid. I mean you can stay here with us. If you want, till we get this shit sorted out.”
Gregory thought about it, not for too long, because this was the easiest decision he’s made in a long time.
“Alright.”