Bloody Love FNaF Michael x Ennard

Chapter 32: 'Coming Back From the Dead is an Afton Thing'

((Elizabeth Afton's POV))

I blinked as hard as I could, then rubbed my eyes, then pinched my forearm. When none of that snapped me out of it, I was forced to accept that my plan actually worked. Of course, she knew she was there, but after years of torture in the form of becoming her childhood hero, she had developed an odd relationship with getting what she wanted.

She finally cleared the blockage in her throat, "Mikey...?" She managed to stutter. How the fuck was she seeing him here, he was dead— fucks sake, she had killed him!

She took in his appearance. Five-foot-four, fluffy, dark brown hair that brushed his shoulders, paler than any living person could be, brownish amber-ish eyes, dark bags carried under them, looks somehow eighteen and twenty eight at the same time, along with his actual age, that being twenty two. He wore a large, green sweater that absolutely drowned him— it was at least a few hundred times to big on him, and it looked more like a dress than anything. He also had semi-tight, semi-loose, black sweatpants, as well, and looked just as shocked as she felt.

Tears welled in his eyes, "Lizzie?" He said, barely a whisper, but she heard it and threw herself onto him, knocking him backwards, into the house, and curling up on his lap. Michael kicked the door shut and held his sister as close as he could. He promised himself he'd never let her go.

"M-Mikey, I missed you so m-much!" Elizabeth sobbed, tears flowing down her face and soaking his oversized hoodie. He pulled her closer, his own tears rolling down his cheeks. He couldn't help but wonder how she was even here— he had seen her get pulled into Circus Baby.

"I missed you, too, Liz. It's okay, though, I'm here now and I won't let you get taken from me again." He sniffled, wiping his tears and leaning back as she sat up, allowing him to clean her face as well, "D'you want a bath or something? Then I'll make some food, and we can talk." He offered.

She nodded instantaneously, "Yes, please, I'm very gross and very hungry." She said. It was then his turn to nod, and he stood up, helping her up afterwards. She winced as she put weight on her bloodied feet, "Ouch, running barefoot wasn't a good idea." She mumbled to herself.

"I can clean that up for you." He said, Elizabeth nodding in acceptance. He picked her up, holding her on his hip. She nuzzled into his neck, holding onto him tightly. She sometimes forgot that she was still four-foot-four and the size of an eight year old. He carried her to the bathroom and set her down on the counter.

She watched him sift through the cupboard, retrieving bandages, peroxide, cotton swabs, and a cloth, and he sat down next to her, on the toilet lid. She shoved her foot into his lap, and he chuckled and sighed, putting peroxide on the cotton and dabbing it on the wounds. She hissed in pain, but tightened her grip on the lip of the counter and stuck it out.

Once he was done, he wiped the excess peroxide away and bandaged her up. After he did her other foot, he looked up at her and smiled. She smiled back, "Thank you, Bubba." She said sweetly.

Michael stood up, "You're welcome, Liz." He said, picking her up and bringing her to the kitchen, "Want something to eat?" He asked, and she grinned widely. She hadn't had food in a long, long time, obviously she wanted to eat something— especially something from her brother!

"Yeah! Can you make pasta?" She questioned excitedly, and he nodded. He set her down and she began following him around the kitchen like a lost puppy as he got the ingredients, filled the pot with water, turned the stove on and let it boil, and put salt in the water, until he finally turned around.

"Yes, Elizabeth?" He cocked an eyebrow at her, grinning. She smiled shyly, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. He knelt down in front of her.

"Can I have cheese on it?" She asked, mustering up her greatest puppy-eyes and pouting. Michael stood up, scoffing at how childish and innocent she could be, but nodded to her nonetheless. She lit up, doing a few laps around the table and then a winner's dance.

As she watched him cook after that, she noticed his shit lift up, just barely showing off a wound in his stomach. She suddenly remembered what happened. How was he here, and alive, and talking to her? He must have noticed she was staring at him, wide eyed and with furrowed brows, and turned around.

"What's up? You look like you just saw a ghost." He joked, laughing at his own stupid joke. His smile faded when he saw her face contort at that, and she geared up, biting her lip.

"I— I think I did." She spat out, "I've been inside Circus Baby, Michael, I saw them kill you. You've got the hole in you stomach, too. I saw the picture on your desk when I got out, I know it was you." She explained, watching his face go between a few different emotions. Confusion, shame, fear, reluctance, and some sort of acceptance. He nodded.

"I'm not a ghost, I swear. And yeah, that was me, but Ennard crawled into my stomach hole and I'm, somehow, still alive— well, kind of alive. Half alive. I'm not sure, but I'm still here." He said, smiling at the mention of his boyfriend. Elizabeth nodded.

"It's pretty hard to kill us, huh?" Elizabeth stated rhetorically, Michael nodding nonetheless. She slid off the table and walked over to him, hugging him around his waist. He hugged her back.

"I suppose coming back from the dead is an Afton thing." He smiled thoughtfully.

((AN: Okay, what are your thoughts on the new format? I quite like it. Sorry for the hiatus! Bye, my Exotic Fucking Butters!))