tell me what i want to hear

how time can heal

"I got the job." Scott held the phone tightly in his fingers as he leaned against the wall. "The one at your dad's place."

"That sounds great," Michael replied on the other side of the line, trying to sound enthusiastic even though the entire situation was bittersweet. "I know it wasn't your first choice."

"No- I-" Scott sighed, picking at the edges of his nails as he talked. "I'm just glad to have a job. Maybe this is a good chance to start over and work for someone who actually cares about their employees, you know?" He paused, chuckling half-heartedly. "Besides, I'm looking forward to seeing you every day."

"You're okay with working there, right? I mean-" Michael had to stop to think of the right words. It was a subject they hadn't talked about since the day it happened, and even then, they didn't really discuss it. "I know you have bad memories of the restaurant. I don't want you to feel like you have to accept this offer just because it's the only one you got."

"Really, Michael, it's fine. It was at the old location, anyway." Scott looked at the floor, idly tapping his foot against the ground. "If Jeremy can come back to the pizzeria after that, there's no reason why I shouldn't."

"Are you scared that the same thing could happen again?"

Michael knew he shouldn't have asked it, but the question had been on his mind for far too long to just ignore it. He knew his father and he knew that history was damned to repeat itself.

He knew that Scott needed help, but he had secretly hoped for Scott to find another job- a better job.

"Why would I be scared?" Scott lowered his voice, trying to stop it from shaking. "It was a tragedy. It was all over the news. There's no way your dad would let something like the bite of '87 happen again..." Scott trailed off, waiting for Michael to say something- anything- in response. When he didn't, though, Scott continued, "...right?"

Michael knew that there had to be a connection between the bite and the deaths in his family; he just hadn't connected the pieces. After all, the animatronics were a common denominator in every tragedy that had ever fallen upon his family.

"Right," Michael replied. "There's nothing to worry about."

"I'll see you tomorrow, then!" Scott said. Michael could practically hear the smile on his face through the phone.

"See you," Michael replied, hanging up the phone immediately after that. He couldn't bear to talk to Scott anymore, especially since Scott seemed unbothered by the idea of working at the pizzeria.

Michael simply bit his tongue and waited, knowing that the bite of '87 was far from the last terrible accident at the restaurant.

"Do you miss working at the pizzeria?" William asked, seemingly out of the blue.

Scott shrugged, nonchalant. "I don't know. I miss getting to see everyone, but I don't think I really miss the job itself." He turned toward William, making eye contact with him. "It was stressful. I'm not really good with kids, and the animatronics were always having problems, especially Foxy."

"Foxy?" William's eyes seemed to light up only at the sheer mention of the fox. "Tell me more about him."

"He freaks me out; he has ever since he broke down." Scott clasped his hands together, looking down at them. "The night guards have told me stories of him leaving his stage at night-"

"I think the night guards are full of shit," William added, interrupting Scott, who sat still for a few seconds.

"Yeah," Scott replied, jaded. "I know." After a sigh, he continued, "I wasn't always afraid of Foxy. I used to watch the TV show as a kid, and he was my favorite character."