The Kind Ghost of Hurricane (Michael Afton x reader)

-Prologue-

Hi there people, if there's actually someone reading this in 2023.
And if there is, nice to meet you. As you can see by my username I'm tiLEVIdalcaxxo, and in italian it means "get the fuck out". I manly thought about it because of Levi from Attack on titan, but it's probably almost been a year since I finished reading it so I should probably change it. But for now calling me Mari is fine. It means seas always in italian.

I started writing this on March 1st of 2023 because I finally bought my first FNaF game since I first heard about it. It's safe to say that it literally made the person I am today, a murdere- Nah I'm kidding, but it played an important part for my childhood. So, when I bought Help Wanted I re-entered my fnaf phase, and remembered all the scenarios I created in 2015 and on.

But then I needed the key part for a story on wattpad, a cheesy romance, which is pretty impossible when you're trying to run away from robots that wants to kill you. So here we are now, with the angsty teenager of the franchise, that has way less fangirls than his father. People cherish dilfs more than purple zombies.

I promise I won't write an entire poem about my life again in another chapter, and if you arrived here then thank you for taking a portion of your time to have a lil' talk with me, and thank you for reading this prologue. Hope I'll see you on the next chapters.

Muah.
-Mari.

____________________-

Hurricane wasn't that bad of a city, especially when you looked at it with the eyes of some kind of background character.

You know, right? When in cartoons blurry people are walking way behind the line of action of the heroes. Yep, those are background characters.

Their only purpose is to give life to the atmosphere, otherwise, it would look like a post-apocalyptic world.

And remember, when people say, "You're the main character of your own story!", they're most likely not telling the truth, because oh boy you aren't one for sure.

But you didn't matter, as long as you would live your life in peace. That was the thing that mattered the most to you, your precious peace and quiet.

~~~

Date: somewhen in March 1983... I think?

~~~

Life was swarming inside your high school's hallways, with people flowing between the lines of lockers, never following a straight line in their passage. Mostly because there was almost every day a fight in the middle of the way.

It was the time between the third and fourth period, so students were running or walking in and out of classrooms, while others were talking near their lockers, putting back in books and taking others out.

Just like you and your classmate, Connie.

You weren't really friends, but you weren't strangers either. The first time you spoke to each other was because of a pair project that you've done a year ago.

Before that, no one knew you were in the class either. For two years you never spoke to anyone, not that you needed to, the second half of the third year Connie talked to you for the first time, and now in Senior year, you were that kind of friend that you talk to only in school. Nothing more.

As you were putting the books in the greenish locker, the girl arrived and opened the one on the right. She didn't talk at first, but that was normal. She needed to think about something to start the conversation with.

"Hey there." You said, looking inside the locker, but clearly talking to her. Sometimes you would help her to start a conversation, but only when you felt like talking.