Punching the Clock, But It's Already Broken

Mended Mistakes

Michael had promised himself he would make things right. And he would uphold that promise.

No prank. No mistakes. He would be nice to his brother for once in his miserable, pathetic, long life. He would try to make up for past/future mistakes.

He trudged downstairs, the scent of breakfast wafting through the air. Scrambled eggs and bacon.

He saw Evan and Elizabeth at the base of the stairs, heatedly debating in whispers.

Michael crouched down behind Evan, then picked him up in a hug, shouting. Evan squealed, at first with terror, then with delight as Michael spun him around, laughing. Elizabeth stepped back, her eyes sparkling. "I got you! I'm never letting you go!" Michael declared, hugging Evan close. The birthday boy grinned in mild disbelief. "What have you done to the real Michael?" He demanded lightheartedly, and Michael scoffed. "Please, I can be nice. Just don't go 'round telling everyone. I have a reputation." He winked, and his mother shouted from the kitchen. "Kids! Come eat before your breakfast gets cold!"

Michael set Evan down, ruffling his hair. He gave Elizabeth a swift kiss on the head, then disappeared into the doorway.

Evan and Elizabeth soon followed, sitting on either side of him and smiling. Michael's heart soared- this might be a good day yet.

They were at Fredbear's. But it was different today. When Michael found his friends backstage, when they asked him if he wanted to follow through, he denied. "Nah, it's too dangerous. I looked at my pop's old blueprints for Fredbear; he's got a reinforced jaw and springlocks. Springlocks are triggered by sudden motion and moisture. There's too many risks to the prank." Everyone, though they tried to hide it, seemed to sigh with relief.

Michael knew he did.

It was 2 hours before the party started, and Evan was crying. Not even that- he was fucking bawling. Michael carefully approached him where he sat huddled on the cold checkered tile.

"Evan? Evan, can you hear me?" He asked gently, and Evan slowly nodded, still sobbing. Michael slowly wrapped his arms around his little brother, kissing his hair. "You're scared of him, aren't you?" Another slow nod, and Michael sighed. "I'm scared of an animatronic, too," he confessed, and Evan looked up at him, eyes wide and tearful. "Really...?" He asked, and Michael nodded.

"Foxy. I- You probably don't remember, you were young, but when I was 11, I- got bit by Foxy. I don't even remember all the details- all I know is that I was in a coma for 5 days before I woke up. I flat lined a couple of times. Never for more than a minute, but it seemed to happen more frequently between midnight and 6 AM. Luckily, I got medicine and therapy to help. But every time I see Foxy, I want to throw up. I hate him. He used to be my favourite."

Why was he telling Evan that? He frankly had no idea. It felt right, he supposed.

Evan stared at him, silent. "... Do you have nightmares too...?" He whispered, and Michael's blood ran cold. Evan had nightmares? Were they the same as his own? Were they designed to tear flesh from bone? Were they sharp-toothed and terrifying? Did they reek of corpses and blood? Did Evan's nightmares scream like a cursed demon from hell when it started to dig into his soft flesh? Did they wail like dogs being killed like his own?

All Michael could manage was a nod in response to Evan's question. The wordless answer seemed to soothe him more than a normal, vocal answer would have, and Michael gently ran a hand over Evan's head, as though checking for the indents of teeth and the sticky feeling of blood matting thick hair. He gently pressed a kiss to undamaged bone, and smiled softly. "It'll be okay," he promised. "I swear it. I'll keep you safe. Fredbear won't lay one furry finger on you as long as I'm here." Evan started to smile, and Michael followed suit. "You promise?" He asked, and Michael grinned lopsidedly, nodding. "Promise. Now, c'mon. I think they're getting ready for cake."