The Night Shift || Jeremike

╰┈➤ Chapter 1

Jeremy Fitzgerald nervously adjusted his glasses, glancing around the comic book store with a shy smile on his face. Panels & Pages was his sanctuary – a place where he felt at home among the colorful pages and familiar heroes. It wasn't just any job for him; it was an escape from the outside world and its harsh judgments.

His green eyes scanned the shelves filled with comics, finding solace in the images of superheroes saving the day. His brown, fluffy hair framed his freckled face, which always seemed to be hiding behind a comic book or a piece of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria memorabilia. That was Jeremy's true passion – collecting anything and everything related to his favorite childhood establishment.

"Hey, Jeremy!" called one of his coworkers, a tall, muscular guy named Mark who had the air of someone who didn't struggle with conversations. "Did you finish stocking the new arrivals yet?"

"Uh, yeah," Jeremy stuttered, fumbling with a stack of comics in his arms. He could feel his cheeks growing hot under their scrutiny. "I-I'm almost done."

"Great," Mark said, offering a cursory nod before turning back to his own task, leaving Jeremy feeling like an outcast once again.

Jeremy sighed, knowing that his social awkwardness prevented him from connecting with his coworkers. He longed for the camaraderie that they shared at lunch breaks or after-work hangouts, but every time he tried to join in, he found himself stumbling over words, his anxiety overwhelming him.

He glanced up from the stack of comics in his hands, his gaze falling upon a small Bonnie plushie perched on the counter. It was one of his prized possessions – a constant reminder of the joy he found in Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. The plushie served as a symbol of comfort and familiarity amidst the chaos of his anxious thoughts.

Jeremy's hands trembled as he carefully rearranged the latest issues of superhero comics on the shelves, trying to focus on the task at hand and not the conversation happening just a few feet away from him. His co-workers, huddled together by the store's entrance, were discussing something that had instantly caught his attention – Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria.

"Did you guys hear? They're looking for a night guard," said Tom, one of Jeremy's colleagues who seemed to always be in-the-know about everything around town. "Apparently, the last guy quit after only a week."

"Really?" chimed in another voice, this one belonging to Sarah. "Why would anyone want to work there? It's just a creepy place for kids and their pizza isn't even good."

Jeremy's heart pounded in his chest as he tried to listen more closely, his fingers gripping tightly onto a comic book. He knew that eavesdropping wasn't polite, but the mere mention of Freddy Fazbear's had piqued his curiosity like nothing else could. The thought of actually working there, of being surrounded by the animatronics he had loved since childhood, was almost too much to bear.

"Maybe I should apply," mused Tom, laughing with the rest of the group. "After all, I'm used to staying up late and playing video games. How hard could it be?"

Jeremy couldn't take it any longer. Abandoning the half-filled shelf, he approached his boss, a middle-aged man named Mr. Peterson who was busily counting inventory behind the counter. "Excuse me, Mr. Peterson," he stammered, feeling his face grow hot under his boss's gaze. "C-could I take my lunch break now?"

"Sure, Jeremy," Mr. Peterson replied, raising an eyebrow at the boy's sudden request. "You've got thirty minutes."

"Thank you so much," Jeremy mumbled, his heart racing as he hurried out of the store and into the bright afternoon sunlight.

As he approached Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, the familiar sign with its grinning animatronic faces filled him with an almost overwhelming sense of excitement. He could hardly believe that he was about to walk into the place he had loved for so long – not just as a fan, but as a potential employee. The thought sent shivers down his spine, a mix of anticipation and anxiety coursing through him.