The Party -FNaF

One Day Until the Party

It was midday.

Michael was finally having a good time at the Diner. The party may be just around the corner, but at least today could be his.

"Does he hate the cartoon?" Thomas asked, amused.

"That one I don't actually know," Michael told him. "I don't think so. It's the robot that scares him. Not the mascot."

"Obviously," Jackson responded. "Otherwise he wouldn't pour himself out to that Fredbear plushie. Does he go anywhere without it?"

"Course not," Michael muttered, smirking. "It's his only friend."

The comment made Michael's friends laugh.

"Could you imagine the kid being locked up with those things?" Alexander remarked. "I doubt he'd last ten minutes."

"I doubt he'd last five," Jackson replied.

"Please," Michael simpered. "He'd hardly last a minute. Especially if his dear Fredbear was gone."

"But you just said he doesn't go anywhere without it," Jackson pointed out, amused.

Michael shrugged. "None of it's real, is it?"

Jackson paused, then shrugged. "I guess not."

A silence settled comfortably over the group as they all looked over at the stage. Fredbear and Springbonnie were performing rather animatedly; employees were in the suits today, thankfully not William. The horde of voices from the consumers filled Michael's senses, and he almost didn't hear Alexander speak up.

"What if it was real?"

"What?"

"What if we did lock him up?" Alexander was grinning. "Just for a little?"

Thomas grinned. "You sure we can get Evan to move in the first place?"

"The little man is a quarter of my weight," Michael replied. "We can get him to move."

"Where are we gonna put him?" Jackson cut in. "We can't just have someone walk in at random and see us locking a kid up."

Michael paused for a moment, thinking. Then, he grinned. "I think you're all forgetting something important." Michael's friends turned to him. "My father owns this place. We can put him somewhere in the employees only area."

"What if your dad finds him?" Jackson asked, an eyebrow raised.

Michael shrugged. "We won't keep him in there long. I'm sure my father is busy preparing for the party, anyway."

Jackson studied Michael for a moment. "Sure. Okay." He grinned. "Where is this magical Evan torture room?"

"I've only seen it a few times, but I know the key is in my father's office."

"Woah, we're going into Mr. Afton's office?" Thomas asked, surprised.

"We're not," Michael told him. "But I am. I'm allowed; I'm his son."

"I'm honestly shocked you're allowed," Jackson muttered.

"He'll never know I was there," Michael simpered. "C'mon." Michael pushed himself through the crowd, searching the floor for a messy tuft of familiar brown hair.

And just as Michael thought, his brother was outside the bright red employee doors, cowering under a table.

"Why doesn't he just leave?" Thomas inquired, but Michael didn't answer.

"Evan," Michael said, crouching down and putting on a soft facade. His brother jumped, turning to him uneasily. "Are you crying again?"

Evan looked at Michael confusedly but decided to nod.