The Night Shift || Jeremike

╰┈➤ Chapter 3

Jeremy's breath hitched in his throat, a bead of cold sweat trickling down the side of his face as the unmistakable sound of gears and servos whispering beneath faux fur grew louder. He could almost feel Bonnie's presence inching closer to the office, and with each imagined stomp of the animatronic bunny, Jeremy's heart thumped erratically against his rib cage.

"Hey, Jeremy, you okay?" Mike's voice cut through the mounting tension, his blue eyes flickering with concern from where he monitored the security feeds.

"Y-yeah," Jeremy managed, his freckled cheeks growing warm under Mike's gaze. "Just...thought I saw something on camera six."

He couldn't bring himself to meet Mike's eyes, instead focusing on the grain of the desk as he discreetly wiped his clammy palms on his pants. The fabric clung to his skin, a testament to the fear he was fighting so hard to keep at bay. His glasses slipped slightly down his nose, and he pushed them up mechanically, an attempt at normalcy.

His fingers twitched involuntarily toward the array of buttons before him – safety mechanisms, each one promising temporary sanctuary from the looming threat beyond their door. Yet, reaching out for them felt like an admission of defeat, a betrayal of the bravery he wished to project, not just for Mike, but for himself.

As he drew in a deep breath, he subtly placed his hand over his chest, fingertips pressing into the fabric of his shirt, trying to still the frantic beat of his heart. His green eyes darted back to the monitors, the glow casting eerie shadows across his features. In his mind, he replayed the countless hours he'd spent marveling at Bonnie during the day shows, how the animatronic had been a symbol of joy rather than dread.

"Camera feed's acting up again," Mike noted, pulling Jeremy back into the room, back into the now. "Static's getting worse by the minute."

"Bonnie's really on the move tonight, huh?" Mike's voice was low and steady, but it did little to ease the tension that thrummed through Jeremy like an electric current.

The rhythmic thud of metal feet against the linoleum outside the office sent a cadence of dread pulsing through the air. Jeremy's eyes darted toward the door, half-expecting to see the purple animatronic burst through at any moment. He tried to swallow, but his throat was parched, and the sound seemed to rattle inside his head—each step a drumbeat heralding danger.

"Mike," Jeremy began, his words a whisper of fabric over skin, "it sounds like... like he's right outside."

"Okay, take a breath, Jeremy." Mike's hand hovered over the switchboard, his eyes meeting Jeremy's with an intensity that both frightened and fortified him. "Why don't you check the cams? You've got sharper eyes than me anyway."

Nodding, Jeremy shifted his focus to the grainy feeds on the monitor, his hands trembling as they danced across the keyboard, flipping between views. The cameras flickered in and out, the static scratching at his already frayed nerves. "I—I can't see him," he admitted, his breath hitching.

"Keep looking," Mike encouraged. "He's probably just messing with us. They do that sometimes."

"Right," Jeremy murmured, though the reassurance felt hollow. They're just machines, he thought desperately, trying to quell the rising panic. Programmed characters, nothing more.

"Anything yet?" Mike's voice was a lifeline, pulling him back from the edge of hysteria.

"Trying... trying different angles." Jeremy forced his gaze to stay glued to the screens, even as every instinct screamed at him to flee. A cold sweat beaded on his forehead, each drop a testament to his mounting fear.

"Come on, Bonnie," Jeremy whispered under his breath. "Where are you?"

"Take it easy, Jeremy. You'll find him." Mike said, his gaze fixed on the young man's profile, etched with concentration and fear.