Masterpiece (Foxy x Mangle)

1.

Mangle enters the local pizzeria with a backpack slung over her shoulder. She is damp as she clutches the strap, the rain from the Friday afternoon still clinging to her. The whimsical chime of the doorbell rings throughout the dining area as she steps inside, momentarily drowning out the rumble of thunder. The ruckus of small children running around fills the space, their laughter and shouts a constant backdrop to the scene. No shows are currently happening; from the looks of it, they've just ended. Mangle pauses in her tracks, biting the inside of her cheek, taking a moment to absorb the setting. After all, this has been her life since she was sixteen.

Like many of the employees in this run-down pizzeria, they are either misfits or orphans who've been taken in. That's one of the things the pizzeria is known for. Mangle, in her case, is an orphan. Her parents had left her with her frail grandmother when she was little, choosing her twin sister, Lolbit, instead. Her grandmother had wanted her anyway, but as Mangle grew up, her grandmother grew older. Months after her sixteenth birthday, Mangle came home from school to find her grandmother had passed away. That day shattered her world.

Once the funeral came and went, she knew her parents wouldn't take her in, and she had no other family. A teacher at her school recommended Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Mangle thought it was a silly suggestion—after all, how could a children's pizzeria also be an orphanage? But, with no better options, she decided to check it out. The building was old and far from ideal, but there was something about the place that made her feel at home.

Now, as she looks at the familiar, wilting wallpaper and checkered floors, the feeling never fades. It reminds her of how grateful she is to be here. Some of her fellow residents aren't as appreciative, but they try.

This pizzeria doesn't just have a physical foundation; it's built on the stories of children who've gone on to succeed in life. Mangle is preparing to be one of them, having just completed the first semester of her fourth year of college. She began college early, during her senior year of high school, and now, at nearly twenty-two, she's almost done with her culinary degree.

As the children run past her, she makes her way to Pirate's Cove, which connects to Kid's Cove in a room at the back. Walking through the purple, star-patterned curtains, she's greeted by the familiar smell of rum.

"Day drinking again, I see?" Mangle says to her roommate, Foxy, who is slumped in his old chair, bottle in hand.

"Have to fit my pirate role somehow, don't I?" Foxy slurs in reply.

"Have you bathed today? Or anytime this month? You smell like ten cans of bounce that ass," Mangle says, covering her nose.

"No, haven't felt like it," Foxy grumbles.

"I think you'd feel better if you did. You also can't go out performing looking like a mess. It's not healthy for you or your reputation. Those kids admire you, which means your sorry ass needs to be a good role model for them," Mangle nags, setting her backpack down and walking over to him. She tries to pull him out of the chair, struggling because he weighs significantly more than she does. But she manages, and he stumbles, using her for support as she drags him to the bathroom. Mangle helps him sit on the edge of the old tub and turns the water on before leaving him to it.

"If I come back and you haven't showered, I'm taking away your rum and ice cream," Mangle warns from the other side of the door. Foxy huffs, but undresses and gets into the shower. No one else has ever been able to convince him to take better care of himself, but he lets Mangle boss him around because, secretly, he's afraid of her.

As Foxy bathes, Mangle retrieves her backpack and shuffles to Kid's Cove, where her small room sits tucked behind another set of purple, star-patterned curtains. She tosses her backpack to the side and flops down into her white, fluffy beanbag in the corner. A nap seems like a good idea after the long day she's had, finishing her final exam. The next thing to look forward to is graduation day.

She's been waiting for this moment since high school. She hasn't seen her parents or her twin sister since her high school graduation, and when they came, it felt like she was inviting a trio of strangers. Still, she feels obligated to invite them to this one. But what have they contributed to her education or her life since she was six years old? They never supported her—why should they get to see her succeed now? Even so, she feels it's the right thing to do. Mangle checks the time on her phone before getting up and writing down her family's information on a graduation invitation.

Once she's done, she heads back to Foxy's cove. She finds him in clean clothes, his hair still messy, but back in his chair.

"Wow, it doesn't smell like something died in here!" Mangle teases. Foxy grumbles, pouting.

"I wish I did..." he mutters. Mangle shakes her head and bops him on the head with a comb.

"At least comb your hair. You're due for a haircut, but that's your business," Mangle says.

"What if I like it gnarly, huh?" Foxy replies with a smirk.

"Well, your split ends are driving me nuts. At least use my fancy shampoo!" Mangle retorts.

"I don't have money for a haircut... I'm broke," Foxy complains.

"Because you're blowing it on booze, genius," Mangle says, "Look, you're not going to find happiness at the bottom of a bottle. It takes time to heal and be happy, but you need to get out and live a little. Go breathe some fresh air. Maybe learn to drive or go to an amusement park. You're twenty-four—it's time to start living."

"Stop being weirdly motivational!" Foxy snaps.

"I am on strike—I will not stop until you stop acting like a bum!" Mangle replies, catching something in the corner of her eye. She turns her head and notices a painting, filled with detail and meaning. A small grin forms on her face. "So, you have a hobby? That's a good start."

"A dying hobby..." Foxy huffs.

"How so? This doesn't look like disinterest to me," Mangle says, "It looks like something you want to be doing."

Foxy says nothing, knowing she's right. He's been painting and drawing for as long as he can remember. It's the one thing that's made him happy. He curses Mangle for being so encouraging, for always bringing light into his gloomy world. He curses her only because he knows that she's a true friend, though he refuses to admit it. He's always been the "lone wolf" type, until she came around and started nagging him to be kinder to himself. They both have that in common—they're good at fixing others but terrible at taking care of themselves. He wishes she'd focus on her own well-being, but she doesn't seem to have a selfish bone in her body.

"I want to paint... I just can't afford to," Foxy finally says.

"Then I'll help with supplies, but you need to start doing what you love. As I said, it's time to start living, not slowly rotting in here. At least turn on a light!" Mangle says, flipping on a lamp. Foxy squints against the sudden brightness.

"I am a man of the dark..." he groans.

"Or are you secretly a vampire?" Mangle quips.

"No... I just like the dark," Foxy mutters.

"No, you like brooding. Now get your shoes on, we're going shopping," Mangle demands.