𝓜𝔂 𝓑𝓻𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻'𝓼 𝓒𝓻𝓲𝓶𝓮 || 𝓕𝓝𝓐𝓕 𝓕𝓪𝓷𝓯𝓲𝓬

2 - Sleepless Night

Afton household – a few hours later...

Michael slid his key into the lock, squinting as he turned it. It was so late it had basically become morning—hell, maybe it actually was morning by now. Not that he could tell; he couldn't think straight, anyway. His head was pounding like crazy, and he was sure he looked like shit. He'd fallen asleep at the party, for fuck's sake. When he realized that, he bolted right out of there, leaving in a rush. Everyone else had already left.

And Jeremy? Didn't even bother to wake him up. That fucking...

Oh, right.

Jeremy's mom had wanted him home by 1 a.m., and Michael had just... stayed. Now he understood why underage drinking was bad. Just great.

Michael opened the door as quietly as he could, his hand shaking a little. He pushed it open slowly and scanned the hallway. Nothing. He let out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding and stepped inside. His dad's car wasn't back yet, but he still felt that uneasy pit in his stomach, knowing what would happen if Evan...

Oh. Right. Evan.

He kicked off his shoes and headed upstairs, pretty sure his little brother was passed out by now. But he stopped by the kitchen to grab some painkillers—his head was pounding like hell. He could barely remember what happened last night, only that it was fun enough for this kind of hangover. He was about to take the pill when he spotted a cup on the table, and his shoulders sagged.

"Bloody hell, Ev... you know Dad'll lose his shit if we don't clean our..."

He expected it to be water, or maybe milk, but not this. This smelled strong, like... coffee? Michael blinked. Was Dad back? Or was it...

"No fucking way. No way Evan could like this stuff. He's nine."

But the thought wouldn't leave. Evan looked wrecked every day, practically forcing himself to stay awake anytime he sat down, like he was about to pass out on the spot. Michael sighed and dumped the coffee in the sink. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to have a talk about this. He wasn't good at this big brother thing to begin with. But this was... unexpected.

But then, he heard a door creak upstairs. Michael's gut twisted. He walked toward the stairs, his voice tense.

"Evan?" he called, not expecting an answer.

And got nothing. A chill crawled up his spine as he climbed the stairs, his mind racing. What the hell had Evan gotten himself into this time? All he wanted was for nothing to catch William's eye—because if anything did, he'd be the one forced to cover Evan's tracks. Just let him be asleep, nothing weird... please... fucking hell, his brother had promised.

The hallway was pitch dark, and Michael moved forward slowly, like the time he'd crept up to scare Evan. But this time wasn't for laughs. Something in the air felt wrong, like he was being watched. Every step seemed louder, his nerves prickling, as if something was hiding in the dark, just waiting to grab him.

Michael whipped around. Nothing. He let out a breath, feeling ridiculous. God, he was so tired of all this. He just wanted to go to his room, shut the door, and pretend everything was fine.

"Fuck it... he's ten, he can... take care of himself, I trust him..." Michael mumbled.

But just as Michael was about to leave his little brother alone, he saw the door crack open a bit more and then...

"What the... Evan? Turn off the damn light!"

He couldn't even see Evan's face—just a blinding beam hitting his eyes. Then, just as fast, Evan pointed the light down at the floor.

"M... Mikey...?"

Evan's voice was small, shaky as hell. He looked terrified, his eyes wide. Great. The kid was really in for it now. Michael stormed toward him, and Evan started backing up, trembling and tearing up, which only pissed Michael off more. He walked into Evan's room, ready to smack some sense into him.

Michael wanted answers—right now. He was curious, sure, but he was also sick of dealing with Evan's problems. Maybe... he should just let it go? He sighed, but he was still fuming.

"Bed. Now." Michael's voice was firm, no nonsense.

Usually, Evan would bolt to his bed, hiding under the covers. But this time, he shook his head. Yeah, he was scared, but there was something else there too... like some weird confidence. Since when did Evan look like that?

"I swear to God, Evan..."

"I... can't, Michael..." Evan tried to sound firm, which only made Michael's blood boil.

"Oh yeah? Why are you even awake? Can't you fucking see it's 5AM?" Michael hissed, his voice low, like he was afraid someone might hear them.

Evan clutched his flashlight, eyes darting away, and Michael noticed the dark bags under his brother's eyes. He almost felt a twinge of pity but stayed tough. But instead of answering, Evan suddenly ran over to his bed and flashed the light there, just on his Freddy plush.

"Don't tell me you're looking for your other pl—"

"Shush!"

Michael's jaw dropped. Did Evan really just shush him? That was it. Whatever patience he'd had just vanished. He was done with this nonsense, and Evan clearly needed to snap out of it.

"Okay, that's fucking it."

He grabbed Evan and tossed him onto the bed. Evan squirmed, weaker than usual but still fighting a bit. Now he was panicking, which only made Michael angrier.

"Look at me, brat."

Evan's gaze darted around his room—door, closet, pillow—like he was scanning for something hiding in the shadows. He wasn't faking it; he looked freaked out. What was wrong with this kid?

"Ev, I don't care about your eye bags... just look at me , please," Michael said, his voice softer this time.

The nickname did the trick. Evan's tired blue eyes finally met his, and damn, he looked exhausted. Michael almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

"What's going on? Nightmare?" Michael's tone stayed gentle; he couldn't tease his brother now, not at 5AM.

But Evan's attention shifted to the clock. Almost 6AM. He took a deep breath, his shoulders finally relaxing.

"N... nothing. Nothing to worry about," he muttered, sounding a little more at ease.

Michael eyed him, unconvinced. "Did you sleep at all?"

Evan just yawned, and that was all Michael needed to see. It was obvious now—Evan was scared of something. Monsters? Probably. But they weren't real.

"Evan, you know it's just us in the house, right? Only us."

Evan's gaze had already drifted, his flashlight slipping from his hand, his head ready to hit the pillow. Michael wasn't having it. Staying up all night at his age wasn't something to shrug off.

"Hey. Answer me."

"I... don't know, Michael," Evan mumbled, yawning again. He was barely keeping his eyes open. Michael sighed, torn between letting him sleep or pushing him for answers.

"If Dad sees you're dead tired, he'll force you to sleep in my room. I thought you wanted to keep me out of trouble."

Evan frowned—just barely, but still a frown.

"It's not always about you, Michael..." he mumbled, then collapsed onto his bed, already drifting off, even though school was only a few hours away.