The boy in the down low

Pancakes

Evan's pov

It's been three days. All of which I rarely left my room. It didn't feel real, I almost died. By Mikey no less, he could've killed me. My hand numbly reached up for the bandage on my head, the action slowly becoming a habit. I almost died, I almost didn't come home. I know Dad promised Mike would never do something like that again. But the idea of coming downstairs was scary, the idea of seeing him was scarier. I didn't know what to do. Dad's been okay with me not coming down, but I'd have to eventually. I was only allowed off school for so long. I'd have to go back, and face Mike. The idea was even scarier than before.

I pulled Mr. Fredbear closer, holding him to my chest. Burying my head into the fur, it wasn't as soft as it used to be. But it was still Mr. Fredbear. Sitting on my bed, the covers wrapped around my legs. The covers warm and soft, stripped blue. I almost didn't come home three days ago. I couldn't forget that idea. It kept coming back to me. Leaving me anxious, scared Mikey was gonna pop out. Foxy mask and everything on. And try shoving me back into Fredbear's mouth.

How could Mikey do that? I wasn't that bad... right? No, no there's no way I'm that bad. I'm not Mikey bad, I wouldn't try to kill someone. The idea itself made me sick. How could Mikey even stand the idea? I sighed, falling back onto my bed. What did I do so bad? What do I do now? Would Mikey still be mad at me?

The ideas kept running through my head, playing alongside the memories. My hands still shook at the idea. After a while, my door opened with a quiet squeal. I shot up, head snapping towards the door. Elizabeth looked inside, worry echoing in her emerald orbs. "Ellie?" I relaxed, it was just Elizabeth, not Mikey.

Elizabeth came in, plopping onto the bed and straightening her skirt. "Daddy said breakfast is ready." She said quietly, different from her normal loud.

I nodded, picking at the stitching in the cover. "Is Mikey there?" I asked, nerves in my voice.

Elizabeth shook her head, scooting closer. "No, Mikey hasn't shown up since Daddy said he'd fix him." Elizabeth stated, not sounding upset with the continued absence at all. Hands bunching up her skirt as anger flared in her eyes.

I looked down, humming softly. It's been three days.. maybe Mikey wasn't hiding. Maybe he wasn't behind the sofa waiting to scare me. Like nothing happened at all. "O-okay." Elizabeth instantly perked up, eyes shining again. Grabbing onto my arm and dragging me out of bed. Mr. Fredbear almost being dropped at her enthusiasm.

"Daddy!" Elizabeth announced us as she pulled me downstairs. "Daddy, Evan's up!" Pulling us into the kitchen, the smell of pancakes and bacon filling the air. I relaxed slightly, my mouth watering. Dad rarely cooked breakfast. And he made the best pancakes, sometimes he'd even let us put whip cream on them! I looked side to side, no Foxy masks. Maybe he was actually gone?

Dad looked over his shoulder, the grillet on the stove, a metal bowl by it with a ladle inside. His normally stern face was gone. He actually seemed kinda happy. "Evan, breakfast is almost ready. Go ahead and sit down." He sounded happy too. Maybe he was in a good mood. The idea lifted a weight off my shoulders.

I walked over to the table, sitting down in my normal seat. Near Mum's old seat, the one Mikey used to get mad at me for. He used to sit by Mum all the time too. But Dad and Mum made him move by Elizabeth and Dad. Looking at the table, it was already set. Plate perfectly between a fork and knife, just how Dad likes it. There was only three plates, instead of the normal four. Huh, was Mikey grounded in his room or something?

But I didn't hear his or Dad's footsteps at all. Mike's door squeaks more than mine, something I think Dad purposely never fixed. Where was Mikey anyways? A pancake being placed on my plate interrupted my thoughts. I looked up to see Dad by my side. Placing down a small bowl of whipped cream in the middle of the table. A small smile coming, I liked whipped cream. A bowl with berries joining the whipped cream. Elizabeth would sort through the cherries and give me the blueberries. Dad ruffled my hair, something he rarely did, before giving Elizabeth a pancake too. Followed by five pieces of bacon each, we normally got three. Maybe Dad felt bad about what happened too? He rarely did surprises anymore, this was nice. I grabbed a bit of whipped cream while Elizabeth sorted berries. Handing me the blueberries and I placed them on top. Maybe today was going to be a better day.