VPG's Collection of Stories.

Because I Want To See If I'm Any Good, That's Why.

((Title says it all folks. Trying out a new writing style... I was going to write an entire story on this (part 2 on request, perhaps?) but couldn't think of any filler bits, only a middle and end, so I decided to turn one of those ideas into a oneshot.))

Vincent peered over at Scott, who was checking the doors, humming to himself.

Until now, they'd just been co-workers. No, more than that. Friends. Best friends. But Vincent had known from the very start with Scott that 'friends' isn't what he wanted. He wanted more. He'd kept quiet about it, apart from the occasional flirt or questioning Scott's love life, but Scott had passed it off as friendly banter and Vincent had decided it was best that way.

But now it was almost ten years since they had first met, way back in 1983, in Fredbear's Family Diner. Both of them were still in the company, even through all the tragedy. He wasn't sure why in hell Scott still worked there, but he knew why he did. Getting to work with Scott. Well, that and covering up his tracks with the murders. Vincent sighed. It had been ten years... and it was about time he said something.

"Scott..."

"Hm?" Scott looked over at Vincent. "What's up, Vin?"

Vincent puffed out his cheeks, "I have to tell you something."

Scott frowned slightly, "Um, sure, but, can we focus on surviving the night shift, first? Could you check the power level, for me?"

Vincent grabbed the tablet and read the power level. He leapt to his feet, re-reading the power signal on the left of the tablet as if it couldn't be true. He slammed open the right door, but Chica was still there and he was forced to shut it again.

9%

Scott smiled, but it was a sad smile. The sad smile of a man who knew he was going to die. "Don't worry about it, we'll be fine. It can't be that long til 6. So, um, let's just concentrate on getting through the night, okay? How's the power?"

"Um," Vincent said, his throat dry. He looked up at Scott, and saw in Scott's eyes the fear he had. He saw the doubt, and he knew that Scott had made Vincent look at the power so that he didn't have to face the truth if it was bad. He knew that he was pleading, praying for Vincent to smile his usual smile and tell him it would all be fine. 

Vincent smiled. "It's going to be fine. We've got heaps. Not that long until 6, either."

Scott sighed in relief, "Oh, thank goodness, you know, I was a little worried that maybe the power was getting low... That maybe-"

Vincent couldn't bear to listen to Scott any longer, sickened by the false sense of hope he'd given him, and looked at the tablet again.

7%.

Cursing silently, he quickly checked the cameras. Chica was gone and for a brief time the right passage was clear.

He took a deep breath.

"Scott."

Scott, who had still been rambling nervously on about the power, looked up. "Yeah...?"

"Turn around."

"What?"

"Just turn around," Vincent commanded.

Scott slowly turned around so that he was facing the right door. "Now what?"

"In a second," Vincent said, "I'm going to open the door. The passage is clear. I want you to run towards the exit, okay? And promise me you won't stop until you get outside. Okay?"

"Bu-"

Vincent heard a sound like the groaning of a dying person from just behind him and he knew what it was. Who it was. "Okay?!" Vincent asked again, more demanding this time. "Don't worry, I'm going to be right behind you."

"U-Uh... okay..." Scott said.

Vincent heard metal steps from coming towards him, felt an iron grip around his shoulder, and reached forward and opened the door.  

Scott ran outside, but like Vincent had expected he might, he turned back around to wait for him. "Come on, let's go!"

Vincent shook his head and looked down at the floor, feeling the warm blood stream down him, the breath of the animatronic on his neck. It was too late for him.

"Don't stop running until you reach the exit," he quietly, and pressed the door button. He looked up to see Scott's terrified expression one last time.  "I love you, Scott," he whispered, as the door slid closed. 

((yep pretty sure I sucked. I'll leave the awesome angst writing to LumaTheCreative. Oh well, I gave it a shot.

A ONE SHOT

AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAI'MNOTSORRY))