Work Text:
Michael lies his head on a table in the main performance area, trying to repress a meltdown. His ex boyfriend Jeremy reassures him, tells him his hair looks extremely handsome, tells him it's going to be okay. He rustles the patchy hair. Susie hands him his favorite mask.
Under the fox mask, as Foxy, he feels better. An element of separation between him and the rest of the world.
"How am I going to tell my dad?"
Sympathetic silence. Words dying on tongues, buried by the weight of knowing there's only one answer. 'Tonight, alone, before going home'.
Gabriel tries to break the tension. "In French?"
"What?" Michael asks, utterly dumbfounded.
"You asked how you were going to tell Henry. I don't think he speaks French, so tell him in French" Gabriel defends.
Jeremy, Susie, and Sam stare at him like he went mad. Susie is about to ask what the fuck is wrong with him when she's interrupted by laughter. Michael is laughing, a sobbing snotty thing fueled just as much by sorrow as mirth.
"I-- I think there's a bit of a pro- problem there!"
"Oh? And what would that be, Mr. Mike?"
Michael's fully smiling, in the way that it doesn't stop the tears but slows them. He looks up at his friend, straight into the Freddy mask, and acts like it's a punchline to the greatest joke. "I don't speak French either!"
That gets them to break. Gabriel joins in the laughter, and the rest of the little band of misfits comes with. Susie and Gabriel walk off to get some sodas and if they leave the closest three together to be serious, it's nothing to note.
"I'm so proud of you, Michael, my brother." Sam wraps his arms around his torso from behind. "That's not going to change. I love you, and you're my brother." He sits with it. Sammy will stay with him, be his brother through it all. But the unsaid half hangs over like a guillotine's blade. He'll be expected to change. Either Michael will go back to 'Charlotte' or Sammy won't be his brother anymore. None of them can see this conversation going well. The minutes to gather himself flow into hours of dread. Overcast clouds snuff out the sunset. The crowd of children and tweens has faded to a spattering. Elizabeth Afton and her big brother ran up to Michael to burn off some sugar high. The seven year old stuck out his hand at the older boy and introduced himself.
"Hi there! My name is--"
"Go away. I'm not in the mood for babysitting."
"Cool mask! Did you know my brother is terrified of the band? Guess he thinks they're real!"
"What!? No, I told you that in secret! I don't think they're real!" The boy starts to tear up in frustration.
"Uh huh. You said they were robots! They have to be cartoons! Real rabbits aren't that big!" The 5 year old tried to reason.
"Uh, Lizzie? They are robots. My dad calls them 'amimatrantics' and he's the one building and maintaining them."
Elizabeth stares at the foxy masked preteen. She thinks on what he said and comes to the conclusion he's lying. "Nuh uh! Robots aren't real!" Well, that just won't do. How could Michael stand a small girl being wrong? He has to fix this immediately! She screams in delight as Michael picks her up and twirls her in the air. He carries her over to the show stage, the boy nipping at his heels. I should probably learn his name. I'm probably never going to see them again. I'm probably not going to be allowed here again. I'm going to make this a fun memory. He sticks her towards Fredbear, making sure to let her see the mechanical bits. The arm raises, waves; the mouth closes and opens again. It sounds too much up her, so close to the speakers and whirring machinery and arcade games. Lizzie sticks her hand out to touch Fredbear's teeth.
"Nope!" he exclaims while pulling her back. "Those robots have a ton of sharp or strong bits that can hurt adults very badly. Can you promise you won't go up to them by yourself?"
"I promise, Charlie!" Elizabeth swears. Michael almost drops her in shock. He tries to laugh it off, but ends up just putting her down.
"Charlie? Who's Charlie? My name's Michael" he tries to act confused. Elizabeth is confused.
"No? You're Charlie! Michael is a boy's name, and you're a girl!" Michael needs to get out of this conversation. He forgot that Lizzie is a lot smarter than she should be. Remembers names easily, remembers families easy. "Uncle Henry--" 'Uncle' Henry? He spends so much time with the Aftons he's an uncle to them? "--spends a lot of time at home!" I've seen him home 3 times in the last month. He spends all his time with them?
He pats the children on their heads to placate them as he walks away, ignoring the look of awe she has at the animatronics is equal to her brother's fear. He looks out the front door, the sunny day giving way to a downpour right before closing. Maybe if he focuses on time passing it will pass him by. If it passes him by, he won't have to do this.
But he does. The sword above his head was already raised, and if he doesn't do it himself his mother will. That would be a whole different problem. So Michael walks past the managers' office to parts and service. Henry looks up from an exposed endoskeleton to his daughter to properly recognize and acknowledge who came in.
"Hey Charlie! How's my precious baby girl doing?" His smile is genuine, Michael knows. Henry isn't the kind of person who hides his emotions well. It makes it easy for others to notice he has flights of anger at anything that upsets him. It also makes it easy to see when he's trying to hide them. So when Michael insists he's not his daughter, it chills him to see Henry go stone-faced.
"I'm your son. I-- I want to go by Michael. My name is Michael" He stutters out. The ice in Henry's eyes can't be deciphered as he turns back to tinkering. Fidgeting.
"So, you aren't my daughter?"
"No. I'm--" he gets out before Henry interrupts.
"Were we not good parents? Did we not bring you to church every Sunday?" Mr. Emily frames it as a question. The memory of the scent of rotten eggs in a 110° F heated church basement shows the threat buried in the words, and Michael's heart shatters. "Did you want to break your mother's heart? My heart?"
"No! No you were great parents--" he blurts, no answer being good enough.
"Then where did we fail?"
"You didn't."
"Charlotte Ruth Emily, this is not a funny joke. You're grounded from working on the security puppet and that helpy toy you love until you get over this phase. Take off that mask and throw it away." Rage leaks out into how he's handling the tools before him. Screws stripping, wires snapping. Somehow, in face of this, Michael finds his strength.
"Michael. My name is Michael. I am not your daughter. I am your son!"
If he thought Henry was stone-faced, by now it seems he's made of iron and steel, forged in ice instead of fire. "I'm sorry. It seems I've made a mistake, thought you were someone else. You reminded me of my late daughter. She just died, you see." The pieces of his heart are reduced to a fine powder at that. "Now, this area is for employees and our families only. We also don't serve t******s in this children's restaurant. Get out of my business."
Hollow. That's how Michael would describe this feeling until he passes into the Great Beyond, even when he learns what 'hollow' truly feels like. Regrets and emotions that will rot into resentment echo inside his chest. He stands wordless for an eternity. A few seconds. There is no difference. "Dad."
"Second chance" he enunciates, clear as air, while standing up. "Leave, or be thrown out."
"Dad" Michael's voice barely cracks out. It's enough. Too much. Next thing he knows is his mask is lying on the floor of parts and service, the puppet is lying shattered in front of him, and he's lying on rock bottom in the pouring rain. He's soaked through so deep, his throat so ragged he realizes he doesn't know long he's been outside screaming. Headlights illuminate him from behind; they blind him when checking who's coming to Fredbear's right before closing.
William Afton steps out of his car. Michael doesn't notice him swishing out a switchblade, but it wouldn't stop him from running for a hug anyway. He'll take anything right now. He chokes on his sobs, but William understands enough. He accepts that he's Michael. He understands Henry disowned him entirely. He quietly pockets the knife and tells him to wait in the car.
20 minutes later Michael is woken up by his new family piling into the car. His dad tells him not to worry about Henry anymore. His brother hands him his mask back, telling how brave he was for going back to the scary robot room for it. His sister falls asleep immediately, curled up on his wet dress. All is well in the Afton family.
Except, of course, it's never that simple.
