IMPORTANT A/N: If you see a copy of this story on Wattpad or DeviantArt, DO NOT THINK I STOLE IT OR IT HAS BEEN STOLEN FROM ME! I've posted the story on Wattpad and DeviantArt as well; nobody stole anything here. :)

They sat across the table from him, the table they had sat at 32 years ago. Everything had changed since then, but at the same time nothing had. They were back at his party, his party that ended in flashing blood lights and blaring sirens, his party before they had ruined it beyond repair. He should have been happy then, like he should be happy now; he was the birthday boy after all. But he sat there, tears flowing down his tortured form, just like he had all those years ago. Everything had changed, but nothing had changed.

He didn't flinch at the arrival of their newest guest: a child behind a puppet's mask. He didn't move, didn't speak, didn't look, didn't breathe. Everything had changed, but nothing had changed.

He looked at the little man at the end of the table, eyes filled with something different than before. Before it was laughter. Before it was embarrassment. Before it was joy and fun. Now it was guilt. Now it was regret. Now it was shame and hate. He had left his own sadness not too long ago, yes, but his hate remained; not just for the man locked in his eternal hell, but for himself as well. It had been funny at first, it had been out of good fun, or at least that's what he wanted to believe when it was done. But with a deafening *snap* all laughter ceased, and the only one left to blame was he. He, who mocked and scared and teased. He, doing the deed with his three friends by his side. Where were they at the little man's deathbed? Where were his friends? Where was he? Why wasn't he where he needed to be?

And now here he was, standing in front of the little man, at the same event where he'd last seen his head. He had moved on, they had moved on, everyone had moved on. Everyone except the little man, except the birthday boy himself, who simply continued to cry instead.

He's always been a crybaby, he thought to himself. But I'm one to talk, we've all cried decades now. Everything had changed, but nothing had changed.

Emotionless grey tears streaming down a grey face. That's what they all had, before they had cake. Now the only one left was his brother dear, the very first to have haunted here. How fitting was that, according to history? They'd all been happy at the party, everyone but he. Everything had changed, but nothing had changed.

But things could change. Fact could be made fiction. Or at least that's what he hoped to prove.

He slowly stepped towards the little man he would tease, who he would scare behind his bed and the TV. He seemed to notice him coming his way, or maybe he'd just like to think that he did so his tears could go away. Before either could realize what was happening, he pulled the little man close to his chest, holding him in a tight but gentle grip.

The action felt foreign to him, especially for him, as he held his little brother dear. But brothers do what brothers do, and brothers are still brothers even after all they went through.

Everything had changed, but nothing had changed.

The touch felt foreign to him, especially for him, as he buried his head in his grey chest. But brothers did what brothers did, and brothers are still brothers even after all they went through.

Everything had changed, but nothing had changed.

He looked up at who was holding him, but he didn't see his face. He saw Foxy the Pirate, locking him in an embrace. He looked behind him, to see the other guests, and he saw none other than Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, and the Marionette. But they weren't really them, that wasn't it; they were just wearing masks, hiding their true faces. Behind them though, he knew for a fact, that they were just children, just like himself. They might be older, a year or two ahead maybe, but that didn't change who they really were beneath. The same went for Foxy that was true for the others; behind the fox he was a child, his own older brother.

And then a whisper, a whisper so quiet it could be a breath he heard:

"Can you hear me?" The voice he knew as his older brother's said.

He made no indication that he'd heard him, continuing to sob into the speaker's chest.

He didn't expect him to continue, much less in a calming tone, but he continued as he never had before. "I don't know if you can hear me," His brother breathed, "….I'm sorry. You're broken."

The tears somehow came harder then, but none came from the fox since his had already been stopped.

"We are still your friends," Foxy whispered, "Do you still believe that?"

When the only answer he gave was more tears to his chest, he continued once more:

"I'm still here. I will put you back together."

He choked out a fresh sob, handling more tears than he ever had, replaying his brother's speech in his head. He recalled a time, 32 years ago, when he heard similar words…

The clock had beeped 6:00 AM, but the nightmare wasn't over. He'd learned it never was. The party was over. The week before had come and gone. But the nightmare continued. And it would keep continuing, and repeating, and repeating, and repeating…

The beeping slowed as it continued past the six it was supposed to do, slowed and grew softer and softer still, softer than the ringing in his ears he had gotten used to. He saw nothing, he could do nothing, and he felt weaker and weaker as every second passed.

Suddenly, a plush Fredbear appeared before him. Behind him were the 4 other characters at Fredbear's Family Diner, Foxy missing his head as usual.

He thought he heard silent crying by his side, and though he could just barely make them out under the ringing and the slow and soft beeps, he could hear some words in between the sobs…

"Can you hear me?" The sobbing voice asked. The voice was familiar, he knew it was, but for the life of him he couldn't recognize who had come… He gave no answer; he couldn't have even if he wanted to. Was it coming from Fredbear…?

"…I don't know if you can hear me," The voice continued with a less-than-confident sniffle, "But… if you can… I'm sorry. You're broken. And I broke you." Foxy faded into the darkness as the voice worked up his courage for a moment before struggling to continue, "We're still your friends. I'm still your friend." Chica joined Foxy in the black nothingness, "…Do you still believe that?"

The ringing grew louder in his ears as he listened, the already slow beeping reaching a crawl. Now all the ones left in front of him were Fredbear and Freddy Fazbear themselves.

"…I… I wasn't there before, but I'm here now… It's me…. I've been here for you by your side your entire week here… and I'm still here." Freddy too faded away into the black, and now all that was left was Fredbear, who he thought spoke the final words he ever heard, "I'll put you back together… I promise."

The voice faded away as he spoke his last words, the ringing becoming too loud to handle. It rang through his eardrums as Fredbear disappeared in front of him, the usual rivers that flooded his cheeks now reaching the floor, sobs that quickly became silent…

Moments later, there was nothing left. All he could hear was the faint sound of a single beep, stretched out and lasting until the end of time itself.

He couldn't believe what he was seeing in front of him. His body was limp, the monitor showed a single flat line… No. No! This wasn't happening. This… WASN'T… HAPPENING…!

"…Nnh," He couldn't even get out the simple word, "…L-…Little bro…?" He hadn't exactly expected a response, but now the lack of one was eating him up inside. His voice failed him as realization hit his head somehow harder than Fredbear had chomped his brother's off, his eyes forming giant saucers and his mouth hanging to the floor. "Nnh…! You're not… You… can't be… You're still here!" He fell to the ground where he had been sitting on his hospital bed, tears flooding his saucers of eyes for the one he always called the crybaby, "C'mon, please!" He grabbed his brother's hand, which to his trembling horror was limp and cold, "I've been here with you this whole time, I've supported you, I… I love you…" His voice broke on his last words, his head crashing onto his brother's deathbed, a heavy puddle flooding the sheets where it lay, "I'm… I'm still here… I'm ALWAYS here… Why'd you…" He found he could barely talk as he choked in between his vicious sobs, "Why'd you go…?! Why'd you leave me here?! I… NEVER WAN…WANTED THIS! You believe me… right?" He knew he'd get no answer, but when no answer came, he felt his entire world shatter, and his already sunken heart sank below the linoleum floor he knelt on. "Please… come back… come… come ba… ack…"

The voice he couldn't recognize then was as clear as day now. He looked back up to the pirate fox holding him close like he never had before, realizing that this wasn't the first time he had said those words.

"Look what the Marionette brought you," His brother gestured towards the child wearing the Puppet's mask, the bare space where his arm was feeling exposed, like he needed it to return. Despite this, he turned to the Marionette, keeping close to the chest he had been crying on.

On the previously bare table was a cake, a triple layered cake to be exact, one that was vanilla with strawberry frosting… his two favorite flavors. His teary eyes widened at the sight; he hadn't even been able to see his cake before, much less so taste it. This was all for him…?

Foxy turned back to him, returning his arm, and they found themselves in a much less awkward embrace than before. "Happy birthday, little bro." He gently whispered in his ear.

For once in his life, the tears stopped. Everything had changed.