There was a certain chill to the air. The sort of bitter frost that could only come from Autumn regrets, and pre-Winter memories. It was something both freezing cold and searing hot.
It matched the man before him perfectly.
Red eyes, cool garnet and burning crimson both, scanned over innocent, inviting emeralds. The dusting of pink contrasting against his deathly pale and frosted cheeks, further whitened by the purple eyeshadow and pale blue eyeliner, and liquid mascara on his eyes.
Long blue hair, soft like silk, braided neatly down to his knees.
His hair, on the other hand, was tied into a low wolf tail, only reaching just below his shoulders.
His thin frame was noticeable even through the fabric of his pristine white suit. It was a terrifying contrast to his own lean and muscular figure, in his own polished black suit.
He had a prominent overbite that most likely hadn't ever seen an orthodontist- but definitely a dentist, or else they wouldn't have sparkled so- and to Bonnie, it made the shorter, thinner male look…not necessarily childish, but certainly cute.
He smiled at him, gently, cold hands brushing lightly against his pale cheeks.
Poor thing, he said, to be left alone out here, and in such a condition as you are, at that.
The blunet smiled now, those beautiful eyes of his taking on a warmer glow.
Oh no sir, he said in a high tenor voice, I wasn't alone- you were here. Are here.
And Bonnie wonders, then, just how long he'd been staring.
A small wind blows, bringing with it a few crisp leaves, frosted lightly. One catches in the kid's hair. Bonnie gingerly removes it.
Why don't you come inside with me for the night? He says, his voice warm, different from normal.
Purple-lidded eyes close as he nods.
That would be splendid, sir, he says, as long as I'm not imposing.
Bonnie nods again and takes his hand. It is small and dainty and soft. Feminine hands. He leads him away, out of the cold, and suddenly the frigid feeling of regret and old love is gone. Now, there is only a soothing warmth.
The house is relatively large- bigger than one story, and smaller than three. As he later found out, Bonnie's house- see above- wasn't even his. It was under the name of one Franklin Fazbear.
Franklin Fazbear….
That name brought back unpleasant memories.
Bonnie unlocked the door and held it open for him, gesturing for him to remove his shoes as he was already doing.
The blue-haired youth quickly and quietly slipped off his dark blue dress shoes and set them beside the door before stepping further inside so Bonnie could do the same.
This done, Bonnie invited him to sit with him on the couch.
Once they were seated, Bonnie asked him to explain why he was out freezing to death in such nice clothes.
He obligingly began his story, his voice smooth and especially easy to listen to.
"I trust you are aware of the brothel a few streets over, yes? The one that closed down a while back?" he asked, not explaining why until after Bonnie had nodded.
"I lived there, for lack of better phrasing. I worked there, too, though I had little love for the place itself. I have ever since Franklin bought me off the black market."
A strange and somber look flashed across his face for a moment before he continued speaking.
"I was his favorite. I could be whatever a client wanted- male or female- and I was naturally submissive to whatever sick and disgusting fetishes those clients had, too. "
He grimaced, remembering, and Bonnie decided not to touch on that topic more than what was necessary.
"Being his favorite came with a few perks- a room to myself, private baths, sometimes even books to read. There were also times where we'd go to expensive parties together, I as an escort rather than a street walker. Those were good times…" he trailed off, smiling softly, wistfully.
Bonnie coughed lightly into his gloved hand, and the man with the kind eyes visibly returned to reality.
"While I was in the brothel, I had a friend. Everyone called him "Mangle". Story goes he did something really bad to piss off a client. That client beat him real badly, into a coma, and when he woke up, he was a sadistic, psychotic loon who couldn't remember anything except his name and the faces of everyone else in the establishment."
He paused for breath, his tone somewhere between bitter and regretful.
"He's been in there longer than anyone else, so no one really knows what happened. At any rate, I was told to be cautious around him. And I tried- really I did," those last words took a defensive tone, and Bonnie instinctively raised his hands in a placating manner. The buck-toothed man gave a sheepish smile before continuing.
"We crossed paths often enough that eventually, I let my guard down, and we became friends. Or…maybe that isn't quite the right word. At that point, we were acquaintances. Except I didn't share the same sadistic tendencies he had."
He cleared his throat, quickly.
"There was a client who went under the name Springtrap. Similar to Mangle, he was a sadistic sort of man, but he knew not to leave any marks where they'd be visible. One day, he came in very drunk. Even though I was with someone else, he demanded to see me right away. As he was our wealthiest client, we didn't have much of a choice, and I had to leave my other client hanging. Springtrap was rougher than usual, and careless. The next day, Mangle saw the mark he'd left, and…something in him snapped. He disappeared the next day and came back at noon, covered in blood. That evening, it was announced Springtrap was found, murdered in cold blood."
His voice had lost its wanting tone, and now held a quality similar to that of someone telling a story around a campfire. Perhaps that wasn't too far from what he was actually doing.
"Franklin worried that Mangle would one day attack us. So he had all of us dress in our Sunday best and then sent us away. "
He bowed his head, his tale almost finished.
"I don't know what happened to the others. But I've been on the streets for a little over two months now. I…don't really have anywhere else." He smiled bitterly.
Something stirred in Bonnie's chest- something not felt for such a length of time, it was almost unrecognizable for what it was.
Pity, perhaps. That was close enough.
In any case, the words fell from his lips, smooth like velvet, before he could even process them.
"Why not stay here? With me?"
For a split second, he regretted the absurd proposal. Honestly, he didn't even know this effeminate man's name!
Said man looked at him, those green eyes shining with hope and happiness and light, as if he'd just been offered the world.
"Really? I won't be any trouble for you?"
The violet nodded semi-automatically, deciding then to continue digging as he'd started.
"No trouble at all. But first, may I have your name?"
The blunet faltered a moment, a look of embarrassment on his pale face.
"My, how foolish of me- to not have given you my name, and even as I told you my life's story!"
He cleared his throat, composing himself quickly.
"My name is Aoki. I have no surname, but if one is a necessity, it would be accurate enough to call me Aoki Fazbear. Such is the surname we were all given back…there."
Aoki…an Asian name, and one Bonnie recognized the meaning of.
Of course, the meaning varied depending on the Kanji, but the first syllable he recognized to mean "blue". There was a certain irony to that, and he would've laughed had it not been so obvious.
"A lovely name," he said, at length, then extended his gloved hand.
"A pleasure to meet you Aoki. I hope you enjoy your time with me."
Aoki smiled, a whirlwind of positivity inside him, and shook Bonnie's hand firmly.
"Likewise, I am sure this will be a pleasant experience. Thank you for having me, sir."
"Bonnie," he corrected automatically, "my name is Bonnie."