Ha.
One girl gives him attention, and suddenly, life was going just fantastic for Chris.
And the girl factor also makes going to the place where he threw a tantrum and kicked at his retriever, all of a sudden, "not a big deal."
So, Chris, the New Favorite was now interested in going to pizza place he threw a fit at? Well, of course, Michael now had to take him there. Either that or "you're last chance will be up, Michael James." But what was even the point now? Henry had managed to jump through the hoops his dad put up to get the creepy, spider puppet-thing up and running, so why did Michael have to do its job?
Speaking of creepy, the Puppet was somehow way freakier in real life then the sketch Henry had done. Granted, he had yet to see it in action, but it had a quality that he didn't expect from the machine - which were its eyes. In what seemed to be at completely random times, the spindly marionette would occasionally peek its head out of the giant, white, red-ribboned present box it resided in.
And those bright, glowing green eyes would gleam from the shade of the box, like a panther hiding from its prey, eyes locked on every little wrist. That one little trait made the teen hope it stayed in its box, so he wouldn't have to see the rest of it.
But, let it be known that Michael was well aware it was just a robot - so he was not afraid of the damn thing like Chris was suddenly afraid of Fredbear and Bonnie - but no way in Hell would he want it to sneak up on him if he ever decided to try and sneak out.
That was another thing he was pissed off about. Just like Henry said at their dinner, every child that entered the pizzeria was now required to wear a neon-colored bracelet - which included him for some reason.
Michael found the first day that arguing with the employee to give him a pass hardly got him anywhere, so the teen would allow it to be put on, then ripped it off as soon as no one was looking.
It went on like that for a couple of days, him mainly watching two little kids play games in the small arcade room and eat pizza with grease that bled through the paper plates.
And Father?
Oh, Father...
Well... to put it most simply, Michael wasn't able to understand what was going on in his father's head more so these past few weeks than in his entire life (which wasn't saying much).
It started off as little things. Like in the evenings, with him trying to stand up straight when doing something as simple as walking to his room, but his feet would end up dragging, or his body would sway to one side as if Earth's gravitation pull had somehow altered. The taller man would then almost end up falling head-first if he went too fast, his eyes looking rather out of focus when he did. Or rather than a coffee and toast in the morning, was a few chugs of a can of beer right before practically stumbling out the door. Hell, Michael couldn't get more than ten feet before smelling the burning scent of alcohol as if it was a natural, defensive trait to lure predators away.
But the drinking wasn't all.
One night, his old man came home with a bruise on his right cheek. Another one night a scratch. His hair somehow was turning grey, a bit a stubble was growing out into an unshaven beard. Some days it was actually hard to tell if he was losing or gaining weight. His face had sunken, bloodshot eyes sinking down into the back of his skull.
Sometimes though, Father would gain the focus to glare bullets at Michael, challenging his rebellious son to dare mention that anything wrong.
And he wasn't sure if Chris was now in a state of happy denial or was using Chalie as some sort of life preserver (probably both), but he never once seemed bothered by the behavior (if he was somehow even with them that late or early).
Michael was just so glad Chris now had someone to hold hands and skip across the rainbows with above his brother's typhoon.
But the absolute worst part about all of this? The last push of the teen's flimsy tower of happiness to make it all crumble down?
Still.
No.
Liz.
Professionals were getting close, his ass.
No fighting over the TV remote any longer. No more slamming on her door to turn her garbage pop music down. He now didn't have to try and beat her to the last cookie when coming home from school. Or rolling his eyes when she'd cried after getting a droplet of mud on he "pretty pink dress."
Buzz of his sister sizzled away quickly. Too quickly. It was much, much faster than even Michael'd been expecting from this small town. Almost in a horror movie type way with how... well with how everything about her being taken just seemed to vanish. The missing posters were either completely weathered away or were just taken down, and hadn't been replaced with any new information. Gossip of the popular, darling little Afton girl had dried out from citizens tongues in conversations. Parents were back to being fine with not keeping a close eye on their kids at the restaurant. After all, Circus Baby's wasn't even located in Hurricane, and the new "state-of-the-art" Security Puppet was up, so what did they have to worry about?
Sure the town was small, but there was new news every day... even so, everything about the past week or two felt off to Michael, and he now knew why.
It suddenly felt as though Liz's existence had been buried beneath the grains of denial.
Michael hated that he'd been right.
And in typical Michael James fashion - it made him - in the easiest way to describe it - angry.
He'd been completely right and wanted to hurdle stars at one another with his bare hands because he had been.
Anger for being given false hope that there was a lead. Angry that those missing posters had been taken down. Furious that this had happened in the first place because-
This is your fault.
The teen's slightly healed hands again quivered to blow off steam.
So then, one day, and perhaps it was from the urge to throw burning balls of gas, Michael too started to play skeeball (by pretty much chucking the ball into the goal), or would occasionally pounce from a random corner and scare the little-little kids that came near him- but not soon enough, a concerned looking Henry came when complaints were made, then took him by the shoulder, telling the teen-
"Listen, Michael, I can see why a kid your age wouldn't like it here. You've been watching Chris and even Charlie for a while, so why don't you go do something with your friends? With me and the Security Puppet, they'll be alright. We'll just keep this between us." he gave then teen a small smile and a wink at that last part.
Friends... yeah, friends could be an option to make him close to happy.
That earned Henry a bump up to his "People Michael James Afton Might Like Half the Time" list.
So then, taking a large pepperoni, Michael made his way through (now March's) clouded atmosphere to Jeremy's house, so he could surprise his friends since earlier at lunch the group had discussed hanging out there and watch a movie considering the Fitzgerald's had quite the variety of films.
Once Michael was at the door of the Fitzgerald's standard, red brick house, the teen pressed his thumb on the doorbell, hearing the chime of synthetic bells echoed through the door right after.
It was Jeremy himself who opened the door.
His blond eyebrows rose in surprise. "Michael! I thought you had to watch Chris some more ."
"I did. But Henry let me sneak out."
"Oh, really? Well, that was cool of him."
The shorter of the two sniffed impatiently. "So are ya gonna let me come in or wait for the pizza to get cold?"
Fitzgerald blinked in realization. "O-oh!" he stepped out of the way. "Y-yes! Please come in."
Michael did just that, rolling his eyes along the way.
"Um, you can set the pizza down on the kitchen counter." the teen's friend told him as he strolled into the dining room.
"Are Tommy and Marianne here?" Michael asked while setting the pizza box down.
"Oh... uh, no. You're the first one actually. In fact, you're early."
Ha. Wasn't that rare?
"What about your parents? They still at work?"
"Mmhm. Dad's pretty booked today at the shop and my mom's still working late at the hospital."
Michael nodded. From what he knew, Jeremy's dad ran the town's mechanic shop and his mom was a nurse at their little hospital. No siblings. That left him alone quite a bit in the house.
Michael was jealous.
"Well... I guess while we wait, is there anything you wanna do?"
"Mm... doesn't matter to me." As long as it would give him a bit of relief over the past few days.
"Ok... would you mind a video game or two?"
Michael shrugged. "Sure." Video games weren't exactly his thing, but the teen couldn't think of anything better to do with the time they had.
The corners of Jeremy's mouth twitch, making it look like he was trying to conceal a huge grin and remain calm. "Cool."
The two friends then made their way up to Jeremy's room, which was located in the one story's house loft (so Jeremy had to pull down a ladder.). Michael had been here a few times, so he was already aware that the Fitzgerald's son's room was pretty small; at least smaller than his. However, the Afton still liked his friend's room better: Jeremy got his own TV and a shelf right next to it full of video games of every kind. Just replace the games with tapes and Michael would be golden. The main console hooked up to the box-shaped picture machine was-
"Woah." Michael leaned down to get a closer look, recognizing the device from commercials. "You got a Coleco?"
Jeremy, who was scanning his shelves of games gave a smile. "Yep. Saved up tips I got from helping my dad out at the shop."
"Huh." Even though it wasn't something he'd spend his money on, Michael had to admit he was pretty impressed. And come on, who wouldn't be? Still though, the first thought raised a question...
"Why spend your money on video games?" the Afton asked, plopping down on the twin bed.
Fitzgerald paused for a moment, then turned around, looking a bit surprised. Why? Wasn't that something friends could ask one another?
"Well," he then started. "Some of it I am saving for college, but..." he paused again, lips tightening.
"But what?"
He shrugged, then scratched at the back of his neck, looking away as if embarrassed. "Ah, well... guess when I grow up... I think I wanna make video games."
Michael blinked. "Really?" He'd always thought the games were something the blond did just as a fun hobby, and not much more than that.
Michael frowned. Had he really not known that before? He'd been well aware that Marianne wanted to join some sort of fancy professional make-up business like her sister, and Tommy... well Tommy would draw a new card on his career choice just about every other day. But Jeremy... yeah he wasn't the loudest kid, but had Michael not know that about his friend?
He probably just didn't mention it, his brain reasoned.
As if reading his mind, Jeremy then continued, "Yeah... heh, I dunno... there's not a lot of people I've told since it's just an idea... we'll see, but... well I guess there's just something about them, you know?"
It came out before he could think.
"No."
Silence.
Finally, "Oh... uh, alright... I guess it is kinda dumb... I've just always liked them and wanted to make games of my own... or help develop 'em at least... that's about it." Jeremy then shifted his gaze towards the ground, eyes sullen.
Shit. That'd been the wrong thing to say... ugh, his stomach was starting to become knots. Damn Jeremy and his damn, sad puppy eyes... he'd come here to get away from the pathetic mopiness of Chris, and here Jeremy was, suddenly looking like he was about to sink to the floor in a puddle of sadness.
Michael let out a sigh. "I just meant that I never got to own any games before, so I don't see the appeal. It's like me and my soaps, which I know you don't get- if that's what you wanna do with your life, then don't let me stop you - and don't get all pathetic just 'cause I'm not into something you're into."
Silence again. Had that been "wrong" to say too?
Jeremy's gaze eventually went towards his friend as if he'd finally processed what he said; though, he staring at him as if the Afton had just grown a second head.
Michael scowled, "What? Can you not comprehend that?"
Jeremy's lips curved into a small smile, then he let out a chuckle. "Heh, no... you're right... sorry, guess I just didn't expect you to say that..."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Mhn... nothing really... it's a good kind of unexpected..." he then cleared his throat. "Anyway, I'm sorry for getting like that... it just... it kinda reminded me of my dad..."
Michael felt his stomach drop. "Oh."
He nodded. "Yeah... again, sorry... I love him - he's great... has bought me games, but..." Jeremy abruptly forced out a laugh, shaking his head, "sorry... saying it out loud, I sound really ungrateful..."
Michael sighed again, frustrated by all the pointless "sorry's" and how much of a murky stream his friend sounded like. If Jeremy letting out his mushy-ass feelings would get him out of this funk, then his friend would make him. "Even people like you apparently have issues to talk about Fitzgerald. You already started spewing them out at me, so you might as well finish. And don't take that personally. You know how I'm am." he added, not wanting the blond to feel more stupid, unnecessary guilt over how Michael spoke to just about everyone.
Jeremy bit his lips, seeming to think it over before finally going on. "Well... sometimes he's just one of those parents who wants me to follow in his footsteps - run the shop with him full-time... eventually buy a house around here... so he doesn't really get why I wanna do what I wanna do..."
Michael didn't really know what he'd been expecting. The "secret" seemed obvious and simple, yet the Afton remained silent. That explanation was hitting a little too close to home for him... and he was not a fan of how that knot of guilt was beginning to be tightened and hadn't gone away. Why, why why? Was it because he just now realizing that maybe he and Fitzgerald were more similar than he first thought? There'd been moments here and there when where Michael'd felt a bit envious of the guy for always seeming to have such a stable life: good grades, parents who loved one another, a quiet house... and no siblings to be expected to watch after or cook meals for.
So was he constantly under pressure to live his life the way his parents wanted him to? Scared that if he opened up others would tell him what he wanted was stupid? Was that why he seemed so hesitant over talking about something so simple?
And... if Jeremy opened up... would he want to know the stresses of his life too?
Woah...
What was he thinking?
Michael almost let out a gag at the previous thought, internally stomping on himself. No. He was way over-thinking things and jumping to conclusions too quickly. Michael wasn't too much of a talker, but Fitzgerald was already well-aware of what Michael's dad was like... no need to share. Besides, It was just one thing... yeah, he appreciated Jeremy opening up and all, but he hadn't come here to sit around and talk about feelings.
Eventually, Jeremy gave an awkward cough, seeming bothered by his friend's long silence. "So uh... what do you wanna play?"
Michael gave a casual shrug, glad that the conversation's subject changed. "Don't care. I hardly know any." And that was a truth he could take to his grave. Video games were something Father'd always considered a waste of time, so he'd never owned so-much-as Pong; which, probably accounted for why'd he didn't get a kick out of them like Jeremy apparently did. But hey, maybe if he did look at his enjoyment like he viewed his beloved masterpiece of television, then maybe Michael could see the appeal.
Jeremy hummed in deep thought as a response, again turning back to his shelf of games. Though in only a matter of seconds, he grabbed a cartridge on the shelf located just below his neck.
"How about Zaxxon?" he asked, showing Michael a cartridge that had the game's name in bold, blue letters. "It's a pretty simple shooter game: you fly around space, trying to hit everything that's not your teammate."
Eh, why not? "Sure. Sounds good."
Jeremy smiled. "Cool."
A minuscule feeling, so tiny he must've been imagining it - as if being able to detect a butterfly's first flap of its wings - swished in Michael's chest.
Well, Michael sucked at videogames.
And he knew this because Zaxxon wasn't the only one they played. After going over controls multiple times, then him dying several again and again in under a minute, Jeremy quickly flicked the game off and went to his shelf to find a new one. The same thing happened just ten minutes after. This went on for who-knows-how-long, yet Jeremy never once seemed annoyed - rather the other-way-around. He claimed it was to find a game that Michael was good at, but the way Jeremy got more giddy and specific with details, spelled out to the Afton that his friend was just enjoying describing them. Jeremy could just go on and on about how each one was programmed differently or the specific coding each level must have been able to undergo. Michael hardly understood anyone of it.
Guess he's a lot more passionate about them than just some kind of a hobby...
Though even if Michael couldn't recite more than two sentences his friend was spewing out about "testing through a simulator" or whatever the hell and "opcode" was... strangely... it didn't annoy Michael? Ok, sure, he definitely wasn't in love with the nerdy talk per-say, yet it wasn't grating on him nearly as much as any time Chris would cry, or even more similarly, when a teacher did nothing but lecture the whole class the entire period. Was it because Jeremy seemed so enthusiastic talking about this personal stuff with him? But why would that make someone happy?
Because their friend isn't mocking them for what they like, that irritating little voice whispered.
Fine, but Michael still wasn't into what his friend was talking about. Did he seem like he was paying attention? It was either listen to Jeremy's rambling or watch his avatar die again and again, which would only frustrate the teen more (and he didn't want to break his friend's controller).
Michael finally let out a small huff of resentment at himself. He was overthinking again. Overthinking something clearly so simple of his friend just wanting to play videogames and explaining how they worked.
But everything has to have a reason behind it one way or-
"Mike?"
"Hrm?" Michael was pulled out of his thoughts by the voice of Jeremy, who'd apparently stopped his rant.
"You ran out of lives. You've kinda just been staring."
Michael looked back at the fuzzy screen of the TV. And what do you know, the little 8-bit ladybugs that represented his lives had apparently all flown away.
"Whoops. Zoned out there for a bit."
"Sorry, did I ramble?"
"A little bit," he responded in an honest, but non-judgemental tone.
Jeremy let out a groan while flopping on the back on his bed, letting out a large sigh. "Ugh, I'm sorry..."
Michael rolled his eyes.
I didn't mean to go off on a tangent... sorry..."
He felt his eye twitch, fisting tightening as if they were leather gloves.
it must've been annoying... so sorry again. I need to stop doing that. I'll try to-"
"Fitzgerald."
"W-what?"
"Stop saying sorry."
"Oh. So-"
DING DONG
Thankful for the sweet sound of bells to keep him from jamming his own huge "sorry" into Fitzgerald's teeth, the Afton hastily climbed his way down the loft's ladder without another word.
Jeremy did follow after a surprised hesitation, coming up right behind him as Michael opened the door.
He felt himself grin when he saw that dark, beautiful face shaded from the sinking sun behind her.
And Tommy was there too.
Marianne, who was carrying a ranch and vegetable tray, raised her eyebrows.
"Michael? I thought you couldn't make it."
"Yeah," Tommy (who'd brought a tub of M&M's) chipped in. "You said you were watching that little spaz at your dad's restaurant for a while. And said he'd be pissed if he found out you left?"
Michael gave a casual shrug, leaning against the door frame. "Henry let me ditch the place. After all, the new fancy new Security Puppet's installed."
Tommy frowned. "The hell is a Security Puppet?"
Marianne put a pink-painted nail to her cheek, holding her tray with one hand, now wearing a "remembering back" expression. "I think I actually heard some stuff about that in a few classes... it's made to 'keep kids safe', right? But just about everyone mentioned that's it's supposedly really creepy."
The Afton nodded. "Heh, yeah, pretty much. Though it's way creepier in real life. The scariest part is its-"
"Hey!" Damn, freaking Telford shouted out while stepping right in front of Michael's mug. Tommy's eyebrows were slightly creased together, his eyes shifting back and forth from behind him, as if he was nervous something would creep up from behind.
Michael's face flashed into a scowl, already feeling a low growl of insult threatening its way up to his throat.
"Are we gonna come in or not? It's getting cold!"
Marianne beat him to it before he snapped at Telford for screaming in his face.
"It's Jeremy's house, dumb-ass. Ask him."
"I was!"
"Hey, hey, calm down." Jeremy finally yipped up, poking his head out from Michael's left. "Yes, you can come in. Let's go and-"
Tommy didn't need telling twice. Before Jeremy could get another word out or Michael could stop him, the muscley teen used his melony biceps to barge past stick-figure Jeremy, who let out an "eugh" of pain, causing him to catch himself on the wall in order not to fall flat on his back and crack his head open, as Tommy marched right to the kitchen counter.
Michael blinked, staring at a momentarily stunned Jeremy.
His brain then fumed.
His feet moved before he thought, his mind no longer feeling like his own, but he didn't care, because oh he was going to teach that bastard a lesson. He was going to make his nose drip Kool-aid, squeeze the fluids out of those biceps, then throw them into a blender, turn it into a fruit smoothie, then feed it to-
Someone grabbed his hand.
He turned.
Marianne.
"Let me-"
"No." she stated in her plain and simple, no-nonsense tone. "Jeremy's's fine Michael. Tommy's just a toddler who doesn't know any better. Don't get your dick in a twist when you're finally here to hang out."
Just like that - again, putting her little charm on him - the lave in the teen's brain crashed down to his cheeks like a flash-flood. Marianne smirked, knowing she'd again got to him- again. Damn it, how could she always do that to any guy?
That doesn't matter, Afton.
Right, Jeremy.
Michael quickly shifted his gaze to the wall where his friend had been shoved. And sure enough, Marianne was right. He was already up and well, now staring at Michael and Marianne with... well Michael couldn't decipher what that face meant.
Michael pulled his hand out of Marianne's, then just about opened his mouth to ask if he was alright until...
Of freaking course.
Tommy "Who's About To Get Kicked Off A Roof" Telford, who now had a mouth full of pepperoni pizza in front of an opened pizza box said-
"Ey Migue... now dahd you're achully talkin'... do ya know how ya wanna pank ya broder? We aven't done anyding ately..." he swallowed down the pizza. "And I've been really bored."
Michael was just about to tell him to shove it, but he felt a soft hand touch his arm.
"I think I'd like to know too," she said with that curious keen expression.
"Sure," Jeremy added with a shrug, though he was staring at the floor.
The tensity of Michael's muscles deflated. There was still that smoldering annoyance for Tommy sizzling through him, yet right now, he realized that above all - even his anger - Michael did just want to have a good time with his friends. The teen let out a tired grunt, letting his first idea from midnight brainstorming flood back to him.
"Yeah actually, I do. But it'll be at my house and will have to be pretty late..."
One word. Finally.
I bet all of you can guess why I went on hiatus; school started. And yes, we are in the school building rather than just online. So with school comes tests, waking up early, homework, early bedtime, etc. etc. I know I kinda sound like I'm complaining, but I am truly thrilled to be back. Going through quarantine in the spring made me realize how much I took school for granted.
Anyways, I thank you all for your patience with not just for waiting for chapters to come out, but the story as a whole. Sometimes I can't tell if it's too slow or rushed, lol.
And unfortunately, I can't say that the gap for the next chapter will be shorter or longer. I love school, but sometimes it can kinda kill my creative juices, so I really hope this chapter was worth the wait and not boring. Again, thank you all so much for the support you've shown. Stay safe, and see ya later.