"Hello, Mr. Emily," a voice spoke from the front door, causing Michael's ears to perk. He lowered his book from his seat on the couch to see a young woman standing on the porch, the clock near it showing a 4:33 time. "Good afternoon, Laura. Come on in," Henry replied, pulling open the door for her to make entry.
The boy set his book down on the coffee table, standing to greet the new arrival who was making her way toward him through the living room. "Hey," he spoke as she came to stop in front of him.
"Happy twenty-first, Mike," the girl smiled, bright emerald eyes meeting his.
"Thanks," he replied. "Should we go up to my room?"
"Sure," Laura answered as the two began walking to the stairs. "Open doors, Mike!" Henry called to them as they began up the stairwell.
The boy groaned in embarrassment, drawing a hand over his face. "Yeah, yeah, I know!" he mumbled as both the man and his friend chuckled in amusement. "Yes, Mr. Emily!" Laura answered back down to the first floor.
"Thank you," Henry acknowledged as the two continued to Michael's bedroom.
"Sorry about that," the boy mumbled, leaving the door mostly ajar as the two made their way to the far side of the room. Laura moved to sit on his bed while Michael sat at his desk, hands straightening some of his notes. "It's okay, my dad's the same way," the girl replied, pulling her scarlet backpack off her shoulders.
"Yeah, that's true," Michael remarked, flicking on the desk lamp. His voice dropped to a quieter tone as he cast a glance back at the open door. "You got the letter, then?"
"Right here," Laura answered, matching his volume as she pulled a crisp paper from her pack, holding it out to the boy. He took it from her hands, holding it under the lamp. The document was textured, its print in various colors and tones with admission information for a college in St. George.
"Looks like the real deal to me," he spoke, impressed. "I'd believe it."
"Hope so, because it took forever to put together," Laura added, setting a large envelope on the desk. "You owe me big time for this one, Afton," she joked, crossing her arms with a confident grin.
Michael laughed, sliding the admission letter in its crisp envelope before putting it under a set of journals in one of the bureau's drawers. "Fine by me. I've got your ice cream-brownies covered for the next year," he smiled, stretching his arms over his head.
"Perfect," the girl replied with a satisfied grin. "So, is Henry okay with you staying at your old house? For real?"
The boy shrugged. "My dad had him as a trustee with the agreement being that I'd get the house at nineteen if something happened to him and mom. And I'm twenty-one now... so, even if Henry wasn't okay with it, he wouldn't get to tell me 'no'. But yeah, he's kind of hesitant about it," he answered, hand moving to fidget with one of the stray action figures on his desk.
"Hmm..." Laura spoke, cupping her face in her hands. "Think you can convince him to be okay with it?"
Michael shrugged again. "I mean, he's definitely less uptight when I mention it now, but he keeps saying he'd be willing to pay for an apartment nearer to the school. If I were actually leaving to go to school, you know... I might take it. But it'll be okay either way."
The girl nodded, eyes turning to the hallway outside the door. "How soon will you be leaving after you "mail" the letter?" She questioned.
"As soon as possible. I told Henry that if I got accepted before fall semester started, I'd go to find a job and earn some money in the meantime. So probably in a few days," he answered, voice dropping to a lower tone.
"Oh..." Laura murmured, slightly downfallen. "Better promise to call me on the regular, Mr. Bond," she added, pointing a lithe finger in his direction.
"Of course Laur'," he answered with a light smile. "Wouldn't dream of not doing it."
"Only because you know I'd blackmail you with that picture I took at the rollerblade rink when you had those bright pink skates on," the girl spoke with a wry smile, eyes narrowed in a teasing expression. Michael instantly felt his face redden, expression twisting into one of embarrassment.
"Hey, it was a disco night and I couldn't tell what color those were," he protested. "It was dark!"
"Mhmm," she giggled, smiling widely. "Keep saying that, mister."
The boy opened his mouth to make a retort when Henry's voice coming from the kitchen stopped him in his tracks. "Michael, Laura!" He called. "Come help me frost this cake!"
The two took a glance at one another before a sly grin came on the boy's face.
"Race you."
15 minutes later...
"Mike, you've got some sprinkles on your nose," Henry spoke, moving to dust the confectionaries from his face before the boy pulled away. "Do not," he protested, waving away the man's hand with a frosting-covered spatula.
"Yeah, you do, idiot," Laura retorted with a snort, fingers moving too quickly for him to block her before she brushed them off from his nose. They tumbled to the countertop with light taps as the two looked at him with told-you-so expressions on their faces.
"Oh," Michael replied simply, gaze moving to the colorful sprinkles in front of him as Laura's hand came back to his face with a napkin. His eyes instinctively scrunched at the sudden contact as the tissue rubbed at where the candy had been. "Just getting the frosting too, chief," she spoke before he could comment, withdrawing her hand. "Dorkface," she continued with a smirk as the boy twitched his nose, obviously itching from the touch.
"I'm not a dork," he protested.
"Uh huh, sure."
"I'm not-!"
Suddenly, the sound of the doorbell echoed loudly in the living room, cutting Michael off as Henry stood from his seat. "I've got it," he spoke, ending the previous banter as he left the kitchen. The boy craned his head around the girl sitting next to him to see Henry open the door to a broad-shouldered man standing on the porch.
"Come on in, Rob," Henry spoke contently, allowing the man to step inside. "Thanks old sport. Where's the man of the hour?" Robert said in a gruff voice, entering the living room with a few keep cases in his hand.
"Hey, Bobby," Michael answered with a exaggerated wave.
"He-y!" The man spoke with a warm smile and a series of deep chuckles as he approached the boy. Rob gave him a pat on the back in greeting (which was more forceful than he probably realized as it caused Michael to rock forward in his stool unsteadily) and set a small package wrapped with a golden ribbon on the counter.
"Happy birthday kiddo," the man continued. "How's being twenty-one?"
"No different from being twenty," Michael replied with a light shrug. Rob laughed at that before rounding the counter to sit next to where Henry had reclaimed his chair. "Ain't that the truth," he nodded with a cheery smile. "Any upcoming plans?"
"Going back to school," the boy answered easily, catching Laura shifting uncomfortably in her seat from the corner of his vision. "Michael's been thinking of Maxwell University in St. George," Henry added as he began to open a box of candles.
"Ah," Rob acknowledged with a slow nod. "Still pursuing that tech major?"
"Yep," Michael responded as another knock came at the door.
"Come in!" Henry called, cupping one hand around his mouth. The wooden barrier creaked open slowly as a blonde head peeked through the gap. "Hey," Dana greeted brightly, stepping fully into the house with a taller man close behind her.
"Hello, Dana... well, that's everyone! Come on over you two," Henry spoke, gesturing for the newcomers to take the remaining stools at the bar. "Happy birthday Mike," the woman smiled, stopping to give the boy a hug.
"Hello," he replied, returning the gesture. Releasing the embrace, she set a larger box near the other presents on the counter, catching Rob's line of vision. "Rob, I don't think you've met Jackson yet?" Dana questioned, nodding to the man behind her.
"That'd be a nope," he answered. "This your boyfriend, then?"
"Fiancé, actually," the man cut in, smiling proudly as Dana held up her ring finger to show a sparkling piece of jewelry.
"Hey, wait, you didn't tell me you two got engaged!" Michael exclaimed, whirling around in his seat. The woman chuckled as she and Jackson sat down at the bar. "We were going to tonight anyway, don't you worry," she winked. "And by the way, you're invited to the wedding this December. We'll send you a formal invitation when they're printed," she continued with a bright smile.
Michael felt his mouth turn upward in reaction to the news, happy for the two sitting next to him. Before he could muster any congratulatory words, heads turned to the candles being lit on the cake.
"One-two-three-four-five..." Henry muttered to himself, his pointer finger quickly counting all the wax sticks protruding from the icing. "Twenty-one. Alright-you ready, Mike?" He asked, as he carefully slid the dessert toward the boy. Michael nodded once, gaze focused downward before he heard the people around him start into song.
A cadence of voices moved in and out of the boy's ears, out of tune but in unison as they uttered lyrics in his honor. His eyes stayed on the candles' flame, focused intensely as the small flickers danced and swayed upon their wicks. The wax slowly crept down the colorful stalks as the sound of singing seemed to become muted around Michael. This was always one of the things birthdays held for him now. That fire would always be reminiscent of every celebration he was threaded into, every memory that condemned him to guilt.
A party popper went off in his vision. Fazbear's Family Diner, where he swore he could recall the glint of colorful lights gleaming from plump balloons.
The sound of cardboard horns tooted in his ears. Evan's sixth anniversary as Michael slid his Foxy mask over his face.
Confetti twinkled brightly, the plastic pieces catching the fire's light as they twirled down in his vision. Elizabeth's birthday as her chair stood vacant, her gifts left scattered over a patterned tablecloth.
Whoops and cheers echoed around him, with one voice calling, "Make a wish, Mike!" Michael thought he could identify it as Henry. He glanced upward to see the man smiling back at him, gesturing to the cake. The boy looked back down while taking a deep breath. In less than a second, smoke was swirling upward as the fire dissipated; a series of claps resounding around the kitchen's walls.
He watched as Henry began plucking the blown-out candles from the frosting, vaguely hearing the enthusiastic laughs and excited chatter around him.
...
Michael blinked as the sounds again dissolved numbly, but this time, his vision began to darken with it. He opened his mouth, trying to steady himself on the countertop. But there was nothing to hold onto. The boy shook his head, trying to see through the darkness clouding his vision but stopped when something seemed to materialize in front of him.
His eyes widened.
Michael was looking up into an image of his father. The depiction was younger than when he last saw him years ago, grey hairs not yet growing in with black ones and eyes not quite so tired. It felt like a memory almost in its nostalgia, but terrifying to witness nonetheless.
It opened its mouth.
"Happy birthday, kiddo."
It spoke with a lowness than seemed to vibrate in Michael's hearing, each word strung together with painful familiarity. His father's eyes peered at him thoughtfully, an slight, unnerving smile upon his face as he gazed at the boy.
"Why don't you come and find me, son. I'll say it to you in person."
Michael's eyes widened further as his jaw fell agape. He tried to back away, but he couldn't will his body to leave. The man in front of him wasn't moving either, but that didn't alleviate the boy's growing panic. He didn't know how to get away, how to escape...
But, suddenly, a voice called Michael's name in a muffled tone that seemed to shake the image in front of him. It came again, further breaking the barrier keeping him frozen, and the boy breathed and steadied himself. Gathering his courage, he inhaled deeply, feeling air flood his lungs and a pop echoing in his ears. The hallucination vanished, leaving Henry and a blurry kitchen in its place, intense concern in the man's expression.
"Michael?" He asked, hands clutching his shoulders as the boy realized how light-headed he felt.
"I'm here, Cap," Michael managed, taking another breath to try and ward off the dark edges in his vision. The hands squeezed.
"Well, you weren't just a minute ago," Henry countered lowly, concern still in his face. "You're lucky Robert steadied you. You might have fallen."
"Oh," Michael acknowledged, embarrassment twinging in his chest. "Uh-thanks, Rob."
The man behind Henry half-smiled, just as worried as the others around him and the boy didn't have a chance to try and re-direct the conversation before those hands moved to gently ease him from his stool. "Dana, why don't you start cutting the cake for us? Mike and I will be back in a moment," Henry spoke, putting an arm around his shoulders as he led him toward one of the hallway bathrooms. The woman gave them a thumbs-up as they left the kitchen.
The two walked into the washroom where Henry directed the boy to sit at a wall bench. Still rather flustered, Michael curled his fingers around the edge of his seat, feeling his nails dig into its wooden grooves as Henry worked at something near the counter.
"Here," the man said, turning back to the boy with a cup of water. Michael took the glass graciously, raising it to his mouth as he sipped its contents while Henry took a seat next to him. For a moment, neither one said anything until Henry leaned forward, arms resting on his knees as he peered at the boy.
"These episodes of yours are becoming more frequent," he stated softly with gentle concern. Michael didn't reply, hands moving to rest on his lap with the cup still clutched in them. Henry's eyebrows furrowed. "I'm a little worried about the possibility of you leaving soon with this... if you're that far from home and living alone, you might hurt yourself. I can't be there to check on you if you faint again when I'm hours away."
"It's no big deal..." the boy mumbled. Henry leaned closer, putting a gentle hand on his knee.
"Michael, this isn't normal for a kid your age. I really think we need to go see a doctor about these fainting spells; they seem to be getting worse. It's not just a blood sugar issue now, is it?"
"...I dunno." Michael replied quietly, eyes on the cup in his hands.
Henry sighed. "I know you don't want to go see anyone for it, but this could wind up causing you harm," the man spoke. "Are there any other symptoms you're having? Anything that is out of normality for you that we should know about?"
Michael's jaw tightened as the image of his father once again came to mind. His fingers squeezed around the glass. "No, sir," he answered, feeling guilt twisting uncomfortably inside him at the lie. Henry hesitated briefly, trying to gauge the boy's truthfulness, but nodded once as he apparently made his decision on the matter. "Alright," he spoke softly. "Well, I'm sure those guests of yours are waiting anxiously for you," he continued, getting to his feet.
Michael promptly stood with him, setting the half-full glass on the counter as they left the bathroom. Upon their re-entry into the kitchen, cheerful (silently concerned) faces greeted them and ushered them back to their seats.
The cake was easily enjoyed, laughter exchanged, and altogether merry attitudes shared as the boy progressed into opening his gifts. A hunting knife from Rob; which Michael was slightly intimidated by, not being a hunter. The man said he crafted it himself, which made it all the more impressive. Following that were some parts for an archaic radio Michael had been trying to fix, courtesy of Laura-which he was very grateful for, not being able to find the rare pieces himself.
And then was a music box that Dana had constructed to play the tune of one of the boy's most nostalgic lullabies-the notes of which played upon an odd assortment of knick knacks she'd brought together to create a unique, yet entrancing sound. Michael found it to be an already enjoyable gift; set aside carefully from the others.
And then, was Henry's. The boy looked down at the golden wrapping paper encapsulating a small box in his hands. He tugged gently at its ribbon, watching it loosen enough for him to pry the rest away.
"You are so meticulous, Mickey Mouse," Laura commented with a smile as Michael attempted to unwrap the paper without tearing it. "Not very satisfying to just ruin it and leave those bits of tape all over the box," the boy replied calmly, pulling away the last of the golden sheet. The girl just shrugged as he lifted the lid from its counterpart to reveal tissue paper encasing a small item.
"Henry, you've wrapped this so much I'm wondering if you even want me to get to this thing," Michael joked as he lifted it from the box. "Oh, I do kiddo," Henry answered with a light smile as the boy pulled away the last covering.
He paused as he looked at the item in his hand... a gleaming bronze watch with curiously carved designs and clock hands. Michael's mouth fell slightly open, feeling its weight in his hand curiously.
"About time you got one," Henry continued warmly, watching the boy examine the gift in interest, running his fingers over the crafted grooves and swollen glass. The man leaned closer, pointing out two small bolts on one side of the watch, one bigger bolt on the other. "These two are for changing the time," he spoke. "And this..." he continued, indicating to the larger one as he gently pressed it inward. A light click resounded as the inner rim of the watch suddenly began to glow dimly. As it did, it shone directly through the face of the clock (which was apparently transparent, Michael realized) to illuminate some kind of an image plased behind it.
The boy examined it further before he felt his eyes glass over momentarily. Dana peered over from where she sat on the arm of the couch, trying to catch a glimpse at what he was looking at. "What is it?" She asked.
"It's..." Michael trailed off, trying to dispel the lump in his throat. His eyes gazed intently at the picture illuminated behind the clock face. A family picture with him and Elizabeth and Evan that he'd forgotten. "Henry, where did you...?" He spoke, looking at the man.
Henry graced a gentle smile. "Bought the watch and tinkered around with it a little bit to get that effect. Though it might be something you like."
Michael chuckled once, mouth turning upward as intense gratitude filled his chest. He hadn't had many pictures of his family anymore; not any he hadn't brought from home when he ran away all those years ago. Yeah, this one meant a lot. "Thank you," he whispered softly, fingers gracing the glass surface. He didn't look need to look up to know it was Henry's hand giving him a gentle pat on the back.
Rob leaned over to look at the device, nodding his head with an impressed expression before moving to allow Laura to get a glimpse. "Wow," she spoke, eyebrows raising. "That's really neat!"
"Mind if I...?" Dana questioned, looking at Michael. "Y-Yeah, of course," the boy mustered quickly, carefully setting the item in her hand. The woman held the watch away from herself, chin turning up to better catch the image inside while Jackson peered at it over her shoulder.
"That's one of a kind, that's for sure," she spoke with a smile, gently handing it back to the boy. "Yeah..." Michael smiled, wrapping the watch over his wrist. "Thank you, Henry," he continued, meeting his gaze. The man's mouth turned upward warmly in response with a single nod. "Of course, Mike. Happy birthday."
The boy felt his shoulders relax slightly, a pleasurable glow suddenly filling his chest.
Yeah... it was his birthday. And maybe... maybe it was okay to celebrate it and not be burdened by those old memories. Just maybe. His smile grew as he felt Laura scoot closer next to him to pull him into a side-hug, Dana's hand ruffling his hair affectionately.
Happy Birthday to You
From good friends and true,
From old friends and new,
May good luck go with you,
And happiness too.
Happy Birthday, dear Michael.
...Happy Birthday to you.