Mike remained seated in his office chair, fidgeting with his fingers. Scratching at his knuckles, picking at the cuticles of his fingernails, down to rubbing his clammy palms together. He simply sat there in the tiny office, barely any ventilation and the only sound that he could hear was the humming of the desk fan and the pleasant piano keys heard from the show stage. Drawing his knees up to his chest, Mike tucked his chin on top of them and stayed in a tight ball on his chair.

A couple hours ago he had walked in by himself a few minutes early than his normal clock in time. He accidentally ran into one of the news chefs at the restaurant, nearly knocking her to the floor. Instinctively he sputtered out apologies and grabbed her while pulling her back to her feet, the women too shaken to respond at first. After nervously brushing back his hair and patting her on the back too quickly, Mike asked her for her name (Okay, why?) and how long she's been working there. (Are you trying to scare her off?)

And that's exactly what he did. The woman held her hands in front of her defensively, at a loss for words before stumbling around the corner and out the door, leaving Mike standing there with his hands still outstretched for a handshake. That moment alone was whole middle and high school life in a nutshell, and it was cracked open again in the form of an incredibly attractive woman who ran away from his clumsy, awkward self.

Who was he in this world? This small speck out of a billion. A billion of other specks who were bigger and more useful than him. Look at him. A night security guard for a run down pizzeria that no one outside of this town knows about. What else was he doing with his life? Absolutely nothing.

He gazed at his phone which was sitting on a pile of forgotten paperwork. He couldn't even recall the last time someone other than his mom texted or called him for casual talk. Mike only kept close to one friend from college, but he had a responsible job and lived in a co-op with his girlfriend somewhere uptown. The group of friends he was desperately holding on to since high school had split a part. Or maybe they didn't split a part. Maybe they faked it all and only told Mike that they were drifting away from each other so they could kick him out of the group. Because they didn't like him.

Mike withdrew a shaky breath and buried his face.

-He can't look people in the eye.

-He avoids social gatherings at all costs.

-He can't even go to the grocery store without feeling as if everyone was staring at him.

-The only thing his family asks him about involves employment and girlfriends (He hates one and doesn't have the other).

-He doesn't have anybody to turn to, to talk with, to ask for advice or to hang out with.

-He spent New Years Eve with his feet propped up on his desk and eating Chinese takeout as he listened to the thousands of people in Times Square count down.

"Oh God," he groaned when a familiar burning came to his throat. He rolled his head back and looked at the dark ceiling, emotionless until he felt his eyes water and leak down the side of his head. All he wanted to say was 'I want to go home' but he wouldn't do anything but lay in bed and rethink everything he's thinking then.

He wanted his life to change and get better, but he didn't know how or where to begin. Mike was drowning; drowning in the ocean with water slapping at his face and stabbing him in his numb body and there are his parents on a dock nearby, looking down at him with scornful looks as they tell him to "just swim".

"Micheal?"

Mike jerked in his seat but remained in his embarrassing position. He only now realized the silence of the building with the absence of the piano keys. Very slowly he lifted his head and rested his feet back on the ground and saw the big bear himself standing in the doorway on the left. Paws behind his back and head slightly bowed, Freddy gave, what was intended to be, a skeptical look. "Are you feeling alright in here, Micheal?"

Mike held a hand to his chest and gave a curious held tilt. "Who, me? Of course, couldn't be better."

Freddy stood still.

"Who wouldn't be better, with this...this minimum wage job where I-I can't make a name for myself! Can't get enough experience to live in a fuckin' fancy ass apartment with a girlfriend because who would want me, right? Yes Freddy, I'm glad I'm in this situation; this hell which I am now living."

Cheeks flushed, Mike was now sitting up straight in his chair, hands anxiously gripping his slacks as he tried to glare at anything else but the animatronic in the doorway. He stiffened up with the latter ducked under the doorway and walked in the office before crossing his arms across his metal chest and leaning against the desk, facing the guard. Mike quietly glanced up at the bear, his body gone cold and shaking with anticipation.

"Micheal." The bear rose an eyebrow. "Wanna talk about it?"

Mike immediately lifted an arm to quickly wipe away his tearful eyes and nodded his head multiple times before Freddy placed a paw on his shoulder and gave the young man his full AI attention span.

i now have to beat the original story with more angst. too bad that will probably never happen AHA. i'm sorry, i've been in a funk since new years. i usually write to vent my feelings and what's going on in my life but this one was a little weird. oh well. if people enjoy my misery that's okay with me!