The apartment was silent when Bonnie arrived back at it, tossing his keys into the bowl near the door and kicking his shoes off. He was still feeling a little shaken up by the turn of events at the cafe, and he wasn't sure what to do. He only wondered if he could weigh his hopes on Fredbear getting him a job at the cafe, at least. He didn't want to hope and hope about it and then find out there wasn't a chance.
So, instead, Bonnie put it out of his mind, and padded through the apartment to the hall, pushing the door to his bedroom open. It was arguably one of the biggest rooms in the apartment (but only if it counted that there was no wall between the kitchen and the living room) which was what he preferred even if it meant his bathroom was the size of the area under a set of stairs. His bed was pushed into the corner, made up as he always did in the morning, and it was towards it he went first, face planting onto the duvet and, rather than moving towards a pillow, pulling one down instead. His guitar case rolled off of his shoulder and laid on the bed next to him.
He was tired after getting up early for the interview, and he was tempted to sleep. But he couldn't guarantee he'd be awake before five, so he didn't risk it. He didn't feel like reading, or watching a movie, or doing anything at all. One of his hands grasped the guitar case a little, and he decided that if he was going to impress, he was going to at least keep fresh on the guitar.
It was so much easier to play without an audience, as he unzipped the casing and pulled the guitar out by the fret board. It was tuned fine already, and it was a beautifully polished oak acoustic guitar, clean to a t and perfect in every way. It was the only thing Bonnie felt he could really care about in his entire apartment.
Taking the body of the guitar under his elbow, he dropped his hand over the bridge and strummed the strings a little gently, just familiarizing himself with playing it. It was then he felt unsure of what to play. What did Fredbear even like? All of the songs he'd sang had been requests. Most songs Bonnie knew, well, he'd written himself. It was going to be tough to try and play something both of them knew. Maybe he could ask Fredbear what he wanted and then just.. try to play it. He wished he'd asked ahead of time.
As he played quietly, he let his thoughts drift. He'd never seen Fredbear at any interviews, nor any other job applications. He'd never even heard of him before. Surely that implicated that Fredbear had been at the cafe a while. He didn't even know how old the other man was but surely he couldn't have been there for very long. If Bonnie knew the current craze, the youngest musical artists - those around seventeen - were being swept up quickly to be transformed into sensations. Fredbear, at a guess, must be around twenty two. Maybe? Bonnie had no idea - he wasn't good with assuming ages. He himself barely scraped twenty three. He, with perfect grades in all musical classes, with a degree under his belt, yet no real skill in the areas that jobs mainly wanted - math, literature. He only had eyes for musical careers and they were all gone now. All of the chances. Gone. Maybe.
Back to Fredbear. He seemed friendly enough, and he could sing really well, so why was he holed up in a cafe? It made no sense. Bonnie wanted to know more, but he was admittedly afraid to ask. He wanted to make a friend out of Fredbear, but he'd been isolated for so long it felt like a mountain of a task to even talk to someone else without stumbling over his words.
He caught sight of himself in the mirror at the thoughts, taking in his pale skin, his autumn leaf eyes that seemed too big for his face, his untidy golden blonde hair that looked worse for ware after the stressful day. Maybe he should tidy himself up before he went back. He didn't want to seem untidy to Fredbear. It would be distasteful to turn up looking like he'd been hectically running several marathons.
Realization fell upon Bonnie just then that he'd been in the cafe looking exactly like he did merely half an hour ago. He'd dragged himself into there looking like shit and Fredbear had still made conversation with him nonetheless. His expression relaxed with the sudden thought, and he could feel the embarrassment welling up as he felt severely untidy in comparison to the bear-shirted man. Still, it was comforting to know that his appearance hadn't made that much of an effect on the topic of conversation he'd had.
Though with that thought..
Bonnie put down the guitar gently, cracking his knuckles softly under his palms before he got to his feet and padded across the carpet to the mirror itself. Usually he kept most of his grooming equipment in the bathroom, but some mornings having a mirror in his own room was more effective. It meant he wasn't hopping from room to room just as much. He plucked the fine-toothed comb from the desk and began combing through the straggly strands of his messy hair, thinking all the while of what he could play.
By the time the clocks hands swung around closer to five'o'clock, Bonnie still hadn't decided on what to play, but had made somewhat of an effort to make himself look more presentable and less like a train wreck. He'd tidied himself up just enough to look okay, and he'd changed from the formal clothing he'd worn to the interview into a simple shirt, an unbuttoned shirt over the top and jeans. Somehow mimicking looking relatively cool was easy, though he didn't care to try it often.
He rested his guitar back into the case and dragged the teeth of the zip back across to secure it, pausing to adjust the strap so he could carry it across the body instead. It would be better that way, especially since carrying it on his shoulder always made it hurt and made him think he'd play even worse.
His fingers circled the bowl to pluck his keys out and he stepped out of the door, towing it closed behind him and locking it firmly. After testing the handle, he shoved them in his pocket and made his way to the stairs, taking two at a time. Bonnie knew he didn't have to hurry so much but the sooner he got there the less likely he'd be late and be left standing outside the cafe awkwardly. He couldn't miss his chance to (maybe) find a job at last.
Fortunately, most of the shoppers were gone, so the pavements were clear of people. Bonnie moved into a brisk walk, occasionally checking his watch and cursing in his head as the big hand on his watch swung closer and closer to twelve. He ducked down the alley and traced his steps in his mind, keeping his eyes peeled for the cafes sign above.
Fortunately, it wasn't hard to find with its gross amount of flowers outside, and Bonnie only gave himself a matter of seconds to catch his breath before going inside. As promised, it was relatively empty inside, with only the woman behind the counter ringing up and Fredbear dismantling his microphone on the stage, packing it back into his bag. He looked up as Bonnie approached, and chose not to comment on how much it looked like Bonnie had ran all the way.
"Glad you made it. Fortunately they didn't let me off early- or unfortunately, I guess," Fredbear laughed, "I think my lungs are aching from all the singing I had to do today."
Bonnie didn't know what to say, and so he just did his best to grin it off, rubbing his cheek with his palm. He didn't want Fredbear to see how nervous he was about the exchange. He was hoping pretty damn badly right now that he'd get a job out of this - even a little one. Something to save him from hiding out on the pavement playing guitar for payment.
Fredbear maintained a light smile playing on his face, straightening up and brushing his hair out of his eyes again. "Sorry that I took down the microphone. I didn't think I'd have time to pack it after. But-!" He cut off as he sharply made a move to fumble around in one of his pockets, surprising Bonnie. A split second later, the auburn produced a set of keys, waving them around and snaking the metal discs between his fingers. "I got the keys!"
"The cafe keys?" Bonnie guessed, tugging the strap of his guitar case over his head and resting it on one of the nearby tables. Something about seeing the set of jingling keys made Bonnie feel more relaxed, though he could only put a finger on why when Fredbear said it.
"I asked if I could borrow them and lock up tonight. I told them I wanted to try some new songs. I just have to chuck them over the bar when I'm done so I don't leave with them," Fredbear grinned, dropping the keys unceremoniously onto the table next to the guitar.
"No pressure," Bonnie said truthfully, leaning against the table on his palms as Fredbear resumed packing his microphone up.
"No pressure," Fredbear agreed, closing the teeth of the bag and tossing it onto the cushy booth chair. "You don't have to whip out your guitar right now and play if you want. Its probably nerve-wrecking to randomly play a tune for a complete stranger. I should know, I have to sing for plenty of strangers."
"Its really the fact that I don't know what to play," Bonnie admitted, glancing again at his guitar case as though the answer could leap from the strings inside. Fredbear followed his glance.
"Take your time," He commented, as Bonnie finally moved to retrieve the instrument, taking it again by the neck and holding it around the body nervously. He moved across to the stage and sat down on the edge of it, feeling a little more grounded. Fredbear, after a pause, sat down next to him, doing his best not to look too eager.
"I have to say that, well.." Bonnie took a breath, "I mainly compose my own songs on the guitar. Not lyrics, just.. just tunes. And I was wondering.."
"Go on," Fredbear encouraged, though his changing expression implied he already knew what Bonnie was going to say. He was a master at reading tones and expressions and Bonnie wasn't exactly the least expressive person he'd ever met.
"I'm- I'm really down without a job right now. I just need to find somewhere - anywhere, just to keep me secure in my apartment." Bonnie shook off his anxiety with a short laugh, "Here I am, telling my insecurities to a complete stranger. I'm probably the weirdest customer ever, aren't I? I just came in here hoping for work, after all."
"That's not weird, that's common sense," Fredbear replied, "You weren't thinking about it until you realized I did live singing here, did you? Or so I guess, because you weren't interested when you were tucked up at the table when I arrived."
"You noticed?" Bonnie looked taken aback.
"I noticed your guitar first," Fredbear said, gesturing to the body of it, "We don't get many- er, any - musicians in the cafe. If there were any we'd have tried to find them."
"Is that why you wanted to hear me perform?" Bonnie felt a little out of the loop regarding how they'd both subconsciously been thinking about the same thing the entire time.
"Well, no," Fredbear admitted, "I just wanted to hear what you could play. I'm even more interested now that you said you compose your own tunes. Did you ever consider getting into song writing, or composing itself?"
"Its part and parcel. I like composing and playing my own pieces. Its not as fun doing one without the other, but the playing felt like it was the easiest way to get a job," Bonnie said quietly, strumming the strings upwards.
There was a brief silence, as Bonnie thumbed the guitar strings and Fredbear sank back into thought. The only noise was distantly coming from the kitchen, where the clinking of plates and cutlery had moved to after the cafe had closed. The woman behind the counter had vanished off on her own accord, so the cafe was down to the two of them.
Fredbear studied the man sitting next to him with some thought, taking in the nerves that were being expressed and found he was unable to help but feel pity towards him. Singers were getting further than guitarists right now, and he himself had barely made it into a job. But Bonnie didn't seem to be having as much luck as he was, and Fredbear could tell simply by the way that Bonnie pursed his lips and drew the bottom one back to bite on it nervously, the twitching of his fingers as he plucked the strings, and the very fine shaking he'd seen when the man had entered the cafe minutes ago.
"Play me one of your tunes," Fredbear spoke after a few moments. Bonnie didn't answer, and remained quiet for a split second, before he brought his hand up to the neck of the guitar, moving his other hand over the strings, and began playing. It was a soft acoustic tune, the kind that make the listener long to close their eyes simply so they can take the entirety of the music in like drinking down a cold drink on a warm day. Fredbear sat back a little on the stage and closed his eyes, shutting off his mind so he was only listening and not being distracted by his own thoughts.
The melody barely reached the rest of the room, but with confidence Bonnies tune grew a little louder, and began echoing around the empty tables and chairs soothingly. He felt enveloped into his own music, as though the tune itself were a comforting hug that had wrapped its arms around him and held him close like a friend or a parent, reassuring him and making him feel like he wasn't failing. His own eyes closed and he lost himself to the strings of music, feeling for the first time that day genuinely soothed. Fredbears music had been entertaining and pleasant, but sometimes Bonnie preferred the gentle sound of an acoustic guitar.
When the tune came to an end, Bonnie did not open his eyes. He simply held his guitar to him, neck of it still in one palm and fingers still resting on the strings. He could hear Fredbear sitting upright beside him, and he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Bonnie, that was incredible," he heard Fredbear say, "I've never heard anything like it. Most things nowadays are either too blaring or too tuneless. That was perfect, and I can't say how honored I am to have heard it."
Bonnie still didn't speak, though a faint tremble met his shoulders in relief. At least Fredbear liked it. He moved to unstring the guitar from over his body and settle it resting against the stage, propped up.
"I'm going to talk to the manager," Fredbear continued, "We can work something out. Maybe I can write some lyrics to your tunes - that is, if it's okay. If not we can play something already made if you want."
Fredbear had barely finished speaking when he was caught out by a surprise hug from the other, who remained shaking unsteadily with relief. His widened eyes settled and his eyebrows relaxed as he smiled warmly, giving Bonnie a gentle pat on the back in comfort.
"Thank you," Bonnie whispered.