Mable: Creator, I'm not even going to try excusing how long this took or how oddly out of place the chapter is, I'm just going to say that I'm sorry on both accounts. XD I hope you Enjoy!
Can't Go Home Again
Chapter Sixty-Five
This was it. After a tedious drive, mostly tedious because he had forgotten some of the directions, here he was parked outside of the house. The driveway was just long enough to be packed with cars, but he doubted they were here for him. His mother had once been the socialite of the family, putting together holiday events and gatherings throughout the year. Perhaps she regained her status while getting her life together. That was both a nice and a terrifying thought all at once; he didn't really want weekly invitations.
He had to park partially on the road and could only assume that he would come back and find a ticket stuck on his car. At this point, he could care less. If all went well, his generous family would offer to pay for it. He didn't expect it to go anywhere near that well. Best case scenario would be him not feeling entirely alien in his old home. Mike stalled for a few more moments; just long enough to get himself fully worked up. Then he approached the front door, then stalled longer as he didn't know whether to knock or just walk in, and was only relieved of this awkward position when the door eventually opened.
Thankfully, it was Aunt Lisa; someone who he had seen recently and knew that she wouldn't be rough with opinions. Or, at least, she knew well enough that he would split if everything got too uncomfortable. Either way, she was nearly beaming when she saw him.
"Looks like I won a bet," she remarked almost playfully. She wasn't the playful type, but this was a special occasion. "I'm glad to see you, Mike."
"Same, Aunt Lisa," Mike agreed with a small smile. "Everyone already inside?"
"They are. You're at least an hour later than expected. I'm hoping you'll make up for it," Lisa teased playfully.
"I brought merchandise, so that's close enough," Mike smirked as he slipped his hands into his pockets. "Where are the kids, by the way? I brought them a couple of plush dolls." His young cousins had gotten older while Mike was gone. In this time, he had become a stranger to most of them, but that didn't mean that he didn't want to win their favor. Working at the pizzeria proved that the scorn of children could be remedied much quicker than the scorn of adults. Children could be bought off; adults would remember.
Part of Mike had a bad feeling that everyone inside would remember too much. Even if he wasn't in the wrong, even if he didn't want to be the victim, they would see him as the teenager that left home. He would have to prove that wrong as quickly as possible.
"They're out back. Just don't hide back there for too long; your mom is expecting to see you in the next couple of hours." Apparently, she too knew how willing Mike was to dodge everyone. He just wasn't ready to stride into the house and put on a bright face. If he was being honest, he didn't know if he could even do that. So, while Lisa stepped back inside, Mike went along with his plans to buy off the children.
Only one of his cousins recognized him as, out of the three, he was the only one old enough to. Thankfully, none of them seemed to know about anything that transpired before. It made sense; there was no logical reason that any parent would risk telling too much, or they would risk getting asked questions. The Schmidt family didn't do well with hard questions.
Then again, the Afton family didn't do much better.
It was hard not to think of Marionette while he was handing out merchandise as gifts. He did briefly wonder how he was holding up. He nearly called him, as he had agreed to do, but was interrupted just a few moments before he was finished with his cousins.
"What did I tell you about taking toys from strangers?" He recognized that voice. Mike couldn't help but smile more honestly as he turned back towards his uncle. Patrick was his father's brother and they had dropped out of touch after his father had passed. What Mike had heard, he had gone on a sort of 'finding himself' quest which had involved an excessive amount of trouble. Patrick wouldn't judge him; he knew what it was like to need to leave.
"There's only one stranger here and it's not me," Mike pointed out matter-of-factly as he turned back towards the older man. "How've you been?"
"Don't be so formal," the blonde man gave a slight smirk and put an arm around his nephew. Mike had forgotten how much he looked like his father, though he had a suspicion that Patrick was dying his hair lighter. "Where have you been hiding?"
"I made a break for Vegas, but I didn't make it and got stuck down south," Mike remarked with an amused glint. At least Patrick would understand his sense of humor. "Just buying off the kids while I still can."
"How about buying off Izzy? She's going to get offended if you keep dodging her," Patrick remarked as he started to steer the younger inside. Mike gave an inward groan at being manhandled into going inside. His mother was fine, but he knew his mother; she would be stuck in the kitchen and he would be stuck socializing with family. Patrick looked down at the fox plush, "I thought you were more of a wolf person."
"Nah, pirate fox all the way," Mike quipped. "Mom didn't mention that I co-owned a pizzeria?"
"She did, actually, but I didn't think of you as the type to bring work home." Patrick took the plush into his own hand and studied over it. He furrowed his brows, but said nothing more about the plush. Mike stepped through the back door and into the house, heading towards the kitchen.
The scent of baking chicken was overwhelming and the sheer temperature in the kitchen was harsh. Isabelle noticed him entering before he could even say a thing to announce his presence. Thankfully, she didn't start crying immediately. He gave a mix of a shrug and spreading his arms in a dramatic 'ta da' gesture, but she took it slightly wrong and rushed in to hug him.
"I almost thought you weren't coming!" Isabelle admitted as she held him tightly. "I tried calling you, but you didn't answer."
"It was a long drive and I just kept my phone off," Mike admitted. This was the truth, though now it dawned on him that Marionette wouldn't have been able to call him. As soon as they were apart, he pulled out his phone to turn it back on. "Is that lunch or dinner?"
"Lunch, but it's not ready just yet." Naturally. "Do you have your bag? I didn't change your room at all, so you have a place to put your things," she suggested. Perhaps she was under the impression that more nights could be whittled out of him. However, Mike didn't necessarily want to deal with that flood of memories yet.
"I'll get it out of the car later. First thing's first, where do you need me?" Mike offered his help. "Desperate times call for desperate measures," and if it was between working in the kitchen and spending quality time with relatives, he would prefer the work any day.
"No, no, please. It's your birthday, Mikey! Or tomorrow is, but still, you shouldn't have to work," Isabelle insisted with a warm smile. "Isaac and Grace are out in the living room with Lisa. Go say hi. Go on." Just as quickly as she welcomed him in for a hug, Isabelle had almost entirely kicked Mike out of the kitchen. It didn't help that he lost Patrick somewhere in the kitchen, with resulted in him alone approaching the living room. At least Lisa was still in the room, as his mother had predicted.
Unlike the children, who he barely recognized over the years, he recognized each of his family members accordingly. Sitting alongside Lisa on the couch was Uncle Bryce, her husband. A short word about Bryce was that he had been the black sheep before Mike had become one. Nobody respected Bryce- Mike was largely indifferent- and there were quiet whispers about how Lisa could do better. Lisa was constantly working to move further along the corporate ladder while Bryce spent most of his time unemployed, and seldom looked for a job.
On a personality basis, Bryce was largely quiet. He had little interest in communicating with or making a relationship with Mike, so Mike largely avoided Bryce in return. It was mostly apathy. Isaac was the brother to Isabelle and Lisa, making him, like Patrick, related to Mike directly. In short, he was the protective big brother, but like with Bryce, Mike wasn't exactly close with this uncle. After his mother had fallen to her vices, Isaac had almost seamlessly disappeared out of the picture. Though he had been present at the intervention.
Aunt Grace was Isaac's wife. She was a pleasant woman, though sometimes came off as patronizing or condescending. He truly could never tell whether this was an accident or intentional. At least she smiled when he entered the room.
"There you are! Lisa said that you came in twenty minutes ago. I was worried that you got away from us again!" Grace exclaimed as she stood and pulled Mike into a brief hug. Not nearly as tight as his mother's, thankfully, because they had never been especially close. He briefly returned the gesture with a pat on the back and then pulled away as quickly as possible. All this physical interaction couldn't be good for his health.
"It's nice to see you Aunt Grace," Mike greeted and decided to fully ignore the earlier comment. "How's it been?"
"Wonderful! We were actually just talking about you." Grace sat back down on the couch while Mike took the second armchair. Isaac was staring from the other one with this look of discontent; just as he remembered. Thankfully, Grace began to chatter on about some sort of conversation that had little importance. Mike mostly tuned it out after a few minutes and then kept his eyes angled towards the clock over the back of the loveseat. Lunch couldn't take that long… Then he only had nine or ten more hours to kill.
"-And considering everything, a job in fast food isn't to be ashamed of!"
"Whose job in fast food? What?" Mike furrowed his brow as he looked down from the clock. Grace was looking to him again. "Oh, of course, my job in fast food," he thought as he tried to not look as indifferent as he felt. He supposed that he should've felt insulted, but again, he couldn't tell if this was Grace being passively snide or completely oblivious to the situation. "It's not fast food, it's an animatronic pizzeria."
"What I mean is, you found a job and are taking care of yourself," Grace assured with a smile. Suddenly Mike's indifference declined straight into a form of offense. He considered responding, but then remembered that he had an excuse to leave the room.
"Yeah, it's great. I'll be right back. I need to make a call." With that, Mike stood and got out of the room as quickly as possible. Thankfully, Grace has started a conversation with Lisa about whether pizza was fast food, so they were distracted enough to let him go.
Once in the hallway and out of earshot of the others, he called home. He waited through a ring, then a second, then a third, and listened in confusion as nobody answered. Assuming that he simply couldn't reach the phone in time, maybe he had his hands in a bowl of dough or something, he called once again. Again, nobody answered the phone. By now Mike was at least moderately confused, though not yet ready to panic. Unfortunately, this did mean that he had to return to the living room.
He settled back into the other armchair. "Just checking in on everything. What were we talking about?"
"We're pretty certain that pizza is fast food only if it goes through a drive-through," Lisa remarked. Grace seemed to disagree, but Lisa was assured of her opinion. "And you don't have a drive-through."
"No. We're not really focused on the food that much as we are on birthday parties and the animatronics. That's what makes the money; kids don't really care about pizza when a talking fox will sing at you." Foxy mostly sung at, not to. "And cake's always good. In fact, we recently took on a chef, so we'll have more hands out on the floor. Between that and the merchandise, the business is way more successful than we expected. Especially in a smaller city." Then the smugness started to slowly show.
He couldn't help but let his pride leak out for their work. Most businesses failed in this amount of time, but they still were going strong, so it was worth celebrating. "We just had a show up north recently. Moving animatronics in and out of a van isn't exactly how anyone sane would spend their evening, but they paid well."
"Animatronics, huh?" Mike had noticed Patrick enter the room a moment before he spoke. There wasn't anywhere to sit, so the man just stayed standing off to the side. "How do those work?"
"Very lifelike, Aunt Lisa can back me up on this," Mike remarked as he gestured to his aunt who nodded in agreement. "They don't require any maintenance, they work well with the kids, and the kids love them."
"That's really great for you, Mike. That you're able to pull your life together," Grace assured with a smile.
"Don't brag too much or the other kids might want to take off," Isaac suddenly remarked out of the blue. It was the tone that was everything, because it could've been a joke, but that tone was much too harsh. That, along with how finite it was.
Mike blinked and stared as though he had been slapped in the face. Not from the words themselves, but from the suddenness of it. "…Is that a joke?" Mike inquired.
"I don't know, Mike. Is it a joke?" Isaac snapped back. This time it was obvious was emotion he was content on expressing and Mike had to withhold any immediate reaction.
"I don't know. That's why I asked you," the security guard tutted back. "Because I thought we were catching up and you're obviously ticked."
"You want to talk? Fine, we'll talk." Isaac leaned forward in his chair as Lisa tried to quiet him with silent daggers over the coffee table. Grace looked equally as worried and Mike could only wish that he had said nothing at all. "You split. You just up and left. No word, no calls, and years later you're just going to act like nothing happened? We're blood, Mike, blood! What were you thinking?!"
"I'm not bringing up what happened for Mom's benefit," he defended. "It's not like I thought I didn't have a future. I didn't have a future here, and nobody was going to help me. I think I turned out pretty well." Mike was almost shocked at how easily the words were rushing out. They were coming too quickly and with them came a sort of pleasure. Like rubbing a sore muscle; it hurt, but there was a relief in venting.
It seemed one sided though. Isaac looked flush and his mouth was clenched in a stiff line, as though he was seconds from clutching his chest and dropping to the floor of a heart attack. Before he could continue, Lisa hissed over the coffee table, "We had this conversation before. What's done is done. We're not living in the past." On both Mike and Isabelle's accounts possibly. If anything, this made Isaac look even angrier.
"I'll be damned if I'm going to sit here and hold my tongue about this! I don't care if he's an adult, he wasn't one when he ran off!" Isaac turned his glare on Mike once again. "Do you have any idea what we had to go through?! We put up fliers, we called the police, we looked for months, and nothing! You don't even have the guts to call." He bitterly spat the last part out and the security guard sharpened his glare.
"Honey, please, let's not," Grace coaxed as she took her husband's arm. "I know you're upset, but Isabelle's going to hear. We should be celebrating being together." Right on cue, Patrick turned and headed into the kitchen to check on the woman in question.
"Mom couldn't not hear. She's probably hiding in the kitchen so that she can avoid this," Mike pointed out matter-of-factly. "I get it, I shouldn't have left, but you know what? I did. I did and-." Instead of being cut off by one of the relatives, he was cut off by the familiar sound of the Toreador March. It was sudden enough to freeze Mike for a moment. He was stuck with exasperation on his face and his hand posed pointing in his uncle's direction.
Then he abruptly snapped back to realization. "I need to take this," Mike quipped as he turned, stood, and left the living room without another word, shaking his head once he was out of view. He could only thank everything for the excellent timing as he answered the cell phone in the hallway, continuing to walk towards the bedrooms and out of earshot. "Hello?"
"Hello,~" a voice chimed on the other side. Marionette, and he sounded to be in a good mood thankfully. "I missed a call. Was it you?"
"Well, hello, hello," Mike greeted back. He forced the playfulness; he wasn't going to have the dining room incident ruin this brief call. "I did, but when you didn't pick up, I assumed that you were hiding in my trunk."
"I could have, but no," Marionette corrected. "With tomorrow being the big day, I started celebrating early by throwing myself the most wonderful pity party. You wouldn't believe it, there was even cake." It seemed as though misery had company. "And you?"
"I think I'm going to slit my wrists," Mike declared through slightly clenched teeth. "So, it's going as good as I expected. Mom's fine though." The was a discontent noise on the other side of the line. It was a brief out of tune noise and had been a bit difficult to hear, but it was there, and Mike hated it. "Wish I was back home with you. I could think of at least twenty things we could be doing right now."
"Oh? Enlighten me," Marionette invited. He covered any of his disappointment quickly. "What would we be doing?"
"I don't know, probably a movie," Mike suggested as he leaned back against the doorframe that connected the hall to the empty living room. "I mean, if we're going to get technical, I'd walk in from the car, throw my stuff down on the table, pull you into my arms, and-." For a moment Mike cut off, because he knew he was walking a line here. He could either play around with the Puppet, or be direct and get stuck returning to the living room sooner. He didn't want to kill his good mood just yet.
Mike smirked in amusement and readjusted the phone. "Scratch that. Instead of taking you in my arms I'd take your face in my hands." The amusement only grew; maybe the striped animatronic wouldn't get what he was joking about, but he would. "Maybe trace my thumbs over your cheeks. Just along the border of red. Just a light brush on your porcelain. Just like when I paint you- soft movements. Got to take my time." Marionette was entirely silent. Mike wondered if he went a bit too far and quipped a brow, "Still there?"
"Yes." He sounded more flustered than Mike could've expected. "Keep going. I'm… Mildly curious."
"You sound a little more than mildly curious," Mike remarked. His smirk wavered briefly, but his interest was piqued. This was a new sort of reaction. "But then so am I. I want to see how you tick, so I keep going." He turned back to the hall. "I move my thumbs down and- Oh." There was his oldest cousin; a ten-year-old stout boy with a glint of sunburn cresting his nose and cheeks. Instead of outside, here he was listening in, holding a can of fruit juice. "If he heard any of that then I swear-."
"And then?" Marionette impatiently asked. "Keep going, Mike. I want to know."
"I can't. My cousin- my kid cousin is standing here." Of course, Marionette wouldn't argue with this, but Mike could hear a slightly exasperated static on the other side. As though the Puppet was more interested than Mike had figured. "I… Got to go."
"Call me back?" Marionette quietly inquired. The static quickly switched to the more somber tone that Mike recognized before he left.
"I promise," Mike assured and ended the call. He stared at his cousin, his cousin stared back, and he dared to ask. "…What are you doing?" The kid gave a slight shrug. "…Did you hear that?"
"Yeah," the kid admitted. "How'd you make Uncle Isaac so mad?" Immediately relief washed over Mike. The boy had only heard the fight and, apparently, didn't listen in on the phone call.
"I make more money than him," Mike replied out of reflex. He then started to lead him away. "Back outside with you. You don't want to be a part of that disaster." He followed him out the back door and decided to stick around on the back porch while the kids played. If he could watch kids for hours for money, then he could do it to dodge an awkward confrontation. At least the kids wanted to hear about the pizzeria. To them, a restaurant with talking robots in it was the most amazing thing in the world. A sharp contrast against the varied reactions inside the dining room. Unfortunately, it didn't last.
Lunch was extremely uncomfortable. The meal was good, but everything was so heavy and awkward in the room. Nobody wanted to deal with the previous fight, so barely anyone spoke. Except for Isabelle, who seemed to be pretending that the fight never happened, if she had noticed it. Mike stuck close to his mother as she genuinely seemed like the only one of the lot who believed in him. After lunch, Isaac and Grace gathered their children and headed home, leaving the house a little less tense.
With them out of the way, Bryce stepped into the conversation and it switched course to what everyone else had been up to, rather than what Mike had been doing. It went much better, especially since it reassured Mike's previous thoughts. Being that everyone was virtually the same as when he left. It almost reassured his decisions, almost as much as Marionette himself did. That being said, Mike did find the whole thing tiring, and had become weary of talking by time Lisa and her family left.
Unlike what he expected, Patrick decided to stay for dinner. This wasn't too much of a problem as Mike didn't exactly want to be stuck alone with his mother, knowing that they would run out of conversation topics even faster. He thought for a moment that perhaps having his uncle there would keep the conversation alive, and it did, but in a way that he hadn't expected.
"So, Mike, have you heard about Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria?"
It had been so sudden, so blunt, that Mike almost choked on his food. "No," he blurted out as he struggled to regain compositor. "I'm guessing it's another pizzeria like ours?"
"Somewhat. Freddy's had a dark history behind it that overshadowed what it was. I won't bring it up at the dinner table, but there were disappearances." Thankfully, Patrick hadn't done his research or he would've had plenty more to add to that. "I thought you would've heard of them, since they ran in Utah."
"Not anything I've remembered," Mike denied as he tried to focus on his dinner. "When did they close?"
"A couple of years back, I think. You don't just lose kids and not suffer a severe financial setback," Patrick pointed out playfully. This was going to be a funny conversation someday. For now, it felt much too ironic.
"Let's not bring that up at the dinner table. The morbid can wait for dessert," Isabelle insisted. The conversation on Freddy's briefly dropped, but Mike couldn't help but feel a little antsy. He couldn't tell if Patrick did his research and was fishing for answers or if his uncle had just gotten insanely lucky. Either way, it left him feeling reserved, and he decided that he needed to make a call.
"I'll be right back. I just remembered that I left my suitcase in the car," Mike excused and the other two believed him. Once outside, he called the house once more. It was answered on the first ring. "It's me. I need to run a scenario by you and you need to tell me what you think."
The animatronic was silent on the other end for a few moments. Then he dared to ask, "Would this be a scenario like earlier? Because I would be happy to help." This wasn't a time for flirting. He couldn't even tell for sure if he was flirting, considering how easily he could misconstrue Marionette's tones.
"I wish. My uncle was asking about Freddy's a couple of minutes ago and I can't tell if he knows something or if I'm overreacting." He leaned against the car and scanned the neighborhood. He had moved it closer to the house earlier, but he still felt the paranoia of being watched. "I didn't say anything, but he's smart enough to connect the dots if he finds the obituary."
"That's not going to happen," Marionette assured, growing serious. "What led to the conversation?"
"Nothing directly. Earlier we were talking about Foxy's, but that's it."
"Then that is it," the striped one assured. "Any animatronic pizzeria is going to be compared to Freddy's. It's been only a few years, Mike, most of those missing person cases are still open. Anyone could hear about Freddy's on the street alone." His voice grew gentler, "And if he somehow did figure it out, I doubt your uncle would suspect anything more than your innocence."
"Maybe… Yeah, we'll go with this." Mike rubbed his forehead tiredly. "I'm going back in. I'll call you again before bed." Though before he ended the call, he found himself back peddling. "You're still doing okay over there?"
"I miss you, if that's what you mean, but it's only a single night. I can stand a night apart so that you get this opportunity," Marionette explained. "I know how to stay distracted, Mike."
"That's what I like to hear." Not really, but it sounded nice saying it. "I'll call you back in a bit." When the call ended though, Mike didn't feel much better. Maybe about his uncle, but something else was bothering him. Unwilling to acknowledge what it was, Mike put his phone in his pocket, grabbed his suitcase, and headed back inside.
It was in the hallway outside the dining room when he heard his mother and uncle talking. Setting his suitcase on the floor, he lingered outside the door and listened in without shame.
"I just don't think it's a good time to bring it up. Maybe if all goes well tomorrow, but Mike's leaving around Noon, right?" Wrong. At this point, Mike was half willing to leave at six on the dot. "If we tell him now then he might feel… Cornered. I don't want him thinking that," Patrick explained in concern.
"I know, I just- He left so quickly that I think he already knows. Mike is smart; he picks up things faster than others," his mother pointed out. "And I think he noticed something going on."
Logic was biased by paranoia and, like a flashing sign, all his thoughts went towards Freddy's. This had to mean something about Freddy's, but he didn't know what. Without really thinking, he stepped into the kitchen. "Noticed what?" he asked as casually as he could. They bought easily that he had only caught the end of the conversation, yet both were more-so gawking that they had been heard. When they didn't continue, Mike did, "What is it? I can take it." He sat down at the table and leaned back in the chair.
Isabelle seemed disturbed, but after looking at Patrick for a moment she looked back to Mike. "There's something that we would like to talk to you about, but I don't… I don't want to startle you."
"Things don't startle me, Mom. Trust me," Mike assured as he watched her. "I can handle it."
"Okay then…" Isabelle hesitated another moment. "Mike, Patrick and I have been seeing each other."
It took a few seconds to really grasp what she said. He had been so prepared to hear something about Freddy's. He had gotten used to all his contacts being wrapped up with Henry and William and stuck at some sort of Pizzeria, or he would've probably realized that it was odd that his uncle had stayed for dinner. The words set in a bit longer before it finally clicked all the way.
Because it was his mother and his father's brother.
"Mikey? Honey, are you okay?" Isabelle asked when Mike stayed quiet a bit too long.
"Yeah, sure," Mike said without thinking. "I'm fine. It's cool." Maybe he felt a little sick, or at least extremely uncomfortable, but his mouth decided not to take any cues from his brain. "Kind of sudden, I mean. I didn't even know you two- okay." He pushed back the chair, "I think I need a- cake. Do we have cake?"
"There's ice cream in the freezer."
"That will do." By time he had the bowl out, the shock finally wore off. "Just in case today couldn't get even more screwed up. This is what I get for staying out of the loop…" He then reconsidered this. "Do I even want to be in the loop?"
"You're sure you're okay with this?" Patrick asked in concern. "I know it's weird and feels sudden, but we've been together for almost a year. We didn't want to hide it from you- If I knew how you'd react, I would've told you the second I saw you." He certainly did sound remorseful about it. Then again, it wasn't as though either of them knew who he was dating, so he couldn't exactly judge.
"I just need about ten minutes and I'll be golden," Mike assured. He wasn't certain if this was true or not, but it bought him some time. The conversation dropped, dinner- and dessert- wrapped up quickly, and Patrick dismissed himself to head home. Which was a relief, as Mike would've hated the awkwardness that would've ensued if he lived there. As though the day wasn't already weird enough on its own.
But to a further relief, this seemed to signal the end of the day. The long, mostly boring, occasionally frustrating, and overall tiresome day had finally run its course. Isabelle dismissed herself to shower and head to bed once it got about nine o'clock and he was left to confront his old room.
It had been mostly untouched since he had left all those years ago. Other than the floor being vacuumed and the air smelling of aerosol spray, everything was left in the place that he had left it. The bed linens were even the same, though may have also been cleaned as they lacked any dust. He dropped the suitcase onto the bed and opened it to get a change of clothes, but found his eyes locking onto a familiar metal symbol that was hiding off to the side. His badge had slid into the corner of the suitcase, but it was still there.
He took it in his hand. Here was evidence of his connection to Freddy's being held in his hand. This badge connected him to the franchise, connected his job history, made him a part of something that had stretched so much further than anyone here could've ever considered. The badge was supposed to symbolize that he had succeeded where others hadn't. He had lived, he had thrived, and he knew the truth.
And the truth was that it was all luck.
As much as Mike pushed his confidence about how he had strived after leaving home, stumbling on Freddy's had been a fluke. Becoming close to Fredrick was only a chance of luck as well, as Fredrick only wanted to be close to him to replace the sons that he may or may not have lost. Getting the house, meeting Marionette, and nearly every one of his accomplishments was connected to what started out as a lucky break.
Those nights at Freddy's, though, had not been luck. He had struggled to stay alive and he chose to keep going back. The pizzeria itself was a sort of proving ground and Mike had passed the test, but he could've not been hired. He could've not moved down south. He could've stayed here with his mother and tried to work things out. Then he would've ended up with a more stable life, but one that he was overall less content with. While he didn't worry about the road he hadn't taken, it did make him feel strange.
Today had reminded him that he was a normal human. While he was here, he was just Mike Schmidt; nephew, cousin, or son who worked at an arguably fast food restaurant. He couldn't tell him of the accomplishments that he was proud of. He couldn't tell them anymore details than he already had.
It was so different than being with Marionette. While Marionette and he had become involved through how the clicked together, how their personalities meshed in such a strange way, he would be lying if he said that the Puppet didn't entice him with what he was. Him being so human bridged the gap, but him being the Puppet had enticed Mike more than he wanted to admit. At the start, it had been so foreign and exciting to be in the vicinity of and to be the sole companion of something that shouldn't exist.
Personality or not, Marionette had his strings wrapped around Mike from the very beginning, and neither even knew it. Eventually things evened out as Mike learned more about Marionette. A genuine friendship formed, and by this time Mike had settled into a more comfortable respect along with it. This left the groundwork for their future relationship. In the beginning, something like Marionette taking an interest in him made him feel important. Now, someone like Marionette made him feel important.
…Or maybe he just missed Mari. Maybe he just missed his home and his life, even if he had been away for only the day. He wasn't certain if he wanted to wake up in the morning and still be here. He loved his mother, he truly did, but after all this time she had become a stranger. His family was familiar but distant, and Mike wasn't exactly wanting to struggle to mend these bridges. This wasn't his home any longer.
With an exhausted sigh, he dropped his badge into the suitcase and prepared to get his nightclothes out. Halfway through the gesture and he stopped, paused, and then drew back. "You know what? No." He closed the lid of the suitcase once more. Then he turned and took out of his room, heading down to his mother's bedroom door. He knocked briskly and waited.
There was a brief wave of memories that washed over him. Memories of standing outside this door and calling for a mother who wouldn't come. It almost startled him when the door opened and Isabelle appeared in her nightgown and robe. His nerve stayed firm, but his tone softened. "Mom, I'm sorry…"
"The truth is… I love you, Freddy."
"But what about Bea?! She was made for you! She's everything that you could ever want."
"In theory, maybe, but what we have runs deeper than what I had with Bea, and surviving the Mauve Monster has only proved that to me. I-."
As soon as the phone started to ring in the kitchen, the plush dolls were dropped and the animatronic teleported beside the phone. He answered eagerly, "Well, hello again!" He knew that it was going to be Mike.
"Someone's in a good mood," Mike pointed out with amusement. "Ready to get into a better one?"
Marionette's response was sort of mixed. He could the tingling sensation along his spine as he remembered exactly where their conversation went earlier. So peculiar, so strange, and he lightly traced over his mask. "But what could be better than talking with you?"
"How about you talking to me in person?" Mike suggested playfully. "I'm coming home."
"What? But… But you were supposed to stay the night. What happened?" Marionette could help but assume the worst if he was coming back early.
"Nothing, I just had my fill of family bonding. I don't think I could stand another minute sitting around chatting," Mike reassured him. "And if I'm going to sleep, I rather it be in my own bed."
"But your birthday. The whole point was-," he checked the clock. "Your birthday starts in twenty minutes and you're going to celebrate it driving," his flat tone gave away his feelings away better than his words ever could. "I don't understand, Mike."
"What's to understand? I'm ready to come home and Mom's fine with it." Mike was only more amused by how the conversation was going. "And I was going to be driving home on my birthday anyway, right? The only difference is that I'm doing it at night." He paused a moment. "…Thank you for pushing me to reconnect with my family. I needed to do it, I'm glad I did it, but I'm not ready to commit to two days. Let alone my birthday… I want to be home with you tonight." The soft warbling echoed through the phone. "I'll be home by twelve thirty. Earlier if I can skip stopping for gas."
"I'll be waiting for you," Marionette replied. He could only barely suppress the bubbling joy that rose in his chest or the chimes that wanted to follow. "I… I'm so glad that you decided to come home."
"I am too," Mike admitted. "I'll see you in a bit."
"I love you. I'll see you when you get home." With that, the call ended, and Marionette was left to wait. He felt like he was in knots, whether his strings or his body in general. Mike would be home in less than an hour…
Which meant he had limited time to prepare.
Mike noticed that the lights were off when he pulled up to the house. It was odd, but not too troubling. By now he was feeling the effects of such a long drive and was relieved at the thought of collapsing into his own bed. Leaving his suitcase in the car- he had other clothes and wasn't willing to lug it in- he approached the front door and slipped in his key. As he cracked the door open, he caught a glimpse of light from the dining room table. His eyes fell on a ring of small candles before registering that they were atop a chocolate cake.
Then, suddenly, Marionette was beside the table with him. It was as though he had slipped out of the darkness and, honestly, with his coloring Mike could've believed that he was there the whole time. "Happy birthday!" he chimed. "I know it's not much yet, but it was short notice."
"I gave you thirty minutes at Midnight; I think that counts as no notice," Mike pointed out as he eagerly went to pull Marionette in for an embrace. Marionette eagerly hugged onto him in delight and chimed happily. "It's perfect, trust me. This is all I want for my birthday."
"Then that's wonderful! Here," Marionette drew away and turned to the cake. He lifted it and brought it closer, as though presenting it at one of the pizzeria's many parties. "Make a wish and I'll cut you a slice."
"It's a little late for cake," Mike pointed out in amusement as he glanced at the clock. "But what the hell, I can sleep when I'm dead." He quickly blew out the candles. A few stayed alight, but Mike left them so that they wouldn't be fully taken into the dark. Oddly enough, Marionette wasn't making any attempt to turn the lights on, but Mike wasn't protesting; he wasn't looking forward to any bright lights until morning.
Marionette set the cake back aside and went to cut a slice. "You really didn't have to go through the trouble," Mike reminded. "Midnight or not, my birthday really doesn't start until morning. I'm just happy enough coming home." But it was really was nice. A small gesture, but a nice gesture nonetheless. To answer him, Marionette merely offered some cake on the cake knife, waiting expectantly.
It made more sense to why the cake was getting pushed after Mike tasted it. It looked like a sort of chocolate, but while the icing was chocolate the cake itself seemed to be some sort of spice cake. He didn't even remember them having spice cake, so most likely Marionette made it himself. It was perfect and he didn't care if he was biased.
"God, I missed your cake," Mike remarked as he reached forwards and cupped Marionette's cheek. The Puppet stopped what he was doing. "And I missed having you in arm's reach." He traced his thumb along his painted cheek.
Clink.
The cake knife now laid on the floor, having fallen out of Marionette's hand. The Puppet twitched, his smile having vanished for a slightly surprised one. Only now did Mike realize how similar this was to the phone call earlier and, considering how flustered the Puppet had been during the call. Maybe he had made the animatronic uncomfortable?
"Everything okay?" Mike drew back his hand and Marionette hand shot upwards to catch it. He stopped Mike mid-movement and held his wrist securely, but said nothing. He began to make a strange noise. It almost sounded like a warbling or chiming, but there was a crackling at the same time. In a way, the conflicting sounds seemed to turn into music, though made an aimless sound that seemed to lack proper coordination. Perhaps this sound that replaced his voice- as oddly as it was- was some form of his voice?
Then, silently, Marionette moved away from the table and into the darkness of the living room, coaxing Mike along with him by the hand. Something about this scenario felt uncanny; he had no idea what was going on, and yet his pulse started to quicken as he moved into the dark. One unintentional touch and here he was getting lured into the darkness where the candles' light couldn't reach. Only once he could see nothing and vaguely make out where he was did Marionette move in.
Cool porcelain, warm fabric; he didn't need to see. Luck had nothing to do with it.
Mable: …So on a more serious note, never leave candles unattended. XD I had to add that little disclaimer. I know this chapter is a bit quiet and I wish I could hint to what's coming, but I'm going to leave that for the next chapter, which will give a pretty good idea of what's coming… But it was important to remind Mike of his family- and how boring they all are- because, in reality, they are a part of who he is. Even if he would rather keep his distance.
The next chapter will be finished much faster than this one. I struggled with this one so much because of the topic at hand, but I know whether to go from here. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed!