Michael could scarcely believe he had actually agreed to do this. He had more than enough responsibility on his plate, yet here he was, driving home with Gregory asleep in the passenger seat. The boy, along with the animatronics, had been so overjoyed when he agreed to take him home. Truth be told, he began to regret the decision after saying it, but everyone seemed so happy, there was no way he could have let them down after that. Still, he did have an out. If he wanted to, it would be all too easy to slip by the police station and drop the boy off. The animatronics would never know. It was not as if they ever left the pizzeria. He could just tell them that the boy was sound asleep while he came in to work. It would certainly put a tidy little bow on the whole situation.
Fortunately for Gregory, Michael decided to pass by the police station, without so much as slowing down. As much as he wanted to be colder about the whole thing, he was not about to abandon the boy that quickly. He had accepted a responsibility (yet another to add to the pile) and he had a duty to at least attempt to follow through with it. Besides, ever since he had become a corpse, the cops had a tendency to freak out whenever he was nearby.
By the time they had reached Michael's apartment building, it was 6:30. He shook the boy awake, perhaps not as gently as he could have. Gregory gave a snort as his eyes shot open. He frantically looked around, getting his bearings as if he was in danger.
"We're here," Michael said, unbuckling his seatbelt and stepping out.
"Oh, right," Gregory rubbed his eyes, a bit groggy, before doing the same.
"Need any help there?" Michael asked, craning his head to see how the boy was managing on the other side of the car. It was plain to see that the boy was not nearly as spry as he had been earlier that night. The lingering aftermath of the sprained ankle no doubt. Gregory had insisted the whole time he was there that it was not as bad as it seemed, and that he was better already, but not even the animatronics bought it. Still, children had a tendency to recover fast. Michael thought back to his own childhood, and how many injures he had walked off.
"I'm fine," Gregory insisted, slamming the car door and walking in front with an obvious limp.
"If you say so," Michael shrugged. The boy would need help sooner or later, but he would let him ask for it.
"So… is this where you live?"
Before them was the shabbiest apartment building in the state, perhaps even the country, though that was a bit harder to determine. It resembled a brown paper bag which had been left outside, yet still managed to retain some semblance of shape. The majority of the windows were either cracked, taped up or missing the glass. One resident appeared to have substituted theirs with a piece of cardboard. None of the cars in the parking lot were particularly nice, with many of them so rusted that it was impossible to make out the original paint job. Weeds sprung up from the cracks in the pavement, and several clothes lines had been strung up wherever they could be hung, ratty moth-eaten clothes draping down from them like retired ghosts.
"Living would be an overstatement. I exist here," it was by no means a place he wanted as his home, but at this point in his life options were limited. The night shift at Freddy's didn't exactly pay well, and even if he could find a better place on his meager salary, then there was no guarantee they would let a corpse be one of their residences. Michael knew the place was shit, but that at least allowed him to blend in.
They slowly approached the building, Gregory staying ever so slightly behind Michael as they entered. The inside of the building was a perfect reflection of it's exterior. A dirty, discolored rug lined the floor. The walls were a hideous yellow, the paper peeling. Gregory had to take a step back at the stench of old cigarettes as he entered.
"Ugh, how can you stand this place?"
"I'm a zombie."
"Oh… right."
Michael stepped up to what could be generously called a front desk, though it more so resembled a hole in the wall.
"Gertie? You there?"
An older woman, with the laziest of lazy eyes and obscenely long finger nails, stepped forward, "What?" Her tone was devoid of any semblance of pleasantry.
"Any mail?" Michael asked.
"You know damn well you never get any mail, stop asking," with that she left.
Michael shrugged, leading Gregory up the stairs. He paused for a moment, seeing the boy still struggling with a bit of a limp, but upon Gregory insisting that he was fine, they continued upwards. They didn't run into any of the other residence, but it was easy to hear yelling coming from several of the rooms. Eventually, they reached Michael's apartment, on floor three.
It was by no means a bad room, just very plain. There were hardly any amenities or flairs. There was a kitchenette in one corner, a bed against the wall, an old tv in another corner, and a room which Gregory could only assume was the bathroom. There was also what appeared to be a closet, but it seemed hardly fair to call it a room of its own. The closest thing to furniture, aside from the bed, was the pile of cardboard boxed tucked away to the right of the bathroom.
"I know what you're thinking," Michael said, "it isn't much, you'll probably want to run away after a few days here."
"It's great," the boy said.
"What?" Michael looked down at him, unsure if he had misheard.
"It's… it's great."
"Um, kiddo, are you sure you didn't injure more than just your ankle from that fall?"
"I mean it," Gregory said with a smile, stepping into the room further, "you have your own sink, and your own shower and… everything!"
"If this is your definition of everything then I feel bad for you," his tone of voice did not indicate as such, but as he said it out loud, Michael meant it. He could not imagine what life must have been like for the boy if this was what got him excited.
"Does this tv actually work?"
"That depends on your definition of 'work'. It gets two and a half channels on a good day."
"Wow," Gregory's eyes lit up. He was about to reach for the knob on the side of the tv when his stomach rumbled, "Um, you got anything to eat?"
Michael turned to the cupboard before realizing, he didn't. There was no reason for him to buy any food up until this point, he had no stomach. That also meant he had no toilet paper. If he didn't do something about either of those, then this would go downhill quickly.
"I have to go take care of something, you stay here," Michael threw on a jacket which would do a good job at hiding his face.
Gregory leapt to his feet, "Where you going?"
"Just getting some groceries, I'll be back soon. Can I trust you to be on your own?"
"What kind of a question is that? I've been living on my own for years now!"
"That's what worries me. Just don't get into any trouble… and avoid the drug dealer living downstairs."
"There's a drug dealer living here?!"
Michael was uncertain as to whether Gregory was excited or nervous, but he didn't like it either way.
"Don't leave this room," he placed his hand on the doorknob, "and don't use the bathroom while I'm gone either."
"Why?"
"Just don't!"
Michael was glad to see that the grocery store was fairly sparse in terms of customers. It was still relatively early, which meant it was mostly just the early birds and the employees. Still, that didn't mean there weren't at least a few people a little freaked out by him. He did his best to stay out of everyone's way, but even then, he was often still spotted from a distance.
He did his best to buy what was healthy, while still finding a balance with what a kid would like. Michael had a sneaking suspicion that Gregory was not the pickiest eater, but he still wanted to minimize the risk. After picking up a bale of toilet paper, he realized that he should probably buy a few cleaning supplies for the room. If some one who was properly alive was going to be there, then he needed to make a better note of hygiene. He did have some shampoo and soap back at the place, but he decided to pick up some more just as a precaution. It was then that he also realized he had no plates or utensils. By the time he had arrived at the checkout, he had purchased more than he had anticipated. Michael wasn't particularly keen on how much it had eaten into his meager savings, though there was not much to be done about it. It was better to bite the bullet early on than to feel its consequences later.
When he arrived back home, he was shocked to see Gregory lying on his front, staring at the tv. He had assumed that the boy was more the type to go out and explore. The again, it might have just been the sprained ankle limiting his movement.
"Did you get anything good?" Gregory asked as Michael closed the door, placing the grocery bags on the kitchen counter.
"I bought what I could afford so that you don't die, if that's what you mean."
"Yeah, exactly, that's what I said."
Michael rolled his eyes, not wanting to admit that a smile was beginning to form. It was still too early to tell, but he was beginning to think this would not be as bad as he had dreaded. On the other hand, he definitely preferred being on his own. Family had never really been his thing… at least, he was pretty sure family had never really been his thing. It was hard to tell when you purposefully tried to forget most of your time spent home.
After placing the toilet paper in the bathroom and cleaning the place up a bit, Michael began work on breakfast. Fortunately, one thing he could do was cook. That is to say, he could cook very basic meals. His father had never been the most willing to help prepare their food, and there had been a few occasions where it had been up to Michael to make breakfast… and lunch… and dinner. Ok, maybe it was more than just a few occasions. Still, while it was a pain at the time, it at the very least meant he was more than prepared to make something for Gregory. It took him a moment to get back into the swing of things, but before he knew it, he had prepared some scrambled eggs.
"Gregory, food is ready!"
"Can I eat in front of the tv?"
Michael thought for a moment. A responsible guardian would tell him to eat at the table. He didn't have a table.
"Sure, just sit up while you do it."
Gregory shifted so that he was sitting and took the plate from Michael. He raised an eyebrow at what was on it.
"What's this?"
"Scrambled eggs."
"They look… weird."
"Eat it, it had protein."
The boy frowned, but ate the eggs anyway. The rest of the morning was fairly uneventful. Michael desperately wanted to get some rest, but Gregory was too full of energy to go to bed, not to mention he was absolutely enthralled by the prospect of having the tv all to himself. It was not until lunch time that something important occurred to Michael.
"You know, I really should look into getting you enrolled in school."
Gregory's head immediately shot up like a deer caught in head lights, "You don't really need to, do you?"
"Listen, as weird as this is for me to say, I'm the adult here, and the responsible thing for me to do would be to help you get an education."
Gregory folded his arms, "But do you have to be responsible?"
"Yes, I do."
"Why?"
"Because if I'm not then you sure as hell wont. Besides, I didn't hear you complaining when I bought the food; that was the responsible adult thing to do, and there were no complaints from what I remember."
"That…" Gregory paused for a moment, his head tilted to the side, "that was different."
"How?"
"It just was!" the boy turned away, having now balled up his fists with hunched shoulders.
Michael shook his head, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, "Have you ever even been to school?"
There was a moment of silence before the response, "I have."
"And was it really that bad?"
"Yes! The other kids… they got mean when they found out I was an orphan who was never adopted."
Michael nodded; this was more complicated than he had anticipated. Fortunately, the solution was a rather simple one, "Ok, here's what you gotta do to take care of this…"
Gregory half turned, still trying to look indignant, but clearly curious as to what was about to be said.
Michael continued, "…if someone's bullying you, just kick their ass."
The boy blinked, looking somewhat surprised, "Could… could you say that again?"
"I said, just kick their ass."
There was a pause. Gregory faced Mike fully, questioning as to what to say in response.
"You're… you're saying I should beat them up."
"Yeah," Michael said, "what's the matter? I thought you'd be used to getting into scrapes."
"I am… it's just, well…" Gregory bit his lower lip, trying to figure out how to best voice his thoughts, "adults never like it. I've always gotten in trouble."
"That's it? All they're going to do is drag you to some office and chew you out. The person you beat up got off way worse."
Gregory shook his head, "No, it's not that I'm afraid of getting in trouble, I just don't understand. You were just saying that you're supposed to be the responsible one, but now you're telling me if someone bullies me, I should just beat them up instead of going to a teacher."
"Of course!" Michael said, "Teachers don't do shit! I mean, they say they can put a stop to bullying, but you and I both know they aren't going to do anything. You're going to need to take things into your own hands if you want it to stop."
Gregory nodded thoughtfully, "You know, I think I'm gonna like it here."
"That's good," Michael stood up, assuming the conversation was over.
"Still not going to school though," he turned back to the tv.
"What? Why not?"
"I don't wanna spend all my time doing a bunch of work. That's boring!"
"Listen Gregory, you're going to go to school whether you like it or not."
"Yeah… no. I'm declining."
"You can't decline."
"Look, maybe if this were under different circumstances, then I'd be scared, but I don't even think you're qualified to register me."
Michael opened his mouth, about to object, when it occurred to him that the boy might have been right. Did he actually have the authority to do so? Surely he would need to be registered as Gregory's legal guardian in order to. There was also the whole corpse situation. It wasn't exactly easy to get involved in society when you bordered on the undead. He would need to look into it.
"Don't think this conversation is over."
"Uh-huh," the boy gave a wave of his hand, not bothering to look back.
Michael glared down at him before walking away and sitting down on the other side of the bed as angrily as he could. It was difficult to make an impact in a one room apartment.
"Hey, um… thanks by the way," Gregory added.
Michael turned around to see the boy looking in his direction, "For what?"
"For taking me in… and for being honest with me… about dealing with bullies I mean."
"No problem," it was then that another thought struck him, "We're going clothes shopping for you tomorrow by the way."
Gregory immediately groaned at the prospect.
A/N: I was kind of torn while writing Michael's advice on how to deal with bullies in this chapter. On the one hand, I feel like it's what he would say (at least this version of him), but on the other hand I'm kind of worried some young kids are going to read this and try beating up everyone who's mean to them. On the other other hand, there is a bit of truth to what he's saying? Like seriously, I don't think the teachers ever did anything about the bullies when I was in school. Anyway, don't take advice from Mike, his father is a serial killed and he has unreasonable amounts of trauma.
