Evan Afton sat on the edge of the curb, his head in his hands. The other children poured out of the school, each chatting while caught up in their own business. No one seemed to notice him. All except for-

"Boo!"

"Ah!" Even leapt to the side, falling onto the pavement, his eyes beginning to water.

"Geez Ev, how many times are you going to fall for that?" Michael pushed his Foxy mask up, revealing his face. He held out a hand, which Even reluctantly took hold of, helping the crying child to his feet.

"You don't need to keep scaring me, you know? It's mean."

"I'll stop when you start acting your own age."

"I act my own age!"

"Kids your age don't go crying at every opportunity," Michael taunted, "Now where's Liz? I want to get out of here before my friends see me having to look after you," he craned his neck, looking through the ever-thinning group of children pouring out of the school.

"You don't have to look after me," Evan said, wiping away some tears with his arm, "I'm fine to walk home on my own."

Michael rolled his eyes, "Look, if it were up to me, then I'd ditch you, but you know how father gets about this sort of thing. He still remembers the grocery shopping incident."

"That was a year ago! I've learned."

"He doesn't see it that way. Besides, you're clearly still too immature to go home by yourself."

"I am not!" he bawled up his fists, puffing up his chest as much as he could.

"Hey Mikey, who ya talk'n to?"

The two boys turned around to see Michael's friends fast approaching. Quickly, and without thought, Michael grabbed Evan by the arm, pushing him behind his back without much care as to the boy's comfort.

"Ow!"

"Shut it, and try not to embarrass me," Michael said out of the corner of his mouth.

"You on baby sitt'n duty again or what?" one of the friends asked.

"Yeah," Michael answered, trying to come off as cool, "just my dumb baby brother. My dad makes me look after him."

"I told you I'm not a baby!"

"Shush!"

"Your baby brother has a bit more mouth to him than last time," one of the friends joked.

"I guess so, he can get pretty annoying."

"Hey, if he keeps yapping, maybe we can sow his mouth shut!" another said.

At the sound of the suggestion, Even let out a meek sound of fear, cowering behind his brother, holding tightly onto his jean leg. Michael looked down at him, trying to non-verbally signal that this was the sort of embarrassing thing he had asked the boy not to do. Apparently, the message did not come through.

"Maybe we'll catch up to you later Mike," one of his friends said.

"Yeah, when you're done babysitting," another taunted. The trio then walked off, laughing to themselves. Once they were out of sight, Michael looked down to his younger brother, frustrated.

"What did I say earlier?"

Evan let go of Michael's leg, only now realizing he had grabbed on in the first place, "I'm s-sorry."

"What's the point in apologizing if you've already done it?"

Before either of them could say anything else, Elizabeth, their sister, came running up to them.

"Hey, are you still walking us home?"

"Yes," Michael said indignantly, "as long as father makes me, I have little choice in the matter."

"You say that as if you don't enjoy it," Elizabeth smiled, skipping around her two brothers.

"Look, let's just get a move on already," Michael set a pace, Evan doing his best to keep up, "the sooner I get you two home, the sooner I'll be able to meet up with my friends."

The walk from the school to their house was not a particularly long one. About 20 minutes on foot. In truth, there was very little danger in the town, and it was small enough to the point that getting lost was a slim possibility. This made Michael's frustration with his task all the more palpable. Surely they would be fine by themselves, the thought as they plodded along, the leaves of the trees casting shadows above. Taking off and telling the two to go home on their own was not out of the realm of possibility, but there was one factor he just could not get around. If their father was home, which he often was, by the time they got back, then he would know that Michael had left them to their own devices. That would mean consequences.

"Why can't we come and hang out with your friends?" Elizabeth asked, still as cheerful as ever.

"Because there's no way my friends want to hang out with a couple of kids."

"How do you know?"

"What?"

"Did you ask them?" Elizabeth smiled again.

"Liz, I don't need to ask."

"But if you don't ask them then how will they know? And if they don't know, then you won't know, and if you won't know then-"

"Ok, I get it," Michael yelled, "would it kill you to take a break from being so… so… upbeat all the time?"

They all stopped, Elizabeth's smile faded. Evan looked between the two of them, ready to burst into tears at the possibility of an argument breaking out.

"I just…" she began, "I just wanted to keep things positive, since I know it can be… difficult."

A look of regret spread across Michael's face. Why did he have to get so angry with them all the time? He looked away, biting his lower lip.

"Let's just go home."

Within a few minutes they reached their house. No, not their house. Father had reminded them multiple times about how this was His house, and they were merely the ones who resided in it. Still, it was where they lived, so that had to count for something. It was a nice place to live, all things considered. Michael often thought there were other children out there who would have been thrilled to come live in a house like theirs. Still, it brought little comfort to him. He couldn't help but tense up, standing before it. He looked down, back and forth between his two siblings, who were now standing at either side of him. He took off the foxy mask, running a hand through his hair.

The three walked up the stone pathway, and up to the front door. It was locked. Elizabeth pulled out her key chain, handing it to Michael who opened it for them.

"Father, we're home," Michael called as they entered, his voice wobbling ever so slightly. He had done his best to try and sound as non-confrontational as possible.

"What?" a rotted, silky voice came from another room. Michael could feel his body tense, his posture straightening.

In walked William Afton.

He was not a man who wasted time trying to appear personable. A cigarette hung from the edge of his mouth, and his purple button-down shirt was an ocean of wrinkles and creases. The man glanced over to the three children, his gaze like a bullet.

"Daddy!" Elizabeth ran up to him, "You'll never guess what we did in school today!"

"That's nice dear," William said dismissively, patting her on the head, before looking to Michael, "You walked them home?"

"Yes father."

"Just like I asked?"

"Yes father."

He looked the boy up and down, suspicious, "I'll be in my workshop. Do not disturb me," he turned, ready to leave them.

"Daddy, I'm hungry."

Michael tensed up at the sound of Elizabeth's words. Their father looked down at her, surprisingly neutral.

"Then find something to eat," with that he walked off, slamming the door behind him. Michael let out a sigh of relief.

"Well, I'm off to see my friends," he turned back to the door, only to be stopped by a tugging at his arm. It was Evan.

"I'm hungry too," the boy said, wide eyed.

"Can't either of you figure food out for yourselves?" Michael grumbled. They both looked up to him, wide eyed. He sighed, of course it would be up to him to try and fix something. What was the point in hoping he could go hang out with his friends like a normal kid?

/

Upon pulling into Henry's drive way, Michael found himself snapping out of the memory. He had been lost in it for almost the entirety of the drive, his hand tightly gripped to the steering wheel. As much as he didn't like it, there were occasional moments where he found himself drifting into the past. It was never pleasant, but it was still better than his life at present. At least, it kind of was. His body was in better condition at the very least. Still, he couldn't so much as think of his father without tensing up. As long as that man was a part of his memories, he would never be able to tolerate them. Maybe that was for the best. At the rate Michael was going, all he saw himself as was a man defined by his past. What was his future? Was he forever destined to just live in his father's shadow, forever attempting to clean up a mess which could not be contained?

He was ready to brush these fears to the side and step out of the car, when a small sneeze came from the back seat. Michael paused, turning around to get a better look. He removed one of the lumpier blankets lying in the foot well, and sure enough, there was Gregory. Michael glowered. The boy gave a coy smile, the type one gives when they know they're in trouble and have hopes of softening the blow.

"Oops, how did I wind up here?" Gregory said, attempting to sound innocent.

"Can we just cut the crap so I can skip to the part where I chew you out for this?"

"Fine," the boy rose out of the foot well, sitting on one of the back seats.

"Would you care to explain what exactly you are doing hiding in the back of my car?"

"I was just curious! I wanted to know who it was you were talking to on the phone, so I decided to sneak in."

"And what was your plan after that? Surely you knew I would notice at some point."
"Well, I kinda just figured that if you found me out, then we would already be close enough to where you couldn't ditch me."

Michael looked at him, irritated, then over to the house, "I'll think of a punishment for you later."

"Is that a way of saying you'll take me to see the guy?"

"I won't stop you from following, but you need to be on your best behavior."

"Yes!" he pumped his fist into the air, only to unexpectedly hit the ceiling, "Ow!"

"And to be aware of your surroundings," Michael raised his hood and stepped out of the car. Gregory followed. He led the boy to the front door and rang the bell. Shortly afterwards, there was a shuffling of feet on the other side, and Henry opened the door.

"Michael good to see you, I think it best if we get right down to business and-" he paused, only just spotting Gregory, "Who's this?"

Upon being spotted, the boy shuffled behind Michael slightly, "My name's Gregory."

"I see," Henry bent down ever so slightly, giving a warm smile, "am I correct in assuming you were the other person on the end of the phone call?"

"Maybe."

Henry rose back up, looking Michael in the eyes, "This is definitely something you will need to explain to me, but perhaps it would be best explained inside," he stood aside, making room for them to enter. The two entered, Henry closing the door behind them.

"Is Charlie… roaming?" Michael looked around.

"Oh, heavens no," Henry said with a wave of the hand, "she's in the music box most of the day."

"Who's Charlie?" Gregory asked, plopping down on the couch.

"Long story."

"My daughter."

"You keep your daughter in a box?" the boy's tone became nervous.

"Not exactly. It's erm… complicated," Henry rubbed the back of his head, walking over to the kitchen, "I'll fix a little something and we can get to catching up."

Gregory never imagined himself as the sort of person who would enjoy tea, but the way Mr. Emily made it was pretty good. As the three of them sat, Gregory and Michael did their best to explain how they had met and how they had gotten to where they were. Needless to say, there was a great deal of talking over each other, and disagreements over how certain events had happened. Henry seemed to take a great joy from hearing the story, only cutting in to break up potential arguments between the two.

"Well Michael, I can't say I ever pictured you as a father, but you're certainly doing a better job of it than other people I know," he said coyly.

"What?" Michael sputtered, "I'm not playing the role of Gregory's father."

"Yeah," the boy agreed, "he's just letting me live with him while buying groceries and clothes and making sure I don't die."

Henry raised an eyebrow, "Label it what you will, but I'm afraid it will have little effect on the outcome."

"Uncle Henry, please, both Gregory and I know this is a temporary thing. Right?"

"Of course," Gregory nodded.

"Oh really?" the old man placed his tea cup down on a coaster, "The way you are now, I don't see a way out until Gregory here becomes eighteen and decides to move away."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Henry sighed, "Michael, you were courageous enough to talk to me frankly about Charlie, so I'm going to try and do the same for you. Let's start with adoption."

"Woah, woah, we haven't even talked about adoption," Michael said.

"I wasn't talking about you adopting the boy, I was talking about his chances. He's what? Ten? Eleven? If you were to hand him over to the government, then his chances of getting adopted are slim to none. Parents want either babies, or the younger children. Gregory is most certainly still a child, but he is getting older, and at this point, I don't think it's safe to say someone will pick him."

Gregory's fists dug into the couch upholstery.

"I'm sorry," said Henry, eyeing the boy's hands, "I didn't mean to be so blunt… but it's the truth."

Michael looked down to the boy, whose grip had tightened, not bothering to look at either of the adults, instead opting to stare off at the far wall. Glancing back to Henry, he jutted his head in the direction of the kitchen. The two adults stood up.

"We're just going to check on something in the kitchen, Gregory."

"You don't have to lie; I know you're just going to talk about me."

Michael opened his mouth, then closed it, following Henry out of the room. He was not entirely certain that the kitchen was the most sound proof of rooms, but it was better than talking outright in front of the boy. The room was just about as dated as the rest of the house, comprised of a rather unappealing shade of yellow, with not much room to stand.

"So, you're basically saying it's me, or no one for the kid," Michael said, leaning against the countertop.

"Not exactly," Henry shrugged, "I'll be here, should you need the help."

"And what does that make us?" Michael said sarcastically, "Some sort of big happy family?"

Henry furrowed his brow, "There's no need to go getting snippy with me just for offering you help. Tell me, have you registered the boy for school? Based on your story, he's going to need some extra help catching up. What about a pediatrician? A dentist? You really should take him in for a checkup you know."

"I get it! I get it! I was going to get around to all that stuff… eventually."

The old man crossed his arms, "Michael, if you want to waste away on your own, then that's your business, but now that you've taken in a child, you have to take responsibility."

"You think I don't know that?" Michael snapped, "How the hell am I supposed to do any of this stuff then I'm a literal corpse! Interacting with people isn't really on option for me most of the time. I don't even know the first thing about any of the stuff you mentioned."

"I suppose you have a point," Henry sighed, "luckily, you're talking to someone who does. Well, it's been a while, but still." He smiled warmly.

Michael nodded, looking down to the floor. He didn't want to admit it, but he was happy that Henry was so willing to help him. The fact that the old man was the one who had brought it up and even offered really made Michael feel like he still cared, even after all these years. Still, that was a problem. It was not healthy for people to be this emotionally attached, it always led to pain in the end. Michael had caused enough pain already, and he had no desire to cause anymore.

He raised his head, another thought suddenly occurring to him, "Say… does Gregory remind you of… Evan, at all?"

"Oh, absolutely," Henry said, a smile across his face, "maybe not in terms of personality, but from the way he looks to his… I don't know, his aspect I suppose, there's just something about that boy which reminds me of him."

"Yeah, I couldn't help thinking the same thing, but I wasn't sure if it was just me," Michael ran his hand over his head, "Sometimes I think I'm going crazy."

"Of course, just because the boy is similar to Evan, that's no reason to go viewing him as some sort of replacement."

"Oh no, of course not! Still, it is weird that they are the same in terms of… vibes."

"Uh, I don't mean to butt in, but who the heck is Evan?"

The two adults glanced to the doorway of the kitchen, in which Gregory had decided to poke his head in.

"Evan is someone you don't need to know about," Michael said.

"Come on," the boy whined, "you can't just go comparing me to him and not tell me who he is! Both of you have been so stingy in terms of info, you could drop a few bread crumbs at least!"

"Have you been eavesdropping on the whole conversation?" Henry asked sternly. The boy's face grew pale.

"Maybe just… just a little bit."

Henry frowned, then broke into a smile, "I think I like this kid."