thoughts on the new fnaf movie trailer?
Michael pulled up into the driveway and eased his car to a slow stop. For a few moments, he sat in silence, dreading going inside. All he wanted to do was go straight to bed and sleep off the emotional and mental stress of the day, but he didn't know how to do that while avoiding a confrontation from Laura. He knew she'd see through him in an instant.
He considered any lie he might be able to get away with, but finally resolving that it was hopeless, he let out a sigh, picked up his backpack, and got out of the car.
He shuffled slowly to the door, forcing his eyes open as he unlocked it and stepped in.
The lights inside were comfortably dim and he could hear music from the kitchen; a collection of classicals and instrumentals Laura had put together. The smell of the pumpkin bread which she baked often wafted down the hallway, and his shoulders relaxed, the invisible weight upon them feeling strangely lighter.
He set his backpack down as the sound of pattering rain began outside.
"Mike?" Laura called from the kitchen.
Michael came around from the hallway to see her changing loaves of bread from their tins to baking sheets while a tall pot of soup simmered on the stove beside her. He managed a wave.
Laura eyed him, gaze wandering over his face with some concern as she removed her oven mitts. "You okay?" She asked, pulling off her apron.
He nodded as she came to hug him. As her arms wrapped around him, he felt his shoulders slump and he let his eyes close. He just felt so tired, and he felt so comfortable here in her embrace. He could have slept where he was standing. But, noticing his strange disposition, her head tilted toward his.
"What's wrong?" She questioned softly.
"M'just tired," Michael answered quietly. It wasn't a lie, just not the full truth.
Again, she seemed to notice.
Laura leaned back, raising a hand to brush away the hair in his eyes as she studied him. "You're more than just tired," she commented knowingly. "What's wrong, Mike?"
He sighed, forcing his eyes to stay open. "It's just been a long day," he muttered. She frowned.
"Did no one come?" She asked worriedly. He scoffed. "Oh, someone came alright," he muttered to himself, gaze cast to the floor. She straightened.
"Who?" Laura questioned, looking at him.
He frowned silently. "Elizabeth," he finally answered. From the expression on his face, she could tell this wasn't a happy thing as she let her hands fall to his shoulders. "How... did that go?" She prodded gently. Michael said nothing for a few moments.
"Not great." He muttered, arms falling from where they'd been wrapped around her as he stepped away toward the table.
Her gaze followed him. "...I'm sorry." She apologized quietly.
Michael shrugged carelessly. "It's not you who should be sorry," he murmured to himself, unable to help the frown pulling at his mouth as he urged his weakened hands to grab a piece of fruit in the center bowl. He reached for an apple, peeling off its barcode sticker while Laura remained silent behind him.
"What... happened?" She finally asked, voice hesitant and meek.
He moved to lean against the countertop, biting into the fruit.
"Oh, you know," he started flatly. "She just reminded me how all of this is my fault for like, eight hours." He looked down at the apple, catching Laura's concerned expression from the corner of his vision, her hands raised to her mouth. He frowned more, turning the item in his hand while the rain outside fell harder.
"Yeah, just a lot of good old reminders that I let her die, and mom die, and I let Dad go off the deep end," he continued, feeling a bitter rage pulling at him as a scowl drew at his mouth. "The usual stuff I tell myself pretty much every day. But it's nice to hear it out of her mouth too, I guess. Means we agree on that much."
"Michael..." Laura chided, almost scolding, but he could still hear the slight fear in her voice.
He tried not to scowl as he squeezed the apple in his hand, smushing it in his grip. "But you know, I didn't ask for this," he muttered in a hiss through his teeth. "I didn't ask for my family to be torn apart, I didn't ask to be left with the pieces of this stupid mess."
"Michael, none of this was your fault..." Laura managed timidly, and through her tone, he guessed she might be crying. But he refused to look at her.
"I killed him, Laura!" He yelled, slamming the apple on the counter. "I killed my brother, and you know what, I own that! That was my fault, all mine!" His hands shook with anger, gaze bent to the floor as juice oozed through his fingers and dripped to the table-surface. "But I didn't ask for my Dad to act like I didn't exist, I didn't ask for him to build those stupid machines, I didn't ask for him to kill anybody-" He raged. "I didn't- I didn't ask-"
His hands shook and he brought one to his face, gritting his teeth as angry tears forced through his shut eyes. But beneath all that anger was just a terrible pain he didn't want to touch.
He could sense Laura still standing a few feet away and looking away in shame, he walked past her to a couch in the living room. He sat down and propped his elbows on his knees, cradling his head in his shaking hands.
His shoulders quaked as he tried to hold back the tears begging to be let free.
Michael felt the cushion next to his sink as Laura sat beside him, one hand moving to his shoulder comfortingly where it rested for a few moments before beginning to move in soothing circles over his back. He released a shaky breath, feeling another stray tear run down his face.
"I didn't ask for them to die." He whispered.
"I know." She acknowledged softly.
No words passed between them for several minutes as the rain outside continued to fall, the music from the kitchen drifting around them like a gentle lullaby.
"I'm sorry," he finally uttered in a broken voice, sniffing. "I shouldn't have yelled."
"Don't be sorry," she answered simply, hand still running carefully over his back. "You had every right to."
Though he wasn't sure he believed it, Michael gave a single, slow nod. He felt rather awkward for behaving this way in front of her, especially since he wasn't prone to anger. In fact, he wasn't sure he'd ever yelled in front of her before now and felt a subsequent twinge of embarrassment. He thought the only thing he could do to alleviate that tension was to disappear to his room for the night... hopefully, after sleeping on things, some of this night would be forgotten.
But as he prepared to announce an early bedtime, Laura stood from the couch. She turned and extended a hand out toward him.
His eyes lifted to her open palm with confusion, moving higher to meet her dark eyes. "I want to dance with you," she spoke, gazing back at him.
His brow furrowed. "What...?" He questioned, growing more confused.
"I want to dance with you." She repeated.
He didn't understand the suddenness of her request, nor its purpose. But, quieting those questions in his mind, he raised himself to stand and slowly slid his hand into hers. Everything seemed to fall into peaceful quiet around them save the radio gently playing as he felt her other hand inch onto his shoulder while he put his on her waist.
They began to sway peacefully to the music reverberating in the living room. The rain pattering on the ground outside amplified its comforting ambience as they turned and trod on the soft carpet beneath them. Michael's eyes closed as Laura guided him in slow circles, feeling his body and mind relax and grow quiet. Not even Elizabeth's cries could reach him now.
Eventually, her arms lifted to curve over his shoulders and he rested both of his around her waist. It felt as though they'd found a space that time and memory couldn't touch.
The only things that existed then were each other.
The grandfather clock adjacent them chimed nine times, and yet they continued to dance until the music finally came to stop. They remained in each other's embrace as rain continued to fall.
"Thank you," Michael murmured softly, much of the stress from the day suddenly absent from his body.
Laura leaned back just enough to see him; emerald eyes staring into his. But unlike almost anyone else's gaze, he didn't tear his eyes away from hers. He wasn't afraid to let her see him.
"I love you," she spoke quietly as she studied him. "And so does Henry, and Dana... we're your family. We love you." Her hand raised to push some hair from his face, stopping to rest over his cheek. "And we're not wrong to love you. Please don't forget that."
Michael's shoulders relaxed, expression softening. He surprised even himself at the realized truthfulness of what he said next.
"I already know," he whispered softly.
At that, Laura's mouth curved into a small, and relieved, yet proud smile.
He pulled her a little closer and leaned down to kiss her. Her hand moved behind his head and gently rested over his neck as she stood straighter, her free hand laid over his heart. He kissed her gently for a few moments longer before reluctantly pulling back, gazing at her as her eyes slowly opened to meet his.
As he looked at her, he thought about everyone who had come here these past weeks. Henry, Dana... yes, his first family might be gone, but lingering on their absence only distracted him from the gift of company standing right in front of him.
"...I love you too, Laura," he murmured quietly.
Her cheeks grew more rosy as she smiled up at him. "Good."
Later that night...
Michael glanced over at his clock that read 10:38 PM as he unbuttoned his shirt. He could hear the shower running in the basement and figured that's where Laura must be since Henry and Dana surprisingly hadn't returned home yet. He set his keyring on his nightstand and took off his shoes.
He pulled back the sheets of his bed, standing to brush his teeth when his phone rang.
Raising an eyebrow, he crossed his room to his dresser where the landline was and picked it up. "Hello?" He asked.
"Hey, Mike, it's Dana," said the caller on the other line.
"Oh, hey," he responded. "What's up?"
"Nothing, much. We just wanted to let you know we went through our starters for the fire and that it all looks good. We can put that up tomorrow if you're available," Dana spoke.
Michael nodded to himself. "Yeah, that sounds great. I'll be sure to get there a little earlier," he answered.
"Great," Dana replied, the sound of something loud and mechanic on her end almost too loud for him to hear her. "Oh, and the other thing too is that we're going to have to take down Fruity Maze."
"Wait what? Why?" Michael questioned, brow furrowing.
"We just... have to," she answered awkwardly. The boy frowned, eyes narrowing in confusion. "What, is it broken or something?"
Dana scoffed. "Broken doesn't begin to describe it," she muttered. "Stuff is just majorly wrong with it, we need to throw it out."
Michael bent to remove a sock from his foot, cradling the phone between his head and shoulder. "Look, if its an internal issue or a bug or something, I really should look at it before we toss it, I'm sure I could figure something out," he protested. Did they really think it was that far gone beyond repair?
"Well, the 'bug' is that it's like, haunted or something," Dana spoke, and Michael suddenly straightened. "Seriously, you don't want to know. I wish I didn't. I'm just going to throw it out, okay?"
"Uh..." he started, a little dumbfounded. "Yeah, uh... okay, then."
Yes, haunting was certainly something beyond his skill level. Half the time he wondered if he was technically haunting himself, considering he, well, died. He didn't mind saying goodbye to that arcade machine now.
"Alright. We'll be home soon... later."
"See ya," Michael spoke as the other line went dead.
He set the phone back on the receiver and ran a hand through his hair.
It was just one thing after another with this, wasn't it? He sighed and stepped out to the hallway into the bathroom, squeezing toothpaste to his brush. As he raised it to his teeth, he squinted at his reflection. The shadows under his eyes were growing darker, but the sight of his blind eye was surprising him less and less. He rinsed out the leftover toothpaste after a minute and straightened to head back to his room.
But as he stepped into the hallway, his eyes caught Evan's room down the corridor.
Its door was open.
He frowned, brow furrowing with hesitant confusion as he began to walk toward it. He never kept his sibling's doors open and was surprised to see Evan's ajar... and he couldn't tell how or why it would be now. He came to stand in front of it, peering around to see inside. He carefully extended an arm inside and flipped on the light.
His eyes wandered the untouched furniture and toys that lay like they were frozen in time, he couldn't see anything that was amiss...
Except that Evan's Golden Freddy plush wasn't on its usual place on his bed.
"Huh..?" He questioned to himself, stepping inside. He looked around, trying to find it before finally spotting it on the windowsill, propped to face him.
Michael frowned, shuddering.
"Okay... creepy..." he murmured, walking toward it. "Did I leave you here..?"
He picked it up from the windowsill, glancing outside for a moment before looking back at the plush's black plastic eyes. It was a curious little toy. He often saw Evan talking to it, like it could somehow speak back to him. But of course he was just playing make-believe, this plush was the only real friend he had, really...
He held it for a few more moments before moving to set it back on the bed, reasoning that he'd moved it earlier without remembering. He stood and flicked the light off before closing the door, going back to his room.
He hadn't noticed Freddy's eyes following him as he left.
Cassidy watched through the plush as the light coming in beneath the bedroom door turned off after a few minutes, thinking contemplatively.
Michael was coming very close to recruiting them all... very... very... close.
